This morning I was hit by another revelation, the first and most recent being you can take the paddleboard down to the river side and blow it up in the shade of the Eucalyptus, sweating buckets as I blow up the paddle board, already generating a thin layer of sweat between my t-shirt and me, I should probably wear a vest to remove the perspiration from my skin to the undergarment, thereby delaying the natural osmosis into my t-shirt, but only for a little while, such is the sweatiness of this sweaty bastard in Akayaka. It doesn’t matter, but it might if I was to meet the ambassador on the river and then they invited me to breakfast. Me, sweaty and attracting mosquitos, it’s not a good look. As my Mum told me when I went travelling for the first time,

“Always carry a tie, you never know when the ambassador will invite you to dinner”

That hasn’t happened yet, i’m not holding my breath and in another parallel universe it could happen, maybe, but probably won’t. I fail to see what a local ambassador would want to speak to me about, and probably vice versa.

The second revelation which came to me early this morning after I woke up in a hot sweat at about 6:45am was the possibility of blowing up my paddle board in the apartment and walking down to the river, bag rolled up and stored in the elastic doo-dahs on the bow of the board. So I did exactly this, board up, sand all over the floor and privately sweating infant of the full length mirror, its a good looking the perception of fellow bathers and leisure seekers down by the river side was of awe and wonder as plumpish man with board, in forgiving black rash vest, sucking in his stomach dumped the board into the water, gracelessly clambered on and was washed backwards into the reeds, before regaining an element of semi composure; standing up whilst floating down stream.

The river was cold and crystal clear as I cruised past the restaurants and chattering geese past the reeds, rounding the bend to pass under the bridge where the river opened up into the harbour and the water took on a more opaque complexion, the bottom dropping away to the darkness of the abyss. I rounded the harbour wall cluttered with fishermen and the swell of the sea was bulbous and relentless, breathing heavily as my feet trembled and my composure was that of a shaking dog. So I sat down, sitting down is definitely one of the perks of travel and I have done an awful lot of that this holiday. It’s also a real treat to lie down on the board and let the waters undulate underneath, the waves lapping at the edge of the board. I didn’t see much looking down into the gloom, dark blue, the seabed disturbed by the uptake in wind and then I remembered a photo on the what’s app group saying a great white shark had been sighted in Turkish waters. It was at this point that I decided it may be time to head inland as I had drifted a little further out whilst looking up at the skies, the Wind my only Friend. 

Heading to the landing spot on the left hand side of the beach, next to the jetty the waves were picking up and actually breaking as the neared the beach so I stood up, crouched and concentrated hard, finally catching a wave which carried me into the shore skidding to an abrupt halt as keel hit sand.