A Perspective on a Greek Bath

Simone here again. I finally managed to extract the laptop from Rowena's grasp. I can't tell you what a challenge that was. Well, yes I can but that would be another story.

Having visited the museum in Fira on Santorini and today the Archeological Museum here in Corfu I can report to you that they contain a lot of old things. Most of them are broken.

Having said this, I would like to relate to you some observations I have made of a particular Greek bathroom. Most Greek bathrooms are small. Very very small. As Rowena has already reported, we are currently residing at the Hotel Konstantinopolous in Corfu. This particular bathroom has made quite an impression ---- one that I am not soon to forget. Tiled floor to ceiling in aquamarine tile, this 5'x5' lavatory / bathroom is a real gem. Of course, being a bit of an hydrophile, my heart soared upon arrival to note that the washroom was not only blessed with the standard toilet, wastepaper basket, stepstool (for more vertically challenged clients) and sink, but also a 3'x 2' tub. Up until now we had been enjoying the much smaller (2'x 2') tiled shower areas (sans shower curtain in Amorgos) that didn't really allow for much of a soak unless you considered the puddles created everywhere else. Back to my 'bathtub'. The very next morning I gleefully clutched my white fluffy HK embroidered bath towel close to my chest and stepped into my aquamarine haven. In my characteristic organized way (some cynically suggest anally retentive) I carefully arranged my shampoo, conditioner and cleanser in order along the edge of the 'tub'. I stepped inside, pulled the shower curtain closed and prepared myself for a civilized cleansing and soak. It was at this time that I became aware of a series of pipes extending from the faucet along the wall and up to a rather large hot water tank. Ahhh, I thought, this is going to be goooooooood. First I turned on the cold water tap, then the hot. Tentatively I placed my fingers under the spray of water emanating from the hand held shower head and, noting that it was not yet warm enough, I gently turned the hot water tap a little further to the left. What shot out of the shower head was a stream of scalding hot water at a temperature sufficient to boil eggs! Luckily I escaped relatively unpoached although my scream did garner the attention of Rowena and Mom in the other room. Assuring them of my good health I decided to proceed with my cleansing; however, with a new found respect for the temperamental nature of the left tap.

My bathing ritual always begins with a good scrub. Having now secured a stream of hydrogen dioxide of a far more tolerable and pleasing thermal level, I proceeded to reach for the soap. It is at this juncture that I would like to note that this is one of those silly little pats of soap, hermetically sealed and, of course, provided by only the very best of hotels. Following a wee struggle to access said soap I then had the distinct misfortune of dropping this little turd of emulsifier into the tub. Of course I instantly bent over and reached for the soap as it skidded toward the drain only to have my now damp derriere adhere to the plastic shower curtain. (Bear in mind the rather small dimensions of my aquatic haven.) As I turned to retrieve the soap, the shower curtain, glued to my butt, swung open and all I could think at the time was "Look Mom, no hands!". My glee was soon replaced with panic as I realized that I was now directing a spray of water out of the stall and into the rest of the bathroom. Like a Cirque du Soleil performer I swung deftly around (closing the curtain behind me!) but alas I knocked the bloody left tap as I did so. A second shriek, followed by more reassurances that I could cope on my own in the bath.

I decided to adopt a far more safe approach to my morning ritual. The 'tub' I noted, contained a wee incline which led to a seat (or step depending on your perspective). Ah ha! I thought. This is how this should work. I gingerly perched on the seat which had been conveniently warmed from the earlier hydrothermal spray. It is a good thing, I thought to myself, that I am only 5'2" in height for anyone with longer appendages would most likely have impaled their kneecaps on their canines. I managed to complete my cleansing with only a few more shrieks and knocking the glass soap dish into the tub. Luckily it didn't break like the one in Santorini. I should have donated it to the museum.