Life as a Lary in foreign shores.
This blog update is going to
focus largely on what it’s like being a “Lary” in a foreign land, plus some
tales from Arillas. For those of you who may be new to reading my ramblings, a “Lary”
is someone who’s had a total laryngectomy due to a reoccurrence of throat
cancer and now speaks and breaths via a hole in their throat. My voice, which
used to be quite deep now sounds like a rather camp Darth Vader.
In the two years that I’ve
been a “Lary” we’ve been abroad three times and holidayed in the UK another
three times. With the exception on getting some fine sand in my stoma when we
were on Gran Canaria and having to resort to a rather fetching bandana
I’ve not really had too
many issues with being away from the comfort of home. Normally when flying I’ll
pack three separate supplies of medical kit to cover the trip. One to go into
my suitcase, one into Carols and one in my hand luggage. This should cover all
issues with lost luggage. Daily I have to use filters, sticky base plates,
cleaning brushes, adhesive removers, cleaning towels, skin barriers to name
just a few supplies. This time I put two sets into my luggage and one incomplete
set into my hand luggage!! On arrival at our apartment in Arillas I soon
discovered that between the three packs of supplies I’d only packed the very
bare minimum to last the 10 days. I was going to have to hope that I didn’t
have many “Blow outs” and that my throat didn’t react to the heat and dryness.
Whilst on the subject of packing, I’d also forgotten a couple of lightweight
t-shirts, my Rams gym shorts and a second pair of swimming trunks. Razors,
enough handkerchiefs. E45 cream, you name it, I forgot to pack it. Overall a
bit of a Horlicks before our holiday had even started. Carol has vowed to go
through my suitcase with a check list before we go away again in September. The
flight out was uneventful and only about ½ full, meaning we both had room to
spread out and enjoy the Hendricks and Tonics. Corfu is two hours ahead of the
UK so it’s entirely acceptable to be drinking G&T’s at 7am GMT. The only
problem I had on the flight was when we started the decent into Corfu airport.
The change in pressure made my ears hurt like heck and as I can no longer clear
by holding my nose and blowing out I was in a fair amount of pain for a good 40
minutes. Eventually it cleared, but not at all pleasant. I’d like to add how
kind the stewardess was on our flight, she could see I was struggling, both
with my ears and my stoma and was happy for me to visit the toilet after the
lights had gone on for seatbelts to be worn for landing so that I could clear
the stoma in private.
We had stayed with Anna
Krasaki and her family at Anna's Studios four times,
both as a family and as a couple. The apartments are always spotless and whilst
not the 5* luxury of the Canaries they are more than adequate for our stay. We
only really used the apartments for sleeping in to be honest. There is a lovely
pool to enjoy, if you haven’t got a stoma in your throat that is of course. I
don’t normally miss being able to swim, but the combination of 30+degree heat
and a couple of small glasses of Corfu Brewery IPA had me making my way down
the steps of the pool and sitting on a handy ledge. Carol was keeping a close
eye on me, knowing my ability to be a bit of a dick at times, but I was happy
as Lary (Sorry, couldn’t resist!) sitting on the ledge enjoying the cooling
pool. To me it was a pretty big step. I did venture into the sea as well as the
pool but was much more careful, only venturing as deep as my waist and then
only when the sea was dead calm (& usually when I needed a wee!). When
we’ve holidayed on the Canaries or in Cornwall I’ve not risked the sea as it’s
rougher and more unpredictable than the Med. Whilst I couldn’t keep Carol
company whilst she was enjoying herself swimming, as least I could have a bit
of a paddle to cool off from the midday sun.
As always when I go abroad,
or indeed anywhere where I’m meeting new people I worry about their reaction to
the way I sound. I’m not so bothered about the way I look as I’ve never exactly
been a stunner, but the way I sound does concern me. Without exception, the
Greek people we met only treated me with respect and politeness. In some way
sounding and looking as I do has advantages. The people who own the restaurants
we ate in would remember me (they may well have never met another Lary), they
would remember the cocktails we ordered (Black Russian, Pina Colada and Gin
Fizz – 3 for 2), they would remember the wine we ordered. The only adverse
reaction we had the entire break came from an English woman who insisted on
turning 45 degrees to stare at me every time I spoke in a restaurant. Initially
I ignored it, but after 90 minutes or so of being stared at I was getting a
little bit upset. What she should have been doing was talk to her morbidly
obese husband about his eating habits rather than staring at me. As we left she
made a point of again staring at me, so I apologised to her that the
“Entertainment” was leaving early. She didn’t take too kindly to my comment,
but tough. On the upside, that evening I experimented with taking photos of the
wonderful sunset on my iPhone through the bottom of a glass. I was quite
pleased with the result.
We've always commented from our trips to Corfu how much the
Greek people seem to like children, never more evident than when we went to the local festival
held one evening whilst we were there. Midnight, drinks flowing, lamb cooking
on the spit, Greek music being played by the band and loads of local kids
running around, having fun and annoying no one at all. It was a strange evening
as it was aimed at locals rather than tourists, we hadn’t a clue what was going
on, but it was highly entertaining. we were told afterwards that it's used as a good excuse to meet up with other friends from neighboring villages who you may not have seen for a few months. We made our way back up Cardiac Hill and I
conked out within minutes, that’ll be the 3* brandy I was drinking. According
to Carol the festival was still going strong at 2am J
I’ve
struggled when we’re away with the portion sizes of food served in restaurants,
this holiday was no different I’m afraid. Be it Corfu, Fuerteventura or Gran Canaria I just can’t eat huge portions of
food these days and I feel guilty if I leave half the portion on a plate. Due
to the surgery I have to chew food almost to the point of a pulp before I can
swallow it properly, otherwise the valve gets gunked up. This means that as
well as eating far more slowly than a normal person, I also lose my appetite fairly
quickly. It sounds quite weird, but the more expensive the restaurant, the
smaller the portions served. You can eat out very cheaply in Arillas, one of
our favourite places is Gratesla. It’s a traditional taverna run by a family.
It was nice, on our first night, to be remembered, genuinely, for our previous
visits in years gone by. The food served is fresh, mainly fish, tasty and one
portion would feed the entire front row of the Rams 1st XV J Two courses, wine, coffee and a cheeky brandy rarely
came in at more than
5. We ended up using
Gratesla mainly for lunch as it was so popular in the evenings that the service
suffered a bit. We’d have three or four hours on the beach, then retire for a
leisurely lunch. Three starters or a fish meze shared between us with a ½ litre
of dry white wine. Walk up heartbreak hill and an afternoon snoozing by the
pool. Evening involved a G’nT at Anna’s lovely bar before strolling down the
hill to the cocktail bar for our 3 for 2 offer, and then deciding which
restaurant we’d frequent. Horizon, relatively expensive for Arillas, but top
quality. Thalassa, great food and superb service. Ammos if we were feeling like
a bit of a different choice in cuisine. It was a tough holiday as you can tell.
A strange quirks of Greek cooking would seem to me to be the relative lack of
spices involved. The majority of dishes will have an overload of oregano,
perhaps some basil or rosemary, but not a lot else. I can manage for 10 days,
but I was craving a bit of chili or perhaps some paprika by the time we got
home. All the restaurants had in common one thing, that was the total work
ethic of the staff. It wasn’t uncommon to see the same staff working at
lunchtime and again in the evening. It’s a case of making hay whilst the sun shines.
Work hard from May until the end of September, and then sleep for 5 months!
We both noticed on this visit
that Arillas is smartening itself up. The restaurants look better, there’s
decking on some of the frontage, a coffee shop has opened which served lovely
fresh croissants and a decent coffee too. There was no rubbish lying around at all,
unlike Corfu Town which had rubbish piled up in bags on every street corner. They’re
even beginning to embrace to idea of recycling, albeit in a small way, but it’s
a start. We did our bit by refusing plastic straws with our drinks, again a
small gesture, but a start. Far fewer people seemed
to be smoking, even the Greeks who must be amongst the largest population on
smokers in Europe seem to have largely packed in. It was nice to sit on the
sand on the beach and not to be picking fag butts up! Some of the restaurant
owners mentioned that so far the season had been quiet compared to previous
years, they were mainly blaming Brexit and I’ll admit we did delay our booking
somewhat on the back of possible disruption. But with St Theresa of May dithering
until October we felt we needed to get away regardless. It’s been a challenging
2019 so far, what with the MRI’s, Fine Needle Aspiration, biopsies, skin cancer and other scares, so it was good
to just relax totally and forget about the trials and tribulations of the real
world.
I've become aware that in the very
few photos that have been taken of me since becoming a Lary that I’ve had my
hand up by my throat subconsciously covering up the stoma, as if I’m
embarrassed of it. I made the decision that on this holiday I’d “come out” and
just bare all for the camera. It’s not like I can change things, or that
suddenly one day my voice box will magically grow back. Also as I was often dressed
just in my budgie smugglers and a smile there seems little point in hiding the
plastic protruding from my neck. So from now on it’s me, my ugly face, crocked
nose and my Lary. Maybe holding a Pina Colada in a fake coconut shell with pink
flowers…………….
In some way before we left
for Corfu I’d been secretly dreading it. I thought I’d struggle with the heat
and the walk back to Anna’s Studios. When we arrived and I found I’d made a
total mess of packing my supplies I was really worried how I’d cope. Well I’m
pleased to say that the hill wasn’t as hard as I envisaged, probably helped by
the intake of Black Russians, Gin Fizzes and Pina Coladas. And my medical
supplies lasted far longer than they do in the UK. I normally change the base
plate every day and use a different type at night. On Corfu they were last up
to three days without needing to be changed. I didn’t need a more soothing one
to sleep with either. Perhaps assisted by the generous 5* Metaxa I had before
bed. The filters would last a day and a half or longer, rather than being
replaced about every 10 hours at home. Maybe the local red wine helped. Normally
at home I’m having to stick a cleaning brush into my speaking valve four or
five times a day, on Corfu it was once in the morning and that was it. Maybe
the pre-dinner G’nT helped. So, in conclusion I think I need to live in a
country that has a warm and dry climate and cheap booze. I’ve set up a Just
Giving Page and all donations would be appreciated www.getclarkytoawarmclimate.com
In all seriousness, it was a
great holiday, one where I hardly noticed the fact that I’m now two years into
being a Lary. Pretty sure the #Stalker enjoyed herself too…………………………….
....................... she was 90% fueled by alcohol!
(Just for a change all photo's on the blog were taken on my iPhone as I forgot to take my DSLR with me.............. )
As always, thanks for
reading.
To be continued………………
#Shoulder2Shoulder
