Teulada to Menorca

We wake up in our scenic secluded marina & decide we need to buy something.  There must be something missing in our lives, so we take stock & decide 4 rolls of toilet paper is cutting it too close, so to town for toilet paper it is.  Secluded is an understatement, it's 7 km to town, up & down hill, mostly up it seems, and blowing a gale.  Surely someone will stop & pick us up.  Not a chance.  Get into town at siesta time, anywhere between noon & 5 pm. depending on the town.  This means it closes down tighter than a rusty nut.  We strut like a couple of real desperados, as a wave of door shutting is announcing our approach.  Frantically realizing our mission could be severely compromised we dart about every street & see someone in the distance exiting a store.  Eureka, it's open.  And a market.  Feeling like it could be our last encounter with food we start loading up, then realize we have to cart this shite all the way back.  So we limit ourselves to the REAL neccessities (like wine)& get something for a picnic lunch in the park.  More coldcuts & cheese.  We already have enough coldcuts & cheese in the boat to open a delicatessen, but that's what's on offer. 
On the way home we pass 3 seniors rummaging about in the roadside bushes, hmm, wonder what they're doing.  Picking berries for Myrto, the Sardinian special liquor.  She opens her hand to show me the purple berries which I had already ascertained at the internet cafe were myrtle berries.  I automatically pop one into my mouth of course & am rewarded with a sweet taste followed by an intensely bitter sensation.  I resist the urge to spit it out & soldier on until out of sight to spit it out.
Next we pass the mandarin orange grove with the faulty fence so I offer to go in & get some.  We hear dogs barking in the direction of the distant hacienda, at least 3.  Serge will wait on the other side & I'll throw him the oranges.  This seems agreeable to me as I've had half a litre of red wine.  I topple over the fence & grease up the knees of my freshly washed jeans, crap.  It wouldn't seem like such a shame if I had the ability to do laundry at any time, but I don't, there are no laundromats in Italy, or all of Europe as far as I can ascertain.  There is just not the same premium placed on having clean clothes, in fact, it's MUCH, MUCH higher.  About the cost of having it done at a 5 star hotel.   Anyway, I toss him the oranges in rapid fire succession as I imagine the dog barking is getting closer.  He manages to catch about 2 out of 3.  Back over the fence, no shooting or biting, whew.

This is how we like the sea, FLAT

The full moon is especially bright this evening

Cliff where the dolphin came from

Other side of cliffs

When we leave at dawn the next morning is completely still and I'm on the foredeck securing the dinghy.  Serge calls me to look at something.  It's a dolphin who breaches 3 times at right angles to come to meet us.  He swims with us for a few minutes & I squeal like a kid at Christmas.  He turns sideways to look at me before he goes and I swear it's the same one I've been seeing since Messina.  A big grey stripe on his side.  We feel this is a good omen for our first long passage just the two of us.