Just a flavour of where we have been the last two weeks....
I am awoken at 6am by the sound of a little boat putt-putting across the bay in front of our window. Within five minutes the boat has gone and silence remains. I go back to sleep. At 7 I hear a loud guttarall "Euh, po po po" and the thwack of a house reel on concrete. Our neighbour two-doors down, Mrs Loud-voice Greek has emerged and surveyed the debris on her patio and is now using the hose to wash it clean. Overnight, ripe mulberries from the tree in our adjoining yards have fallen leaving a sticky mess on her floor. I doze off to sleep again only to be awoken again by the sound of shouting. Mr Very-quiet-voice Greek has come to see what his wife is doing and deposited a fishing line on her best patio-table cloth. Mrs shouts at him, Mr just shakes his head and repeats "yes, yes, yes". The line is hastily removed, the pot plants and cloth rearranged and the couple return inside to breakfast.
A car is heard approaching on the lane behind the villa and comes sharply to a halt on the sea front, another two feet and it would have been in the sea. With much screeching of brakes and crashing of gears, the car reverses up the slope and parks on the only space in front of the Kafenion. It being a weekday the Kafenion remains closed. The owner gets out and throws some fishing lines off the road into the sea, weighting each with a stone or a lemonade bottle. He sits on the stone wall around another mulberry tree and begins a loud conversation into his mobile phone. At intervals other Greek men appear from the shadows and begin fishing too. Mrs Loud-voice emerges and has loud conversations with several of them whilst she polishes her patio chairs and rearranges her pot plants for a second time.
A single woman, Brit-girl emerges from her villa with a cup of strong Greek coffee and sits down on the shady patio to read. Life becomes still again and she soaks up the silence, the sparkling water and sea air.
An hour later and two other Brit couples emerge and moan about the mulberries which today are worse than ever. Mrs Home-Counties begins to sweep ineffectually with a small broom. She says to her husband that she thinks she will use the hose. "Over my dead body" he retorts, "You'll make too much mess and get water everywhere and anyway the excercise is good for you" She carries on sweeping. Brit-girl meanwhile has hosed her patio down and already, 5 minutes later, it is dry and pristine clean. She returns to her book. Mrs Home-Counties still sweeps until, worried by marauding wasps, she gives up.
A new, strange sound surrounds the villa like a Muslim call to prayer and appears to be coming nearer; eventually we follow it along the lane between the buildings and on to the sea front. The source of this is a white pick-up truck with a large tannoy speaker on the cab-top. The driver is speaking into a microphone. The back is loaded high with multi coloured plastic chairs (logo:Athenes Olympics 2004), plastic buckets, mops, brooms, watering cans and plastic pots. Atop the highest pile of chairs sits a dark-skinned, dark-eyed boy aged about 8. The passenger climbs out and checks the boy is still there, she is a large woman built like a belly-dancer, similarly dark-skinned and wears a tight, flowery, purple dress and matching head-scarf fringed with beads. These are Roma people from Northern Greece and they travel the length of the country selling their wares. There are no customers so the truck turns round and drives off again.
By now the other Brit couples are breakfasting on their terraces, Mr and Mrs Home-Counties appear to eat separately, she has fresh fruit and yoghurt, he has toast and jam. Mr and Mrs Normal however eat together, chattering all the while and eat the local bread and honey. Both couples make their plans for the day then begin to pack up. Good Mornings are exchanged and questions relating to today's plans are asked. Brit-girl doesn't have a plan and says she will see what turns up.
I am awoken at 6am by the sound of a little boat putt-putting across the bay in front of our window. Within five minutes the boat has gone and silence remains. I go back to sleep. At 7 I hear a loud guttarall "Euh, po po po" and the thwack of a house reel on concrete. Our neighbour two-doors down, Mrs Loud-voice Greek has emerged and surveyed the debris on her patio and is now using the hose to wash it clean. Overnight, ripe mulberries from the tree in our adjoining yards have fallen leaving a sticky mess on her floor. I doze off to sleep again only to be awoken again by the sound of shouting. Mr Very-quiet-voice Greek has come to see what his wife is doing and deposited a fishing line on her best patio-table cloth. Mrs shouts at him, Mr just shakes his head and repeats "yes, yes, yes". The line is hastily removed, the pot plants and cloth rearranged and the couple return inside to breakfast.
A car is heard approaching on the lane behind the villa and comes sharply to a halt on the sea front, another two feet and it would have been in the sea. With much screeching of brakes and crashing of gears, the car reverses up the slope and parks on the only space in front of the Kafenion. It being a weekday the Kafenion remains closed. The owner gets out and throws some fishing lines off the road into the sea, weighting each with a stone or a lemonade bottle. He sits on the stone wall around another mulberry tree and begins a loud conversation into his mobile phone. At intervals other Greek men appear from the shadows and begin fishing too. Mrs Loud-voice emerges and has loud conversations with several of them whilst she polishes her patio chairs and rearranges her pot plants for a second time.
A single woman, Brit-girl emerges from her villa with a cup of strong Greek coffee and sits down on the shady patio to read. Life becomes still again and she soaks up the silence, the sparkling water and sea air.
An hour later and two other Brit couples emerge and moan about the mulberries which today are worse than ever. Mrs Home-Counties begins to sweep ineffectually with a small broom. She says to her husband that she thinks she will use the hose. "Over my dead body" he retorts, "You'll make too much mess and get water everywhere and anyway the excercise is good for you" She carries on sweeping. Brit-girl meanwhile has hosed her patio down and already, 5 minutes later, it is dry and pristine clean. She returns to her book. Mrs Home-Counties still sweeps until, worried by marauding wasps, she gives up.
A new, strange sound surrounds the villa like a Muslim call to prayer and appears to be coming nearer; eventually we follow it along the lane between the buildings and on to the sea front. The source of this is a white pick-up truck with a large tannoy speaker on the cab-top. The driver is speaking into a microphone. The back is loaded high with multi coloured plastic chairs (logo:Athenes Olympics 2004), plastic buckets, mops, brooms, watering cans and plastic pots. Atop the highest pile of chairs sits a dark-skinned, dark-eyed boy aged about 8. The passenger climbs out and checks the boy is still there, she is a large woman built like a belly-dancer, similarly dark-skinned and wears a tight, flowery, purple dress and matching head-scarf fringed with beads. These are Roma people from Northern Greece and they travel the length of the country selling their wares. There are no customers so the truck turns round and drives off again.
By now the other Brit couples are breakfasting on their terraces, Mr and Mrs Home-Counties appear to eat separately, she has fresh fruit and yoghurt, he has toast and jam. Mr and Mrs Normal however eat together, chattering all the while and eat the local bread and honey. Both couples make their plans for the day then begin to pack up. Good Mornings are exchanged and questions relating to today's plans are asked. Brit-girl doesn't have a plan and says she will see what turns up.
The male in the third villa, after much yawning and loud stretching has emerged and goes to the waterfront for a solitary cigarette. He talks to the fishermen and is in time to watch the arrival of a small boat which picks up two Greeks and takes them to their own boats moored some 40 yards away. Another lone Greek wearing goggles and a snorkel enters the sea with a net and a washing up bowl. Later, all we can see from the shore is the top of a head, a snorkel and blue bowl swimming from side to side about 20 yards out. Alpha-male then decides he is hungry, thinks he will have a fry up, Greek bacon, fried eggs and several rounds of toast. He sits and waits for Brit-girl to cook it for him. The other Brits smelling the bacon, beat it quickly lest they might admit it smells delicious.
Alpha-male and Brit-girl eat their fry-up in peace, the neighbours have long since disappeared to their chosen beaches. Yet another truck is heard approaching. The voice-over is just about intelligeable "Potatoes, tomatoes, courgettes, beans, onions, melons". There is a flurry of activity as women emerge to make their purchases. Kalimeras are exchanged as locals pass by. An ancient set of scales is set up on the quay and the goods weighed out.
Brit-girl and Alpha Male could watch all day. This is the real Greece.
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