Monday, June 23, 2008

Peaches, Pelion and English Pubs.


Sinking my teeth into a juicy peach from my latest grocery delivery I noticed that they had come from Greece. This lead me to thinking about last year's holidays and driving round the peach orchards in the Koropi area of Pelion. The smell was fantastic although we wouldn't have been able to scrump any if we'd wanted to, all the trees being behind 2 metre high wire netting fencing. We did buy loads from road-side stalls however and peaches were the dessert of the day, every day, at our bolt-hole in Kalamos.

I'm missing Kalamos a lot. Even our recent trip to Corfu hasn't deadened the ache. It's probably all made worse by the fact we can't go back to that actual little villa, the owner needs it for his own growing family now they have fled the nest and will be using it for weekend visits in the same way as all the the other local houses are used.


We also both miss Argalasti, where we often found ourselves in the dying light of the day, sitting in the square with a hundred other families, lazily eating dinner or sipping the local sour cherry juice. It was noisy and boisterous. Whole families of locals sitting at adjoining tavernas, shouting at each other as only the Greeks know how. Just imparting a bit of local news has all the outward signs of an impending argument to English eyes. All the children played in the central part of the square watched over by parents of all descriptions. The younger ones ran round the tables and screamed, the older group played a kind of Greek 'What's the time Mr Wolf'' lead by two precocious 10 year old girls who both wanted to be in charge. Young teens hung around on the outside of the gathering, giggling in the shadows, the boys taunting the girls and tinkering with bicycle gears, the girls posing on the walls and looking coy. A short distance away the late teens sat outside the Gyros Pita takeaway, eating, laughing, smoking and listening to loud music, breaking rank occasionally to hail friends roaring past on mopeds. Everyone knew each other. News was imparted and confidences picked over, meals were shared and served out by the elders, children were called to eat and stuffed with fish and bread, only to run off again cramming their mouths with chips as they went. The men collectively sighed over football results and the local elections, old established positions reinforced. Diatribes on the state of the nation given by old men, ouzo glass in one hand, cigarette in the other as they shared plates of octopus, olives and hard cheese. All the time the kids ran round, one fell over and four mothers rose as one to comfort the injured party, two more speaking harshly to the unfortunate scamp who had pushed him.

We love it there, every night this place comes alive as the whole community comes together as one body to enjoy the warm evenings. Contrast this then with last night in our local pub here. A fine Sunday night in the only pub in the village. It was near empty, a sanitised version of 'Ye Olde English' with formica, Farrow and Ball and Madonna on the stereo. We chose from a menu which has not changed for at least 20 years other than the addition of pre-packed chicken curry. Our fellow inhabitants of the lounge were a family having a sort of mini reunion, some lived here, others had moved away. We did know them all but they preferred not to mix outside their own group, speaking in hushed tones lest we should hear what they had to say. They kept themselves to themselves and so did we, not wishing to be seen to be intruding. Across the counter a glimpse of the other room, the bar, usually inhabited by the youth of the area. Two chaps in their 30's sat baiting the usually terse landlord. Suddenly a loud voice from an unseen other, "When did Sunday night in the pub get to be so bloody quiet? And boring." There was no answer. We finished our meal and left, there was nothing to keep us there.

That's the sort of time I miss Greece the most and this year, especially, Kalamos and Argalasti. I've got to go back, permanently. Watch this space.

PS Blogger formatting seems to be playing up AGAIN. If this post looks odd it's them not me, honest.

4 comments:

Carol said...

I can see it now...just as you are finally getting settled and comfortable into your new place, you decide to uproot again...to Greece.

Unknown said...

Hi Carol, How are you? Good to see you.
Greece always has been the long-term aim. The property crisis in the UK has just slowed things down a bit.
xx

Anonymous said...

Beautifully written Jas - I could see, smell, hear and taste it all in Greece and sadly, also in the UK. Your love for it shone through with the writing. I adore the Greeks.

Unknown said...

Aww, Thanks Thursday, that really cheered me up after a bummer of a day.
xx