Maybe it’s the summer, but Greeks have been so friendly lately. Someone told me once that Greeks hate winter, they’re depressed and moody because the sun doesn’t like them anymore.
Well, these days there’s plenty of sun and it looks like Greeks are more joyful. So they give me Greek lessons.
At the bougatza shop, the old lady started asking me questions, like you ask kindergarden children. Slowly, and nodding. Her questions are translated in English. I actually recognize most of the words in Greek, but can’t always reproduce them.
Where is your wife ? Pu ine gyneka su ?
To spiti. (at home)
Today you came alone. simera ise mono esi (or something like that)
What is she doing at home ? Ti kane gyneka su to spiti ?
Does she work in the kitchen ? Kane fagito ? Does she make food ?
Ohi, ego ime me kouzina. No, I’m with the kitchen.
Where did you go today ? pu peraste simera ?
Agora. (the market)
What will you cook today ?
Bacaliaros, me voutiro ke maidani. cod, with butter and parsley.
What does you wife do, then ? alla, ti dulia kane gyneka su ? (I got this one).
And here I lost it. No words for “translation”, “subtitles”. But I knew teleorasi (television).
So, to the old lady at the bougatza shop, my wife is a movie star and I’m a chef.
White walls, blue doors and windows, stone, marble and vines. Painted tables, comfy chairs, Wi-Fi, seagulls and an alarm clock sheepishly blaring the sounds I had almost forgotten. Someone just woke up and snoozed it.
We’re somewhere inside the maze of Naxos Chora and I bet the stairs I’m looking at are in fact a street. I can hear the sounds of the harbor. Blue Star Ferry Paros has just left. In 6 days, I’ll be on it, probably sad and wishing to return.
I’ve just witnessed the horror of a lizard attacking and chewing a fly.
As for ourselves, we’ll go look for an English breakfast, a tradition in Cyclades.
A, I notice someone has a red window. Communists. They’re everywhere.
No, it’s just that they’ve finished their work 2500 years ago.