Jet Oil Afithos

In December, I needed tire chains, for the trip home. The Bulgarians demanded tire chains for all vehicles crossing Bulgaria. In order to avoid the ever-greedy Bulgarian Police, I decided to buy the damn chains. I went to the local gas station, Cyclon. No luck. Then another one. Then supermarkets, a hardware store and more … Continue reading

The Meat Nazi

Kreopoleio is the butcher’s shop. Kreas is meat. Creation is incarnation, therefore. Being creative is being meaty. But enough games. I take my meat very seriously and my favourite butcher’s is in Kasandreia. One of the butchers is also a vendor, or he used to be. I haven’t seen him in a couple of weeks and honestly I miss him. I’ll explain.

This kreopoleio offers a piece of sausage for about every 10 Euros you spend on meat. Usually, I buy about 20 Euros worth of meat once, so I get 2 sausages. The nice butcher is always very elegant about it, pointing to his big generous chest every time he inserts the 2 pieces of sausage in the already bursting bag of meat.

He points at various good cuts, expressing the fatness, the deliciousness of those particular cuts, which he probably did himself in the morning. We used to have sign language conversations about meat and we understood each other perfectly. I used to point to my neck, to my ribs, or legs. He got it and fetched a fat piece of pork, a chicken leg, or a rack of lamb. Sometimes he points at his entrails, but I usually refuse the liver or kidneys he’s so clearly offering me. Continue reading