Arranged by email a few weeks prior, the plan was to meet my Finnish friend, Jan and family, in front of Hotel Tempi at 9:00 p.m. Knowing we had hours before dinner, Gino and I indulged in a tasty gyro from one of the corner souvlaki stands. A gyro (pronounced hee-roh), in case you have never been lucky enough to have one, is the Greek’s answer to fast food, but so much better. Rotisseries pierced with huge slabs of pork, chicken, or lamb, stand like vertical cones, dripping juices as the chef shaves curls of meat for stuffing into a flat round of pita bread, then adding tomatoes, onion, fresh french fries, and a dollop of tzatziki sauce. Heavenly!
At the appointed hour, Jan strode up pushing his new grandbaby, Mio, in a stroller. With him were his wife, Liisa, daughter (and mother to Mio) Tuulia, and Liisa’s sister and her fiance’. Jan and I recognized each other immediately, even though it was the first time we’d met face to face. (See “A Greek Song Started It” to learn the story behind this meeting.) Feeling as if we’d known each other for years (which essentially we had!), we all sauntered off towards the heart of the Plaka.
Jan explained that the taverna they had originally picked for dinner had changed hands and no longer seemed good, but they had found a replacement that also featured live Greek music. Chatting and meandering along, we arrived. The taverna was outside, of course, and we had a long table reserved for us in the middle of the space. A small stage with three musicians sat at one end: a bouzouki player, guitarist, and singer.
The world disappeared but for this little corner of Greece as we shared tales and traded toasts to commemorate Jan’s recent 60th birthday. Local white wine flowed as we laughed and talked, the music setting the mood.
Suddenly, the strains of THE song cut through the evening chatter — this was the very one that had initiated Jan’s and my friendship. I stopped and looked at Jan, exclaiming, “This is the song!”. Ceremoniously, he announced in a loud voice, “This song is the reason why we are all together at this table tonight!” Rapturously, we listened.
After dinner, we strolled through the streets, stopping at an outdoor bar called Ydria (EE-dree-a). I ordered Tsipouro, very strong and similar to grappa, and which I would unexpectedly meet again later in the trip. Gino had a Mojito and we ribbed him about drinking Cuban drinks in heart of Greece. When I couldn’t remember what day of the week it was (although that had nothing to do with the drink), Jan teased that I was “still under the spell of Sicily.”
After goodbyes for the night, Gino and I weren’t ready to return to the hotel, so we wandered up towards the Acropolis, a magnificent glowing beacon in the night. Falling upon a rocky out crop jutting at the side of the road, we hiked to the top of it to stand with others already there, gazing silently in awe at the lights of the city twinkling below.
Melinda Trips 2007: Sicily and Peloponnese 