We don’t work like this…

Olive orchards are everywhere on Crete; row upon row stretch as far as the eye can see. We have been using cut olive branches for the BBQ. In fact when I first asked Yannis, our local supermarket owner for charcoal not only did he not carry it he didn’t know what it was. The olive tree is a hard wood and when dry is perfect for cooking so why buy charcoal.

We take our little Hyundai (the cheapest car the rental company offered) throw it in reverse and then first gear for the dirt drive out of our villas at Gerolakos to the automatic steel gate reminiscent of Israel. It slowly slides open as I hold the car in first ready to move on to the gravel road. I need a running start with this car to be able to navigate the slope up and then down to the main road. Turning right we pass more olive groves, a backhoe stuck in what appears to be a permanent position on the side of the road and then several goats who wonder around eating everything in sight. The goats seem to know about Greek drivers and do not venture past the shoulder.

A couple hundred meters down the road is where Yannis’ supermarket is among a couple of Tavernas and a few other shops. Stavaremos is about 10 kilometers from the nearest tourist center and consequently the stores are more for the locals here. It seems everywhere we go in Greece, whether it’s in Athens, Hydra or Crete stores are always open so I asked Yannis what his hours were and he said he opens at 730 in the morning and closes at 1030 at night. Work is a way of life for the store owners. Family and friends come and go, some stay to talk or watch TV or play cards or help at the store. Yannis is about 30 years old and is single. He works the entire 15 hour day six or seven days a week depending on how busy it is. His brother, also Nick, or father or mother or sister spots him for an occasional day off. He closes the store only four days of the year.

The supermarket in Greece is not necessarily very big. The definition does not seem to be about size but rather variety. Yannis’ store is about 1500 square feet and offers local fruit and vegetables and has a butcher shop among other grocery and household goods. Yannis’ father is bringing down the meat cleaver on half a carcass slicing off loin chops. Is that lamb I say? No Yannis says its pork. I’ll take four chops and he disappears for awhile to reemerge with the chops wrapped up in paper. The place is packed with all kinds of people talking in Greek, passionately, waving their arms…its common. In fact I don’t think they talk in any other way. I circumvent the store looking for things to eat. Ah…frozen chips. They don’t call them French fries and they are everywhere, believe me when I say that the one thing that is constant in this world we have traveled is the multitude of places that offer chips. They even stick them inside the pita with Gyros here. This is a very fortunate occurrence because chips are an essential part, no, the staple of Nick’s diet. Pork chops and chips…ok we got dinner. Top it off with a bottle of Coca Cola and it’s a complete meal. The Coca Cola is by the way made with cane sugar not corn syrup and it makes a difference. When Nick eats his meat and chips, I have been eating barbequed tomatoes, onions and peppers with meat, some feta cheese and of course washing it all down with Coca Cola.

Nick went to the store the other day and Yannis told him that he had a very nice dad. Later Nick said that he learned from watching me interact with people that I was to him kind of goofy (which he didn’t particularly want to emulate) but that my demeanor invited people to be friendly and open; that I didn’t care so much about being cool as much as being inviting. It does not get much better than that.

When I first came into the store Yannis thought I was Greek…ok so now Nick and I are both Greek. I am not sure what constitutes a Greek look but maybe it has something to do with fitting into the pace and rhythm of this place. The heat, the deep blue sky and ocean and the olive trees brimming in the sound of cicada seem to all work together in casting a spell, a spell that puts me somewhere between relaxed and not wanting to do anything at all.