Let me take you out of the city of Athens, on the dark waters of the Aegean Sea on the beautiful volcanic island of Santorini. And when I sit for a while 'from the old stone church bell that rings pier the last of the cliffs above the orange sun melting tries once again the surface of the sea, set on fire. Stay with me, as the lonely cry of gulls and whipped cream, and I try to think back to this vast slopes of a small tavern, I remember visiting many years ago. As the sunsets, climb the steps of pebbles, 587 to achieve in all that wind their way up the face of the hill red hill, the white city of Thera. From here we go, the houses where the old men sitting and talking, not just the long summer evenings and look for the little side street, making their way to the small village of Akrotiri snakes. Let us stay, because the air is warm and listen to music away kantathes performed in the night air and enjoy once more the sweet smell ofMyrtle and eucalyptus, as the mist clears my mind. Why was it, like the Greeks. When the sun goes down, go up the cobbled steps, 587 to achieve in all that wind their way up the face of the hill red hill, the white city of Thera. From here we go, the houses where the old men sitting and talking, not just the long summer evenings and look for the little side street, making their way to the small village of Akrotiri snakes. Let us stay, because the air is still warm andkantathes hear distant music performed in night air and enjoy once more the sweet smell of myrtle and eucalyptus, as the mist clears my mind. For it was, as the Greeks said, "Polla Kronio ', many, many years.
She is probably married to some city in northern Denmark, but only they can help us find the way to the small restaurant. You know, it seems just like yesterday that we have come through the open door in the courtyard ofthese memories. And all that was said, the remote village of Akrotiri, is probably the village capital who want to be a part of Greece that no package ever seen, nor ever will be back, if he had appreciated the service of a small tavern. The building, I remember a number of old buildings was open to the court, not very romantic, and far from philoloyika kafeneia (literary cafes) to Syntagma Square, where writers and actors met at night and crysip ouzo. I remember the green vines on the white walls peeling and I felt embarrassed to walk away with the farm animals, but we were hungry and therefore not willing to ask questions. It 'been a long wooden table under a pomegranate tree in which half a dozen sheets loaded with local magaritsa, mousakka and were taken to eating salad. The sweet smell of cooking filled the night air, and our hungry eyes of the meal was a banquet. Crunching metal fan with threeblades and a half, the only background noise, but we were in search of smaller streets for food and traditional melodies no longer look tired. I remember how the local port stopped eating when we arrived and we watched in silence as we took off our packs and waited with. An elderly woman dressed in black, politely chases away the animals, but we try to stay where we were obviously ready to give us a table. We nodded at her and smiled politely,but he muttered a few words to himself and then turned away abruptly.
Trine Where is he now?
I had never left unattended in a restaurant on the island before and was surprised how insecure and the feeling was undignified. We were hungry, and despite our efforts, our eyes wandered in Hunter mode, and occasionally used to satisfy on the table with food. If we stare too long, other customers seemed angry and walked away. From time toNow, I also heard these sons of Socrates himself giggling with each other, until an old man with a mustache in the air, threw his hands in the air and said: "I na kanoume. (What can we do!)
After about twenty minutes we were impatient, and felt compelled to take upon us to deal with others at the table sit and order a bottle of wine. The old woman returned, moving with that kind of mixing steps that would deny its support elsewhere immediately. For aFor a long time and stood in silence, the study can contact us this kind of unwavering eyes that look deep into your soul, but she still did not move to provide us with food.
"Retsina" I explained at the beginning rather annoyed at the lack of services and the challenge that affects wooden board. For a moment silence fell on the collection and opened a lot of mouths in anticipation of what happens next.
"It Magaritsa!" I continued.
I looked at Trina, wondering all the time, becausethe old woman was so willing to serve us. Silence reigned in the court until a little man standing in a well-pressed white shirt from his chair and said the old woman. He spoke in a low voice, all while maintaining eye contact with her as if she had seen their best response. The old woman smiled, chuckled slowly, a little 'heavy on aliens and then returned to the kitchen. He returned moments later with a bottle of Retsina and a large plate of food. A youngGirl appeared with a large pot of water and glasses and put them on the table. It 'was something nice about the old, and I thanked him for his help. I smiled at the other customers in the hope that he would pardon my rudeness recently to the old. The old man was anxious to know if we came from Australia and other guests potash OREX we wanted a Greek term which means "good appetite".
The girl gave us more food and has continued until our celebrationswas not an empty plate on the table on the left. Then he went upstairs and returned with a small candle and lit it on our table. I watched her flickering flame, and I noticed how his golden glow fell on the edges of the face Trine lifted, the light of our minds that give us a thirst for more hormonal Retsina. I am sure that we were in love, enchanted with the turn of events all the time and had played a role. We asked the old man during a gap in hisCall if he would get the owner to make us another bottle. The old woman again, beads of sweat on his forehead to collect and put on the table a bottle of Retsina. As the night advanced, they have always had the look of a weary bartender, who was eager to please, but exhausted by the experience of conducting wine tourists.
Soon it was midnight and time for us on the way back to our hostel in the village of Thera. A thousand twinkling starsin the night sky as I reached for my credit card and went to the kitchen door ajar to pay for our meal. In the moonlight, the old woman took my credit card and studied under their light. I have examined at length, his eyes wide open and I could see from the response that they are not sure what to do next. I waited in silence as they walked along the back yard and gave it to his guests at the table. In the dim light, I have moved from person to person,before last, but still with a younger man I had not noticed before. A sudden smile of his face split in two and began to laugh heartily before he turned to me and told me.
"Mr Treacy, this does not have a restaurant, you should eat and drink with my family at home"
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