Had a coffee (Freddo Espresso) at Haraki Dreams yesterday (Excuse for some photos showing the fabulous sea and sun of a sunny March day on Rhodes)...
Of course, Sunday is 'volta' day for Greek families anyway, but since this weekend it's also a double celebration in Greece, the families were out in force. It's a three-day celebration that revolves around March 25th, the day when they celebrate the Greek War of Independence from the Ottoman Empire. They also 'celebrate' the 'annunciation', reputed to be when the Angel Gabriel appeared to Mary to tell her that she was going to have a son. March 25th, the Orthodox Church is quick to point out, is exactly 9 months before Christmas.
You can skip this paragraph if you like. But there might just be some who are interested in what's logical and factual, so I'll put it in anyway...
The only problem is, a quick bit of mathematics makes it easy to work out that Jesus was actually born in early October, and not December 25th at all. December 25th was selected in order to fuse pagan sun worship with 'Christianity' a full three centuries and more after the death of Christ. If you want to know how it can be deduced that he was actually born in October (and I know, some of you have already glazed over! I did warn you about this paragraph), it's easy. The prophecies (especially in the book of Daniel) specify that Christ's ministry would last exactly three and a half years. Since history is definite about the date of his death, which was in the spring, then you only have to count 6 months forward or backwards from then to arrive in the autumn as the time for his birth. Slam dunk. Regular readers of my rubbish will know that I have little time for any religion that claims that God belongs exclusively to their country anyway. Sadly, this applies to most, not simply to the Greek Orthodox. And, despite all that healthy cynicism, I still love living here.
So, the front at Haraki was great for people-watching and, as you can see from the photos above, the weather was absolutely perfect, just over 20ºC and very clear. In fact, from most of the east coast of Rhodes you could catch a breathtaking view of the snow-capped Turkish mountains, magic.
Driving along the road on our way from Haraki to Lardos for lunch, we were reminded of an occasion when we'd been travelling up to town some years back with a female Greek friend. She was the one driving, as it happens, and for most of the time she was slap, bang in the middle of the road, her wheels equidistant on both sides of the centre lines. At the time, peeking out from between our fingers, we just thought it was her, but have since seen it so often that we've come to the conclusion that a lot of Greeks have this idea that they're supposed to be in the middle of the road, unless something comes in the other direction, at which point they'll veer to the right to get into the correct lane, usually avoiding the oncoming vehicle by a gnat's whisker. We followed several cars today that did the same. As it happens, the roads are still pretty quiet (just as well, eh?), but won't be for many more weeks now, as the tourist season approaches at a rate of knots.
Talking of 'heart in the mouth' moments. we also witnessed some pretty hairy antics from riders of some very big motorbikes too. Coming from Haraki on our way to Lardos, the road approaching Kalathos is dead straight, with only a couple of gentle curves, for several kilometers. At one point, just south of Massari, we came up behind a beast of a bike with a rider and his girlfriend on the back tootling along quite slowly. Thus, I decided I'd go on past. No sooner had I got alongside them, than the bloke 'driving' opened his throttle and they tore off into the distance at a speed approaching that at which an airliner would be making just before take-off. Here's the thing though, neither the rider nor his lovely young girlfriend were wearing helmets and they only had what looked like basic trainers on their feet.
Now, peeps, I'm no killjoy and I used to be a biker myself. But I also know that if you ride a 750 or something bigger, at terrifying speed, you need to have a) protection for your bonce and, b) the same for your feet. If you come off at that speed you die. But if, by some miracle, you don't, then you'll probably lose a foot or two if you're not wearing suitable footwear. Fact. It wasn't long before this bike caught up with another, very similar one, which also had a couple astride it and they too were without helmets. Here on Rhodes there is a bit of a tradition for bikers to do a round-the-island jaunt on Sundays. I well remember my good friend Kostas, he who has the sun-beds on a local beach, telling me that every year there are accidents in which riders or their pillion passengers (or both) don't come home. Well, correction, they do, but in a box.
On a much lighter note, when we arrived at Savvas Grill, in Lardos at around 2.45pm, intent on enjoying a very fine and exceptionally good-value Sunday lunch, we heard the cacophony before we even saw it. Trotting up the front steps, we were greeted by a restaurant packed to the gills with Greeks of a certain age. You know what I mean, there were probably a few thousand Euros worth of perms and colour rinses atop the females, and the males were nearly all wearing the regulation plaid, or check, shirt under their suit jackets. I know it's a 'yiorti' weekend, but we were still surprised by the number of people in that restaurant. I soon got to the bottom of it, by accident really. Luckily for us, there had just been a modest table vacated when we went in, so we were able to sit down. Savvas had reinforcements waiting at tables, something he rarely needs. Not only was his son running himself ragged, but his daughter and son-in-law also were keeping the clientele well serviced.
As it happened, right next to our table there was someone I knew. Sitting alone at a small table was a certain Adonis, a slightly rotund and very friendly coach driver whom I've known for many years, having once worked for his company doing excursions. I asked him how come he was here in Lardos, since he works from the other side of the island and lives in Ixia, and he told me that it was he who was driving this huge party of revellers on a day excursion from his part of the island. Aha! Mystery solved.
We were served pretty quickly, when one takes into account the sheer workload of the staff, and ordered what we often order in Savvas: oven potatoes, a green salad of lettuce and spring onions, gigantes (big beans) and chick pea rissoles (revithokeftedes). We added to that a bottle of Retsina and one of water. It was, as always, delicious, healthy and filling, and the whole lunch set us back €20. The family, as always, greeted us with warmth, like old friends, which I suppose we almost are by now, having been going there off and on for over thirteen years and counting.
Just as we were beginning to find one woman's screechy voice (which rose above the melee due to its sheer volume) a little grating, the coach party of mainly pensioners began rising from their tables to leave. Adonis went off to fetch the coach and at four o'clock prompt, they were all climbing aboard after slapping Savvas and his trusty family hard on the backs in appreciation for an excellent lunch which was had by all. Most of them, who didn't know us from Adam, also smiled and bade us a smiley, spoken farewell as they left, and soon the place was down to two or three occupied tables, with huge piles of debris on the rest.
Returning for a moment to the plaid shirt phenomenon. I wrote some years back about the penchant that most middle-aged Greek men seem to have for wearing horizontally-striped polo shirts. I theorised that there must be some gent's clothing retailer somewhere that is making a fortune from these fashion disasters. It's true I tell you. Now that I've mentioned it, you look. Go on, next time you're out and about here in Greece, just count the number of pot-bellied men, greying at the temples if they still have any hair at all, that are wearing horizontally-striped polo shirts. Where do they get them from? When they dress up in their Sunday best and actually put on a suit jacket (well, some were wearing anorak-type things, but only a few), which means wearing a shirt, it seems that the vast majority cast off their stripy polo shirts and reach for the regulation plaid/check shirt instead. If I had a Euro for every bloke wearing some version or other of a plaid or check-patterned shirt in that restaurant, I'd have easily paid for our meal with quite a lot of change. Maybe it's me, because I can't recall ever seeing a shirt like that on a rack in any clothes shop that I've ever been in, so where do they get them from? Same bloke who stocks the striped polo shirts I shouldn't wonder.
Finally, since there were so many people for us to 'watch' while we took lunch in Savvas Grill, we were able to easily discern who among them were the really religious ones. You may know that here in Greece, during Lent, they're not supposed to eat meat. Only seafood or vegetables is allowed. I've often wondered how the butchers shops manage during this forty-day period. Well now I know.
Surreptitiously examining what the other diners were eating, we could see that here was a group of ladies all eating kalamari, whereas there were two couples tucking into roast lamb. Others were rationalising and eating chicken, which they say 'isn't really meat now is it?'
All good, clean fun, eh? By and large, we passed a truly enjoyable Sunday.
Of course, Sunday is 'volta' day for Greek families anyway, but since this weekend it's also a double celebration in Greece, the families were out in force. It's a three-day celebration that revolves around March 25th, the day when they celebrate the Greek War of Independence from the Ottoman Empire. They also 'celebrate' the 'annunciation', reputed to be when the Angel Gabriel appeared to Mary to tell her that she was going to have a son. March 25th, the Orthodox Church is quick to point out, is exactly 9 months before Christmas.
You can skip this paragraph if you like. But there might just be some who are interested in what's logical and factual, so I'll put it in anyway...
The only problem is, a quick bit of mathematics makes it easy to work out that Jesus was actually born in early October, and not December 25th at all. December 25th was selected in order to fuse pagan sun worship with 'Christianity' a full three centuries and more after the death of Christ. If you want to know how it can be deduced that he was actually born in October (and I know, some of you have already glazed over! I did warn you about this paragraph), it's easy. The prophecies (especially in the book of Daniel) specify that Christ's ministry would last exactly three and a half years. Since history is definite about the date of his death, which was in the spring, then you only have to count 6 months forward or backwards from then to arrive in the autumn as the time for his birth. Slam dunk. Regular readers of my rubbish will know that I have little time for any religion that claims that God belongs exclusively to their country anyway. Sadly, this applies to most, not simply to the Greek Orthodox. And, despite all that healthy cynicism, I still love living here.
So, the front at Haraki was great for people-watching and, as you can see from the photos above, the weather was absolutely perfect, just over 20ºC and very clear. In fact, from most of the east coast of Rhodes you could catch a breathtaking view of the snow-capped Turkish mountains, magic.
Driving along the road on our way from Haraki to Lardos for lunch, we were reminded of an occasion when we'd been travelling up to town some years back with a female Greek friend. She was the one driving, as it happens, and for most of the time she was slap, bang in the middle of the road, her wheels equidistant on both sides of the centre lines. At the time, peeking out from between our fingers, we just thought it was her, but have since seen it so often that we've come to the conclusion that a lot of Greeks have this idea that they're supposed to be in the middle of the road, unless something comes in the other direction, at which point they'll veer to the right to get into the correct lane, usually avoiding the oncoming vehicle by a gnat's whisker. We followed several cars today that did the same. As it happens, the roads are still pretty quiet (just as well, eh?), but won't be for many more weeks now, as the tourist season approaches at a rate of knots.
Talking of 'heart in the mouth' moments. we also witnessed some pretty hairy antics from riders of some very big motorbikes too. Coming from Haraki on our way to Lardos, the road approaching Kalathos is dead straight, with only a couple of gentle curves, for several kilometers. At one point, just south of Massari, we came up behind a beast of a bike with a rider and his girlfriend on the back tootling along quite slowly. Thus, I decided I'd go on past. No sooner had I got alongside them, than the bloke 'driving' opened his throttle and they tore off into the distance at a speed approaching that at which an airliner would be making just before take-off. Here's the thing though, neither the rider nor his lovely young girlfriend were wearing helmets and they only had what looked like basic trainers on their feet.
Now, peeps, I'm no killjoy and I used to be a biker myself. But I also know that if you ride a 750 or something bigger, at terrifying speed, you need to have a) protection for your bonce and, b) the same for your feet. If you come off at that speed you die. But if, by some miracle, you don't, then you'll probably lose a foot or two if you're not wearing suitable footwear. Fact. It wasn't long before this bike caught up with another, very similar one, which also had a couple astride it and they too were without helmets. Here on Rhodes there is a bit of a tradition for bikers to do a round-the-island jaunt on Sundays. I well remember my good friend Kostas, he who has the sun-beds on a local beach, telling me that every year there are accidents in which riders or their pillion passengers (or both) don't come home. Well, correction, they do, but in a box.
On a much lighter note, when we arrived at Savvas Grill, in Lardos at around 2.45pm, intent on enjoying a very fine and exceptionally good-value Sunday lunch, we heard the cacophony before we even saw it. Trotting up the front steps, we were greeted by a restaurant packed to the gills with Greeks of a certain age. You know what I mean, there were probably a few thousand Euros worth of perms and colour rinses atop the females, and the males were nearly all wearing the regulation plaid, or check, shirt under their suit jackets. I know it's a 'yiorti' weekend, but we were still surprised by the number of people in that restaurant. I soon got to the bottom of it, by accident really. Luckily for us, there had just been a modest table vacated when we went in, so we were able to sit down. Savvas had reinforcements waiting at tables, something he rarely needs. Not only was his son running himself ragged, but his daughter and son-in-law also were keeping the clientele well serviced.
As it happened, right next to our table there was someone I knew. Sitting alone at a small table was a certain Adonis, a slightly rotund and very friendly coach driver whom I've known for many years, having once worked for his company doing excursions. I asked him how come he was here in Lardos, since he works from the other side of the island and lives in Ixia, and he told me that it was he who was driving this huge party of revellers on a day excursion from his part of the island. Aha! Mystery solved.
We were served pretty quickly, when one takes into account the sheer workload of the staff, and ordered what we often order in Savvas: oven potatoes, a green salad of lettuce and spring onions, gigantes (big beans) and chick pea rissoles (revithokeftedes). We added to that a bottle of Retsina and one of water. It was, as always, delicious, healthy and filling, and the whole lunch set us back €20. The family, as always, greeted us with warmth, like old friends, which I suppose we almost are by now, having been going there off and on for over thirteen years and counting.
Just as we were beginning to find one woman's screechy voice (which rose above the melee due to its sheer volume) a little grating, the coach party of mainly pensioners began rising from their tables to leave. Adonis went off to fetch the coach and at four o'clock prompt, they were all climbing aboard after slapping Savvas and his trusty family hard on the backs in appreciation for an excellent lunch which was had by all. Most of them, who didn't know us from Adam, also smiled and bade us a smiley, spoken farewell as they left, and soon the place was down to two or three occupied tables, with huge piles of debris on the rest.
Returning for a moment to the plaid shirt phenomenon. I wrote some years back about the penchant that most middle-aged Greek men seem to have for wearing horizontally-striped polo shirts. I theorised that there must be some gent's clothing retailer somewhere that is making a fortune from these fashion disasters. It's true I tell you. Now that I've mentioned it, you look. Go on, next time you're out and about here in Greece, just count the number of pot-bellied men, greying at the temples if they still have any hair at all, that are wearing horizontally-striped polo shirts. Where do they get them from? When they dress up in their Sunday best and actually put on a suit jacket (well, some were wearing anorak-type things, but only a few), which means wearing a shirt, it seems that the vast majority cast off their stripy polo shirts and reach for the regulation plaid/check shirt instead. If I had a Euro for every bloke wearing some version or other of a plaid or check-patterned shirt in that restaurant, I'd have easily paid for our meal with quite a lot of change. Maybe it's me, because I can't recall ever seeing a shirt like that on a rack in any clothes shop that I've ever been in, so where do they get them from? Same bloke who stocks the striped polo shirts I shouldn't wonder.
Finally, since there were so many people for us to 'watch' while we took lunch in Savvas Grill, we were able to easily discern who among them were the really religious ones. You may know that here in Greece, during Lent, they're not supposed to eat meat. Only seafood or vegetables is allowed. I've often wondered how the butchers shops manage during this forty-day period. Well now I know.
Surreptitiously examining what the other diners were eating, we could see that here was a group of ladies all eating kalamari, whereas there were two couples tucking into roast lamb. Others were rationalising and eating chicken, which they say 'isn't really meat now is it?'
All good, clean fun, eh? By and large, we passed a truly enjoyable Sunday.
Terry has bought a number of fluffy winter plaid shirts (only in Greece) for wear there or back in UK. I think mostly from Chinese shops where they also probably have the stripey polo shirts. It's good to fit in and they are cosy when the wind is howling around.
ReplyDeleteAlso intrigued to know statistics as we have heard of several young Greeks who have killed themselves on motorbikes, I came across this link which refers to Single Vehicle accident fatalities of which 35% were motorcyclists - https://www.keeptalkinggreece.com/2017/04/26/greece-has-highest-rate-of-svc-deaths-in-eu-37-people-died-during-easter-time/
Tends to bear out my thoughts then Sylvia, I've just looked at that article. Sadly, it doesn't surprise me.
DeleteI will be watching out for the Greek stripey polo shirt gang when I visit in June. I love people watching especially in Greece! Love from Annette xxxxx
ReplyDelete