Settling In

I'll start with a bunch of photos this time...

This what what awaited us on our dining table when we arrived. You probably recognise the 'koulourakia,' but the round 'pita' is a homemade traditional pastry made with eggs which Suzanna, our landlady had made for us. The roses certainly brighten up the place too, don't they.

The first photo below was taken from the newly re-opened "Houston" café-bar on the corner of the main square in Skala, here on Patmos. The name may not sound particularly down-home Greek, but the old Houston stood here for decades before it closed a couple of years ago. 

Last year when we were here the Houston was all boarded up, but there were signs (and noises) of renovation work going on from the other sides of the boards. This year it's re-opened and the renovation work has been done with a real feel for the traditional. See the last photo below, showing the brand new frontage, with a sign that looks like the old-style ones from ages past. It's truly lovely, both inside and out.

Yes, the view from our balcony. It was very nice to take it all in again.

This photo was taken in exactly the same spot as the one below. Note the difference in greenery on that far hillside. The one below was taken a month earlier last year too. The winter rains that returned  with a vengeance this past few months after four or five years of winter drought have really made a difference.

April 2018.

The gorgeous and sympathetically restored frontage of the newly re-opened Houston café.

If you're a regular visitor to Greece you'll know only too well how the locals seem to have a knack for remembering you, right? OK, so there are those cynics who'll say that they're simply winging it, hoping that they'll speak and react in the right way so as to make one think they remember us, even if they don't really. Well, I'm here to tell you that we have proof that very often they truly do.

Whilst it looks increasingly likely that we'll be taking our regular morning coffees at the Houston this year, we still intend to take our late night 'digestif' at the lovely Petrino bar, which holds centre stage at the back of the square. Last year we went in there most evenings at around 10.30pm, after having eaten, to order a couple of glasses of Mastiha, and while away a further hour or two blissfully people-watching. By the time we had to leave, we knew three of the waiters there really well, after having stayed for almost three weeks. There was Dimitris, there was Theologos and also Andreas. The first two of those we often shared a brief natter with, and on our last night Dimitris refused to let us pay. Nice touch, we thought.

Anyway, the other evening we decided to continue the tradition and approached the bar late, hoping to see someone we knew waiting tables. Sure enough, there was Theologos whizzing in and out and, as we approached a table to park our butts, he saw us and came running over. He gave us both a bear hug, plus the usual cheek-kisses, and welcomed us back. Now, at this point, one could say, OK, so he knew our faces and laid it on thick, yeah?

But, oh no, more than that. As we settled our rears into our seats he said, with no prompting from us, "Mastihas is it?"

Thirteen months on, the guy passed with flying colours. Plus, when it came time for us to pay up and set off for our beds, we waved a bank note at him. His response? Shoving his hand at us in an unmistakable gesture of refusal, he said, "You don't pay on your first night back!"

I do really like it here.