I still wake up well before daylight. No one here stirs much before 7 or 8, so I make coffee and piddle at the keyboard or read from Homer until its light enough to walk or take pictures. For a photographer this place is a target-rich environment.
The old women are out first, doing laundry or putzing in their gardens. The walk ways and alleys of the village are so narrow and twisted, it’s often hard to tell when you’ve gone from a common access lane, to someone’s private outdoor living space, especially when you are exploring. It is not uncommon for me to look up and notice a pair of eyes watching me from behind a bush. I try to smile, nod, and remind myself that the word for ‘squid’ and ‘good morning’ can sound dangerously similar, especially when they come from an Anglo-Cracker mouth. Once they figure out that my Greek is pretty much limited to just that, they usually just offer me whatever kind of fruit or vegetable that happens to be at hand and send me on my way with a polite “Kalimera.”
The old women are out first, doing laundry or putzing in their gardens. The walk ways and alleys of the village are so narrow and twisted, it’s often hard to tell when you’ve gone from a common access lane, to someone’s private outdoor living space, especially when you are exploring. It is not uncommon for me to look up and notice a pair of eyes watching me from behind a bush. I try to smile, nod, and remind myself that the word for ‘squid’ and ‘good morning’ can sound dangerously similar, especially when they come from an Anglo-Cracker mouth. Once they figure out that my Greek is pretty much limited to just that, they usually just offer me whatever kind of fruit or vegetable that happens to be at hand and send me on my way with a polite “Kalimera.”
 |
| photo by Newell |
One morning I had collected so much stuff I’d run out of hands to carry it all. When I indicated I could carry no more, the man gestured to my hat which he filled with peaches. When the hat was full, he went into the house and brought out a plastic grocery bag for the eggs, apricots, cucumber, and squash. I came home looking like a pack mule.
Caper bushes and fig trees grow wild here. Kathy calls them ‘Mission Figs.' They are bigger and darker than ours and if they had a shinier skin, they could almost pass for small eggplant. We met another couple the other evening, who were out picking feral figs and raw capers. The woman explained to Kathy, in broken English, how to identify and pickle capers for table use. (We had eaten some on our salad in Athens.) Kathy is now hot to try it herself.
Caper bushes and fig trees grow wild here. Kathy calls them ‘Mission Figs.' They are bigger and darker than ours and if they had a shinier skin, they could almost pass for small eggplant. We met another couple the other evening, who were out picking feral figs and raw capers. The woman explained to Kathy, in broken English, how to identify and pickle capers for table use. (We had eaten some on our salad in Athens.) Kathy is now hot to try it herself.
No comments:
Post a Comment