One of the great things about the souvlaki bar in Glossa is that you can drop everything and go out to eat or drink with a clear conscience. Never mind that your to do list is overflowing with unmade phone calls and arrangements not yet concluded, just go. I’ll explain in a moment.
In case you don’t know the place, let me tell you a little about it. It sits at the junction of five streets, three of them composed largely of steps and the other two being the in and out of what is, arguably, Glossa’s main street. And it literally sits in the junction. The tables are on both sides of the street and life flows through the middle.
As does the rain in the wet season. This place is called the ‘louki’ which means a water spout, gutter or groove – take your choice – and in the days before the impressive storm drain was built, rainwater would cascade down from the surrounding steep streets and rush across the little road in a torrent that was often 20 centimetres deep or more.
Bikes, cars, small trucks, taxis and occasionally donkeys pass through from time to time. It is never all that busy and many of the motor vehicles will turn round and return having completed their errands nearby. Beyond the louki, the road becomes narrower with one particularly harsh double right angled bend and almost nowhere to pass. So from here on it is mainly bikes, people and donkeys who pass, with the odd motorist who is particularly experienced, intrepid or lost.
As well as our famous souvlaki bar, the louki is home to the town hall, the KEP and the doctor’s surgery.
The KEP is a wonderful Greek institution. It is a sort of state sponsored hands-on Citizens’ Advice Bureau. The KEP computer is linked to many government bodies and utility companies but the heart of the KEP is an ancient rolodex containing hundreds of the most useful phone numbers for a resident of Glossa in need of help.
Some years ago, we went to Volos to buy a cheap wood-burning stove. We were told that the stove would arrive “with Stephanos”, but “when?” was only answered with a smile and a shrug and a Volos phone number scribbled on a corner torn from a piece of brown paper.
A couple of days later I phoned the number. First, my Greek failed the test. Then, “Milate Anglika?” (do you speak English?) I asked. The answer was a terse “ochi!” and the phone was put down. This was not only memorable for the rareness of that experience, but for the helplessness I was now drowning in. Not only did I not know when or where Stephanos and his enormous articulated lorry would bring the stove, but I also had no way of arranging for a small truck to bring it safe home to our house.
In desperation, I sought help from the KEP where I poured out my story like an eight year old whose kite is stuck in a tree. Courteously and in perfect English, my mountain was reduced to a very small molehill and then brushed quietly away.
The rolodex held Stephanos' mobile number. The efficient young woman discovered he would arrive on Thursday – or possibly Friday and she had also taken the precaution of arranging for a local driver for the last leg. She would telephone me an hour or two before it would arrive at our house. Now, was there anything else she could help with?
So, putting together the KEP, the town hall and the doctor’s and with the Agnanti restaurant providing a dash of exotic foreigners hard by, you can see that a great deal of interesting human traffic will pass through the beating heart of the louki and a person sitting in the souvlaki bar will be able to infer, guess or invent the business of those coming and going with enormous fun and sometimes reasonable accuracy.
It also means that you can sit at your table with a cold beer or a hot loukaniko sausage as you choose and sooner or later almost everyone you need to see will pass by. Of course, those who you would perhaps not wish to see until tomorrow will also find you. Never mind. It all makes for a very dynamic meal with people sitting down and joining you for a few minutes or a couple of drinks. You may not discover everything you were seeking, but you will certainly find out something you didn’t know.
And it beats, by some considerable distance, a solitary sandwich eaten at your office desk.
Let’s talk.
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