There are small things that happen, apparently insignificant things, that often reveal a lot about how much tourism has affected the place you happen to be at any one time. I’ll try to illustrate what I mean. Traditionally, if you’re a Greek and you go to a café or kafeneio for a coffee, it goes without saying that you’ll always also receive a glass of water to go with it. Sometimes you’ll get a bottle of water, so that you can replenish your glass as you like. The bottle may be a plastic one, sealed from the factory, or a refillable one, and you can rest assured that in such cases the water’s usually either from a source that’s perfectly safe and probably less chemically treated than it is in the UK, other European countries or maybe the USA, or the bar has installed a filtration system, removing some of the ‘harder’ salts and minerals before it reaches the bottle.

On the subject of drinking water, if I may digress just a tad here (I never do that, do I? 😛), it’s really not correct to believe the old saying ‘don’t drink the water‘ when you’re here in Greece. OK, there may be some exceptions in urban areas on the mainland or larger islands, but in the less inhabited areas much of the drinking water is right out of the nearest mountain, and filtered by the rocks, making it as fresh as a mountain stream in many cases.

When we lived in the UK we were always conscious of the fact that the drinking water’s treated. It contains fluoride and chlorine, for example. I well remember when I was much younger hearing that they put fluoride in the water to help improve dental health. Yet if you do your research you’ll find that the negative effects of fluoride to the human body far outweigh the positives. The human body accumulates fluoride, and, as it does so, the side effects may become more severe. Does the apparent benefit simply to dental health warrant mass-treating the general public, who have no choice in the matter, with a chemical that’s hotly debated in some circles? That’s for another day and another website to argue about.

Back to the water that comes with your coffee. We’ve noticed, and I’m sure other seasoned Grecophiles have too, that in the more touristy areas they’ve given up bringing water with your coffee. The reason for this is simple, and this is only my humble opinion of course (as is everything I write, after all), in the UK people in general don’t drink water. Oh they’ll drink fruit juice, squash (if you’re not from the UK you’ll get very confused by that word!), beer, wine, fizzy drinks until the cows come home. But water? Nah, too boring. It’s a sad fact that drinking simply water has become unpopular, and those who don’t drink neat water pay the price healthwise with the passing of the years. Again, that subject’s for another time and place, but suffice it to say, where most of the clientele are foreigners, Greek cafés have given up bringing water because no one wants it. Greeks, however, in general, still take a little water with their coffee, and so if you are given water when you receive the coffees you ordered then it’s more likely you’re in an area where the clientele is still predominantly local and tourism hasn’t quite reached saturation point.

Now, all this rambling on about water is the preamble to another point that I wanted to talk about, and that’s the secret that Greeks are well aware of (and probably Italians, Spanish, French [well, those from the Mediterranean coastal areas anyway]) about how to enjoy taking your time. See, we’ve noticed since having lived here for pushing two decades now that when we’re with British people, relatives, friends included, most of them will sit down for a coffee of a morning, probably in a place that’s infinitely more picturesque (not to say warmer!) than where they come from, drink their coffee, then start on about what we’re doing next. They’ll fuss about paying the bill and start throwing their bags over their shoulders and leaning forward in their seats, sending a clear signal that they’re ready to get up and leave. It’s a symptom of the lifestyle I suppose, that people from the north of Europe are used to. They’re always ‘getting on,’ as in moving from one thing to another, and usually at breakneck speed.

Here in Greece, though, it’s all about enjoying the moment, savouring a leisurely conversation (even if it gets heated about politics or money) and not worrying about what time it is until it becomes desperate, which it seldom does anyway. When we were in Sitia (and this applies here in Ierapetra too, in fact all over this wonderful nation) we observed time and again, as we went out for coffee every single morning, that during the time that we were sitting at our table, all the time eavesdropping on Greeks conversing nearby (another bonus from having learnt the language, see previous post), or revelling in a spot of people-watching, we’d witness a familiar scene time and again. Tourists would happen by, choose a table to sit down, order their drinks (so often it would be beer too, which no self-respecting local drinks at that time of the day), drink them, and then get up to rush off to wherever else they thought they needed to be. Sometimes we’d see the same table occupied by two or three different couples, families or groups, while we sat there all the while savouring life, the beautiful surroundings, and a lack of stress. Makes you wonder what holidays are for, when people still feel the need to relentlessly move on, even during their week or two in the sun, doesn’t it.

We’d often exhaust our bottle of water, while very slowly supping our freddos through our reusable metal straws (oh yes, we’re very environmentally aware these days!) and, without our asking, the waiter or waitress would float by, take the bottle away and return a few minutes later with a fresh one. Can you imagine that in the UK? When we first arrived on Rhodes we made the mistake of having our first meal out in Lindos. It was August. Me and the better half have always loved one thing about Greece (many, actually, but I’m going to mention just the one here), and that’s the fact that you can go out to eat, or simply drink, and no one rushes you. You can sit with your meal or drinks all gone and a table full of empties, but never are you given the impression that the owner of the business or his/her staff want you out so that they can get some more bums on the seats and get ‘the coin’ in. That first meal in a Lindos restaurant in 2005 really disappointed us because it was very soon evident that tourism was the be-all-and-end-all to the restaurants there. No sooner had we emptied a plate than it was whisked away from the table. You’d hardly put your empty bottle or glass down when a hand swept it away and, as soon as there was nothing left to eat or drink, the table was completely cleared while we still sat there digesting our meal and thinking about maybe enjoying the rooftop environment with a lovely view of the brightly lit acropolis above for a little longer yet.

The waiter returned in record time with the bill, before we’d asked for it, and then he hovered while we got our wallets out. Lindos in August was NOT in any way the Greece that we knew and loved, sadly. Four of us had sat down at around 8.30pm, and by 9.45pm we were getting up to leave, while the waiters were already re-setting the table for the next set of suckers – sorry – diners, to sit down, even as we were pushing our chairs back under the table. Lindos is truly beautiful to look at, but if you want my humble opinion, go there in winter, when it’s an entirely different place.

Now, I’m sure you know this by now anyway, but the Greeks will venture out, whether it be for a morning coffee or an evening meal, with the understanding that they’ll be able to stay in their seats until they’re good and ready to leave, and that’s usually hours later than when they arrived. When our waiter/waitress in any of the Sitia cafés where we enjoyed our morning Freddos courteously brought us a new bottle of water, even as we supped the dregs from our iced coffees, well that spoke volumes without a word being said. It told us that as long as we chose to sit there, we were welcome, and only when we chose to would we get up to leave.

Now, I know some will say that occupying a table for too long on one or two drinks is depriving the establishment of income, because maybe others could have sat there and spent their money too. But it’s the culture here, pure and simple. I love to see it when the locals sit and chat, oblivious to the passing of time, often too without ordering a second drink. Other relatives or neighbours will happen by and either simply exchange a few ‘Na eiste kalas‘ or whatever, or they’ll wreck the table layout by dragging chairs and tables this way and that in order to accommodate an ever-growing group of friends, and the conversation all the while flows effortlessly. It’s all about the climate I suppose. Because everyone spends most of their waking hours outdoors in this country, even in winter time, it stands to reason that they’ll enjoy hanging out while they’re out there. The ability to take the day as it comes, without constantly looking at one’s watch (or, I suppose nowadays, phone) to see what the time is while mentally running through the day’s itinerary is something that we British have to learn if we spend any time in Greece.

I suppose it’s the art (and it is an art) of knowing how to be busy doing nothing and feeling the benefits, especially in one’s stress levels. Time for some more Sitia snaps…

That shot of the tree and bench on the seafront was taken during the few days when we were stricken with the dreaded ‘Afrikaniki skoni’ or Saharan dust, that is a frequent phenomenon at this time of the year. Fortunately, it occurred during our first week and didn’t last too long.

•

Click HERE to go to my Amazon Author Page. There you can browse all of my written works.