Tigaki and Greek Music

Past the fountain with Aphrodite, into the recesses of the taverna and all the way in the back we sat down, as close to the wind as we could but not while actually getting into the sun. Cheesy Greek music beat down upon us from the speakers.

We had cycled towards Tigaki, only to turn around at the first sight of the sandy beaches next to the Tigaki road and go back to put on our bikini and swimming thong (I like his thinking!) and buy some chilled cans of sodas to take along. Then we set out yet again towards Tigaki, only to tell ourselves that this time, yes really, we would take the opportunity to swim in the sea for a while, and possibly even lie in the sand on the one towel we had taken along. It was lovely weather and especially next to the beach boulevard, where the wind came in from over the sea and in the distance, Turkey, the weather was especially nice. So nice in fact that one could lie in the sun and burn to a cindery bacon without even knowing it.

Alas, we cycled to Tigaki without incident, swimming and hardly any illegalality, least of all illegal nudity. There was one couple that was swimming naked (illegal!) and there was a couple that had stopped next to a fig tree to eat some illegal figs as well, but that had nothing to do with us and we behaved marvellously.
When we finally got to Tigaki a taverna was beckoning. Fish fingers and jacket potato on the table, and an omelet with mushrooms (manitária) would soon see to it our hunger would diminish.

As I looked up from my lunch, a small bus carrying six elderly tourists whizzed past. They carefully glanced outside as the bus skidded around the corner. Garishly loud music was blasting from its speakers and through the open windows, momentarily even dimming the Greek folk singer that was being poured onto us from the taverna's boxes.
Greek music. All the tourists seem to love it. NoKey has taught me just enough Greek (besides all the names for food, apparantly) so I can cringe at the songs. The bousouki whines and the singer drawls:

My love, my love has left me
It is terrible, this
dead parrot, Yianni
is all I have left
My love my love,
I'm out of ouzo

Many songwriters try to be a little more adventurous and cross the border between Greek and Turkish music, which goes surprisingly easy and possibly makes sure the rest of their life is very adventurous indeed. Greeks and Turks get on like a house on fire and the best insult I have come up with so far is de milao Turkish.
This is why I love my little “What and how in Greek” which has pre-written Greek sentences. It has pick-up lines, questions on whether said Greek has a condom (and if not, no sex...) and even lines to say “I'm sorry for your loss”. The book has three pages with typical Greek food, a further three pages with sentences dealing with the waiter (garcóni) and ordering. It also has a page of making complaints about the food, but none to congratulate the chef on a job well done or how you say you really enjoyed the food.
This might be the reason why we go to a different taverna each night.

Just kidding.

The fish fingers and jacket potato and even the omelet were soon devoured and the helpless tourists had been transported uncomfortably fast towards their destination. The fabled Greek music was still beating down upon us, the whining drawl still stuck on agapi mou. For once, I'd love to hear a beautiful song about a Greek person reading a book or sitting on the beach watching the sunset and having nothing else on his mind, especially not love. Even the themesong from My Big Fat Greek Wedding would be welcomed now.
And as horrible as that movie is – NoKey cringes every time I name it – it is all true. Every last bit of it.