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Greek orthodoxy
We were not sure who was going to order “Rocket salad for difficult people” off the menu, but it was there and we thought something was either lost in translation or the item had been included deliberately to allow a frustrated spouse have a dig at a partner by ordering it for them. The restaurant in Zykanthos looked to be named Zn6n, but we could not be sure, the bus tour guide had recommended it as they do, and the chance for our first Greek meal of squid for Marty and giant prawns for Kaelene was not going to be lost to a rocket salad.
By contrast, our mainly English bus companions ordered English dishes, generally sausage or steak, eggs and (baked) beans, and then later complain that the food wasn’t as good as at home. We had heard that this is the practice in Spain, so why not here in Greece, particularly with such fine seafood in abundance? Why bother with fresh calamari and “pregnant” sea bass (stuffed with grape leaves and red peppers), or even swordfish, when there are chip and bacon butties to be had?
This was it, Zykanthos the third largest of the Greek Ionian islands, sundrenched, it has rained twice in the last five months, once for an hour and once for half an hour. The daytime temperatures were reaching into the high thirty degrees and our hotel, Nicos, in Alykes about 15 kilometers from Zykanthos town, seems to be an old family-run affair of about 20 units centered on a large, deep swimming pool.
This trip was one of those advertised last minute package holidays, and only after you book and pay do you find why it is inexpensive. If you want legroom on the Thomas Cook charter flight, you have to purchase it otherwise you sit with your knees up around your chin in the most uncomfortable seats manufactured since Jetstar started flying between Sydney and Phuket. Similarly, once tickets are issued you find, surprisingly so, that “you have not booked seats together as part of this booking” but for 12 pounds each this can be remedied. The potential for further exploitation is not left to chance, moments after arrival the travel weary (meaning those suffering from extreme discomfort) are reminded that a limited number of seats with additional legroom are still available, and passengers can purchase upgrades for the return journey on a first come first served basis.
On the island Thomas Cook representatives run orientation meetings at the accommodation venues they use, a sort of familiarization-on-speed session, the content of which can only be recalled by those with the audio equivalent of a photographic memory. Where to go, what not to do and what tours they can offer and, it must be acknowledged, the tours look good. That is, when they operate, as we waited on the side of the road for forty minutes to be picked up for our “sunkissed tour” only for the representative to turn up, exasperated, to say it had been cancelled. “Not the night before, not at 8.00 this morning, but right now”, she gasped, right now being at 8.50am. We didn’t refuse her offer of a compensatory bottle of wine but didn’t hold our breath in anticipation of its arrival.
But if this paints a slightly jaundiced picture it should not be the case. Our “dusk delights” package at only 12 euro per person, had us picked up, driven through countryside and up the hills to a private museum with an eccentric collection of stuffed animals ranging from a brown bear to small alligators and marine exhibits including New Zealand Paua shells and a porcupine fish. From there we went on to a local winery, a Greek Orthodox church with spectacular views over Zykanthos town, and then down to the town itself for three hours free time for dinner and to wander around. The highlight was perhaps the Solomos Winery where after a visit to the cellars we tasted and then brought the local, delicious product. We learned recently that, rather than ouzo, the national tipple is something called Retsina, a dry white wine infused with tree gum and which tastes exactly as the written image might conjure. An acquired taste to say the least.
It seems also that every bartender here has modeled themselves on Tom Conti’s character from the movie Shirley Valentine. Overlooking the intersection at the end of our road sits the Apollo pool bar where Dimitri the barman loudly beckons passersby, summonsing them in for drinks and snacks, or even that last drink of the evening. All done with a twinkle and more than a hint of mischief in his eye. Yammas, or cheers to you in Anglais.