Greek Life

When we walked into the Taverna Tripa, the first thing that struck me was all of the dried sausages and garlic cloves hanging from the rafters of the sagging and uneven ceiling. The air had the distinct musty smell of dried salted meat and the warm scent of red wine. To my immediate left was a wall of shelving upon which were hundreds and hundreds of bottles of liquor and wine that were covered in a thick brown dusting of 80-year-old cobwebs. Since the volunteers were given a table directly in front of this wall, I had the chance to stare into these shelves and examine the bottles that were stacked three deep, appearing to be strung like puppets from the shelves on their silken lines of spider webs.

The volunteers came to this restaurant to honor Dave’s departure and to show Franklin Levinson a little bit more of Corfu on his second visit to work with the horses at the farm. Little did we know that the simple act of eating at a restaurant would expose us to the Greek culture in a way that we never thought possible. During our three-course meal, hoards of people danced in and out of our eating area in the full traditional Greek garb, holding hands with plain-clothes people who had been eating outside. In between my bites of sausage, tsatsiki, and aubergines with feta, I marveled at their white lacy dresses and red cummerbunds while the cobwebs in front of me were ever-so-slightly stirred by the air that twirled around the room from their joyous three-beat dance pattern.

Later in the night, we ventured out onto the back patio only to be shocked at the sight of at least a hundred people laughing, singing, drinking wine, and enjoying the live band. The volunteers had walked out onto the patio just in time to see one of the performers and classically-clad dance leaders pick up a table with his teeth and dance with his arms wide open, spinning around before he put it down. I looked around to all of the festive faces that were seated around me—how they laughed and gestured to their families that sat at huge tables that spanned across most of the patio, and the thought that entered my mind next was embarrassing to say the least. I thought of the movie, “My Big Fat Greek Wedding.” At first I was ashamed to compare this true cultural experience to that of a comedic piece of American pop-culture, but it really was a striking similarity to the movie. Huge families: Tall, powerful Greek mothers. Short, balding Greek fathers. Flirtatious, dark-complexioned Greek sons. Youthful, sultry Greek daughters. All holding hands and dancing in spirals and circles exactly like they did in the movie. All eating the ridiculously overwhelming amount of food that was brought to the tables and shooting ouzo. Even an occasional “Opa!” could be heard through the cacophony of laughter.
We sat down at a huge table that had just been vacated and proceeded to drink the local wine that was left over on the table. As we sucked on pineapples and yogurt with honey for dessert, we enjoyed watching the Greek women captivate the audience with their dances that were a merging of risqué modern dance and the traditional structure of Greek dance. We listened to the uplifting plucking of the Greek bouzouki in tandem with the raspy, trilling voice of the male performer.

When the night began to calm down and when more of the vibrant guests decided dinner was over around 12 AM, the waiting staff began to clear the tables of empty wine bottles and plates. The man who had been playing the bouzouki packed his instrument and left while the singer continued to play his guitar in slow, nostalgic tunes. After a Greek song that the remaining audience seemed to love, he looked at the volunteers and deduced that most of us were American. He began to pick at his guitar, the plucking slowly modulating into a more sure-footed tune that we all recognized as “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd. In perfect English, the singer serenaded us with a song that only we knew.

I personally found it profoundly transcendental to witness the merging of the Greek culture and my own underneath the grape vines and starry night sky. New and different homes can be found anywhere.