We re-entered the EU at the Greek border; we had only to present our passports, we weren’t asked to give biometric readings or fingerprints.
We stayed at a small camp site at the seaside town of Nea Karvali on the north Aegean coast. The site was small and, out of season, it was cluttered with ancient caravans, hunched under sagging canvas covers, surrounded by the detritus of camping life – tables, chairs, barbecues. It didn’t look as if there would be space for our big truck.
We received a warm welcome from the owner, Maria, who found us a perfect place to park overlooking the beach and next to the restaurant. At that time of year the family-run restaurant was open all day until 5 pm, serving traditional Greek dishes as well as fresh fish and seafood.
There was a national holiday in Greece called Ochi “No” Day commemorating the time in 1940, during World War 2, when the then Greek Prime Minister bravely refused to surrender to the invading Italians led by the dictator, Benito Mussolini.
Ochi was a day of celebration, church bells rang and Maria’s family closed their restaurant for the day and were having a private party. Maria told us she was serving her guests a traditional dish of oven baked lamb. We must have looked pathetic, like a pair of big-eyed starving puppies because at midday she came over with a huge plate of lamb and potatoes. The meat was delicious, soft and sweet with an aroma of herbs, garnished with fresh lemon.
Maria’s party went on all day, there was a band playing lively Greek music and I assumed they were performing their traditional Greek dance holding shoulders in a circle moving to the rhythm of the bouzouki. So I took a peek. The only people on the dance floor were middle aged matrons dancing as if they were at a village hall disco. Watching the dancers’ dark heads bobbing about, I wondered whether the only available shade of hair dye was matt black.
