June 29, 2011
My first holiday holiday (a holiday holiday being a holiday where all you do is be) in yonks. A holiday without the sightseeing, without the doing things: friends lent us some snorkelling gear – flippers, snorkel, goggles – we craftily left them at home. When I go in the sea I float on my back and look at the sky, none of that downwards stuff.
Just being. Sitting by a pool or the sea, looking into the sun so your eyes hurt. Then trying to read a book; something distant, removed, with short chapters. I took Imperial Bedrooms by Bret Easton Ellis. And The Information by Martin Amis (I started this in 1995, it’s about time I finished it).
Drinking is good too. That’s part of the deal. Cocktails even. As the sun goes down. In (it’s true!) a bar called Hemingway’s.
Ah! Food (not as in ‘Aaaah! Food’).
Food in Greece isn’t what I expected. I don’t know why but I expect food in foreign parts to be exciting, different, maybe blue. Certainly involving things I’ve never had before. Like Kakamaska and Toremosalinas. Or perhaps a Bigou plant. Or a Bigou fish. Or some Chevkasalakas. It doesn’t matter what it’s called, just make it exotic. I quite fancied some Fekhamadoras, but even they weren’t to be found.
Meat was available though. If you like Meat go to Crete. Lots of meat.
One of the restaurant’s recommended to us (for its authentic Greek cuisine) was Mike’s Place. It didn’t look too promising:
Mike’s selling point was that he offered an ‘ecological menu’. This meant that all the meals came from Mike’s farm, just up the road.
I’m guessing here, but I think Mike lets a few animals (goats, sheep, chickens, pigs, octopi) run around his garden (free range) and every morning, when he awakes, he thinks to himself “what should I kill today?”
He makes his decision, kills, then sits on his chair, by his sign. And as you pass he says: “Ecological menu. Today – goat – from my farm!”
We didn’t go on the goat day. We went on a lamb day. The vegetables came on a side plate. They had to, there was no room on the meat plate. Here’s my plate after I’d finished my meat.
I’ve made this pic smaller. I’m not sure why. I think I may feel bad. Earlier in the day this was a little lamb, gamboling.
Here’s Mike’s farm (maybe). All I know is, the next day, as we walked past, there was one less goat.
And to think I used to be a vegetarian. I blame Mike. And Bret Easton Ellis.