Looking for a place to eat when you are tired and hungry on your first day in a new place, isn’t great.
After going around in circles encountering many cafes and hipster bars all I really was looking for was something traditional, cheap and possibly tasty.
In one of the bars I passed I stopped to ask if they had food and the waitress said they only served quiches. When I asked her if she knew of any place in the vicinity with more variety the lady crossed her arms and looked offended; mental note: these are independent small places people take a lot of pride in their work.
After asking for advice to a local I ended up in xx xx a small cozy place with home made traditional Greek food and more. I think it might be the closest I will get to eating at a Greek’s grandma’s for dinner.
It was rather late and not many people were there except this trio of tendentiously posh accented British ladies and two Italian old school Casanovas, this scene reminded me a lot of the Marigold hotel. Flirting has no limits of age and class, it is nice to see that people in their seventies perhaps use a touch more sophistication and cultural topic ice breakers but the art of chatting up is clearly there.
It is in that very moment in Athens, eating moussaka and sipping wine, that I realised that I’m very much like those men; the only difference is that I also make a habit about putting this into writing and I’ve done so for the past 4 years here on Lost in a Cup.
Many Swedes go travelling as part of their ‘soul finding quest’, wether they succeed or not is another matter, now I finally see what they mean.