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the best shape. One of them looks like it is still a work
in progress, though it s probably older than anyone on
the bus that just dissed us. Both are two-level, though
each only looks big enough to house just a couple of
rooms. Made of stone with wooden doors, they have
white stone stairs on the outside that connect the
upper level with the lower. I guess it never snows here,
or even rains for very long; otherwise going upstairs to
bed might be a real hassle. Small shady yards in front
of each house soften the simplicity of these traditional
village homes and I can also see gardens out the back of
both. The balconies on the upper floors are draped with
grapevines and I imagine they offer spectacular views
over Cali s taverna and beyond to the blue-green sea.
These are Yorgos s houses, Cali announces as we
approach the more complete building in the octopus-
beater s real estate portfolio.
We follow Cali, who doesn t knock, through the
open front door and find ourselves in a large room
that s modestly furnished and doesn t contain Yorgos. I
look around and am surprised at how inviting this place
is, basic yet homely. There is, in fact, a large-screen
television underneath a dated framed photo of a couple
and their son, so comparisons with The Flintstones
house are not entirely fair. To the right is the only other
downstairs room, a sizeable kitchen where I assume a
lot of octopi have copped a marinating. Cali leads us
into the back garden, where we find Yorgos hanging out
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sea creatures, like so much washing, onto long lines of
thin rope that connect the house to what appears to be
its outside bathroom.
Yorgos welcomes us with a big smile and waits to
see what language Cali is going to choose. He is totally
adept with English and offers to fetch us some retsina
from the kitchen as we sit down on the mismatched
chairs that are scattered in the small garden. Once our
glasses are full, our host calls out yasou , which means
to your health , and Cali leads the response of yamas ,
or to our health , and we all drink to that. Yorgos tells
us about how he dries the octopus, squid and sardines
and prepares them for delivery to the local tavernas, and
Cali points out the weathered gargoyles on the house s
tiled roof which in medieval times were believed to ward
off evil spirits. Miller seems particularly taken with the
house and asks if he can take the outdoor staircase to
have a look at the upstairs room.
From the balcony you can see further than I ve ever
been, Yorgos tells Miller, who returns and assures us
the view is way more than adequate. After Yorgos has
given us an insider s account of when this island was
occupied during World War II by Italian soldiers, we
select the parts of our travels that might be of interest
and recount them for this master storyteller.
Sparing him tales of Amsterdam s coffee shops and
Berlin s clubs, Miller instead runs with our adventure in
Athens with Georgina and her pool hall. When I question
out loud whether Cali or Yorgos can make out what the
scam was, Yorgos simply assures us, You did good.
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Like most old men, Yorgos happily leaves most of the
entertaining to the women, and Cali is certainly up to
the task. It s clear Yorgos lives a pretty simple existence,
and his happy demeanour reinforces the concept that
simple may just be a pretty cool path to choose.
So how long before you finish fixing up the other
house? asks Miller as we linger in the garden of Yorgos s
official residence before setting off again with the
inexhaustible Cali.
For me it takes longer as I m too old to spend much
time on the roof like a mountain goat, says Yorgos. It
will be finished when it s done.
This sounds like the cooking instructions for Melina s
slow-cooked lamb.
Yorgos seems immensely pleased that Cali included
this visit as part of her tour of what is worth seeing
on this side of the island. And so Cali has us stay longer
than I reckoned she d planned to.
Are you staying in Antiparos long? asks Yorgos.
No fixed plan, Millers says simultaneously with
Cali replying I hope so and me saying nothing. Works
for me.
The final part of our round trip through the eastern
side of this tiny island back to the taverna is quite short
and we re unbothered by any cars.
There s one! Cali calls out, pointing into a heavily
leafed tree just metres from the back of the taverna.
I stare, unsure what I m looking for, and finally make
out a bird swathed in olive green, orange and yellow.
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It s a linnet the bird that decided to stay, Cali
reminds me.
Looks quite happy, I say.
How do you tell if a bird looks happy, says Miller,
deadpan, and I laugh.
When we approach the front of the taverna I m
surprised that the place is full and most of the customers
look like Cali, or even Miller. Like locals. As we make
our way through the outside section, Cali introduces
us to various people, including an attractive woman,
immediately transfixed by Miller, who ll be played in
the film by Jennifer Aniston.
Inside we meet Cali s brother, Thanos, who is also,
not surprisingly, very good looking. It occurs to me that
if he does go to Australia soon it ll be Miller he ll be
filling in for rather than me. Thanos offers to roll us
cigarettes, but as neither of us smokes, regular cigarettes
anyways, we politely pass. I get the impression that his
consumption makes up for the rest of us, given there s
one behind his ear, one between his not-yet-yellowed
fingers and a third in preparation. The other waiter,
Simon, seems shy and keeps himself busy covering for
Thanos, who insists on getting to know us immediately
over some beers.
Yasou, Thanos calls out and motions for Simon to
join us, though I can t imagine who he thinks will wait
on the tables if he does.
Yamas! the three of us respond simultaneously.
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38
s our first night in Antiparos drifts to its end I
Acan t stop smiling, thinking that, of all the possible
scenarios I d imagined on the boats over here, this
feeling is pretty well one of the better results short of
me and Cali exchanging vows at this moment.
Cali and Simon have been doing most of the waiting
tonight, though I d put up my record of waiting against
most anybody. Thanos has been keeping me and Miller
entertained, and well drugged with retsina, a Greek
beer called Mythos, and second-hand smoke. Melina
and Elektra have cooked the food that has no menu
to praise it but is simply recounted if required by Cali
and Simon, or occasionally Thanos, as they welcome
guests more like personal friends than mere customers.
Most everyone already knows what to order, and they
all seem immensely pleased with what lands on their
table before it quickly, and completely, disappears.
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