VILLAGE HOLIDAY
Collo (Algeria)
On the first morning following our very late arrival at Limni in late July 1977, Nikos’s mother and sister prepared us a lovely breakfast of milky coffee, freshly baked bread, local honey, ripe tomatoes and feta cheese which I was tasting for the first time.
Just as soon as we finished, Nikos was eager to show us around his home village. Limni reminded me of the small fishing port of Collo where I spent many of my childhood holidays. A simple promenade along the shore, with a few cafes and independent shops and businesses. Although Evia, the second largest island after Crete was not as well known a tourist destination as Rhodes or Santorini it still remains to this day very popular for its alternative tourism.
We went along the sleepy seafront stopping here and there, meeting Nikos’s friends, having a coffee at the barber’s, a lemonade at the butcher’s, and just enjoying his Greek chatter with people he had obviously grown up with. All were very welcoming to Papi and me but our conversation was very limited as I only knew a couple of words in their language, such as Kalimera, good morning or Efkharisto, thank you.
The first evening, a group of us went to a taverna perched on a small cliff a few miles out of town. Lit up with only candles and oil lamps, it offered some of the best grilled food I had ever tasted. Whole sea bass stuffed with garlic and rosemary, lamb chops marinated in red wine and oregano, chicken legs with wild thyme and lemon and various salads all washed down with the local Retsina, a typical Greek wine which gets its aftertaste of pine tree resin from the vessels in which it is stored. We ate and drank well into the early hours and when it came to pay the bill, Nikos handed over the equivalent of a tenner in Drachma to cover all the food and drink our party of six had enjoyed. He winked and said: “A bit cheaper than your average Sunderland restaurant, eh?”
Most days started with a short walk to the local beach where we swam and played volley ball until lunchtime when Nikos’s mother and sister treated us to many Greek dishes including Kleftiko and Moussaka. No one ventured out between noon and 4pm when the heat was unbearable, so we all retired to our bedrooms for a siesta. This was followed with the obligatory afternoon tea of milky coffee and homemade cakes served on the cool terrace at the back of the house, overlooking the garden and orchard.
Later, as the sun slowly cooled and dipped behind the surrounding hills, we headed for the seafront.
Along the promenade, local families mingled with the few tourists that ventured well away from the other much more glamorous Greek resorts. The only ice cream parlour in the village made a roaring trade selling flavours I had never come across before such as pistachio or blood orange. By early evening, the half a dozen bars and restaurants that Limni had in those days, were full to the brim. The air was filled with the sound of Bouzouki music, the clatter of plates and glasses. Children played without a care in the surrounding streets while their parents ate, drank and sang into the early hours.
This was turning to be one of the best summer holidays I had ever had.