One blue onion, a red tomato and a schmoozer.

June 5, 2013 11:04am Published by Jules Smith in The Art Philosopher 28 Comments

My Mother decided we would go and visit the main town of Zakynthos.  It was very pretty but not really much bigger than a shoe.  The main cathedral was shut and so my Mother decided we should go on a a little tour on the rickety train that rides round the town showing tourists the sights. 

“But Mother, we could probably walk round it in ten minutes.”

“I’m too hot. And besides, I like these little trains.”  She replied.

This was true.  I had been on many of them with her. To be honest I found them a bit odd and always felt like and overgrown child on a carnival ride that shouldn’t really be there. I was unsure whether or not I should be waving to the locals as we passed by.  Anyway, on the little train we did go.  Now this particular train had a commentary in various languages.  The Greek man’s accent on the recording was so strong I could barely understand my mother tongue.  I gathered it was famous for writers and poets but that’s about as far as I got before I switched off.  The effort of trying to work out what he was saying was too much.

“I hope you’re paying attention to what he’s saying.”  Said my Mother as we bobbled through the streets.”I shall be testing you afterwards.”

Really.  This is so typical of my Mum. When I was younger, all family holidays or visits out  would end with having to write an essay when we got home.  And God help you if you hadn’t remembered anything important or historical. I swear to God this is why I feel compelled to write a blog.  It’s ingrained into me! 

  I mean it was just a joy to wake up at weekends and hear my parents say, “ We are going to such and such museum today.” Or “ We shall be visiting a very interesting place/site/event.”

Well whoopy frikkin’ doo.  I would be filled with deep and rapturous joy at the prospect. Not.

“I can’t understand him, so no.” I said.

“Well that’s because he’s speaking in Russian!”  She chided.

“Oh.. I think I have sunstroke.” 

Later in the evening we went off to the cocktail bar as was now the holiday tradition. After several of these had started to take effect, the hunger would strike and we would need to be fed. Now, there was a lovely restaurant a few doors down that we had been to a couple of times and we decided to go back there.

The thing about this restaurant was that the main waiter / street hustler  seemed to be enamoured with our presence. His name was Lawrence.  Course it was. 

As we arrived we were warmly greeted by him and sat at the table of our choice.  He rushed over with a vase of flowers and said, “ Here is your mirror..” 

I looked at him directly. Well as directly as I could after several cocktails. “ Yes, beauty deserves company, right?”

“Oh!  Very good line!”  He smiled.

“I’m sure you will be using it from this point.”

“Only to you.” He said clasping his hand to his heart.

“ Well, that won’t get you very far with the passing talent now will it?”

He brought us a bottle of wine and our menu’s.  The music was changed to ‘Rat Pack’ and he sang and danced his way round the open restaurant. 

“Later you must dance with me..so I can feel your soul.”  He said as he poured the wine into my glass.

I wondered if this was a Greek euphemism for something else.  

“I’m sure you can feel my soul from right where you are, Lawrence.” 

“I see it, I feel it.  You connect with me and my mind.”  He stood there like Romeo.

“ Well that’s interesting. I normally terrify people.”  I responded.

“How did you make such a masterpiece?”  He asked my Mother.  

She burst out laughing. 

“ My Mothers never really been a fan of art.”  I interjected. “Particularly not abstract.” 

He was then busied away by more customers entering and my Mother and I were left to peruse our menu’s. 

“I don’t like him.”  She said. “Don’t encourage him.”

 After a weeks worth of Greek mezze  I fancied something different.  Italian. Maybe it was because Dean Martin was crooning in the background. I just felt like a  heartwarming Lasagne to soak up the alcohol.   And then I read the menu and changed my mind.


I mean it was probably a spelling mistake but you never know…

Whilst we finished up our meal another waiter came over with another bottle of wine. 
“No, no thank you.”  I stated  “I can’t possibly drink another thing.”

“But it is from Lawrence. A gift.  He would like to join you.” He placed a third glass on the table and the wine in an ice bucket. Oh God.  My Mother and I locked eyes.  Nothing needed to be said.

“Maybe after we close I can drive you both to a place I know where you can see the beautiful ocean and have drinks with me ?” Lawrence offered as he sat comfortably at our table smoking his cigarette and drinking his wine. 

It was already past midnight and I was getting to a point where I was struggling to focus from alcoholic overkill and, really? Did he think we would just swan off into the night with some Greek Lethario?  I’ve watched a LOT of Criminal Minds.

“Errr…no thanks.  We’re very tired.”  My Mother responded. I felt a rush of love for her.

However, it seemed we were not allowed to leave the restaurant without a complimentary aperitif.  

“ Please..”  said waiter number three. “What can we give you?  Free metaxa, free vodka?  Free cocktail?..” 

“How about a free liver transplant?”  I asked. 

We decided on metaxa as it is known for it’s healing qualities.  I tried to keep feeding it to the vase of flowers when nobody was looking. 

Eventually we got to leave but not before Lawrence handed me a folded piece of paper. 

“This is for you.  Read when you have left here and I hope in my heart I will see you again.  Maybe tomorrow?” 

We stumbled out of the restaurant and made our way home.  

“No, down here…we live down here, where it says one onion blue hotel.  One onion blue hotel?  What a stupid name.”  I directed to My Mother who was going in the wrong direction.

“Its not one onion, its Ionion!”  She scoffed. 

“Leave me alone.  I’m sick..”  I mumbled.  We got back to our apartment and went to the bar. 

“You look red like tomato.” Chirped our friendly Greek complex manager. 

“And I was just starting to like you.”  I replied.  I lifted my hands to my face which was excessively hot and figured I must have alcoholic poisoning.

“You want a metaxa?”  He asked.

“Not unless you’re a paramedic with a spare hose in your back yard, no, I need water please.” 

I went back to the table to see my Mother reading the note from Lawrence:



“I’ve seen that read at peoples funerals.”  She said. “He didn’t write that.”

“Well of course he didn’t! Do you think I’m stupid?” I hiccuped out the words as well as I could.

She didn’t answer.  Needless to say, we never went to that restaurant again. 

28 Comments

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OMG this is too funny. I love you (in a totally platonic, non-Lawrence way). Pls keep writing! 😀

Well I love you too Dee ( In a non lesbian, non comfy shoe, non Lawrence way ) Can I say that? Oh well, I just did.
Thank you I shall endeavour to keep up your spirits 🙂

Do you want to hear something funny? When my bride and I were living on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, the double-decker tour buses would snake through the neighborhood so the tourists could feel like they were out slumming. We’d always wave to them! See tourists! We’re not so bad!

Can I please buy that “mirror” line off of you. Dang. If only I was still single.

If you were stranded on a desert island with Lawrence, you’d eat mice meat. Just sayin’.

What a lovely note! Aren’t those the lyrics to a lesser-known Duran Duran song? Was it a photocopy? That’d be a spoiler.

Hello UB 🙂
I’ve been on one of those big red buses in Manhattan! But mine didn’t take me to the locals! I would have waved and thrown cake at you otherwise 😉

You may us the mirror line with pleasure.

If I was stranded on a desert island with Lawrence I’d make mice meat out of him. I get very tetchy in grass skirts, too much sunshine and only coconuts to eat.

No he actually wrote it..as in copied it out by hand from somewhere.. Duran Duran you say? I shall check that out 🙂

Haha! So did you get Lawrence’s email address? I’d love to send him this post and I bet it wouldn’t discourage him in the slightest! “Da English lady write about me in her blog!” he would think. Seriously, I think he may be in love with you Jules. You have no idea how attractive you blond English ladies are to swarthy Mediterrean types. OK, maybe just in lust with you, but that’s still achievement of sorts.

Hello Mr Gorilla Bananas 🙂
No sadly not.. Did you not predict this early on? Clever Gorilla that you are? Tom Conti style…but not quite as hideous!

I suppose it is some kind of achievement because, surely, he won’t be doing it to ANY OTHER female.. Will he? 🙂

Everybody is in love with Jules, Mr GB. So tell him to wait in line.

that is the greatest poetry i’ve ever read, and you know me, i know my poetry, my sad, blog poetry.

little trains are inspirations, they helped The Little Engine That Could achieve its (his? her?) dreams.

i ate mice meat once, i accidentally swallowed down Mickey Mouse Himself, i cried for days because i just knew Disneyland would never be the same.

your facebook pic is very very cute…that is a watergun, right?

with love,
Larry

Hello there larry 😉

This is the greatest poetry you’ve ever read? No. I refuse to believe such things.

Little trains are quite cute but slightly alarming.

I can’t believe you did that you heartless mouse eater. At least you cried. That shows remorse.

Thank you. It is indeed a water gun! Can’t get the real deal over here!

I can’t believe you are right there in the warm Mediterranean and have not partaken of the waters! You can hang out in the bars in London.
I want to see two suntans on y’all.

Hey Goatman!

I did! I did! I went in the water everyday AND got a tan.. honest!

It’s just the bars over in Greece are WAY cheaper and they are a lot more giving with their measurements 🙂

Hahaha Jules! At least you had a holiday romance – eh, well, sort of. I wonder how many women Lawrence tried to chat up… and how many times he succeeded (ew). LOL! Your mom is the best! 🙂

HA! Yeah right…. LOL.

Oh I’m sure it was just me, I mean…I’m his soul mate? How could he even gaze upon another if that were true? How could he feign such affection and speak such beautiful words to my heart? What? Because he’s a lying, cheating, flirting, deceitful, poodlefaker? Really? Gosh… I never knew guys could be so horrid…sob…sniff…sob…;)

Yeah … she can have her moments 🙂

Too funny Jules, I missed your blogs whilst I was away what a treat to catch up since I got back! I think Greece should be my next port of call. Do you want to come, you can introduce me to Lawrence 😉

Ahhh it’s nice to be missed. Well, even if it’s not the ‘actual’ me but my tales 🙂

I’m up for a trip back if you fancy a bit of Lawrence-ing. I’d give him up gladly for the sake of my friends….he he he he.

You only say that because you know how quickly I’d make mice meat of him 😉

HAHA! Oh Yes!!!

Hello preetty Eeenglish lady. I’m quite sure he was genuine and not a mucky sod after a quick shag.

Oh my God Tony, you’ve got that off to a tee..:)

Thank GOD I didn’t get to find out. Ewwww. I reckon he was after my passport to be honest 🙂

Nothing quite stirs my fancy like a nice helping of anything concocted with ‘mice meat’… I wonder if mice have white meat and dark meat?

Of course, I’m thinking that one could simply drop a couple of those critters into a blender… hit the ‘puree’ switch… and just use the mixture in lieu of tomato sauce or something like that… as frail as those critters are, the bones would have been reduced to nothing.

The photo is gorgeous… did you take that?? How romantic and wonderful your trip sounds!!

I’m jealous… :o(

~shoes~

Shoes!!

I am a very visual person, shoes. I am close to vomiting over my poached egg on toast at the thought of blended mice. Eww…nasty! Bad shoes! 🙂

Yes I took that photo at Zakynthos harbour. They’re all on my instagram feed up there on the right 🙂

You needn’t be jealous. I’m back home now, to the pain of reality, cloudy skies and drama. Living the dream…:P

Thoughts on being ‘visual’…

Some of the best things I’ve ever seen were visual.

There’s nothing wrong with being visual! People have said that about men for eons… of course, we use that as an excuse for our propensity to look at beautiful women… ;o)

Living the dream is a good thing until the occasional nightmare detours through ones Life.

~shoes~

ReallY? Oh my goodness shoes…that’s uncanny! Some of the best things that I’ve ever seen have been visual too! 😉

You do? So men don’t go straight for the mind and personality then? Gosh, my naivety scares me sometimes 😀

Living the dream…more like dreaming the dream and riding rough shod on the nightmare!

Have a fab weekend 🙂

If I had to write an essay after a trip with my parents I would have included, “It was fun having Dad yell at us all day.” Great story! Poor Lawrence, he struck out.

Yes but if I’d have done that I would have got lines for being rude. Seriously. I’m not joking.

Don’t worry, I’m rebelling now! 🙂

ROTFL. Dang, they got some romantic waiters all up in there. 🙂
Some Dark Romantic

Yeah…just schmoozers after your gullibility. NOT GONNA HAPPEN! Ha! 🙂

hilarious, Juliette !
i can just imagine.

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