Souvlaki Sundown

Last month I read Alan Furst’s immensely enjoyable Spies of the Balkans set in 1940s Salonika. By an incredible quirk of fate, Dimitris comes from Salonika although he’s not a spy.   

Dimitris has escaped Greece’s economic meltdown; his previous business went from a multi-million turnover to three cents an hour. So he’s turned his passion for good into Mythos: a fast-food cafe off the main square, just up from Kowlun Pizza. Gyros and Souvlaki. The natural-wood furnishings are imported and he gets his supplies from a Greek wholesaler in Bucharest. Getting the quality of fresh meat he demands, however, involves a constant battle with local suppliers. But he will not compromise. Every morning is an early start.

Dimitri is unfailingly energetic, polite, courteous and an endless source of jokes (my favourite being the one about the motorbike and the Vaseline). Like me he is a tireless observer. Most nights or afternoons I turn up at the Mythos and sit at the little tables out front. We discuss everything from Sparta, beautiful Brasov women versus guys who like extras in Hostel, heads in jails, the joys and challenges of being an entrepreneur, swimming, travels in South America and the dangers of leaving one’s mobile on.

A guy saunters past with a severe haircut and denim shorts. Dimitris explains he is the local decorator who spends all his money on the slot machines as soon as he gets paid. Later, a really tall swarthy guy comes over and helps himself to one of Dimitris’ cigarettes. A smile, a wave of the hand. One of the local gypsies, he explains, who charges for making sure the tables and chairs of the cafes and restaurants don’t get mysteriously damaged in the early hours. Everyone pays.

I watch Dimitris in action in the Mythos. He never stops welcoming his customers, shaking hands and taking care of them. Did you enjoy the meal? Something else? Yes, we only use Greek extra virgin oil for the pitta. The best you’ve ever had? Thank you. Please, come again!

His staff include Argentin who worked in the UK and has a Save the Children ID card. There’s the Greek chef who has lived in Kronstadt for two years is getting married this Saturday (he’s only taking a few days off work so no honeymoon). He’s getting married at the church where I saw the baptism. Yes, it’s beautiful there. Alex is a student and works part-time. She wants to design motorbikes when she graduates, and draws pictures of skulls in her free time. She says to me she’s never met a writer before. I say, Neither have I.   

Sometimes, sitting there drinking with Dimitris at sundown, I’m mistaken for his Greek business partner. I don’t mind at all.