Specialistas

In Greece it is very popular to play on the soccer pools and
our small island is no exception; all the men seem to be
involved in the matches and they seem to know a lot about
the different teams.

Last summer I also bet and when they heard I was
from Sweden they wanted my advice on all the
Swedish soccer teams. But when the summer ended they had
understood that I was no magician and that it was
just as impossible for me to know, as for them.

This summer when we arrived I had a look in the
Stoixhima shop and there were three Swedish
Cup matches that you could bet on.

Of course I played, looking like I knew everything
about these matches (I didn’t even know there was a
Swedish Cup going on).

The next day when I walked in to the shop the
owner looked at me and shouted: “You won!”.
And apparently I had hit all three matches
and won 76 Euro.

The news had spread already so when I passed
Nikos' shop he asked me if we could play together
the next week, if there were more Swedish matches.

And when he introduced me to two of his friends
the only word I heard and understood was specialistas.

But I realise it can only go downhill for me now,
maybe I should stop and not play any more
this summer.

And make the word “specialistas” last
a bit longer.





Hydra June 29, 2002

Dimitris Mitropanos in Plaka

(inspired by the poem Bacchic, by C.P. Cavafy)


Weary of the crowded streets of Plaka, in a small
music club just next door from Brettos, I am offered
a table in the back of the room;
please, give me one Amstel to drink.

Here I feel far from tourists and shops and taverns; it
is late, almost midnight and they serve dinners and
expensive drinks in the club;
please, give me one more Amstel to drink.

The band starts (bouzoukis, guitar, flute, drummers,
bass and accordion) and Mitropanos comes on and
starts singing; not waiting for applause or cheers;
please, give me one more Amstel to drink.

There is short applause after each song but the singer
starts almost at once with a new one; not at all the
sentimental style I was expecting:
please, give me one more Amstel to drink.

“Rosa”, (the song that was like a national anthem
some years ago) makes the crowd cheer, but I, the
lone man from Sweden, am the most excited;
please, give me one more Amstel to drink.

Three singers join Mitropanos on stage and they take
turns with songs; for three hours the show goes on,
without any break or pause;
please, give me one more Amstel to drink.

Walking the quiet streets of Plaka back to my hotel,
it’s three o’clock in the morning. I am tired but I did
find happiness, delight, joy and exaltation:
in the wonderful music and the beer.

A blue door

 

opening up

I am back on the island since a couple of days, they say this weekend is Midsummer but we didn't notice anything of that here, no rain pouring down just the normal beautiful Greek weather.

Anyway, I am opening up this blog for everyone now, I took away some short poems about some stuff that were probably not even interesting for anyone else than myself and hardly that, who wants to read a poem about the island doctor being beaten up by a jealous husband anyway..?

The Loulaki Bar

 

My new book is just out.

The Loulaki Bar and other poems from Hydra.

I am proud of this book, the publisher has done a great job with the layout and all reproductions.

I just got my copies, it is for sale at Bokmagasinet in Stockholm, soon at the bookshop on Hydra and from the publisher Miskwabic Press in Calumet, Michigan (they will soon have it up on their site). Otherwise email me if you want a copy.

Buying a house in Greece

 

This is a photo from Lefteris Parisis' kitchen on Hydra, from 1997 and we have just signed the agreement for our house. Lefteris and his wife had their own house opposite our new house, just further up the alley. The house we bought had been in Lefteris' wife's family for many years.

Lefteris to the right and in the middle is Yannis Gavalas who was the agent. We were all very happy, Lefteris went to Four Corners supermarket to buy some beer and softdrinks and then later Gavalas and I walked down to the port to transfer the money and to pay Gavalas his commission.

Barba Yannis working on the orange tree