Exotic

Smaro's laugh started off deep and throaty, but crescendoed into a lovely high-pitched squeak. Both it and her smile were infectious.  How that woman loved to laugh!  Music was important to her too, and she would burst into song at the drop of a hat.  Her voice was a rich, full-toned contralto, and I was often regaled with her favourite Greek love song of the day.  Separated from her husband for many years, she worked long hours as a nurse to provide for her two children. 'Hard Work' was her middle name.

Those were lean days for me.  A stranger in a strange land, I had very little money, very few friends and on occasion, despaired.  If I was feeling at all low, the gloom would lift the moment I was engulfed in one of her great big bear-hugs.  She was wonderful to me and treated me like a daughter.  If I needed a bed, she gave me one; if I was hungry, she fed me.  Even though it was hard at times for her to make ends meet, she gave selflessly. And, oh the food she fed me....so different from what I was used to.  Chorta, pastitsio, dolmades...food as exotic to me as was Smaro.

One of my most vivid memories is of a day when I was invited by Smaro to come for lunch.  I walked into the dining-room and there in the middle of the table was a bony skull surrounded by potatoes.  "Ti einai afto?" (What is that?) I asked, cringing at the sight.  "It's the head of a sheep." she answered.  "What's the matter?  Don't you eat sheep brain in Canada?"  Bile rose in my throat.  "No!  We don't eat sheep brain in Canada and I can't eat it here, either!"  "Why," she asked, surprised, "It's delicious!"  "Thank you, but no thank you.  I can't eat that!  I can't even look at it," I gasped, almost gagging at the thought. She relented gracefully.  "Okay then.  Go into the kitchen and make yourself some eggs. You can eat in there."  I did as I was told, grateful to leave the abhorrent sight behind.  I quickly fried up a couple of eggs, sliced a tomato, grabbed a piece of bread and was sitting at the kitchen table just about to put some egg in my mouth when Smaro, ever-funny Smaro, spoke to me from the other room, her words putting an end to whatever appetite I had. "Oh, Arlene," she exclaimed in a laughter-filled voice, "This is so delicious. You really should come and have some.  Now, I'm eating an eye!"