I was addicted to Greek yogurt and chocolate milk. On this particular day, I was, for the third day in a row, craving chocolate milk. Don't scoff. In those days, these were both made from goat milk and if you hadn't tried Greek yogurt and chocolate milk, you hadn't lived!
Smaro, my dear friend, decided that it was time for me to soar on my own. I had been living with her for a week and she was getting tired of always having to translate for me. "You have to try. You know enough Greek words now that you can go to the store alone. They'll understand you!" "But, Smaro. I can't. I just can't. Please come with me." My pleas fell on deaf ears. "No," insisted Smaro, "I won't go. You go. You'll be fine."
The desire for the creamy, rich chocolate beverage outweighed my trepidation and off I went to the corner store. The owner was seated behind the display case which held containers of yogurt and trays of baklava and galaktoboureko....but none of the coveted chocolate milk. He'd had chocolate milk every other day that week...to this my expanding stomach could attest. Perhaps it was in the back room and he hadn't put it out yet? Nervously, in my best Greek, I asked, "Echete sokolatoucho gala?" (Do you have chocolate milk?) The man looked at me, opened his eyes wide, then raised and lowered his eyebrows once. I stared at him and waited patiently for him to answer. HUH? No response. Maybe he hadn't understood my accent? Again, this time much slower, I repeated, "E che te so ko la tou cho ga la?" His chin jerked upwards, accompanied by the eyebrow raise. He lowered his head quickly and looked at me once again. What the heck? Maybe he was hard of hearing? I tried again, but this time I raised my voice to be sure he could hear what I was saying. "E CHE TE SO KO LA TOU CHO GA LA?" Nary a word passed his lips; he just repeated the same gesture, but this time he pursed his lips and clicked his tongue once on the roof of his mouth. The man must be crazy! What the heck is he doing, clicking his tongue, lifting his eyebrows. Why won't he answer me? One last time....one last try.....louder and slower than before...."E CHE TE SO KO LA TOU CHO GA LA?" His eyes hardened, he gave me 'a look'....bent his right arm, threw his hand up and back, lifted his head violently, raised his eyebrows four or five times, and clicked his tongue over and over again. Panicking, I ran out of the store, back to Smaro's apartment.
"Pou einai i sokolatoucho gala," (Where is the chocolate milk?) she asked when I returned empty-handed. In my terrible Greek and with head, eyebrow, tongue and hand gestures, I tried to explain what had transpired and how frightened I'd been. When I had finished, Smaro looked at me and burst out laughing. "What? What's so funny? Why are you laughing?" She tried several times to explain, but each time she was overcome by throaty giggles. She laughed until her stomach hurt. Holding her sides, tears streaming down her cheeks she finally managed to gasp, "Those are all ways we say 'NO' in Greek!"
Smaro, my dear friend, decided that it was time for me to soar on my own. I had been living with her for a week and she was getting tired of always having to translate for me. "You have to try. You know enough Greek words now that you can go to the store alone. They'll understand you!" "But, Smaro. I can't. I just can't. Please come with me." My pleas fell on deaf ears. "No," insisted Smaro, "I won't go. You go. You'll be fine."
The desire for the creamy, rich chocolate beverage outweighed my trepidation and off I went to the corner store. The owner was seated behind the display case which held containers of yogurt and trays of baklava and galaktoboureko....but none of the coveted chocolate milk. He'd had chocolate milk every other day that week...to this my expanding stomach could attest. Perhaps it was in the back room and he hadn't put it out yet? Nervously, in my best Greek, I asked, "Echete sokolatoucho gala?" (Do you have chocolate milk?) The man looked at me, opened his eyes wide, then raised and lowered his eyebrows once. I stared at him and waited patiently for him to answer. HUH? No response. Maybe he hadn't understood my accent? Again, this time much slower, I repeated, "E che te so ko la tou cho ga la?" His chin jerked upwards, accompanied by the eyebrow raise. He lowered his head quickly and looked at me once again. What the heck? Maybe he was hard of hearing? I tried again, but this time I raised my voice to be sure he could hear what I was saying. "E CHE TE SO KO LA TOU CHO GA LA?" Nary a word passed his lips; he just repeated the same gesture, but this time he pursed his lips and clicked his tongue once on the roof of his mouth. The man must be crazy! What the heck is he doing, clicking his tongue, lifting his eyebrows. Why won't he answer me? One last time....one last try.....louder and slower than before...."E CHE TE SO KO LA TOU CHO GA LA?" His eyes hardened, he gave me 'a look'....bent his right arm, threw his hand up and back, lifted his head violently, raised his eyebrows four or five times, and clicked his tongue over and over again. Panicking, I ran out of the store, back to Smaro's apartment.
"Pou einai i sokolatoucho gala," (Where is the chocolate milk?) she asked when I returned empty-handed. In my terrible Greek and with head, eyebrow, tongue and hand gestures, I tried to explain what had transpired and how frightened I'd been. When I had finished, Smaro looked at me and burst out laughing. "What? What's so funny? Why are you laughing?" She tried several times to explain, but each time she was overcome by throaty giggles. She laughed until her stomach hurt. Holding her sides, tears streaming down her cheeks she finally managed to gasp, "Those are all ways we say 'NO' in Greek!"
