Well, it's less than 12 hrs he's been here, and already he's got lost.
"I'm going for a walk" he yells. I'm in the shower.
"Out my flat, turn left" I yell back, but the door's already slammed.
Half an hour ticks by. I feel like a role reversal has happened, IE: I am the one who's the parent, worrying about the 'child.'
The door clicks open. "I'm back!" he sweeps in bombastically, "And I got lost!"
"So, I turned left like you said, I found some lovely cafes and a lovely neighbourhood, but I turned off back to your street too early."
"Uh huh" I laconically urge him on.
"So, there's these 3 old geezers sitting outside a cafe, I go up to them and tell them 'I'm lost!' They mutter in Greek to each other, one guy asks for your telephone number, which I can't remember!" my father blew out his cheeks as he remembered this, almost like he's worried he has Alzheimer's.
"And in the meantime, the other guy's disappeared to his home, taken a street map, gone to his other friend's house and photocopied it for me and bought it back, covered in yellow highlighter!"
"They then proceed, the two of them, to walk me back to your place!"
"And you know what? I thank them over and over again, and they just shrug at me, pat me on the back and impart - "We are all humans.""
As my dad's relaying this, there are tears in his eyes. He's been to Greece many times in the past, but he's never EXPERIENCED the REAL Greeks, the KIND Greeks. Only the arsehole business ones (who are probably responsible for getting this country into the mess it's in).
I smile knowingly. We're both glad he got lost - so that he got to experience this. He got to see the real Greeks 'in action.'
We're off to try to find that cafe again now, to thank them. See you later.