No matter how you put it, let’s face it, we’re gypsies. Living the nomad life has it’s perks, new scenery every few days, a constant flow of new friends with new perspectives, a fresh language/culture waiting to be learnt around every bend. Last night’s little situation was like a slap in the face. Wake up, you’re seen as gypsies by others and that’s not always a good thing.
Two days ago we arrived in the lovely Greek city of Kavala, we found a discrete parking spot by the sea, walking distance from a 1500 year old aqueduct. Great. The first night we plugged into an extension cord dangling off of an olive tree in the middle of a small park. Peace offering? Greedy Polish/Canadian car, we may or may not of blown a fuse by plugging in every single electronic we own simultaneously. Oops.
Day 2, at the brink of dusk, we sneakily plugged into an outlet found on the outer wall of an abandoned, under construction, first floor of a house or apartment. Take my word, in daylight hours, Matt waited around outside for a life form to appear so he could politely ask if we could use their power. Not a soul, are we parked in a ghost town?
Coming back from the market I notice a glowing tv on on the 3rd floor, are we safe? Should we worry? Not now.
It’s pitch black out, we’re eating great food I just made, drinking super cheap fantastic wine and watching a great show of British Top Gear, I told Matt that things are too good to be true, we’re going to get in trouble.
20 minutes later we hear rustling outside then knock,knock,knock on the door.
Matt opens the door; ” Hi, we’re so sorry, so sorry!”
Starring out at us; a Greek man, other Greek man, a Greek police officer, a Greek wife hanging off the 3rd floor lit balcony and a Greek cat giving us nasty looks from said balcony.
The Greek man starts lamenting: “You, why are you here? Why you stay here? Why you come to my house and what are you doing?”
Us: ” Yes, we are so sorry, we are terrible people, we tried to find you today, we are very wrong, we can pay you for the electricity.”
Cut to an EXACT scene from “My big fat Greek wedding”: Greek lamenting man: “No pay, WHY you don’t ask me, why you don’t talk to me? Nobody talks to me!!”
Us: “We’re soooo sorry, we truly tried to talk to you.”
Sad Greek man: “Where are you from? Why you don’t tell me?”
Us: ” We’re Canadians, Vancouver, so sorry, we are so sorry.”
George (I’m guessing his name here): “I’m from Vancouver.”
Us: “Really? We’re from Victoria!”
George: ” I live there 30 years ago, my cousin owns Romeos, I go back every year.”
Canadian gypsies: “Amalia’s mom lives on Gorge Rd.”
George: “I live in an apartment on Tillicum and Gorge.”
Us, jaw dropped: “That’s 200 meters away, hello neighbor!”
George hesitates then waves off the overly confused police officer.
Finally, just us Canadian neighbors are chatting in the dark.
George: “Ok, please plug back in.”
Us: “It’s ok, we can pay you, would you like some wine? Beer? Anything?”
George: “No, no, no, please plug back in! I want you to plug, you must. I also lived in Vancouver.”
Matt: “I lived in the West End, Barkley st.”
I shit you not, freakin’ George lived a block away.
All is settled and we are welcomed guest for the next 48 hours.
First thing tomorrow I’m buying George and the Greek wife pretty flowers.