Whenever I’m in Greece, I don’t let a sun go down without enjoying a nice glass of ouzo. It’s funny, because I don’t even like the taste of that licorice-flavored firewater when I’m back home in the United States. But you can’t experience Greek culture without really tasting it – from olives at breakfast to ouzo after dark.
You don’t drink ouzo straight; instead, you add ice or water, which turns the ouzo from clear to milky white. When my waiter brings my glass, I give him a melodramatic little show – artfully trickling a few drops of water into my ouzo, magically giving it a milky swirl. It’s a performance in a glass and suddenly, to him, I’m not just another tourist. I’m a cultural chameleon, mastering a little slice of the Greek life – indicating I’m ready and rarin’ for more.
When Greeks really want to show hospitality, the drinking shifts from ouzo to its wilder cousin, tsipouro. Similar to Italian grappa, this brandy-like liquor is about 40 percent alcohol and makes ouzo seem like kid stuff. It’s the drink of boisterous toasts, tall tales, and meals that drag late into the night. Judging from my fuzzy photos, the last time I had it… well, let’s just say, it was a great example of going extremely local.
In Greece there’s no better spot to “go Greek” than at the local taverna. It doesn’t matter if I’m snuggled into the car-free island of Hydra, perched above an untrampled beach on the Mani Peninsula, or enjoying a tiny joint hiding in the shadow of Athens’ Acropolis. When evening comes, taverna conviviality is what I’m after.
With their basic décor, rickety stools, and rustic tables, Greek tavernas are humble at first glance. But after a few laughs and a few drinks, you realize how rich they are in heritage, character, and charm. Backgammon dice chatter, as do the wrinkled folks tossing them. Worry beads click and clack as they’re threaded between fingers. Hand-rolled cigarettes hang tenuously from lips, and stray cats wait patiently to take your seat – and your dinner – if you dare abandon either.
I like to grab a table in the middle of this action and order my ouzo and a plate of mezedes– with a smattering of dips, olives, and feta-stuffed peppers – which is fun to nibble on while I debate which fresh seafood dish sounds right tonight. (At some seaside tavernas, my options are hanging right in front of me, ready to be thrown on the grill.)
Often, music becomes a part of the evening. Greeks love to dance. Popular dances include the graceful kalamatianos circle dance and the syrtaki, done with arms outstretched or thrown across one another’s shoulders. While these are popular for special events like weddings and baptisms, I’ve found people don’t need much of an excuse to break out in dance…especially at a taverna with live music. (The ouzo helps.)
Music is a part of everyday life in Greece. The traditional instrument here is a bouzouki. Wandering through any town on a weekend summer evening, I like to follow the happy sound of musicians sitting around an outdoor table playing traditional folk tunes on this long-necked mandolin. As night descends, the crowd is ready to go bouzouki-crazy, and the ouzo-fueled magic of the Greek taverna kicks into high gear. Opa!
Going local by drinking local with the locals isn’t just a Greek thing. Wherever you are in Europe, drinks are a fun and easy way to become a temporary European. When I’m in Tuscany, I drink a full-bodied red wine with dinner – but when I’m in the Cinque Terre, I order a glass of the dry, local white. When you aren’t sure what to order, look around, point, and say: “I’ll have what she’s having”. With that approach, rather than just another old-fashioned Old Fashioned, you’ll be swirling sangria in Andalucía, pouring sparkling water into pastis in the south of France, and sipping schnapps while perched high in the Alps.
Even if you don’t like the taste of the local beverage, order it to go with the cultural flow. I may far prefer a cold pilsner, but if I’m at a ye olde alehouse in England, you bet I’m asking for a room-temperature cask ale. Do I wish it was colder and more carbonated? Not in England.
And, stepping into a bar anywhere you travel, embrace that wonderful Irish notion that “strangers are just friends who’ve yet to meet,” and chat up the patrons. With the local drink in hand, you’ll feel – and be – part of the scene. Cheers!
(Rick Steves (www.ricksteves.com) writes European guidebooks, hosts travel shows on public TV and radio, and organizes European tours. This column revisits some of Rick’s favorite places over the past two decades. You can email Rick at rick@ricksteves.com and follow his blog on Facebook.)