Gelato and a Greek

Weaving in and out of the sidewalks and supposed pedestrians streets proves overwhelming to my senses after walking down the wide cobblestone street. The owners of shops are lurking like vultures over the prey of their potential customers, and the males are often staring intently at me and my travel companions, while casually flipping their worry beads. The streets still overwhelm my senses of sight with numerous bright colors, sounds of mopeds, cars, other languages, and omniscient knowing as a female that the males are checking you out even after you walked by.
The alternating shops and markets finally lead us to our familiar and favored eatery section consisting of the gyro stand and the gelato stand. Well, at least the boys’ favorite place to get gyros for 1.70€ and all of us enjoy the 1.50€ gelato stand. Because we had a long morning and an incredibly hot visit to the 2004 Olympic Park, my thirst and longing for fruit overpowers my feelings of hunger. I walk a little further to a news and snack stand covered with obnoxiously distracting rows, columns and lines of all products one could find in a small American convenience store. From the stand’s cooler, a bright blue fruit juice box with the word MOTION slanted vertically on the box catches my eye along with the refreshing appearance of a 1.5 liter bottle of water. I hand my coins to the stand’s attendant who quickly slides my change apathetically towards me, without looking at me. For once I have escaped the “man gaze” as my companions and I have come to call it.
Although I have ventured out by myself, I am assured that I will reunite with my group near their favorite eatery, and as I weave through the streets once again, I see the my travel companions stuffing their hungry faces with their pitas wrapping around shaven lamb, tatziki cucumber sauce, and tomatoes. I glance up around the few stores in our favorite quadrant and sit on the marble curb in front of the Ouzeria with the brightly colored bottles glowing from the lights behind them. I think one thing this trip has taught me is to pick your battles of my germ phobia; I sit next to Charles in a somewhat dirty seat familiar to stray old gum and the stray dogs that roam the street.
Charles quickly finishes his gyro while I sip on the deliciously fruity drink. Although there are nine different fruit juices in the MOTION drink, the mixture was quite delicious, not overly sweet but very satisfying for my longing for fruit. Now it was time for more cool food and our favorite gelato stand outside a café is calling our name. Within the covered portion of the gelato stand are the vividly colored flavors of gelato in heaping mounds and atop the stand are the stacked waffle cones, cups and spoons lined up in descending order by size. We approach the gelato man and place our individual orders as we please. Charles returns noting how marvelous the Traditional Greek Cream flavor is, and I decide to try it.
I notice today’s gelato server is a young male at the gelato stand, probably in his mid 20s, clean shaven with short, spiky gelled hair sporting a nice polo shirt. I place my order for the newly recommended flavor and ask the server, “Will this Greek gelato make me Greek?” After chuckling, he hands me the napkin-wrapped gelato cone and says, “No offense—but Greek girls don’t have such beautiful blue eyes as you.” I am fairly confident that I blush ten shades of red and respond with my quiet and shy thank you. “No, really, you do have gorgeous eyes—beautiful blue eyes,” he repeats in his very clear and understandable English with a slight Greek accent. I say thank you again and move along with my group to enjoy my gelato, while sharing the story with my companions who have not yet heard the comments. The sweet cream has a very subtle hint of sour, surprising my tongue every so often when I lick the thin of berry-flavored swirl. As I turned back down the street to return to the hotel, I realized that in a way, eating the gelato is much like the situation I just encountered, very sweet and also surprising; this was the first time a Greek man had actually looked me in the eyes.

Valerie A.