Okay, so my definition of "action" is pretty general. But today, I was eating a gyro at a restaurant and the old Greek waiter pinched my cheek and said,"ohh, so beautiful." That counts, right? Well, regardless of what you think, I'm counting it. In my action journal. (Don't you wish you could read that?) (Okay, fine. It's mostly blank. But it's going to be filled up by the time I leave Greece. I mean, I already have the ex-con with drug scars and no teeth telling me thank you for my smile and now the pinched cheek. I've only been here a couple of days! By the time I leave, I might be a full-blown whore.) (Mom, Dad, I'm just kidding about the whore part.)
The gyro is served differently at the sit down restaurants than if you stopped at a shop on the street. It's a big heaping pile of meat and onions and tzatziki on warm pita bread. It was so good. Obviously. I'm in Greece. The meat was thinly sliced and a little dry, but not in a bad way - it was almost like jerky in some bites, and soft in others. The onions were pungent and sprinkled with paprika. The tzatziki was crunchy with cucumbers and tart yogurt.
So after the pinched cheek episode, we wandered over to a fresh fruit stand and bought grapes, figs and peaches. Then we came back to our hotel and did a photo shoot on the balcony. Then we ate our props and fell into a fruit coma.
Tonight, I ate dinner by myself, amongst many Greek men and a couple of women at a Romanian restaurant across the street from our hotel. Cabbage rolls filled with rice and tomato sauce, covered in sour cream and served with polenta. So good. And filling. And the restaurant looks like a Greek version of Le Happy, which made me say "Awwww." And feel at home.
Tomorrow, Jen and I meet up with Amber and Chelsea in Omonia Square, then we take the all-night ferry to Crete, where we will frolic on beaches, eat octopus and go to many tavernas.