Over the past few weeks on our island, everyone has been hard at work, painting, paving, changing décor, arranging stock, making repairs. Even Yiannis, infamous proprietor of To Roloi, the Clock Bar, has been hard at work.
The closure of the legendary Meltemi some years ago left To Roloi as perhaps the last bastion of a real Greek drinking house. For indifference of service and musical self-indulgence, few come closer to the stereotypical idea of the Greek male bar owner than Yiannis. But this is all just part of what makes this place special.
This year may be his last and he’s making that additional effort. He’s painted his bar pink; he’s plastered the wall in his Internet café that has been crumbling for years; he’s playing music other than his own; he may even open the legendary toilet that has been closed for years for reasons that are best not gone into. Perhaps we’ll even see his projection clock back in service.
But what makes The Clock Bar different isn’t the décor, it’s the fact that it’s one of the few places left where you might have to serve yourself if Yiannis is too busy checking out a group of passing tourists, or busy writing a new song; it’s a place where you might have to wait until tomorrow to pay as the kefi has kicked in and people of all nationalities are laughing at a shared joke. Or someone is improvising an ode to a passing Symi spider. It’s a place where free drinks are given not to encourage repeat business, but because they were earned, and at the end of the evening, if your bill is substantially less that what you estimated, it could be because you told a bad joke.
Most of all, it’s a place where a man or a woman can find what they came to Greece for, that elusive something you just can’t put your finger on that turns a fortnight holiday into a memory to cherish for the other 50 weeks of the year.
This season will, I suspect, be the last for Yiannis and To Roloi and when he’s gone, there will be few able to replace his kindness, generosity, humanity and pure Greekness and for this I salute him. I, for one, hope this be his best year of all. Perhaps I’ll see you there.
The closure of the legendary Meltemi some years ago left To Roloi as perhaps the last bastion of a real Greek drinking house. For indifference of service and musical self-indulgence, few come closer to the stereotypical idea of the Greek male bar owner than Yiannis. But this is all just part of what makes this place special.
This year may be his last and he’s making that additional effort. He’s painted his bar pink; he’s plastered the wall in his Internet café that has been crumbling for years; he’s playing music other than his own; he may even open the legendary toilet that has been closed for years for reasons that are best not gone into. Perhaps we’ll even see his projection clock back in service.
But what makes The Clock Bar different isn’t the décor, it’s the fact that it’s one of the few places left where you might have to serve yourself if Yiannis is too busy checking out a group of passing tourists, or busy writing a new song; it’s a place where you might have to wait until tomorrow to pay as the kefi has kicked in and people of all nationalities are laughing at a shared joke. Or someone is improvising an ode to a passing Symi spider. It’s a place where free drinks are given not to encourage repeat business, but because they were earned, and at the end of the evening, if your bill is substantially less that what you estimated, it could be because you told a bad joke.
Most of all, it’s a place where a man or a woman can find what they came to Greece for, that elusive something you just can’t put your finger on that turns a fortnight holiday into a memory to cherish for the other 50 weeks of the year.
This season will, I suspect, be the last for Yiannis and To Roloi and when he’s gone, there will be few able to replace his kindness, generosity, humanity and pure Greekness and for this I salute him. I, for one, hope this be his best year of all. Perhaps I’ll see you there.
Yiannis last year? I hope not! Surfing the net in semi darkness, perched on a beer crate is what made Roloi different!
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