Getting Too Comfortable
We were at the usual spot. It became our favorite weekly routine, as this restaurant was very reasonably priced and had the absolute BEST Souvlaki. It was called Tsi Tsi, and we loved it. So, late on a Monday we sauntered up the street to our little haunt and sat down at table 91 (as always).
By this point, about a month and a half into the semester, we had been here so many times that the same waiter recognized us and could probably even predict our order. We had been learning Greek in classes, and perhaps thought ourselves a little more skilled in the Greek language than we actually were. Nonetheless, starving after a long day of walking in the Grecian sun, cleaning our apartment, and doing copious amounts of homework, my friend and I could not wait to get our hands on the Souvlaki.
Feeling overly confident, we took the Greek menu this time, certain that we knew exactly where our go-to dish was placed within the pages of the “grill book.” And so, before the waiter could even finish saying good evening, we eagerly pointed to the Souvlaki on the menu, raised two fingers to indicate how many, and handed him the papers as he smiled strangely and walked away scribbling furiously in his server book.
After fifteen minutes of not-so-patient waiting, the food had arrived. My eyes widened as he set the food down before me and I thanked him in Greek as he did a little bow and went back to the kitchen. But when I looked down at my precious Souvlaki, I realized something was very, very wrong. It was definitely not the Souvlaki we had had in meals past. We stared at each other, a little horrified that it was not correct, and tried to figure out what to do. In a short time, we discovered that we had mistakenly pointed to something quite different on the menu, a portion of minced grilled mystery meat thrown in a pita with some onions, Tzatziki sauce, and cucumbers. It was certainly not what we had wanted and unfortunately, neither of us even liked this dish after trying it.
In order to preserve proper manners, we choked down the rest of our mystery meat wraps, left a more than generous tip on the table, and scurried out before the waiter could ask how everything was.
Initially we were both irritated, still hungry and craving a food we couldn’t have at the moment. However, as we began walking toward our apartment a few blocks down, we started to laugh at how badly we had messed up and at how confused the waiter must have been when we ordered something totally different (and not good) in lieu of our beloved Souvlaki.
That night my stomach didn’t feel too great after dinner, but at least I learned what not to order in the future. Plus, I may have realized that despite spending twenty years on this earth and about six weeks in Greece, I may actually not know everything!
Below, I have included a picture of the actual Souvlaki that we usually order and enjoy from Tsi Tsi (though it doesn’t do it justice).