Monterey Goes Greek

(Yesterday, when I wrote, I did not realize it was my 300th post.  A milestone of sorts, an amazingly big number to me.)

The Greek Festival is one of the best ethnic festivals held in this area, so we decided to meet some friends there and savor an hour or two there.  It's held every year at the Custom House Plaza and like other festivals highlights food and music from the nominal country.  Others to look for at various times of the summer and spring are:  The Santa Rosalia Festival (Sicilian-American), the Turkish Festival,

We walked over to the Plaza from Pacific Grove, an easy flat walk of perhaps two miles and joined another couple at a blue-checked table to pass the time, think about Greece and eat.  Gyros, spanikopita, dolmas, tomato salad with feta and red onions, and Greek coffee were all delicious, especially the gyros.  Whole lamb turning on a roasting spit, live music, people dancing in traditional costumes and booths filled with ceramics, art and jewelry were lively and interesting.

A large crowd filled the plaza.  Either there were very few authentically Greek people there or Greeks also look like every other nationality in the world, because that's what was evident:  The world in its entirety, give or take an aborigine or Zulu hunter.  It was definitely not a crowd you'd typically see in Colorado or Utah, for instance.  Monterey is multi-ethnic, as are most areas of the entire state now, a beautiful enriching thing for us here.  Something like 65 languages - probably a whole lot more - are spoken as a first language at home here.  Truly, it is a melting pot.  Lucky for us on days like today, the pot produces terrific food that we can munch on for equally terrific prices.

We left the sun-kissed festival behind and strolled down Alvarado Street a block or two to reach The Osio Cinema, our local indie-film theater, to watch a matinee showing of Get Low, Robert Duvall's current film, which we felt was a good film, mostly a character study of one man supported by an ensemble of skilled, empathetic actors.

Monterey is a very pretty city, lined with sycamore trees and Spanish mission style offering pleasing vistas at almost every turn.  The sun splashed down through the leaves and shadows dappled the sidewalks. Strolling throngs passed by in twos and threes as we sat on a bench, savored coffee and relaxed on a sunny bench.

We finally turned ourselves back toward Pacific Grove.  Almost immediately, we were distracted by batucada drumming that was attracting a big crowd at the entrance to the wharf.  Listen to The Obvious Child on the album Rhythm of the Saints by Paul Simon to get a good dose of it.  Little kids, old ladies, spectators in a crowd four or five deep were held in thrall by the drums.  Rhythmic drumming by six or seven musicians in a beautiful public space was intoxicating to everyone.  To me, only taiko drumming comes close; both are fantastic.  This style, a constantly varying and complex one, pulls you over closer and never lets go.  Smiles abounded and feet could not keep still.

We walked on, rejoining the moving river of humanity flowing along the Rec Trail back to Pacific Grove.  Glory of glories, there was no fog in sight, icing on a cake of a day.