We Are Happy To Serve You

On Sunday I went to a cafe/bar downtown. I ordered a coffee and sat there with my Sunday paper (in Greek, but I got a free DVD), a novel, and a notebook in which to jot down observations for some essays I have been working on. I had my cell phone with me, tucked deep inside my bag and set on 'vibrate', because, deep down, despite their necessary function, I really hate cell phones. My coffee came with cookies. I ate the cookies.
There were about five other tables in the place, each occupied by multiple people. Each of these people had a cup of coffee. Each of these people had a cigarette. Each of these people had a cell phone in front of them. They were all talking, mostly to one another, but some of them were talking on their cell phones as well. Their coffee came with cookies. None of them ate their cookies.
This is my life in Greece.

To give you some idea of what I look for in a successful cafe/bar, here are descriptions of my two favorite places to get in a drink in the states. The first was once featured in a Woody Allen movie that I never saw. The latter was once featured in a five minute student film entitled "the Overture of Evil." It's about a guy who gets attacked by dementor-like evil spirits while the 1812 Overture plays in the background.
First, the best place to get coffee in New York is called the Hungarian Pastry Shop. It is cozy and charming and they never play wretched eardrum-popping pop music (my biggest cafe complaint in Greece.) It is right around the corner from my house, and they have a giant rack of delicious pastries, as well as the best croissants known to man. Throughout nursery school, I would go to the Hungarian most afternoons for 25 cent cookies, of which there are a wide array. If you go there on a typical afternoon, you will find a lot of people sitting alone with their newspapers or books or term papers or unfinished novels or whatever. This is partially because a lot of them are Columbia University students, but also partially because I am not the only one in New York who occasionally goes to cafes alone. I read Ulysses there once, and felt very smart until I noticed that the guy next to me was reading some medical paper that had words in the title that were long enough to be sentences. (There's a hospital across the street.) I also started drinking lattes there, which eventually led to me drinking coffee, which led to me developing a serious habit.
My favorite alcohol establishment in the states is technically known as "The Down Under Pub", but as this is in Grinnell, Iowa, there is really no name or modifying adjective required. There is only one Pub. The Pub is the sort of place where everyone would go to drink as much as possible, but they don't want to drink too much, because then they might need to use the bathroom, and the pub bathroom is real sketchy. Nonetheless, every single senior on the Grinnell campus frequents the Pub on Wednesday nights. Even if you don't drink, you go to the Pub and eat the free popcorn. I suppose you could say the free, slightly stale popcorn is kind of like the free nuts and/or cookies that Greek bars give out. I suppose you could also say that the smoke-filled carcinogenic air of the Pub is somewhat similar to the smoke filled air of bars in Greece. You could say that; but you would be wrong. The Pub is way worse. Every Grinnellian has designated "Pub clothes" that cannot be worn in everyday life, as one whiff will cause emphysema in all individuals within smelling range. It is truly foul. I miss the Pub.

Beverage consumption is big in Greece., though I haven't quite found a Hungarian or Pub equivalent. There are, however, cafes on every other corner. Sometimes there are multiple cafes on one corner. It's worth noting that in Greece, cafes usually serve coffee and alcoholic drinks, which is why it's called a cafe/bar. In the states, you often have to choose between a place for coffee and a place for alcohol. Here, you can down multiple legal addictive stimulants within the confines of a single establishment. You can do this all day long, and nobody will suggest that you leave. You can even do this until it is officially the next day, with the sun coming up and everything. I appreciate this, as the Hungarian closes at the ungodly early hour of 11:30, and even Pub nights end at 2.
Unfortunately, you do pay to sit there. A friend of mine once told me "everything is cheaper in Greece. Everything except cars and coffee." This appears to be true; on one memorable occasion, Joe and I paid a total of four Euros for our dinner of souvlaki, and subsequently paid eight for a hot chocolate and an herbal tea. I guess it makes sense. If people don't leave for hours, and there's no take-away business, prices are higher., particularly if you're sitting by the ocean. New York coffee to go costs about ninety cents, but the atmosphere tends to be a little less relaxing.
But here's the ironic thing about coffee to go in NYC. The quintessential to-go coffee cup is covered in ancient Greek-style designs. It is blue and white, with pictures of decorative amphorae and "We are happy to serve you" written in Greek-influenced letters. For Christmas, my parents actually sent me a "We are happy to serve you" mug, perfectly authentic right down to the crease on the side. It is, however, ceramic instead of paper. I think that it is perhaps the most appropriate piece of kitchenware that I have ever owned.
Anyway, I think I was talking about drink prices. Pub well drinks cost one dollar, if you can believe that. However, they are often concocted out of something called "Hawkeye Vodka", which I personally suspect is actually leftover cleaning fluid from the soy plants of Iowa. But there's really no way to be sure.
You do get something for your money in Greece; water and cookies (for coffee) or nuts (for alcohol) come with pretty much every beverage. But here's the funny thing; I swear, Greeks never eat their cookies. I look over at the other tables, and everyone is chatting, and there is always a plate of uneaten cookies just sitting there. I sometimes wonder if there are actually only a few plates of ancient stale cookies in each cafe that get handed out in turn to every customer, and then handed out the next customer when the first guy sends them back untouched.
I used to ignore the cookies too, out of a desire to conform, until one day, when the rebel in me bit into a round sugary one and discovered that there was chocolate inside. It was not your ordinary, run of the mill cookie from a package. It was chocolate. I left wondering if maybe nobody had told the Greeks that the cookies have chocolate inside, and if I should spread the good news. However, further investigation revealed that not all free cookies have chocolate inside, just some. Now I have the constant desire to take one bite of every cookie until I find the chocolate ones. I also take the nut dishes and pick out the almonds, cashews, and pistachios. The cafe owners in Greece really like me lot.
It is also worth noting that Greek cafes have the best hot chocolate in the known universe. They have actual hot chocolate menus, that list everything from banana hot chocolate to Aztec hot chocolate to hot chocolate with m and ms inside. No matter which one you choose, it tastes pretty unbelievably good, kind of like a melted chocolate bar in a cup. It makes Swiss Miss look like chalky water. It is worth five euro anyday. At least, any day that I have five euro to spare.
Now I've got to end on a frustrated note. My beloved french press coffee maker broke yesterday, forcing me to drag my feverish self (yeah, I'm sick) all the way downtown, in the snow, to find a new one. However, there were no french presses to be found. I searched all the little kitchenware shops near the Modiano market, I searched the upscale home furnishing shop, I searched Marks and Spencer's...I found nothing. Well, nothing except one thirty-three Euro french press at a fancy gourmet coffee place, followed by similar ones for 38, 42 and 115, respectively. I am hardly impoverished, but thirty-three Euros is a major purchase for me. I could buy thirty-three kilos of spinach for that amount of money. I could get my hair cut three times. I could take a trip somewhere interesting. Someone, please help me., I'm in dire, caffeine-addicted straits. Where can I find an affordable french press? And why aren't there any available? Is it because so many Greeks drink instant coffee? I just can't bring myself to drink instant. The Greeks have excellent taste and high standards in so many culinary matters, but their penchant for instant coffee is a sad exception.