Karidia, Closing Night
April 14, 2018

It is the final night of the the season and all of Skopelos file into Karidia, the local taverna that hosts live Greek music every night. Here the bouzouki, guitar and singers are ready to transport whomever comes through the open doors. Here the laborers of the Village gather—the bricklayers, carpenters, and the firemen and women. But bank-tellers too. And isn’t that the mayor’s wife and two daughters sitting with the water works director?

All file in two-by-two or three, the men just simply stepping in but the women looking far and wide for a good table, friends, aware they are making a debut of sorts. But wait, these are not the women I see about town pushing babies, minding counters, greeting customers with Ti thelete, “What would you like?” No, these women have undergone a transformation in the quiet of their bedrooms, standing before the mirror, applying the lipstick dark and red, drawing a commanding black line above each eye, smoothing a theatrical mask over cheeks and nose.

They enter. Yes, making their debut, coming on stage they assume their character leaving daily selves outside the door of Karidia. Friends call out greetings—xronia pollas, order drinks and food. And as the alcohol softens all, the music soothes and binds. You know all is well when the woman in the corner moves her shoulders slightly and seductively to the music and a small smile upturns her lips. Such a pleasure to be a woman on this night as the wine and bouzouki music conspire to make all things right.