Surprised to see such a sight, he greeted us with a wave and a toothy smile.
We reversed the car half way back the narrow donkey lane, parked typical Greek style, got out and asked him if there was a Kafeneon open! As if!
We were in the middle of an almost deserted village, thirsty for a story, with a likely looking canditate slowly approaching us!
''Yes, there is a Kafeneon open ladies... this way please...'' indicating the way to go.
We were led through the thistles to his house at the end of the lane. He entered a typical blue door complete with hanging bouquet and came out with extra chairs for us and asked what we would like to drink!
We agreed on Greek coffee because that was all he had! Very nice it was too! Supplied with the usual glass of water, but the difference was that this was natural mountain water, very nice.
He introduced himself as Manolis and seemed to think he might be 81 years old, but was rather unsure as he'd lost count.
We asked how long ago the local schoolhouse had shut, it didn't seem to look as derelect as the rest of the buildings around.
''Oh'', he said ''about 20 years ago, my children were the last ones to attend before it
closed''. Well, I'm no good at maths, but, his kids finished school at 40ish?!
''There used to be 37 large families living here until the war...''
He carried on proudly informing us that he's the youngest of the 7 remaining residents. We were both unsure as to whether or not the donkey was included in this figure!
How old is this village?
Manolis told us that it dates back to the nineteenth century.
Were there any buses still?
No, the prefered (and the only) method of transportation for shopping was his tied up ass! The nearest town is a two and a half hour trek each way, environmentally friendly thistle fuel in abundance, frequently replenished by the emissions from the ass's ass!
