Going Native(ish) in Kalamata
This is my fourth visit to Kalamata and every time I come I leave with a different take. It’s a hard place to define — or maybe Kalamata hasn’t figured out how to define itself.
It seems balanced between the traditional and the modern. The working class and the fashionable. The old and the new.
A high-end resort hotel like the Horizon Blu, where we usually stay, coexists with not-so-attractive concrete block buildings, most in various stages of decay.
You can have a drink at a swanky beach bar overlooking the cobalt-blue waters of the Gulf of Messenia, while across the street the day’s laundry hangs out to dry from a second-floor balcony.
Last night I had dinner with my cousin, Stamatoula and her husband, Costas. They took me to a trendy restaurant called Foino in Kalamata’s old town. The food, wine and vibe would have been right at home in any upscale Boston or New York neighborhood - two types of sashimi, one tuna, the other a local fish I can’t recall. Both outstanding. A tartar of another local fish. Succulent grilled octopus. And two desserts that rivaled anything you could order in a Parisian patisserie.
In short, White Lotus meets blue collar in Kalamata. And since I’m flying solo for a few days until my wife and daughter arrive, I decided to try the latter experience and book a cheap AirBnB listed as “Beach House 80m from the sea.” It sits on a dusty side street, without a view, a pool or a beach bar. But it does have a little yard with two lemon trees, a nice outdoor seating area and working plumbing. It’s also walking distance to the Port which is a must for me since I like to take my morning stroll to have my Freddo Cappucino and watch the local fishermen sell their catch directly from their boats (more on that in a bit).
I arrived later than expected so Giannis, my host, had his parents check me in. Neither spoke a word of English but with my broken Greek we were able to communicate (more or less). It helped when I mentioned my grandfather came from Kalamata, at which point I was basically considered family.
My wife and 15-year-old daughter rolled their eyes and wrinkled their noses when I showed them the listing for my little bungalow but it’s everything I expected. I’m ensconced in the “real” Kalamata, a world away from any resort security gate. Right now I can hear the neighbor’sTV in the background and a dog barking down the street.
600-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets it’s not. But, hey it’s only 80 bucks a night — and 80 meters from the sea — what’s not to love?
Buying my fish and eating it too.
All over coastal Greece, pretty much anywhere there’s shelter from the sea, you’ll find rows of quintessential, picture-postcard fishing boats — also known as caiques. I like to take a walk down to “The Port” of Kalamata in the morning to check out the local Psaras (fishermen) tied up at the quay, offering their daily catch to those who know a good sardine when they see one.
On this particular Friday morning, I mustered up the courage to approach one of the boats and ask - in adequate enough Greek — which fish was the best for grilling. I took the captain’s recommendation and bought two, for which he charged a whopping seven Euros. I made his day by giving him 10 and telling him to keep the change.
I’ve never cooked a whole fish on the grill — like the kind you get at any decent fish taverna anywhere in Greece — but I figured I could pull it off. I marinated the critters inside and out with olive oil, lemon (from the trees in my yard), salt and pepper. I grilled them simply over the hot coals, then squeezed more lemon juice all over the sizzling flesh after they came off the heat.
I was happy with the result and think its pretty cool that in our modern world there’s still room for simple traditions.
Greek fishing boats are brightly painted and expressive of the word for joy - “Harra.” I was certainly joyful after eating my dinner.