Last year we loved reading Peter Barber’s entertaining memoir A Parthenon on our Roof, and this month we’re reading his follow-up book, A Parthenon in Pefki, in our online book club Travel Europe Through Books. In it he tells of how he and his wife Alex find a wild piece of land on the small island of Pefki, consequently fall in love with the place, buy it on a whim, and build an island home there. It sounds fun and easy but the task is not without setbacks! You can let A Parthenon in Pefki whisk you away to Greece as you find out how the story goes.
A Parthenon in Pefki was released a few months ago. Read Peter’s own retelling of the book launch in Pefki below:
My Big Fat Greek Book Launch
by Peter Barber
A Parthenon in Pefki. Book launch party. Finally.
Our first book, A Parthenon on our Roof, was gaining ground in Athens. Bookshops were stocking, and it was selling well. Athenian bookshops offered to host our launch party, but we decided to give back to the village that inspired the book, and launch it there. It would certainly lend a traditional angle to the party.
We hired our favorite taverna in Pefki for the celebrations. I had sent invitations out. People were coming from all over the world, and we were looking forward to our special day. But as with all things in the village, the organisation would never be high on the list of priorities from the locals. For me, being English, I needed to know that everything was in place and we would not get any last-minute curve balls. We arrived in Pefki and went straight to Mr Balarous’s taverna.
We had already done most of the arrangements by phone from England. The entire taverna would be ours for the evening. A bouzouki band would be there to add some sparkle, and the food would be traditional. But we needed to check on the last details. But, nothing in a Greek village is ever straightforward, as we found out when we arrived at the taverna.
Mr Balarous is a large man. He rarely wears a shirt and always has his trademark unlit cigarette in his mouth to remind him of the pleasures of smoking, even though he quit several years ago. He runs his taverna with the discipline of an army barrack. Often we hear him yelling at someone from the kitchen. Sometimes his victims are his servers or frustrated clients. It’s a little like the Fawlty Towers of Pefki, only a lot louder. But we love it there. His food is fabulous, his homemade wine is perfect, and we always leave with a smile on our faces.
Where better to introduce friends to the real Greek culture? This would be fun.
“So, where are you going to put the buffet table?” Alex asked Mr Balarous.
“What buffet? “He replied.
“The table to put the food on,” Alex told him.
“I will not put my food on a buffet table,” he said. My food has to be eaten fresh from the kitchen. I’m not running a cruise ship here, it’s a taverna. It will get cold and people will complain.”
“Just bring small amounts. As it gets eaten, just bring more.” Alex told him.
“I’m not sure about that. Why can’t people just sit at tables and order from the menu? Then, they can eat what they want and the food will be fresh.”
“No,” Alex told him. “This is our party. Just do what we ask. Now. Where are you going to put the band?”
“What band?” He asked.
“The one we asked you to arrange weeks ago.”
“Oh, that one.” He took out his phone. Called a number in his contacts.
He shouted at the phone. “You must come on Friday and bring your Bouzouki. I don’t care if you are too busy. Just be here.” He pressed the off button.
“Over there,” he said.
“OK, we need a table for the books. Peter has to sign them for our friends,” Alex told him.
“Why does he need to sign them? They are your friends. They all know he wrote it. What’s the point in telling them again? “
“It’s a bloody book launch. This is the whole point of the party. It’s celebrating the launch of our book about your village. Stop being difficult and tell us where the table is going to be.” Alex was getting angry now.
“OK, over there,” he said, and pointed to a table under a tree.
“Right. What about the traditional desserts I asked you for?” she asked.
“I have some yogurt,” he replied.
“No,” Alex told him. “We asked you to arrange some baklava and other dishes. We want people to feel the real Greece.”
“Yogurt is Greek,” he replied with a huff.
“I know. But it isn’t what we asked for, is it?”
I was almost regretting our decision to hold our party here. Athens would have been so much easier. But we stuck it out and continued our demands. We left exhausted.
We may have food, or perhaps not.
We might have a band, or not.
Our guests may end up with a signed book, or maybe they won’t.
People who don’t like yogurt are out of luck. But it would certainly be an interesting evening.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
My name is Peter Barber. I am 66 years old with a passion for Greek life. I also write books about Greece. When I first arrived in this beautiful country, my fiery Greek wife made it a mission to convert me from a strait-laced Englishman into something resembling an Achilles type character with sharpened sword and wits to match. My transformation would sometimes be hilarious, always embarrassing, but would change my outlook on life and open my eyes to the world around me.
Click on book images for more info.
Visit my website: https://peterbarberwriter.com/
Email me at: peterbarberbooks@gmail.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/369010324939088/
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