Kalamata, Part 1— No Olives 

It’s always best to beat the Kalamatan heat by getting there just as the stores open at 9. We went to a posh yet quaint café called Bistroteca,  that,  like many other cafés in the area, doubles as a restaurant and night club as the day and night progress. I took the smoked salmon and scrambled egg plate followed by a tropical smoothie while my cousin took the Madame Croquante.

The bathroom was upstairs and the furniture held a 60s living room feel compared to the industrial posh of the ground floor. It’s a great place for well-to-do older ladies and newbie teenage girls alike. We sunk into the fray as wayward tourists, or slightly squeamish and creepy screenwriters. Either way, we ate and continued to the stores.  

It was 10.30 and the heat and humidity left me damp.  The first stop was the perfume store. We needed some Lancome deodorant at 21 Euros a pop. The girl in that section was tall and had nice blonde hair and a face much younger than her body. You could say she had the tired look,  in many senses of the word, yet none in a negative way. Rather,  she was someone you wished to be with no matter how hard you knew it would be to keep her entertained and excited. So when she explains fragrances to you, you listen just enough to show you’re not creepy. 

As you can see from the sign above ,we arrived too early for the white night that evening. All would remain open till Sunday morning. 

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