Maybe it’s a Rakija? … I don’t know. In our lovely hotel, in the village of Istron in vicinity of Agia Pelagia in Crete, they said “rakia”.

We asked curiously at the bar: “What kind of drink is it? Maybe it’s like vodka?”

– “Ma’am… The barmaid began to doubt and suddenly smiled: “Strong vadka!”

However, we had already given our hearts to the divine brandy “Knossos” and were in no hurry to change preferences: but rakia didn’t let us miss it…

If you go barefoot to the sea in Crete at night, when the disco is noisy in the courtyard of the hotel… If you dive into the luminous water of the bay, and, on the way back, eucalypts along the road will drop leaves and stars on you … Take your time and a look at the tavern “Zygos”, that on the way. And before you cross the threshold of an open terrace, a guitarist―the hero of the evening―suddenly bursts into the song Kalinka in your native Russian.

Your heart is going to burst out of your chest like a turtledove waking you in the morning. It goes out to meet anyone who knew you and accepted. Away from the sandals and any embarrassment―walk around in dance-circle, spread your arms-wings after the words: “Oh, under the pine, under the green, put me lovely to dream.” Why sleep when you are hearing “Kalinka-malinka. Kalinka is mine!”

Forgotten about your aching foot after last walk on Crete, there is only music, only rhythm, only dance being faster and faster! And then is the song “Black Eyes”. The audience at the tables is engaging in action―applauds and laughs. “More! Another!” You are heard: “Proszę pani! It’s amazing!”

And when you fall on a chair after the dance, the waiter brings to your table a cool decanter and glasses. “The rakia for you―on the house!”

While breathing comes back to normal, you’ll hear “Moscow evenings”, then something in Polish and in English, and in Greek. The polyglot guitarist generously scattered musical gifts for all tables: for Russians and Poles, Scots, and French. From time to time, one company light up, then another was raising glasses: “Cheers!”

In such a company, the decanter of rakia was emptied instantly.

…A taste? …Of eucalyptus and sea? …Grapes and honey? What difference does it make, if you felt so good!

Svetlana Zaitseva