The Pakistani

So we´re chowing down some great food at our little Greek restaurant and we put in an order for baklava.

Oh, dessert.

We think it all started when Leslie tried to take an inconspicuous picture of a skinny old man that I pointed out, sitting down with one glass of wine and no food.

¨He´s gonna get toasted!¨ I joked, (toasted being my new word for inebriated).

Well, Leslie forgot about the flash, and so it was pretty obvious that a picture had been taken. The old man just sits there, but as we´re waiting for our baklava, a Pakistani man in his late 20´s comes over to our table and asks where we are from.

Uhm, the US?

He tells us he´s from Pakistan and starts making small talk. So awkward.

I can tell he´s been drinking, and furthermore he doesn´t understand us well. But he wants to know if we want to have a drink.

No, Leslie says, we´re actually about to leave. We just are going to finish our dinner and go.

And then he puts his hand on Leslie´s shoulder and tells her that he likes her and he thinks she´s pretty.

¨Oookaaay...we just want to finish our dinner now,¨Leslie says.

And the man repeats himself.

Okay, my patience is up, and he is making us really uncomfortable.

¨GOOD-BYE. You understand that in English at least?¨

Oh, he says, you want me to leave?

¨Yes, please leave RIGHT NOW,¨ I say forcefully. ¨NOW.¨ And finally he goes.

Leslie laughs at how quickly my temperment changed. Well, well, what can I say?

Our waiter comes out with our delicious baklava, and then the Pakistani returns.

What IS this guy´s issue anyways?

¨¿Quieren una cerveza?¨ he asks.

¨NO!¨I answer. ¨You need to LEAVE NOW.¨

And then I grab our waiter and tell him that the Pakistani is bothering us (sounds juvenile, I know, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And when you´re being temporarily stalked by a foreigner in Greece, anything goes).
We finish our delicious dessert while the Pakistani takes a picture of us from his table across the alleyway with his three friends. So comforting.
And then we make a run for it.
Back to the bathroom to throw them off our scent, then through the back of the restaurant and out the side door.
Brisk walk to the main street, dodging behind trees and trash bins and glancing back to make sure no one is following us. We continue walking until we come across the only place where travelers can find solace in another country.
Starbucks!
Ha.
We sit down and journal for few minutes, then continue walking along the street. We found a bookstore, or better yet, we discovered treasure. Starved for news, I pick up a Newsweek and a Time magazine and (for fun) a book by Brasilian writer Paolo Coehlo.
And then we sit down to read at a McDonald´s until about 11:30 when we made our way back to Petros´s apartment.
What a crazy night.