Irida’s Cafe, Fiskardo, Cephalonia Island, Greece
We went for breakfast. The hostess, who I assumed, then asked and confirmed was Irida, saunterred over- blond, well aged but well tended, dressed and bejewelled at 800, said she would bring us some Greek coffee. We thought it was to drink. She brought us a metal cup with smoke billowing out, and proclaimed it Greek coffee, “For smoking.” I was rather confused. It was lit and smoking indeed. I thought maybe a huka or some other tradition I was not yet aware of would follow. I looked confused and she said, “For the bees.” I had noticed that just about every meal involves swatting away a dozen or so little pesky bees, the kind we get in Tahoe, not in your garden, but at your barbecue. We call them meat bees. We had none. We ordered food, and ate in peace, until 2 seconds after our coffee went out. A swarm of bees attacked us. I summoned Irida and she brought more smoking coffee and they instantly disappeared. It’s so fun to learn something useful against bees after 50 years of swatting bees. I asked if you can use any coffee. She said only Greek coffee, and dry, not used. She said she spends more on bee coffee than customer coffee. I wonder if it works for mosquitos. I asked the all knowing Mary if she knew about this and she told me anything would run from Greek coffee.