The Greece adventures continued, with some village foraging.

Peter bought peaches from a truck, because he could:

I bought sour cherries, because I could. We made a mess, and then made compote, to go with our local yogurt for breakfast.

Truth be told, the cherries were not from a truck, but from the produce stand. A four-foot-tall old Greek woman grabbed me by the elbow and pointed and said, “Visino! Not sweet! Special!” Handily, I have learned the word for sour cherry in many languages, so I jumped right on that. Here’s the compote, with a mug of extra juice off on the right. Just looking at it makes my salivary glands twinge in longing.

We didn’t buy chickens from a truck, even though we could have.

Nor did we buy vegetables. But we ogled them, you bet.

And we ate our share of French fries that originally came from this truck, a potato processor from the next town down. Every day we watched them deliver tons of precut fries to all the local restaurants. And every night we gobbled them down. Beautiful Photoshopping, guys.

Every morning, a truck drove around selling fish. The loudspeakers made it sound like the revolution was starting. This little guy got left behind when progress marched in.

Near the end of our stay, we foraged for figs. These are Aydine figs, brought by families when they fled from Aydin in southwestern Turkey in the early 20th century. Lucky for us, they ripen earlier than other varieties, and there’s a giant tree in a vacant lot.

What fruit would you carry with you if you had to flee?

See Greece Photos #1
See all Greece photos on Flickr