Travel Blog

The handsome man standing at the back entrance to St. Demetrios church wouldn't take my money. "One of these pretty women here will help you," he said, motioning to the two women next to him. When one did - taking my $10 for two - she thanked me for coming. I told her we come every year. She thanked me again. Not even in the Greek Festival yet and I was already feeling incredibly welcome.

We found our friends - Joe, Mark, Cecile - who had been with us at Cinema Paradiso to watch the five short action films nominated for an Oscar. I stood in a fast-moving line for gyros, the servers unanimously cheerful, and then moved across the way to buy an ouzo from a busy, smiling woman.

We joined Joe's mother, uncle and grandfather - all Greek Americans - at a table under the tent. Cecile (a vegetarian) had a spinach pie. Hania (a celiac) downed beans in tomato sauce and stuffed grape leaves. Joe's uncle disappeared and returned with a tray of achingly sweet pastries. The two priests worked their way up and down the aisle, alternately lending a hand and greeting parishioners. The music flowed nonstop, but not so loud that it hindered conversation. I happily drank it all in, with the ouzo.

Eventually we moved to the next tent to watch the dancers. The young ones win you over with their cuteness, the teenagers with their skill.

But it's really the volunteers who impress. Every year they put on Fort Lauderdale's greatest festival - from the women selling tickets to the guys frying cheese to the grandmas baking baklava - and they do it with unfailing friendliness and grace.

Efharisto.