I [heart] Fistiki!

Pistachios? Greek island? Absolutely.

Today was the "Fistiki Fest" on Aegina-- a day to celebrate pistachios and all of the joy that they bring to your taste buds.

This day was destined for greatness.

I remember my first experience with the pistachio nut. I was probably around 5 or 6, and my family had rented out someone's house for the week while we were hiking out west. We found a jar of pistachios in the owners' pantry, and my parents showed me how to open them up and told me try one. This was a big mistake. Obviously, I then discovered they were awesome and thereafter would surreptitiously cruise over to the pantry and definitely finished the entire jar during the course of that week. I still feel pretty bad about that. Point being, anywhere that would throw an entire festival in honor of this magical seed is clearly the place for me.

Aegina is insanely close to Athens by ferry, so it was the perfect day trip for a lazy Sunday. Our [Robyn, Whitney, and yours truly] journey began around lunchtime. We ventured down to Piraeus, which I find endlessly exciting, grabbed some yummy gyros, and hopped on a ferry. In less than an hour, we were on Aegina. Within moments of disembarking the boat, this darling couple who makes their own wine greeted us with a "Yamas!" and some glasses to welcome us to the festival.

Like I said, destined for greatness.

The Fistiki Fest consisted of homemade pistachio desserts, hand-picked pistachios, raw pistachios, pistachio honey (which we bought), and lots of arts and crafts dedicated to the pistachio nut. Crafts ranging from felt "brooches" bearing the likeness of a pistachio tree to sterling silver necklaces with charms shaped like pistachios dangling from them. Now, I had never eaten a raw pistachio nut before, but what a world-rocking experience that was. One of the farmers picked one up that I was clearly staring at perplexedly and showed me how to peel it and crack it open. I tried for myself, and ate the treasure inside. The pistachio was soft and savory, a light pink and yellow color, and was as tender as a cooked carrot. America does a lot of things really well (toilets that can handle toilet paper, for one), but we could really stand to step it up on the raw food consumption front. Okay, that was all. I'm putting my shoes back on now and taking off my tie-died shirt.

We met all of the artists and one sweet lady gave us her personal recommendation for a specific taverna for later that night, and then it was absolutely time to hit the beach. One trend that seems to be rampant through our group, however, is forgetting one's bathing suit while headed to an island and then buying some sort of hilarious one-piece en route. For Hydra, it was Claire who bought a suit for two euro by the metro station that we were all certain was made for a seven year old, but she rocked it and was covered in the appropriate places, so it worked out fine. This time it was Robyn, so she winds up buying a swimsuit that is a "once piece" -- the top and bottom halves are connected by three concentric circles of metal-- and bears a pattern of animal(s) print. Which animal(s) are yet to be determined. In my case, when we got to Hydra, I realized that I had forgotten to bring any sort of beach towel, so I bought the cheapest one I could find, which was packaged up at the time of purchase but when unfurled displayed the cartoon images of a piggie and a chickie. So, this is my towel for the rest of my Grecian beach adventures. Needless to say, our group and our beach accessories is turning into quite the hilarious scene.

But, worry not, we made it to the water and had a delightful swim in glorious sea with soft, soft sand between our toes. The sun was just starting to go down-- a process which takes no less than 6 hours here-- and eventually it started to get too cold, and we got out to take a walk. We found a man selling gelato and got some for the road (it was pistachio flavored, obviously), and as we were walking we found a free-standing porch swing on the side of the road.

We stopped to sit and swing and keep watching the sunset, and then the power of Greece's majesty took over, and this group of chatty, giggly friends ("Obviously, you have been friends forever." "Actually, we met three weeks ago.") was silent. I dare you to find something more serene than listening to peaceful water while letting the sun of dusk gently close your eyes with its warmth. When your eyes open and you are greeted with sea and mountains and a brilliantly orange sun, you simply think yes, and at least for a moment, everything in the world makes sense.

And then it's clearly time for a Greek salad.

After the sun had said its final 'good-night,' we took the artist's advice and went to her favorite taverna. Our dinner included shrimp, which, Daniel, you will be glad to know are eaten the same way you prefer, which is cooking them in their exoskeletons to where they are crispy and then crunching on the whole damn shrimp, tails and all. It was shockingly good.

During dinner, we made a friend. His name is Gil and he had been working in Athens for a year but calls Israel home. He barged in on our dinner conversation when he heard our English. Instinct says ignore and go back to your shrimp, but he was pleasant enough, so we maintained some conversation. Long story short, he told us all about his favorite fish dishes, wrote down exciting places for us to visit in Athens, and took us to his favorite baklava lady on Aegina after dinner. His engagement in Greece is nearing an end, and this was to be his last trip to Aegina, his favorite island. As we walked to the port, he had to take a moment to say good-bye for himself, and like our experience on the bench, it was again revealed crystal clear how this country truly enters your blood and becomes a part of who you are. By giving us all kinds of tips about his favorite places, we said that it was appropriately enough like 'passing the torch' from one great Greek experience to another. We will continue where he left off, build our own memories, and hopefully pass it all on to someone else.

As we all rode the ferry back to the mainland, two white, regal seagulls flew by us. Lit underneath by the lights of the ferry, they appeared to be simply suspended in the air, not flying or moving at all, as they would occasionally flap their wings. Gil drew our attention to the birds, and we were again brought to silence.

"Do you see that," Gil said, "that's how I know everything is going to be okay."

Thanks, Thalia.