Falling in love in Greece looked like this …

One night when there was live bouzouki music at Manuel’s family’s Taverna, he was darting around the patio waiting on tables. I was sitting inside at the family table. A belly dancing song came on that I loved! So I got up and peered outside - from one end to the other of the large patio looking for Manuel. Spotting him, I pointed to the dance floor and gestured for him to come and shouted “Ella ella (come come).”

He put his tray of empty glasses down and met me on the dance floor. I wasn’t quite sure if he knew how to belly dance, but his hips did not disappoint. He moved them with such rhythm. We gyrated our hips around the dance floor, smiling and laughing at each other.

Then the music slowed down for a zeibekiko – the drunken-looking dance. Manuel took the floor. First George, then Mersina knelt in a circle around him – all anticipating his show. This time I joined them, knelt, and clapped. As he moved and lurched around the dance floor, he looked up at the evening sky, closed his eyes and belted out the words of the ballad with sweet satisfaction “Vadizoume mazi ston idio dromo, ma ta xeria mas einai xorista!” – we walk together the same road, but our hands are separate.

He then looked directly at me and danced closer – as if he was singing only to me. He put his hand on my head, then moved his leg over my head from one side to the next. Stepped back and leapt in the air kicking one leg up high and slapping it with his hand.

That night I belonged - to this place, to this family. This was philotimo.

P.S. — Philotimo is a Greek word with no English equivalent. It means something close to love of honor. Being the kind of person your family deserves.