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Where's Cacophonix?

Where's Cacophonix?
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-0001-11-30T00:00:00+0553
The Greeks want the world to buy their produce—fresh Feta cheese, olive oil, green and black olives, honey, saffron and wines. And they served it with a big dollop of Hellenic hospitality at Kerasma, a conference on food and wine that hosted over 250 people from all over the world. One of the many banquets during the three-day affair was at a churchyard in a tiny village at Crete, reminiscent of the last panel of an Asterix comic. The stars hung close enough to whiff the aromas of succulent pig, chicken and okra and fresh crunchy salad. The meal, which lasted four courses, was not catered by a large hotel chain but was painstakingly prepared by the village women—a hundred hands feeding more than twice that number of mouths.

The locals danced the traditional dance—shoulders together, knees kicking high up in the air. The party that went on till 3 am was declared a success when the usually reticent Koreans joined the dance. Delicious food, unending wine and ouzo, music, merriment and crisp Mediterranean June air; the churchyard seemed the perfect venue for what was veritably a feast fit for the gods.

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