Makrinitsa Mafia

There is an old woman that sits in front of her store/restaurant on the footpath into Makrinitsa. I should tell you that you cannot drive into Makrinitsa. You must park in the car park area and walk the cobble path into the village. She does not smile, at least not at us. EVER. "Yasus. Kalimera;" I say as we walk by on our way to the car for a day of swimming in the Gulf of Volos. I smile at her as I say hello and good morning. Smoking her hand-rolled cigarette, sipping her mid-morning coffee at a table for one, she mutters something under her breath. It sounds like Kalimera (Good morning), but it could be Malaka's (which is not nice). Either way, I smile, and pick up the pace just in case she can move quickly, and she decides she is going to kill us.