One of them has grown very old - I remember the time of the Gulf War at the beginning of the nineties, when he and many others would argue loudly and intensely every day in the old Kafeneion with Kostas. Now he is rather hard of hearing, and his compatriots – not much younger than him – are teasing him wickedly.

Even though the new Kafeneion looks completely different and is newly furnished throughout, I am unexpectedly thrown back into the old times. Such impressive photos of Kostas on the walls of the new Kafeneion! Snapshots from that time which fascinate me: Kostas as a young man, laughing and with his bold expression; Kostas smoking, thoughtful; Kostas with guests in his cram-packed Kafeneion.

Foreign guests and locals all had their favourite time to stop by. In the mornings, the Kafeneion belonged to the older locals. There was much chatter and discussion all round, as they were savouring their Elliniko, waiting for the post, or simply were sitting around doing nothing much at all. The air was heavy with cigarette smoke everywhere …, but around midday the Kafenion would empty, they all had things to do at home.

Then our company of wintering residents would arrive, filling the room and the outside tables directly beside the wooden entrance door. A good many times we would also sit under the tree opposite the building in the cool noontime shade.

And it’s good that we can do that once more. It's a marvellous spot from where you have an excellent view of the village road and the Kafeneion itself. It seems that this corner is considered as desirable today as it was then.

For us, Kostas' Kafeneion was the central meeting-place where everyone could find their special corner. Kostas didn't mind where we came from; how we looked; what we had experienced; what kind of clothes we wore; whether woman or man. Here nobody had precedence over anyone else. Kostas exemplified his philosophy to us throughout his own life.

Sometimes, someone might have simply rested a while here, perhaps even slept on the long bench in the rear of the Kafeneion.

Kostas would never allow somebody close to the sleeper. He kept rather a jealous watch over his protégé. We simply felt good with him, and in good hands.

One day, a rather reserved young guy appeared. Apparently he owned nothing else apart from what he wore. He had neither a warm jacket nor anything warm for the night. He also didn't have any money. He lived in a shack. Somebody gave him something to eat, another one some cigarettes. He sneaked about the village, speaking with nobody, suspiciously eyed by everyone else.

One Sunday morning he was caught red-handed inside Kostas' storeroom right by the Kafeneion (on the present terrace, where one can sit outside now on these comfortable basket chairs), pinching two bottles of wine. Kostas had been away for a while, and residents and approaching locals were very angry and shouting. We also were angry and upset, because it was an absurdity to steal anything from Kostas! No way - never ever!

One had to be seriously concerned about the health of the young man, because the situation was getting out of control. Until Kostas returned and laid down the law: What gave us the right to behave in such a manner? It so happened, so what? To get steamed up about two bottles of wine taken by this poor wretch! We were quite lost for words!

He clearly couldn’t stay in the village any more, so Kostas ordered and paid for a taxi for the young man. He even went along with him to the car so that the young man could get in safely. We, however, were ashamed and got the message ...

There are many similar stories, because a great life was being lived out here, and humanity was close to his heart. He exuded power and love, his whimsical smile touched our soul, his kind-heartedness gave us warm and happy feelings.

Kostas died in 2003. We all mourn his loss, everyone in his or her own way. I felt very happy about the fact that the old Kafeneion stayed open for a long time to all who wanted to say 'Goodbye', from all over the world.

Kostas will never be forgotten. Our common experience has left its indelible marks. So it does not amaze me when - after all these years - my feelings overwhelm me while looking at the old photos in the new Kafeneion, attentively observed by the older Pitsidian guests. They are with me.

Antonios, the new innkeeper, serves me a strong Frappé, bringing me back into the present. He is wearing a striped apron exactly like the ones that Kostas used to wear in years gone by - and again my eyes are filled with tears.

It certainly gives me great pleasure, and I'm sure many other people too, that the purpose of the old Kafenion has been retained, and that in its new incarnation, named after its former owner, it keeps his memory alive in this way.

The new Kafeneion has been furnished with a lot of love and is a place for all: the visitors from those times; the new guests, the tourists and the young people from the village.

This is absolutely as Kostas would have wished. Today the new owner, Antonios Sfakakis, looks after his guests in much the same way.”