On a quiet morning in Pretoria, Costa Ayiotis sits at his favourite café, coffee in hand, with his loyal German Shepherd, Duc, by his side. Here he writes about life, humanity, and all the chaos and beauty in between.
He calls himself a pavement philosopher. A title as quirky as it is fitting. Why? Because from this very café table, Costa Ayiotis has dreamt up and written two books. My Big Fat Greek Taverna. And Matriarchs, Meze and the Evil Eye. And yes, there’s a third book in the works … but more on that later.
Born in Egypt, raised in South Africa, and deeply rooted in his Greek heritage, Costa’s path was destined to be full of flavour. Both literally and figuratively. Alongside his wife, Christine, he opened a Greek Taverna in an old farmhouse on the beach in Hout Bay Cape Town. Although the restaurant would shut its doors after some years, it was a venture that would later inspire his debut book, My Big Fat Greek Taverna.

‘Zorba the Greek said life is trouble. Only death is not. To be alive is to undo your belt and look for trouble. And you need a little madness in your life or else you never dare cut the rope and be free.
‘I went looking for trouble when I opened up my taverna. Mostly good trouble! Restaurants like life itself are often theatre of the absurd. And like theatre … without drama, conflict, humour and even some madness there is no story.’
He deems his stories as gifts from people, dogs, characters and life’s messy moments. He brings them to life with vivid imagination and a hearty dash of humor. A flavour you’ll also savour in his second book, Matriarchs, Meze and the Evil Eye. In this humorous coming-of-age memoir, young Costa finds himself in the middle of a tempestuous matriarchal triangle.
His sulky young mother, Victoria, is forced to share her home with her conservative Greek mother-in-law and her bossy, divorced sister-in-law. A raucous war erupts in the kitchen between the three women – and not only over oven territory. The women also compete for the affection of their beloved Kostaki by spoiling him with endless culinary treats.

Young Costa, the bemused (and often confused) spectator and narrator, watches as his hard-working cotton-trader father tries to cope with the three women’s never-ending complaints and demands. And then there’s the evil eye of envy.
Growing up in an age without TV, Costa would listen to stories on the radio and read lots of books and children’s educational magazines. And so, he grew to love words, good writing and of course, good literature. Yet he never considered himself a storyteller. Until his publisher declared him one.
‘I chaneled my writing differently for most of my life. First as a lawyer, then as a diplomat at the UN in New York, where I reported on the Iraq war in the Security Council and nuclear disarmament. Now, I write freely and creatively. I proudly call myself a pavement philosopher, boulevardier, occasional mediator, presenter, ethics advisor, writer, and published author.’
Costa will always be motivated by the authors who have gone before him, and who’ve published many books. Because ‘no author wants to be a one book wonder’. He’s already hard at work on his next book. A charming tale narrated by none other than Duc, his clever and philosophical German Shepherd. In this adult fiction fantasy, Duc narrates and shares his life adventures and experiences, and shares his philosophy on life. A canine advocate who stands up for the rights of dogs against ill-treatment and even verbal abuse. Think an adult, fiction, fantasy book for all dog-lovers. Yes please!
But it’s not only writing that brings him joy. He just loves reading – obvs, walking with Duc, meeting friends for coffee and travelling. And he loves cooking too. Especially if its Greek. Think pasta orzo lamb yiouvetsi or something like prawn saganaki made with red sauce, ouzo and feta. Plus, these are the best ways to beat writer’s block, too!
For Costa, the trick is this … ‘Inspiration comes when you start writing not before. Start anywhere in your story and rearrange chapters and paragraphs later. It doesn’t have to be linear or chronological. Take imperfect action, then revise, rewrite, correct, edit later.
‘My books and stories have been gifts from God who shines His light on me, guides me and allows me to write in a spirit of love, affection and compassion to celebrate our common humanity. I write with enthusiasm. In fact, the word in Greek means to have God within you.’
Whether he’s penning tales of matriarchal kitchen wars or philosophising with Duc at his side, Costa shows us that the magic lies in the everyday. From a café table in Pretoria to the pages of his books, his words echo a shared humanity, seasoned with humour, heart, and a touch of Greek spirit. Here’s to more stories, more adventures, and a little more trouble … of the good kind, of course.
Details: Follow @CostaAyiotis on Insta and Facebook or visit costaayiotis.co.za
An excerpt from My Big Fat Greek Taverna:
Days of wine and roses
“Let us have wine & women, mirth & laughter, sermons & soda water the day after.” – Lord Byron, Don Juan
On Valentine’s Day, we observed the cult of Cupid just like countless other restaurants. They came two by two, as if dispensed from Noah’s ark, to sit cheek-by-jowl with other love-struck couples, witnesses to each other’s state of blissful communion.
The origins of Valentine’s Day are contested. Some historians believe it has dark origins marking the death of Saint Valentine, a priest who secretly married couples to spare the husbands from going to war. The emperor cut his head off. Other historians believe the day was celebrated in ancient Rome with the feast of Lupercalia. Goats and dogs were sacrificed on the day, and women were whipped with the hides of the dead animals in the belief that this would make them fertile. The women obviously derived no pleasure from this pain but rather suffered public humiliation. Knowing the Romans, they celebrated the rest of the day and well into the night, drunk and naked at orgies known as symposiums for the senses.
This early form of whipping gave birth to the practice known as sadomasochism. Men now pay to visit clubs or dark rooms with dungeons where they are whipped with a riding-crop by a mistress dressed in a black mask, corset, fishnet stockings and knee-high black boots. The violence has been replaced by consumerism, confession and conformity. Now we witness public displays of love and pseudo-intimacy every year on 14 February.
A more cynical observer might see it as a mass exchange of “I love you” vows without the inconvenience of priests, churches, interfering mothers-in-law, wedding planners, relatives, guest lists, seating protocols and confetti. Yet, to other, more romantic souls, it is about the beginning of new love or the renewal of existing love. If I had it my way, I would have closed the restaurant for the night and banned the pagan practice, but pragmatism and enlightened self-interest prevailed. We were running a business.