Monday, December 1, 2014

Assumption Morning (Impressions of a tourist in Greece)

Απόδοση στα Αγγλικά του κειμένου μου "Δεκαπενταύγουστος πρωί"
Assumption of the Virgin Mary day, ten o’clock in the morning. I'm in the kitchen trying to cool off in search of a glass of cold water from the fridge. The TV broadcasts the booming voice of a priest urging the clergy from the pulpit to react to austerity measures. An excellent political speech delivered from a person dressed in golden robes, bearing a large cross on his lapel, worth of several thousand euros. The Greek crisis has not affected the Greek Church - one of the paradoxes of these recent years of agony and financial struggle for the Greek people. At the end of the mass, everybody sing in chorus the Greek national anthem, in contrast with the hymns honouring Virgin Mary. Welcome to Greece, year of our Lord, 2014. The hopes of the Greek people have been definitely deposited in the divine. And certainly not in the divine epiphany in the heads of their politicians.
We arrived at the Athens airport rather late that night and the arrivals hall was empty from people. Some of the few who were still working after hours serving refreshments at a distant bar, bored no attention to the tired travellers from London. Our families greeted us with a warm hug that eventually became unbearably warm because of the heat of more than 35 degrees Celsius and excessive humidity, just a few meters away from the airport’s main building. We have landed back home after just six months of absence. An awkward feeling blocked my chest while I was loading our luggage into a rental car. Nothing had changed. Not even the usual dangerous drivers tailgating our car in the motorway, with the music from their stereos blasting the night’s dead silence.
The 40 minute long journey to our home in Lavrion was indifferent. I could still remember every turn and every crossing of the road, ending at a sea harbour. The town centre was unusually crowded and swarms of young people were having fun, speeding around on their noisy motorbikes, and laughing out loud, no matter the late hour. Everyone holding an ice cream or a souvlaki in hand, totally restless. I suggested that we join them to celebrate our return home, but my wife suggested that we should rest after a long day. After all, our vacation had just begun. The next morning at the supermarket, I faced an early shock. The supermarket cashier asked us 60 euros to check out. I could have sworn that the value of our deodorant and a few milk cartons together with a package of nappies for our little one, would not exceed 25 pounds. Me and Clairy exchanged a quick glance of disbelief and asked again the cashier to confirm the transaction. There had been no mistake though. This was lately confirmed positively by our friends and relatives.
Our perception was correct, the prices were outrageous. In a country that is going through its worst crisis in its recent history while the average wage has hit rock bottom, the prices of food and basic necessities still remain unchanged-if not increased, too. I have repeatedly asked my friends and acquaintances, how they could manage with such high prices in shops, petrol and services. Nobody seems to know the answer because after a while they all change subject, as if they want to exorcise a menacing demon flying over their heads. Probably the recent taxation named ENFIA (unified tax for the individual real estate property) - another hike, equivalent to a confiscation of individual property. As almost everybody, myself also, I will have to pay 1000 euros for my 40 year old inherited house build by my grandfather. My sister, mother, father and aunt, they also have to pay tax, for the same property. All of us have to pay this unbelievable amount of tax, all of the suntanned Greeks who are carelessly enjoying their cheap coffee by the sea. Which- fortunately- is still cheap. 1 euro and 20 cents for a cold cappuccino is a real bargain –thank God.
Coffee was also the selected refreshment for the suntanned public employees struggling to offer us public service at the town hall of Lavrion, as soon as we requested them to procure some documents to renew our son’s passport. They remained indifferent and calm, letting us wait for only half hour under the rumble of the air conditioner. A police officer (the police is currently renewing the Greek passports), a little later, has blinked his eye on me with a gesture of understanding. The town hall documents would remain unnecessary, due to a last minute change of the law. We needed different papers and we had to ask for them ourselves-again, from a different public agency. A common problem for the sun resting and swimming all day, Greek people. You never know what the public servants are going to ask from you. Everything regarding the relationship between citizen and state, constantly changes. Maybe a proof that the Greek legislators never go on holiday.
By the end of our pursuit for collaboration with the Greek authorities, we decided to rest by the sea on the shore just a 5 minute drive from our house. I was surprised by the view of the barred and shut closed cantina-bar that loomed above the rare trees on the edge of the beach. We found out that the owners did not get a license to operate this year and therefore the bar was empty so no noise and no disruption of a fantastic summer view. But guess what. The once sandy beach was overshadowed by tons of cigarette butts and trash all around. Honestly I do not remember to have ever seen so many cigarette butts per square of sand on a public beach. It occurred to me that it was the unfortunate outcome of the ceasing of enterprise by the bar owners. When they were around, no trash or garbage could be found. Once the municipality assumed the duties of maintenance and cleaning of that public beach, trash and cigarettes returned all over the place. Just like the devout Greeks, who once again felt free to smoke and to drink cheap coffee without any fear of ban for polluting the environment. Back in the 80s era. Mats, umbrellas, plastic chairs and barefoot families seated around skewers, refreshments and small Radios playing local hits. Shortly followed by beach fires and tens of bottles of beer and youth parties by the beach. The blue sea and some boats in the background giving the folklore hints. Public TV advertising the famous Greek summer and the record arrivals of tourists arriving by charter flights on all inclusive deals. Perhaps the economy is finally on the road to development. I do not know the truth. I did not see anything to grow other than misery and cheapness around me. And despair.
Another obligation in the Athens city centre lead us to the famous Kolonaki square, an elite and unchanged area full of expensive stores and coffee lounges. Everything was running like yesterday, crisis or not. Exactly the opposite feeling struck me a mile further while I was crossing the politically active neighbourhood of Exarheia, the centre of riots and recent tumult. Barred and empty shops, no people around what looked like a desert landscape. A few more miles further at my old residence near the Saint Panteleimon square, a theatre of recent racist attacks from members of the right wing party of Golden Dawn, a swarm of happy children were playing undisturbed. New shops have opened and immigrants walking on the streets. Mostly Bulgarian and Romanian is my understanding. I wonder why people seem to be around in the morning time and when the sun sets everybody disappears steam in the air, just off, without a specific direction. A family of gypsies from Romania, sitting down on rugs on the sidewalk, having dinner, while the mother of the family is helping her youngest. It is late hours, just after 11 o clock and I observe the few people that come out of the dark corners and wander like ghosts. The vast Acharnon Avenue looks like a deserted runway with dense vegetation on its right and left. The unbearable heat and humidity make me wish for a cold shower to let my senses cool off. My mind travelling to our new home thousands of miles away, and back, playing games with my anxiety trapped between the 'before' and the 'after' of our lives. I feel so confused. What I left behind me is worse than I imagined. And instead of nostalgia I urge the days to pass and take me back to Crawley.
Eventually the whole family, acquaintances and friends gather around a large table in the tavern to celebrate the birthday of our child. Dishes come and go, the appetizers are amazing and the drinks cool and refreshing. I participate in funny dialogue and jokes and wonderful family time. The children making bubbles made ​​from soap and water running around the tables and that exactly is the moment I take inside my chest with all the Greek summer sun, the cool breeze of the sea, the faces of the people I love. Soon the bill arrives, the guests have to leave for their own homes and the birthday cake with the candles, left on the table, as a reminder of the great feast that preceded earlier. The same sense of hospitality and love I sensed during a little trip we made to Corinth to visit a couple of our new friends. Unknown until yesterday, known and loved from now on. With a heart full of wishes and a table full of goodies. And I can’t stop wondering. Are these people truly making a difference in modern Greece? Those who still believe in healthy human relationships, those who care for the fellow citizen? Or are we condemned to endure the existence of those decadent, selfish and arrogant that prevailed all these years of the so called Greek prosperity era?
With a sweet nougat taste from some traditional candy in my mouth and mixed feelings, I come to closing my first impressions from the country of my birth from the perspective of a tourist. I confess that I have not yet decided if I would really like to go back again soon, that's for sure. My heart says yes, my mind refuses to discuss the possibility. I leave it to chance and to the hope that maybe something will change, that something will be different next time I will visit Greece.
And as he and a friend of mine stated the other day, the word "nostalgia" does not exist in the English language. Maybe for the better ...
(Many thanks to mr. Stan Draenos for his help in proofreading and commenting on the draft edition)

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