Wednesday, May 16
It didn't take long for the magnitude of what we are doing to strike. As the plane circled over the airport, I suddenly realized where I was and what was in store. After nearly 24 hours of exhausting travel, I just wanted to lock myself in our apartment for days, relax and eat lots of wonderful fresh fruit and vegetables. But then we got to the apartment and I realized there would be no relaxing in sight. It was empty, except for two beds and nightstands and, thankfully, huge closets with lots of shelves and things. Thirsty, we stuck our heads under the faucet and drank. It seemed like an overwhelming task to even stock the essentials.
As I met neighbors in the elevator and in the lobby, standing watch over the luggage, I was struck dumb with panic. All the Greek they were spouting swirled around in a confused daze of unintelligible sounds. I felt like a fool. Especially since just twenty minutes earlier I was able to understand my taxi driver's babble about other motorists and his evening plans.
It was a truly humbling experience. When I left Northampton, I thought I was ready. I had packed masterfully, I thought. But no amount of packing and planning would have truly prepared me for this, I realized as I stood on the balcony, looking out over the neighborhood. I had derided Coral for wasting precious luggage space with cooking utensils, but now I was so happy for them. And thank goodness she found an apartment for us in advance. I can't imagine how much more desperate the situation would have seemed had we been forced to take up temporary residence in a hotel, with our five heavy suitcases.
Our first excursion was to the neighborhood laiki, an outdoor marketplace that sets up shop in our neighborhood every Wednesday. Although we were both ready to collapse with exhaustion, I wanted some fresh fruit waiting for me when I woke up. It put me at ease. The laiki was huge. Its vendors sold not only fruit, vegetables, plants and the occasional miscellaneous item. It seemed that I could find anything there - linens, clothes, shoes, electronics, and every imaginable houseware item. It was soothing and terrifying at the same time. The panic of communicating in Greek that had struck me earlier had not subsided, and the cries of vendors and bustling of old Greek women, or yia yias, were overwhelming. Our first purchase, however, was a cart to tote all our fruit and vegetables. No Greek laiki-goer is without one, and it was comforting to have it. It was also comforting to get a preliminary lay of the land. I discovered a wonderful bakery and supermarket right down the street.
The apartment really is beautiful. It's HUGE! It has beautiful glass doors and a balcony so big you could hold a dinner party out there. I can't believe it's all ours. Unfortunately, it's very empty. Our voices echo off the walls. Although I find the task of filling it extremely daunting, it will also be very satisfying. Maybe I will feel better once we make the apartment more homey and I get out and walk around the city. I don't even want to think about work right now. But I'm sure once we start spending lots of money buying stuff for the apartment, I'll be anxious for an income.
Thursday, May 17
Today I got lost. It was wonderful. I went for a walk by myself while Coral was unpacking to check out the big park nearby and ended up discovering lots of new side streets and shops along the way. Later, Coral and I went out shopping and I was able to lead the way. I love discovering new places, or new routes to get to the places you already love. Last night, we went to Plaka, at the foot of the Acropolis, to eat dinner in a traditional taverna Coral frequented in high school. As we were circling Plateia Omonia, I saw the Acropolis gleaming at the end of a street like a beacon, and we followed it. We ended up discovering a very charming area, lined with little shops, that emptied onto Ermou, a main street that runs from Syntagma Square to Monastraki, crossing Plaka along the way.
Dinner was delicious. We ate until we could truly eat no more. And we had enough wine to intoxicate a cow. Potato salad, fried eggplant, tzatziki, horiatiki salad, fava beans - this is what I love about Greece. Coral got some sausage drenched in oil that was lit with a match and cooked on the metal dish it was brought out on. Fantastic.
Today we bought all sorts of essential items, including food, kitchen supplies, shampoo and soap. We also found a red chair sitting next to a dumpster that we brought in and cleaned up a bit. It is our first real furniture. Our goal tomorrow is to acquire a plastic table and chairs for the balcony/kitchen. We also need rope so Coral can do laundry. I need money, and am aching to go to the Hondos Center, the megastore for women's products. I also hope to buy a cell phone. Today we went to the Internet cafe. It's pretty cheap, $3/hour, but I can't hook up my laptop there. We really need to figure out Internet access here. We're planning to make a visit to the landlord to help us figure out such things.
Tonight we will make our first meal. Then maybe we will go to a cafe at Victoria Square for coffee and dessert.
Friday, May 18
This morning we bought our first real piece of furniture - a plastic table for the balcony, also large enough to serve as our main dining table. We also ventured out to Syntagma on the new metro line, which was quite snazzy. It's a mini-museum, displaying a few of the thousands of artifacts they uncovered during the mysterious metro digs. There was also an entire cross-section of a road/cemetery preserved behind glass, fetauring a complete skeleton - probably the last thing you want to be confronted with as you emerge from the underground, but fascinating nonetheless. Also welcoming were the mass of uzi-wielding military guards that greet you as you enter and leave.
We walked through the National Gardens and Pangrati in search of the Athens Centre, where our Greek classes will be held. Eventually we found it, after climbing hundreds of cobbled steps and meandering through lovely tree-lined paths. We signed up for daily classes which, unfortunately, are quite expensive, but conveniently begin Monday.
After signing up for class, we visited the National Cemetery, one of my favorite places in the city. It was Coral's first visit and we happened upon a funeral, which was more awkward than exciting. We hid behind trees while dozens of people processed around led by a long line of flower-bearing men in black and a fully decked-out Orthodox priest. Afterwards, we slowly wandered among the tombs and gardens. It was nice respite from the oppressive heat, and we sat awhile under the shade of a large cypress tree.
We later visited College Year in Athens, which was a bit odd. It felt very different. There were no students or teachers around, just administrators who I never really got to know very well. And Mimika no longer manned the front desk, which was a bit disappointing. They were still very welcoming, and I got contact information for some of my old professors. We also left with a great suggestion, to check out the University of Athens, which supposedly has free or reduced-rate Greek classes.
We had an unpleasant encounter with a sketchy Greek man in the National Gardens on the way back, but trudged home nearly unphased, stopping to buy essential office and other supplies. We also paused briefly at a souvlaki stand for a bite to eat. We later went to a Victoria Square cafe for a drink and some people-watching, but the only people we saw were old men. Ah well.
Saturday, May 19
Our first weekend was spent on the island of Aegina. We had promised ourselves a one-day get-away to relax a bit after our first strenuous week, and to remind us why we're here. We didn't exactly spend the time sunning on a beach, but it was still a nice distraction. We took a 40-minute hydrofoil ride to Agia Marina. From there, we hiked to the Temple of Aphea, located at the highest point on the island. It was quite a hike, but the view from the top was reward enough for the effort. The weather wasn't the best - cloudy and muggy - but we made the best of it, turning the trip into a rugged adventure instead of a sun-drenched vacation.
We had a light lunch of bread and oranges sitting on the temple ruins under the shade of an ancient olive tree. We were practically the only ones there. On our way down from the temple, we ran into the only other tourists - the archbishop of the entire Greek Orthodox Church and all the other major patriarchs, adorned with huge black robes and hats, flowing white beards and gleaming medallions. They were surrounded by cameras, police, and what appeared to be the Greek version of the secret service, wearing sunglasses and radio earsets. It was an odd spectacle. Of course, we took photos, but we were afraid to attempt to take the ones we really wanted - old church official on cell phone, or looking at map, ruins of an ancient pagan temple in the background.
Our next stop was Agios Nektarios, a huge, gaudy church - supposedly the biggest in the Balkans, but we don't buy that - situated in a barren valley. I didn't feel like I was on an island at all, but instead a deserted village in central Greece. The only other tourists it seemed were old Greek ladies, or yia yias. We climbed a staircase lined with flowers to a monastery, where we had to put on long skirts over our shorts, and Coral bought an icon.
Then we hiked again, this time to Paleochora, "the town of 300 churches." Only 15 remain, in various states of disrepair, and there really isn't any town to speak of, just a bunch of tiny clay churches barely visible as they cling to a steep hillside. A thin, dehydrated dog guided us through the ruins and we gave her the rest of our water. On the way down, Coral picked some flowers to press. We've decided to collect flowers from everywhere we go rather than buying cheesy souvenirs in tacky tourist shops. We missed a bus by just seconds, and ended up having a snack at a run-down little store/cafe across from the bus stop. An hour later, we were on a bus to Aegina Town. Exhausted, we dragged ourselves directly to a ferry as soon as we arrived.
Sunday, May 20
One thing Coral and I have both recognized upon arrival is the importance of having good relationships with our neighbors. Hospitality is a huge and complex thing here, and we want to be able to function properly within its set of customs and expectations. The last thing we want to do is insult someone and be detested as stupid Americans. With this in mind, we smile and say hello to everone in the building. But so far, everyone just gives us blank stares and doesn't respond.
Until today.
Today while waiting for me in the foyer on our way to the flea market, Coral ran into a Bulgarian woman who lives in a rooftop apartment in our building. Coral said hello and at first the woman just stared back blankly and walked away. Then she turned around and abruptly asked where Coral was from. When she learned Coral was from, her face lit up and she began talking about her son, a musician who lives with her. I then came down and met the woman as well, and before we knew it, she was inviting us upstairs to meet her son. We politely declined, citing a fictitious appointment with a friend in 10 minutes, but she insisted, and asked when we would return home. We left with a 4 p.m. date to meet the woman and her son. Ack!
We returned from the flea market with two tables for desks. Promptly at 4 p.m., we went to the foyer, and the woman (neither of us remember her name) was waiting there. We literally took both of us by the hand and led us to the elevator. The son, Stav, met us briefly in the hallway and quickly escaped to go buy cigarettes, which both he and Coral would later cling on to throughout the visit.
The woman brought us into their tiny one-room apartment. It was quite sad. We sat awkwardly on two beds, around a tiny plastic table - there was only one indoor chair - while she rushed around getting us soda. A television blared in the corner atop a rickety shelf. There was no other furniture, nor room for any more. When Stav returned, we all went outside and sat at a larger plastic table, similar to the one we just bought. The balcony was HUGE, the only saving feature of the apartment. It had a slight, very distant view of the Acropolis, obstructed by thousands of television antennas.
Then the awkward, forced Greek conversation began. I don't know who it was more awkward for, us or Stav. It quickly became obvious the woman was trying to set up Coral with her son. It was also clear to everyone except the woman that such a thing would never happen. Coral did a noble job conversing. We saw pictures of Stav's brother, who is apparantly a Bulgarian pop star, and listened to his CD. It was difficult to escape, but Coral said we had a lot of work to do and we stood up to leave.
If it hadn't been so stressful, the experience would have been quite funny. But as it is, we're worried that we are expected to invite them over next. To our huge empty apartment with little more that a plastic table, two chairs and makeshift desks. Maybe that would make her even more determined, thinking we're rich American girls with disposable incomes, in Greece on a whim or, even worse, to meet men.
Monday, May 21
Work! Finally! Today we met with John Psaropoulos of the Athens News for a great two-hour meeting. He was extremely nice and encouraging. Coral got a pretty solid list of story ideas to work on, which included many island visits. I, on the other hand, left with many loose ideas. We agreed I am not ready to handle Greek legal news, so I may do some archaeology, travel and arts stuff in addition to a very ambitious SERIES on the hidden parts of Athens. Basically, it involves a LOT of research of the physical and social history of several sites in the city. He suggested I start with Omonia Square. I hope to begin by interviewing an archaeologist and an architect, and walking around the area. Then I will probably have to interview shopkeepers and such. John said he might be able to spare an intern to accompany me if I need it. I probably will. I'm also beginning to read as much as I can about Modern Greek History and such. John said, however, that there's not much available in English, which is good and bad. Bad, obviously, because it makes my job more difficult. But good because it makes my job that much more valuable. If I do a good job, there mighta lso be potential for other publishing opportunities. But I'm getting ahead of myself. John said so far two other reporters started work on the series but abandoned it. I really want this to succeed. And I can't think of a better way to meet people and get to know the city!
The meeting did wonders for our morale.Coral was greatly relieved, and excited, because most of her work involved travel. I was happy because John encouraged combining trips to include news, travel writing and arts reviews, which makes it much more affordable to go on trips together. We're already planning a trip to Northern Greece for Odyssey Magazine and I've got my heart set on hiking the Vikos Gorge. We might go as soon as Greek classes finish, June 15.
Speaking of which, we had our first class today as well. It was very nice. We're in level 2, which was encouraging. Actually, most of it is review for me, but much-needed review. The teacher, Ireni, is fantastic. And the class is pretty small - six women including the two of us - and all at the same level. One is a brilliant Finnish researcher, another a British lawyer, another a young Swiss who taught Italian, I think. The last woman moved to Greece with her husband, an engineer who helped build the new metro. The only bad thing about the class is that it's three hours long, smack in the middle of the day, so we will have to wake up early if we want to get anything done in the city. And we have a lot to do - Internet, bank accounts, more furniture, tourist office, library, etc.
Sunday, May 27
This weekend we had our first real run-in with Greek hospitality, discounting the encounter with the Bulgarian woman, which I consider more self-serving than hospitible. It involves Mr. Koumatos, or Kyrios Koumatos as we call him in Greek, who I often refer to as the landlord. But he's really not the landlord at all - our apartment is owned by another nice old couple who have a daughter studying somewhere in the States. Nor is he the manager of the building. He happens to live in the building next door and helped facilitate the renting of the apartment, similar to a real estate agent. I'm not sure if he makes a living doing this, or if he just does it to keep himself occupied. He is retired; from what, exactly, we are not sure. He recently mentioned something about being a meteorologist. Apparently, he's also lived for several years in France and has been to San Francisco as a boxer. In any case, he has practically adopted us into his family.
Kyrios Koumatos is taller than most older Greek men, and slender. The top of his head is bronze and freckled, surrounded by a scant crop of white hair atop black bushy eyebrows. He often wears a suit jacket, and a huge smile spreads across his face as he addresses us in broken English. I suspect he is at least 65 years old, but active for his age. He's married to a short, sweet lady with dyed auburn hair named Poppy, who looks about 10 years older than him.
I first met him on the second day here. Coral had just managed to get her cellular phone working and we called him to report that we had landed and to ask about how to get a real phone installed. Within minutes, he was at the door. He had insisted on coming over in person to welcome us, despite a lingering case of bronchitis, and offered to accompany us the following Monday to the phone company. We showered him with gratitude, and perfume we had bought as a gift for his daughter. He left almost as quickly as he had come, but reappeared five minutes later with a steaming plate of spaghetti Poppy had just made.
On Monday, he emerged from his building dressed in a suit, and walked with is to the telephone company, OTE, which both Coral and I had come to dread. We had heard nightmarish tales of chaos and six-month waits for telephone service. But Kyrios Koumatos led us from window to window, arguing with several tellers along the way, and we left less than half and hour later with a telephone in hand and a promise that we would be connected within the week. We thanked him profusely. His only response was to invite us over to his apartment later in the week for ouzo.
The next day we stopped by his apartment with a bottle of ouzo and a fancy cake as tokens of our appreciation. He sat us down at their dining room table and introduced us to Poppy, who quickly bustled into the kitchen and emerged with two slices of a different cake. What followed was a battle of thanks. We thanked Poppy for the spaghetti and Kyrios Koumatos for his help with the phone. In addition to accompanying us to OTE, he had called the technician several times to make sure he installed the phone at the predetermined time. Poppy, in turn, thanked us for the cake and started to plan all the food she would make us when we came over again. And the two of them clucked in Greek about what good girls we were.
Yesterday was the big ouzo night, although no ouzo was actually consumed. It was simply an excuse to have us over and feed us tons of home-cooked Greek food. We suspected as much, and had not eaten all afternoon. This time we came bearing a bottle of wine and flowers. Kyrios Koumatos met us at the door and led us to the balcony, where every inch of a small oval table was covered with food - gigantes beans in a tomato and oil marinade, tzatziki, bread, meatballs, salad and spanikopita. There were two place settings on either end of the table, and we were instructed to sit in front of them while Kyrios Koumatos filled our glasses with wine and encouraged us to start eating. Poppy and Vasso, their 38-year-old daughter, emerged from the kitchen with more food and sat to watch us eat. We both diligently emptied our plates out of respect. As soon as we did, however, they were piled with more food and we ate very slowly, trying not to get violently ill. Neither of us had eaten much since we arrived and our stomachs did not know what to do with all this oil, cheese and yogurt. When we finally announced feebly that we could eat no more, they concentrated on constantly filling our wine glasses until the two of us had finished the entire bottle by ourselves. "Today you eat, and tomorrow, who knows?" Kyrios Koumatos said, apparently translating a Greek proverb.
After the wine was finished, Poppy brought out ice cream and then, just as I was considering bulimia, Kyrios Koumatos brought out a box of sugared, dried fruit and insisted we both join him in eating some. While he eagerly watched me nibble on an apricot, Coral discreetly dropped hers on her plate and hid it in the rest of her half-eaten food. I had no such luck, as I was squeezed between Kyrios Koumatos and Poppy, and could do nothing but eat the thing and pray I would not gag.
The conversation that evening was interesting, to say the least. Much of it would not have gone over well at a Northampton dinner party - the conversation about immigrants and "those gays" on Mykonos, for instance - but I don't think they meant anything insulting by it. In a mixture of Greek and English - Poppy and Vasso in Greek, Kyrios Koumatos in English - we discussed food, smoking, cats, dogs, Greek slang, jobs, the proper place to buy pastries, and the sex lives of the Romanian neighbors who seemed to be having quite the party next door. I think Poppy offered to buy us a tree at the next laiki. Kyrios Koumatos, whose grasp of English rapidly declined in proportion to the amount of beer he drank, shared several nonsensical jokes with me and whispered that he didn't like to spend too much time alone with Poppy and appreciated our company. He dropped a string of worry beads on the floor and when I picked them up for him, he told me I could keep them as a gift.
By the end of the evening, they had invited us to coffee at Vasso's apartment today at 5 p.m. That meeting was even more awkward. Kyrios Koumatos was waiting for us in the lobby of his building, again wearing a suit jacket despite the 80-degree heat, when we approached, barely recovered from the previous night. Poppy could not come out because she was too tired after preparing a large lamb feast, Kyrios Koumatos explained, so the three of us walked two blocks to Vasso's apartment and sat around her living room table straining to make conversation. Kyrios Koumatos used it as an opportunity to teach us some random Greek words and ask us more about America. We also learned all about Vassos' infertility and other very personal information. In return, she wanted to learn more about our personal lives. In the end, we had another date, for a taverna dinner, in a few weeks.
It's a tricky thing, Greek hospitality. It's a vast, stressful cycle. On one hand, it's nice to have a family away from home. But today we did not really want to spend another hour or two being perky and friendly. We did not feel like concentrating on Greek. We did not want to learn such intimate details of the neighbors' personal lives. Yet we felt obligated to do so, and cannot afford not to. And we're afraid that now we are expected to invite them over to our vast, empty apartment for coffee or dinner.
Monday, May 28
There's nothing like Greek bureaucracy. It's always a wonder when anything runs smoothly here. There are almost daily strikes that throw a wrench in public transportation or some other necessary public function. Other times it's the government itself that makes things needlessly difficult. Throw into the mix the inability to communicate fully in the language, and you're left with a potentially disasterous, tenuous situation. Which is why it is so amazing we've been able to navigate with relative ease through all the obstacles before us.
The first was the phone. Kyrios Koumatos handled that for us, wonderfully. But then we had to go back by ourselves to get Internet accounts and figure out voice mail and cell phone contracts. After a long wait in line and a very frustrating discussion with an inpatient man who yelled at me in Greek a mile a minute, we walked out with Internet and assurances that we could not get cell phone contracts until we've lived here a year and had proof we were working.
Work permits. We had been dreading all the red tape we would no doubt face trying to go through the work permit process. And we really had no idea what it would entail. We tried to find out what we would need to do before we left the States, but everyone told us something different. Friday, we went to the source - the Aliens Bureau. It was very scary and chaotic. There was really no information window or any indication where we should go. There were two floors with several offices and teller windows, each with large lines of listless-looking people. Eventually, we figured out where we needed to go, and I watched in horror as the man we were supposed to see yelled furiously at two couples in front of us.
When we reached him, he glared at us and asked impatiently what we wanted, as we tried to relate our situation in broken Greek. He softened a bit and called another man over who spoke English - the same man, incidentally, that we had approached earlier and who had pretended to not understand anything we said in English, directing us to this office. Now, in perfect English, he explained that we did not even need work permits. We simply needed our editor to write a letter to the Ministry of Press, requesting official press passes. With those press passes in hand, he said, we should return to the Aliens Bureau within three months and apply for six-month visas, which we could then renew indefinitely. What luck! Visas are so easy to get, and affordable. We're crossing our fingers that this is truly the case. It's hard to tell, really. But we're also confident that the government is not about to crack down on Americans living in Athens wthout residence permits.
Everything is falling together so nicely, especially considering how much could go wrong. We're nervously waiting for it to all come crashing back down on us. It's too good to be true.
