SakaMaka Stories

[Thodoros tells a story from the past at the first class reunion]

Most Greek people love to tell stories and jokes.  This year, Stell decided to organize a class reunion for students born in or near 1936 in Ierossos, Greece.  Class reunions are not traditional practices in Greece.  He prepared a printed invitation and for several days we walked and drove around the village attempting to locate as many of his former classmates as possible for a celebration on August 6th.  The gathering was a tremendous success and two fellows volunteered to lead the efforts in 2001.  A local policeman, Makis, who was not in this age category also showed up to celebrate.  He said he felt as the local policeman, he needed to be present.  [Once Stell told him that I did not have a passport.  He told me not to worry; he would find one for me!]

The man in this picture is Thodoros.  He is one of several first cousins.  He drives a local taxi.  He also loves to sing, and so when the bouzouki player, Thanassis, started the singing later in the evening, Thodoros moved himself into position next to Thanassis for the vigorous and boisterous singing of "local songs".  Most villages have their own songs connected to love, their work, their worries and woes, and their ever-present humor. 

The table provides a typical view of the Epicurean values that prevail - beer, retsina [many Greeks add Coca Cola to their retsinas, btw] octopus, gavros [tiny fried fish], beef teaki [little hamburgers], the famous Greek salads, and more and more savory dishes.  The place is a seaside taverna, which I call "Pericles Place" because he was the previous owner, but now it is operated by his son-in-law, Dimitri [Jimmy].  For some reason it is more exciting for me to think I know Pericles than being acquainted with Dimitri. 

On another occasion I was with a group of people including three younger men who told me they had been classmates.  I asked them who was the smartest.  They replied, "Oh, there were no smart guys in our class!" 

Stell has transported an American "marker event" to his birthplace.  If you are in Greece next year at this time, you should just invade the party like Makis did. 

Note:  Stell also included a very appropriate quotation in the invitation from William Butler Yeats, which I did not put to memory. I'll ask him to provide it and share it with you later.

Yitsa Enjoying the August 6^th First Class Reunion for Folks Born in 1936

The woman in the photograph, Yitsa, is one of the attendees of the August 6^th Class Reunion in Ierossos.  I'm sure her real Greek name is not Yitsa, but a nickname for a more difficult-to-pronounce name for non-Greek speakers.   If you travel to Greece you will meet Yitsas, Nitsas, Litsas and Soulas, Rulas, Voulas, Nulas, etc.

I like the rhyme of other nicknames:  Takis, Lakis, Makis, Sakis.   The system of naming children in Greece is rather easy to follow.  Children are named for their grandparents, so if you learn the name of the grandparents, you can often figure out the name of the children - also this means that first cousins often have the same first name.  Since Greek people seem to have only one or two children on the average per family, over a few years it is not to difficult to know many people by first name.  Last names are a different thing.  If you don't know someone's name you can often "wing it" by calling a woman Maria and a man, Yiannis or Christos, since a high percentage of women in Greece are named Maria and lots of men are named John or Chris.  Island names are often more ancient and exotic. 

Something fun to consider when looking at this photo of Yitsa is that she appears to be speaking to someone in particular.  Not so.  At a Greek celebration it is often the case that everyone is speaking simultaneously.  I'm never sure than anyone is listening.  This reminds me of writing articles in academe.  Lots of folks appear to be publishing their ideas, but I'm not convinced that many are reading them. 

Yitsa is the grandmother [YaYa] to my latest heartthrob, Thodorei [pictures to follow].  He's four or five and will begin nursery school in a few weeks.  Grandparents play a major role in raising children in Greece.  It is very common to see grandparents strolling the babies during the evening village volta [walk].  Parents often leave their children with grandparents when they work.  Many young babies and children seem to spend more of their early years with grandparents than their own parents.  The baby strollers are often very elaborate - sort of the Cadillac or Mercedes version of these modes of transport.  Much of an evening volta can be consumed admiring babies, even if you are not running for a political office. 

Yitsa may be saying "yassu" [if she's speaking to one person] or "yassus" if she is addressing several.  This is a good expression to use because it can be used for greeting hello, good-bye, or toasting folks at your table.  The clicking of glasses throughout the meal occurs frequently, and after you are in Greece for a considerable period you can learn to say some different expressions, like Olo-tho-mennon - which means, "Everything stays here." [Americans say, you can't take it with you, and the Brits say, "The shroud has no pockets."]  My friend, Heather, instead of saying Olo-tho-mennon, says "Old Dominion."  That works, too. 

Thanassis and Despina Lead the Reunion in Songs

If Maslow's hierarchy should be outlined for Greek people it would include a rung for music very near food and shelter.   Singing is a central feature of Greek character.  Terry Perenich and I were mortified in one of my early trips to Greece when we were asked to sing something in English and just about the only thing beyond Christmas carols [which didn't seem suited to July] where we both knew all the words was "Michael Rowed the Boat Ashore."  The applause was light.

The man in this picture, Thanassis, is an electrician by day and a bouzouki player by night.  At his side is his wife, Despina, whose voice sweetly captures all ears.  The instrument is of course the bouzouki, a cousin to the mandolin.   Bouzoukis are capable of expressing a wide range of emotions - sadness, melancholy, ecstasy, orneriness.   All Thanassis has to do is strum a few notes and immediately those around the table move into expressive singing - gesturing to one another, sometimes standing if the song has a special meaning, sometimes adding one more verse or repeating the first. Thanassis is the perfect entertainer because he is a "character" even without the bouzouki.  His daily attire is predictable:  shirtless, cutoff jeans, and no shoes.  He's not a poor man but just seems to need the freedom of movement this basic wardrobe offers.  

Other instruments you are likely to hear in the village are guitars, violins, clarinets, and accordions. This year we even experienced a gypsy bagpiper at the Festival of St. Elias.  Occasionally you may be sitting in one of the several outdoor restaurants and a small combo of gypsy performers will come to your table to provide a serenade in exchange for small donations for their entertainment.  Village weddings are especially good occasions for some lively music, before and after the ceremony.   For example, as the best man approaches the home of the bridegroom to escort him to the church, it is likely that a small group of performers will wait outside the front door, and close family members will begin the traditional circle dances.  Of course, the music and customary dances continue at the reception into the early hours of the morning.  Women often sing to the bride while she is being dressed for the wedding.  The song is one of sadness for leaving the home of her parents.

Greek people do not require instrumental accompaniment to sing.  A gathering of folks at the end of any day can convert to solos or a chorus if a passionate mood takes hold.   Although Terry and I were not asked to perform a second song, you should know that one year Doug Kleiber [aka Makis] did exhibit an extraordinary gift for imitating the sounds and thus recaptured some respect for American singing that Terry and I came close to destroying.   As you know from the movie Zorba, music is only half of the equation as far as Greek spirit is concerned.  More about Greek dance later.

Stellara-mou kai Pandelis move into dance

As certain as singing is inevitable at Greek occasions, dancing will follow as the evening progresses.  It begins in varied ways and takes various forms depending on the meaning of the song, the rhythms, and ways hearts are stirred.  One person may grab the hand of a friend and start one of the several circle dances that immediately others jump up to join.  A solitary man or woman may take center stage holding out their arms like Stell in the picture and begin to rotate with undulating arms, fingers clicking, bending low and swaying appearing to fall - very sensuous, slow movements.  Then, of course, there is the famous butcher's dance Anthony Quinn perfected in Zorba.   Dancers in the circle will often go into the audience and pull others into the circle.  Sometimes two and three circles must form because the entire village is on their feet going round and round and round.  Young, old, men and women.   A few dances draw just men or just women.  Villages, regions, and islands all have unique dances, yet to me they appear to be variations on a similar theme.  When people are dancing alone often other individuals will stoop below the dancer and clap, and if the dancer is agile he or she will move a leg over the head of the clappers.  If you learn the basic steps you will be able to join in these dances at any Greek Restaurant in the world once the music starts.  And you will be welcome into the circle even if you aren't quite in step.  Since my dancing matches my singing, I know this to be true.

Pandelis is a successful Greek businessman in Athens, Greece, with much experience in the United States.  He asked me what I taught at the University.  Adult education is difficult to describe to Greek people, because it isn't formally taught or practiced.  Marcie Boucouvalas wrote a book in l988, Adult Education in Greece, and reported Greek Universities to be devoid of such programs, however some of the professional adult educators have degrees in sociology.  I don't think this has changed although because of the development of the European Community, more people are moving into training and human resource development.  Pandelis, was a real exception in his understanding of my field - when I said "adult education", he responded, "oh lifelong learning."  This was the first time anyone had so immediately understood since my first trip in 1986.  Now, when Doug Kleiber told the Greek people his field was leisure recreation, they broke into gales of laughter.  "You mean the American people have to be taught how to engage in leisure!" 

By the way, I haven't mentioned that the Greek people are nocturnal.  The class reunion officially started at 9 p.m., but by 9:30 p.m. only about three guests had arrived.  Perhaps by 10:30 p.m.  the party really got started, and almost everyone stayed until 3 a.m., when Stell explained I had to get up at 6:30 a.m. for my flight back to the U.S. of A.  Thus, the importance of the afternoon siesta.  And don't forget most of these people were born in and around 1936!

Come Join the Circling Dancers

By Professor Louis A. Gaitanis

Join a circle of Greeks dancing

Hold the hands that held the hands

Of heroes of the second battle of Marathon

When Axis Powers were stopped by ragged Greek bands

A stand that changed the course of World War II

And history came full circle, like the dance.

Join a circle of Greeks dancing

Hold the hands that held the hands

Of Soulian women who one by one left the circle

Dancing off the mountain to deny the enemies' demands

Preferring death to surrender to the Turks and making true

The freedom call:  "Better one hour of freedom

Than forty years of slavery and jail."

Join a circle of Greeks dancing

Join a circle of Greeks dancing

Hold the hands that held the hands

Of martyrs who held aloft the light

From Byzantium to the western lands

The light first saved at ancient Marathon by the few

Who stood against the Asiatic hordes and

In so doing saved a continent

And a new world a well.

Come join a circle of Greeks dancing

And hold the hands

That held the hands

That held the hands

Of Homer.

Margaret "Enjoys" Meze with Angelos

[To the tune of "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus"] - "I saw Margaret kissing Angelos underneath the grape vineyard at noon."   What's going on here?  Angelos, the city water manager, has invited Stell and me for meze and ouzo [chipiro, actually].  Angelos is the waterman for the village, and if you know Shakespeare he is also "Falstaff."  Stell thinks I should write a piece for Reader's Digest about him for the "Most Unforgettable Character" section. 

He has a perpetual smile that is emphasized by two deeply indented dimples.  He stutters a little, I think because he tells stories and jokes in such a flurry.  For example, he likes to frighten the locals by telling them that he swims in the water depository and that he's actually peed in there.  If you see him at the tavernas and kiosks or riding about on his motorcycle, you might have a first impression that he is a round, intoxicated, grimy kind of guy.  That should be your first impression, because for me he is an incredible example of a self-directed learner.

He sings with the local choir and chants at the church each Sunday; he probably knows more about the monastic life on Mount Athos than any of the priests in the village; he paints icons [self-taught with a few lessons from Mount Athos]; he built a small church which annually is visited by as many as 400 people at a single festival; he carves; he gardens [his flowers are spectacular]; he cooks; and he raises turkeys.  At our home we have a den of allipoo [fox].  Angelos said that once a fox ate six of his turkeys and then sent him a "Thank You Angelos" postcard.    For me he is a good reason to support the expression, "don't judge a book by its cover."   He's incredibly generous, and visitors to the town absolutely fall in love with him - Germans, Yugoslavs, Albanians, Americans, etc.  He is deeply religious.  This year he gave me an icon he painted of St. George.  He spends much time on the end of the peninsula, Mountain Athos.  There are 20 monasteries on the mountain.  Only men are permitted access to this bordered and protected place.  However, I have been told that the area is completely visible to everyone now on the Internet!  Rumor has it that even female animals are denied admission to this orthodox version of the Vatican, and some say there are not even female mosquitoes in the area! 

Our meze with Angelos included salt fish, greens a bit like spinach, tomatoes, cucumbers, a warm dish mixture of eggplant, potatoes, and colokithia [much like zucchini], and fresh baked bread.  Of course we washed this down with chipiro, which is a strong locally-produced anise-flavored white lightening - stronger than ouzo.  These occasions are meant for fellowship and to open your appetite for lunch. 

If you meet Angelos, he will want to pronounce a range of English words:  "This is a book, this is a pencil, this is a classroom."  He is a founding member of the SakaMaka Society [to be explained later in the series.]

Demos kai Stelios

The shorter man in these two photos standing next to the UGA football advertisement is Demos.  He approached me on several occasions requesting his picture be taken with Stell, but he seemed to find me when I was sans camera or on low or no battery.  Finally just two days before I left Greece everything came together. 

His life is woven intricately with Stell's.  Stell's late Mother, Maria, was widowed during the guerilla wars in Greece following WWII.  Her husband, Georgios, was a victim of the Communist aggression. She was left with four children - Yannis, Anna, Ireni, and Stelios.  This man is one of innumerable people who have stories to tell about Maria, and how she not only saved her own family but put food in the mouth of so many others like him.  Another man, Nikos, told me this summer that Maria was a Bear, and he meant this as a grand "megalos" compliment.  Demos worked as a field hand for Stell's mom.  Over the years I have met as many as ten people who worked the fields not for her but along side her.  She always paid what she could, and more importantly she didn't let her family and community starve.  They should erect a huge memorial in tribute to Maria Kefalas, imho. 

So it was very important to Demos to have a photograph with Stell.  I could tell by his eyes and his gestures, that he was disappointed the several times I wasn't prepared to capture the moment.  Now I have a little entree to tell you why I am taking so many photos.  My husband has only one picture of his father.  It was probably taken around 1940.  It's quite faded although a wonderful photo.  But this all that exists outside his memory to remind him of the way his father looked.   Many times I go to homes and older people will bring one or maybe two old photographs.  Another man, Christos Robotas really wanted me to take a picture of him with his wife, Effie.  He told me the only other photo of the two of them together was their wedding picture taken approximately twenty years ago.  So I've designated myself the village photographer, and many days and nights I travel with my equipment so I can take pictures.

My hope is that people will have photos to pass along to their children and grandchildren, so for many years there can be a photographic memory of family members.  My experience has been that Greek people love to have their pictures taken, and there is nothing as exhilarating as the joy you see come across their faces when I take them the photos.   Last year I took a photo of a young man who is mildly retarded.  He must have stared and smiled at his picture for an hour when I gave it to him one morning in a cafeteria.  He was passing it around to everyone.  I was tremendously moved by his elation!  

Two Couples Out on the Town

Many Greek people are physically very beautiful to behold like these two couples who are neighborhood and work friends.  The man in the white shirt, Nikos Caravassillis and the his wife, Maria, in the dark dress in the foreground are the parents of two sons, and one daughter, and the other couple Takis and his wife [I have to get her name from Stell] are the parents of two daughters, Maria and Penelope.  Many men choose to grow moustaches, a common practice in the Mediterranean region. Nikos is a farmer and the owner of a butcher shop.  Takis is a construction worker, and he is one of the men who are helping to build a new butcher shop for the Caravassillis' family.  Maria is one of the best cooks I've ever encountered in my life.  Although she has only the tiniest kitchen in which to work, she prepares meals that look as good or better than ones I've seen in Bon Appetite Magazine.  Believe me, they are incredibly delicious.  I was lucky to be invited to three dinners at their home this summer.

Nikos is also very important to us because he brings our water every couple of weeks.  It is conveyed to the depository on our property by tractor.  Stell and Nikos have a bartering relationship- water for the use of the wheat fields.  I think bartering is an old practice in Ierissos, especially when you discover that originally about half of the residents were employed in the fishing industry and the others in agriculture.  Today, of course, employment opportunities extend well beyond these two careers, and old-fashioned bartering is disappearing.  Yet, we do find the wheat-for-water a good arrangement. 

The couples were not old enough to be invited to the class reunion, but they are seated at a table that gives them a chance to watch the events and listen to the music.  They've just arrived for their dinner and you will see that the first items on the table are bread, coke, and retsina.  Fresh bakery bread comes to the table at lunch and dinner automatically.  One of the greatest sensual experiences in the village is to walk into one of the several bakeries.  I've never seen sliced sandwich white bread in the grocery stores.  Part of daily life is a trip to the bakery.  These are completely separate establishments from the sweet shops, which for those with sweet-tooth tendencies is another delicious enterprise.  Ice-cream is also highly recommended by my friends who like the sweeter tastes.  Heather and Scott Kleiner reported this summer that the chocolate on the chocolate bars was "the real thing."  Pam Kleiber would recommend the yogurt with honey [meli]. 

Probably at the end of their meal, Nikos and Takis had a friendly argument about who would buy the dinner.  This happens nine times out of ten, and savvy waiters like Stelios Galatzanos have learned to deal with this by suggesting "Feefty-feefty."

Lifelong Friendships

The last picture from the Class Reunion I want to show you captures two of the attendees Stelios and Georgios.  Stelios is the only attendee who brought proof of his graduation from the gymnasium - his wife had his diploma in his purse.  Today he is amused that he barely squeaked by with an average of "5" but he had completed the program.

The other man, Georgios [on the right] is another central person for me from Ierissos.  Like Stelios, he and his brother Nikos lost their father in the guerilla wars following World War II.  Their intense suffering, their immediate grief and what was to follow, created a bond across survivors and victors that you "feel" in their singing and dancing and passionate embracing of one another. 

Georgios, recently retired, and his brother have enjoyed administrative careers at a very special place on the edge of Thessaloniki that you should check out on the WEB - the American Farm School - see http://www.afs.edu.gr/   

The American Farm School of Thessaloniki, Greece, is an

independent, nonprofit educational institution founded in

1904 to serve the rural population of Greece and the

Balkans.  Major divisions include the Secondary School,

the Dimitris Perrotis College of Agricultural Studies, the

department of Lifelong Learning and a cultural exchange

program for U.S. and international high school students

known as Greek Summer.

Georgios has also held the position for the past couple of years as President of the Ierissos Society, folks who live in the winter months in Thessaloniki but return for vacations and to vote in their village.  Yes, when there is an election people return to their village homes.  This is one reason there is a holiday from work on election days - to allow people the travel time to get to the village and cast their ballots.  The Ierissos Society sponsors dances and other events in the city to host occasions for people to get together while away from the village, and then in the summer there is a huge party in Ierissos.  This year it was at a nearby hotel, Athos Hotel.  The party includes dining, dancing, and speeches.  The Society has raised monies, for example, to help restore some of the ruins in the old village.  Ierissos was destroyed completely by an earthquake in the early 30s and entirely rebuilt in its current location.  Stell's sister Ireni was actually born in temporary housing that offered shelter during the months of transition to building the new village.  In ancient times this area was a huge cemetery, so for several years of my visits I witnessed the archaeological types uncovering the old graves and their remains. 

The View from Stavraqu

The location of our home above the village is called "Stavraqu".  Stell has explained to me this is because a large bird whose wingspread looked like a cross often was seen floating above the valley below.  The woman in this picture is another "bird" floating above the valley.  Her name is "Pepi", and I call her Pepi Sandpiper.  She's a mathematician who has moved into the business of human resource development.  She owns a company in Athens, Greece, called Human Force.  The company is similar to and inspired by BOSS in Athens, Georgia.  She helps professionals find employment and companies find employees. 

We know Pepi because she married Thomas Papadopoulos, a graduate of the UGA Business School, and the CEO of an investment company in Athens, Greece, called

Genesis, Inc.  Stell is the Chairman of the Board.  This very successful company led by Thomas provides the trophies for the Athens, Georgia, Kudzu Film Festival.

The photo is taken at a party at our home in July 2000.  About 30 people including Heather and Scott Kleiner came together to enjoy one another's company, a lamb dinner with a wide variety of other dishes, followed by spontaneous dance started by Pepi.

You can begin to get a sense of our view of the hills and open fields that are a major part of the panorama.  I remember telling the late Lamar Dodd that I could fully understand why so many marvelous artists are identified with the Mediterranean/Aegean region.   The light is dramatic.  Heather Kleiner said this repeatedly.  As much as I want to describe the illuminated golden fields outlined by short green trees and shrubs [very popular with the goats], I can't think of words that will give even an approximate sense of the mesmorizing textures and hues. 

Several times a day, especially in the mornings and late afternoons large herds of goats, sheep, and cows graze across the fields.  Waking in the morning to the soft sound of "bells" is much more humane than the rude shouting of any alarm clock.   Occasionally, a shepherd will stop for a chat.  This year one of the shepherds as an expression of Stell's allowing him to graze at Stavraqu, brought us a package of soft unsalted very fresh cheese to enjoy with our chipiro at the kapi [a place where retired men play cards and backgammon, and enjoy the temporary escape from their homes and wives before heading home for lunch.]  Personally, I think their wives are thankful for the kapi.   If you read Captain Corelli's Mandolin, you will get a better sense of the mature marital relationship when you read about the old man with a pea in his ear.  While we were in Greece Nicholas Cage was starring in the filming of this story, which should be released in the spring. 

Men of Adventure

Greece is geographically a relatively small country with approximately 11 million people - similar to Georgia in the sense that almost half the population lives around the capitol, Athens.  Someone told me this summer, however, that when you figure in all the islands, Greece has more seacoast than any other country in the world.  I don't think anyone lives further than 45 minutes from the sea.   Almost every major writer talks about the exchange of East and West in Greece, which I've found absolutely correct.   The exotic East is clearly present in the foods, music and dance, but the West is here, too, in cars, commerce [an EU country, after all], and education.  Greeks who can afford to send their children to colleges and universities in England, France, Germany, Canada, and the U.S., for example, are proud of these opportunities.

For many it is difficult to find good work in Greece, and folks are often quite anxious about their work possibilities.  The man to Stell's right in the picture is Christos.  He left Greece many years ago, and with his  British-Cypriot wife, Nicki, established a very successful restaurant in East London.  Not a Greek restaurant, btw, but a fabulous old-fashioned Fish and Chips place.  With much sweat equity it has become a treasure.  However, Christos longs for his homeland, and so he is leaving the restaurant behind and moving with his wife and three children to Thessaloniki to set out on a new adventure.  Although he has appreciated the creature comforts of London, he longs for the quality of life of Greece - the times to sit and be with friends, to enjoy the moment and to seize the day.  Like many people who leave their homeland, Christos seems to value aspects of daily life in Greece that those who never leave take for granted. 

To Stell's immediate left is another type of adventurer, Georgios.   He's also a husband and the father of two sons, Vegalis and Dinos.  Because he could not find enough employment in Ierissos, he left last winter for several months to work on a construction team in Cameroon.  I've met many men in Greece who have gone off on such ventures in Africa and the Middle East to work on road and building construction.  The pay is excellent, but the personal sacrifice is major.  While we were with Georgios this summer he was waiting to see what next adventure might be opening for him.  One possibility is to work on runway construction at the Hartsfield Airport in Atlanta.   I've met men who were able to take their entire families on these type of work assignments, especially those who worked in Saudi Arabia. In Georgios case, his wife Maria, and his mother were left with the responsibility of the sons for many months.  If Georgios comes to Atlanta, we will be sure to invite you to meet him- a charming and generous fellow. 

Thomas Papodopoulos kai Margarita Cilantro Foustanella

Thomas [pronounced so you hear the "h"- Tho-mas] is the owner of Genesis

Securities in Athens, Greece, and a graduate of Wolford College in Spartanburg, South Carolina and THE University of Georgia in Athens,Georgia.  He is the reason my pseudonym is Foustanella.  A couple of years ago Stell and I visited the village where his mother was raised in the Peloponnese.  His mother is another woman very high-on-my-list of great cooks.  The problem, however, is that the products of great cooksin Greece are very dangerous for midlife women like me.  It is next to impossible to resist the tempting, delectable cuisine.  I have to muster a lot of will power and express to people who seem ever so thrilled for you to be enjoying what they have prepared that I must STOP.  At one of the meals during this visit, I asked Thomas if he would please convey to his mother that I simply loved everything that she had prepared, but I had to stop eating.  He replied, "Oh, don't worry.  We will buy you a foustanella!"  A foustanella is the costume worn by the Greek guard at the palace.  You've seen them with the knee socks and tassels and pleated kilt - which in fact could I suppose temporarily disguise obesity.

Well, I liked the word "foustanella".  It rhymed with Cinderella and became associated in my mind with enjoying a good meal!  Of course, my real first name Margaret almost always is converted by Greek and Spanish people to Margarita, and years ago Martine Folino, perhaps the most handsome young Argentine I've ever encountered, gave me the middle name because of our search for cilantro in the grocery stores of Athens, Georgia.  He started calling me Aunt Cilantro - so now I'm aka: Margarita Cilantro Foustanella.  It's a name with flair and simply fun to pronounce.

I've told you all along that a lot of Greek people like to tease foreigners.  A great example of this is in Captain Corelli's Mandolin. The young Italian officer, Corelli, determines that he should learn some Greek while occupying the island of Cephalonia during WWII.  He asks Dr. Yannis how to say "Good Morning."  The phrase is very melodic in truth, "Kali Mera."  However, Dr. Yannis tells Corelli that the expression for Good Morning is "Ai Gamisou", which my friend Priscilla Sumner will tell you is a "not so polite" way to say, "Take a Sexual Deviation."  So Corelli anxious to practice what he's learned moves about the island telling folks to "F--K off!" thinking he is wishing them a good start of the day.

Many people like Thomas who survive the challenges of large Greek cities for work return to the villages of their parents for weekends, summers, and major holidays.  Stell says there was a time when it was considered thrilling to move to the cities, but in more recent years people long for the quiet and relaxing spaces and places of the villages - thus much restoration of old village homes is quite common today.

A nice note from Anita Brannen, August 18, 2000

Just a couple of comments - I remember the first time we visited Greece.

We were there for a week during orthodox Easter in 1973. I was surprised

at the eastern influence - especially in the bazaar area. I anticipated

that Greece would be as western as other European countries - didn't

expect the mid-eastern quality. I also was surprised at how much English

was used there - much more than we found in Spain or Italy.

I love the pace and quality of their life. I'm not sure that can be

found anywhere in the US. Living or being outside of one's country does

give an appreciation for things that you never noticed or took so much

for granted. Although I loved living in Europe. Really, I must say I

prefer it to living in the US for the reasons that you have so

beautifully described in this series of letters, still I would never

give up my US citizenship. I do think as a communal enterprise the

United States is is the most special social and political endeavour ever

undertaken - the style of life however is not as comfortable and humane.

Thanks so much for all the beautiful pictures and narrative! Anita

The Million Dollar View

Scott Kleiner took this picture of us with the backdrop Heather named "the Million Dollar View".  Between our shoulders catch a glimpse of the village, Ierissos, the Bay of Ierissos [part of the Aegean Sea], and a small mountain range across the Bay.  I was fascinated for Stell to tell me he doesn’t particularly recall being captivated by the view as a young boy working in the surrounding fields.  His memories were of heat and toil, threshing wheat, removing large stones from the fields, and persuading his donkey to keep on truckin'.  Now it seems we can sit for hours and stare at the panorama.  We have no television thank goodness.  I've named a herd of goats, ABC; a flock of sheep, NBC; and a herd of cows, CBS.  It's much too early for cable!  We do have lots of good books and magazines, so daylight hours when we are not in the Village or in the Sea, we read. This summer I read 8 and 1/2 books at Stavraqu: A History of Reading, Dreams of My Russian Summers, Corelli's Mandolin, The Priest Fainted, The Poisonwood Bible, Kowloon Tong, The Hand That I Fan With, Chocolate, and half of Bella Tuscany.  Throughout the year family and friends treat me to wonderful reads to load my suitcase.    

One summer Stell was working on his laptop, and a fox came by just to see what he was doing.  Also, birds occasionally make their way through the chimney and have to be rescued.  The first few days the house is open, we usually have to engage in pest control for field mice.  This year we also had one snake come inside for a "short" visit.  The fact that we live in the wilderness, terrifies some of the people in the Village.  They can't believe I'm willing to stay in such a "dangerous" place.  One woman who visited to appreciate a sunset with us became really "unglued" when the crickets started jumping around her feet. We often see owls in the evening, swallows in the morning, seagulls crossing from one side of the peninsula to the other, and glorious hawks soaring the valley in search of prey. I think Gerald Durrell would have loved the place, and included some stories in his marvelous book, My Family and Other Animals, where he wrote about his youthful experiences with all sorts of creatures on Corfu.  I especially liked the part where he had put a scorpion in his brother, Lawrence's matchbox.  When Lawrence opened it thinking he would light his pipe, many baby scorpions came falling out.  The household went into an uproar. 

An extremely thrilling time in this special place was two summers ago when Malcolm and Priscilla Sumner visited.  A huge thunderstorm repleat with lightening provided over an hour of nature's laser show across the fields and sea.  We sipped scotch, ate stale bread, feta, and salad, and listened to a taped jazz program from NPR.  That's what Stell calls QOL- Quality of Life.

Takis kai Yuneka

I want to use the next four or five pictures to tell you some of things I've learned about family life in Greece over the past fourteen summers.  You've seen this couple in an earlier photo.  This photo and the next two or three to follow were taken on a Sunday afternoon when they came to this taverna with their two daughters for lunch - which is really dinner.  Most summer meals are eaten outdoors.  Even if people stay home, everyone has some type of patio area with chairs and tables that is shaded and likely to attract a breeze.

I've titled this picture Takis and Yuneka because as I mentioned earlier I can't remember Takis' wife's name [I know it's not Maria, btw.]  The word for woman in Greek sounds like "yuneka" - our medical word gynecology is derived from the Greek word for woman.   In some cultures, you know it is emphasized that people should have a male child.   In Greece this does not appear to me to matter, except that men like Takis who do have only daughters are teased a little, but nothing more than gentle teasing.   I know many, many, many families who have only daughters, and the fathers and mothers are very happy, and there doesn't appear to be any outside pressure to keep trying for a son. 

Takis'wife is a nurse.  Another observation for me is the high value placed on a woman's education in Greece, and I can tell you for a fact today families put as much strain and pressure on their daughters to do well in school at every level as their sons.  The educational system through high school at least is enormously competitive, and at the end of high school when students are being tested for graduation and future endeavors there are many kids who seemed to have destroyed their fingernails.  A big industry in Greece is tutoring, and parents will pay for and send their youth to tutors to influence their success on these tests.  I've seen hundreds of Greek youth who don't appear to be enjoying summer vacation because they are back and forth to tutors with accompanying homework.  In high school if you fail these tests once, you may take them again.  If you fail them twice, you are finished.  There is no sensitivity that I can tell for late-bloomers.  In many ways, it is a ruthless system.

I don't yet know the story of why Takis' wife entered the nursing profession, but I do know that women in Greece compete next to men for all fields - engineering, mathematics, medicine, law - all professions- and it is very common to meet women who are employed in fields that we until recently identified as "male" domains.  Of course, there have to be openings in these fields before anyone is admitted to study, so there is a system to determine if Greece needs more dentists, doctors, pharmacists, etc. before sending young people to college for such studies. 

Note from Lynn Heath, August l8, 2000

Margaret, your last story strikes a true chord, even with a person who's

never been to Greece!

Here's a story from my sister Ellen that I think you will enjoy.

My oldest sister, Andrea, fell in love with a Greek musician on a cruise ship and eventually followed him to Athens.  My next youngest sister, Ellen, went for an extended visit when she was in college.  Young, with long blonde hair, Ellen was the darling of the Greek relatives she met.  But along with that, she found herself putting on a lot of extra pounds.  Everything was delicious, and Ellen could not bring herself to disappoint these wonderful people who had made such wonderful treats for her.

She decided that she would take a new strategy:  no matter how wonderful anything was, she would eat only one, praising it but being firm in her refusals.  It worked!  She tried everything offered, she felt pleasantly full instead of stuffed. And then, dinner was announced!!

As for the "disguise" of the foustanella, I'm afraid you would look like

Mimi on The Drew Carey Show!  At least that is the image that popped into mind, thinking of a woman dressed like that.  When my youngest sister,

Marianne, was little, my mother made her a foustanella as a Halloween costume.  She looked really darling, but then, she was about 7.

I've been sending your posts to my parents, believing they should be shared.

My relatives all live in Thessalonika now, having been displaced from Asia Minor in the 20's.  Dad has no experience of Greek villages, now or in the past, and I thought he'd enjoy your vivid descriptions of the life and the people.  Mom said, "I want to read them, too!"  She was always the "pet" in Greek gatherings, the fair-haired American who learned a little Greek, appreciated the food, loved to dance and got along with everyone, even my grandmother.  (Of course, YaYa was tragically disappointed when my father married an American. My mother's parents didn't get a say--they were already dead.)

Lynn

Kids in Greece

If I was forced to prioritize highlights of my trips to Greece, meeting and observing children would be near the top of my list.  This girl, Maria, is a favorite because she's both polite and gutsy.  Parents frequently want their children to practice their English with me.  Like children worldwide, Greek kids don't like to be pushed by their parents.  When they are left on their own to try, they can be very assertive.  Maria loves to see me around the village and try out many phrases she's learned in school, from music, and from television.   Many years ago the "second" language required in schools was French, but in more recent years the requirement has switched to English.  However, the students in Greece learn British English, so we can still be stymied with communication. 

The first time you go to Greece, if you are exposed to television [Why anyone would want to watch television in Greece other than for the news escapes me!], you may be shocked at how many of the programs and movies are made in the USA.  Sitcoms and unfortunately soap operas run continuously with Greek translations at the bottom of the screen.  This is true with cinema as well.  So kids hear a lot of American English outside of school, too.  

Because Ierissos is a small village, children have a lot of freedom to roam.  It would not be unusual to see Maria walking with her friends [friends -boys, girls, men and women often walk holding hands or locking arms] or riding bikes anywhere in the village.  I'm sometimes terrified when I see the even smaller kids on bicycles, because motorcycles and cars race through the town, and my own view is that many people are new to driving and not very careful.  HOWEVER, I've never seen one accident in fourteen summers.  Stell argues that we overprotect children in the United States, whereas the Greek kids develop a survival savvy.   My own Unitarian view is that someone is watching out for them. 

I don't know if Maria is taking dancing lessons, but many of the youth from elementary through college, belong to dancing groups where they are taught local dances, and then given chances to do a little traveling and perform at festivals and other events. 

The girl in the background, Vanna, who is probably fifteen or sixteen wearing the white top and black pants, has experienced an incredible tragedy losing both of her parents recently in an automobile accident.  Her cousin, who rents the restaurant, had hired her for summer work.  Teenagers work as waiters and waitresses throughout the village.  It's exhausting work, and tipping is minimal.  A few argued that Vanna wouldn't last the summer, but she was going strong when I left and her smile was expanding.  

My Newest Love

I know several of you are shocked to learn that I'm leaving Stell.  It is true that I've fallen in love with Thoderi, and when you look at his picture here I know you will understand why this has happened.  What you see with this face is what you get.  He comes running down the beach into my arms and says with a wonderful Greek accent "I love you, baby" and I MELT. 

He's four and will start nursery school [three hours a day] this fall.  His Mom says he's "ready".  He has several imaginary friends, and he tells us that occasionally they hit him, but most of the time they play.  This summer I gave him a little baseball cap and some sunglasses, and day after day his mother said he was upset because he hadn't given me a gift.  I kept trying to convince him that I'd like a picture that he could draw for me, but this was not satisfying to him.  So near the end of my stay he ran down the beach with a tiny little box containing a beautiful Greek-designed necklace.  He presented it to me with the words, "I love you, baby."  I think we are engaged. 

His parents are gorgeous.  Vasso, a young mother, gives Thoderi a lot of freedom, she talks to him a lot, and she has always encouraged his interactions with me.  Although I feel treated like a queen in the village, many parents are not so open with young children, and will not so readily encourage this type of interaction.  I'm not only presenting Thoderi to you for the joy of seeing his expression, but also to say that after fourteen years I've really seen many kids "grow up."  This has been one of the thrills of the return trips - learning the stories of families, their hopes, plans, and dreams, and then discovering what has developed from one year to the next.  There are two young people I've followed especially close, Thanasis and Natasha.  Thanasis was about Thoderi's age when I met him.  Now he is one of the select few to be accepted at age l8 to the prestigious art school in Thessaloniki.  Natasha, like Thoderi, at age three would come and climb into my lap, and every year learn more and more English.  Soon in elementary school she was writing to me.  Now at the end of high school her English is stellar, and who knows what her future holds! 

The food in front of Thoderi is one of my favorites. - moussaka.  It's made with ground beef, potatoes, and eggplant.  The topping is a rich béchamel sauce.  I could live on it, and it would surely live on my hips.  The word on the tablecloth is Halkidiki - it is the name of the area below Thessaloniki comprised of the three peninsula - Mount Athos, Sythonia, and Kassandra.  We live on Mount Athos, the peninsula with twenty Orthodox monasteries at the tip.   Btw, Don't worry about Stell finding about my relationship with Thoderi.  There is no hiding it.   Most of the village knows.

Church Holidays and Festivals

The vast majority of Greek people are Orthodox Christians.  I've seen figures in guidebooks that say over 95%.  I've haven't yet found a Unitarian Fellowship, although there is probably one in Athens.  Churches are often very large and located in the centers of both small and large communities.  They are extremely ornate inside, full of icons and other elaborate décor from ceiling to floor.  The priests' robes are works of art.  Although this is not my faith, I have always felt welcome inside these churches, and I've been pulled into Christening circles when the newest Greeks receive their names. 

The young girls in this photograph are wearing native costumes and participating in one of the circle dances at the St. Elias Festival in July.  I've been to this festival in several years.  Part of the tradition associated with this Festival is that villagers are supposed to walk the dirt road to the church [you should be able to see the cross marking the site of the church in the background sky.]  At the opening of the large park near the church there will be women collecting donations and usually two or three gypsy beggars, often one is a mother with a child in her lap.  A few more often severely disabled beggars sit along the steps ascending to the church.  Before entering the church, you can buy candles to be stuck in containers of sand.  The idea is to remember loved ones who have died.  People linger inside the church for a few minutes with their private meditations then head to the festival below. 

On the eve of this occasion, the city workers build several small fires over which they cook chickpeas and meat all night long.  A small group of family members stay with them into the early hours, often singing and sipping ouzo or retsina.  Folks who have booths for selling icons, cds, sunglasses, souvlaki, dolls, balloons, housewares, linens, African masks, costume jewelry, and everything but kitchen sinks camp out at their sites as well, waking early to put up their awnings and prepare their booths.

The next day at the Festival people come from six or seven towns on this particular peninsula and are served the chick pea soup, manestra and meat.  Manestra is a pasta that marries the rice and noodle families.   My son, Nic, has named this dish "roodles."  There will be speeches from the mayor and a few others.  Church dignitaries will sit under the pavilion alongside local and national politicians.  The politicians are as easy to spot as the priests, because they are the only ones in formal coats and ties.  The local orchestra will crank up [usually a guitar, violin, and bouzouki] accompanied by a singer with his microphone and the circles like the one in the photo are formed.  The biggest church celebrations of this type are at Orthodox Easter and on the l8th of August - the Day of the Assumption.  The words you say on these days as you greet folks are "Chronia Pola. " That translates "many years." 

Mike and Nelly

Stell and I call this couple the most generous people in Greece, or the Jinx and Gordhan Patel of Greece.  Michael is an ob-gyn who teaches at the University of Thessaloniki and has also a private practice in the city.  He is world renown for his research, which is focused on birth disorders.  Almost every summer during my stay he and Nelly are somewhere in the world at a major conference for professionals who work on related studies.  Nelly is a retired French teacher, and an exquisite cook.  They are the parents of two sons, Apostolis and Costis.  Apostolis is also a doctor, and he was the only one of seven applicants to be accepted for his specialty studies in ob-gyn in London.  He would have been able to do this in Greece, but he would need to wait several years for an opening.  He is married to Maro, an attorney.  Costis, the younger son, graduated with a masters in business from the University of Georgia.  He is Nic and Vanessa's favorite Greek friend.  This summer he was engaged to Athena, a young Greek woman originally from South Africa.  She works now in Thessaloniki in the area of "translations".   Costis has established a successful insurance enterprise. 

We have had many guests from the States visit, and on EVERY occasion this couple has entertained them with a huge banquet at their villa.  One summer we were traveling with a party of fourteen.  I will say that Mike and Nelly insisted that the Patel delegation spend the night at their place.  They live on another of the three peninsulas, Kassandra, on weekends and as many week days as Mike can be away from his teaching and practice.  He has about an hour drive in very heavy traffic.  Their peninsula is much more developed with high-rise fancy hotels and tourist attractions, so the weekends and holidays bring long, oppressive lines of traffic.  Their villa is next to a canal connecting the two sides of Kassandra.  Mike's late father came to this village, Nea Potidea, to help with the construction of the canal.

From the top floor of their villa you can see both sides of the peninsula, and one of the choices you have to make when you visit is on which side you will swim.  We swim every afternoon.  I learned at the onset of staying in Greece that you always travel with a bathing suit, although you may not need it for swimming in some spots.  Ask Pam and Doug Kleiber about this. 

Mike is a master gardener - flowers, vegetables [including my favorite hot peppers], and fruit trees.  He also is accomplished with the barbecue, and every summer we are awed with the additions to the barbecue area.  A couple of summers we took short weekend excursions to the islands of Thassos and Evia.  Mike is so organized that he had tapes cued to play music that was most suited to where we were on the drives, mainland and islands.  His wine cellar is meticulously arranged, his work boots and hats all in a row, and the lawn and garden designed with "perfectly" situated sitting areas to satisfy the mind and spirit from sunrise to sunset.

Mid-afternoon Serenade

I imagine it is around 3 p.m. Greek time in this photo.  We've just finished lunch at our niece, Mary's.  The people in the photo are our niece Demetra [Mary's younger sister who is a surgeon in Athens],  Yannis [Mary's husband who is a high school teacher], and Costis [Demetra's son who says he's saving his money to come to America for Christmas.] Yannis leads us in Greek and American songs.

Each time I'm with Stell's [and now MY] family, I think of the abrupt changes possible in short spans of history.  Stell's parents, Maria and Georgios, started as salt-of-the earth farmers in this village, neither of them coming from wealthy backgrounds.  They labored and worked the earth, and saved as much as they possibly could to buy small portions of land.  The civil war following WWII takes Stell's father's life, and Maria is left with four children, two sons and two daughters, in very severe conditions.  Many in her situation do not survive.  But she scores high on what the Jeannette Rankin Foundation calls the grit factor and  struggles to protect and feed not only her family but as many others as possible.

Eventually her sons and daughters marry and they have children.  What do these children do today?  Start with Yannis' daughters, Georgia and Depina.  Georgia is a lawyer married to a geologist.  Despina is an administrative assistant in a company in Thessaloniki.  Anna also has two daughters, Mary and Demetra.  Mary is a chemist.  Last year and this she is living in Brussels on special assignment related to education of Greek children living in Belgium.  Demetra, as noted above, practices medicine along with her surgeon husband, Nicos, in Athens.  Ireni has twin sons - Georgios and Angelos.  Georgios is one of the most respected and published photographers in Greece.  His wife Anatasia [we call her Tessy] is a student of architecture.  Angelos is a full-chaired professor of electrical engineering at Northwestern University in Chicago.  His wife Sally works with children who are hearing-impaired.  Maria Kefalas not only struggled against the odds to raise her four, but she was central to the upbringing of these grandchildren.  She also had a chance to meet several of her great-grandchildren. 

I saw her with them.  She was deeply religious, probably the first to arrive at church and the last to leave.  She was extremely modest.  So I cannot know her thoughts when I saw her look across the park less than six months before her death where everyone was gathered for celebration on August l5, her names' day, but I hope her heart was filled with deep joy and comfort.  There is reason to sing together in this family for the pleasures of another satisfying and peaceful day.

Now it is our responsibility to be sure that the next generation represented by the smiling young Costis in this photo hear the stories of their GREAT YaYa Maria.

Demetri's Matera

Probably as much as I love photographing children, I love photographing the elders of the village.  There are many women in Greece who will have a similar appearance to Demitri's mom, here.  They will be dressed completely in black, sometimes even with a full black scarf over their heads.  The dark color signals their widowhood, or it can also mean the loss of another close family member.  Women of this generation particularly dress in black beginning at the time of their loss and continue to do so throughout their lives.  Men, on the other hand, will wear a black shirt for a much shorter period of time if they lose their wives.  Other men in the family will wear a black armband to alert you to their mourning, which also means they should restrain from song and dance for a certain time period.  I once read a book called Death Practices in Northern Greece that went into detail about appropriate behavior when this happens.  The events and behaviors are a combination of Orthodox beliefs and pre-Christian practices.  It seemed to me that the toll related to lifestyle changes was far, far greater on women.

I once interviewed with the assistance of Pam Kleiber, six men in Greece who had studied or worked outside their own country and had been successful in these endeavors.  It was an attempt to replicate Ed Taylor's study of twelve Americans to see if they indeed experienced a perspective transformation as described by Jack Mezirow.  I remember a part of one of my interviews was the man's description of his dialogue with his widowed mother upon the occasion of his marriage.  He begged her not to come to his wedding in the black dress she always wore.  She responded agreeably to his request and wore a dark navy blue dress.

The heavy dark color of this woman's dress, does not reflect her spirit at this time in her life.  The smile on her face is genuine, and if you stop by to say hello she is likely to kiss you and grasp your hand for a long time.  I'm petted almost every day by these women, who also want to make sure I don't leave them without eating or drinking something.  Their eyes really twinkle, and they shake their head sideways with a sense of pride that you will spend some time with them.  You can even be seated here with her, and her friend from next door or across the street will see you and bring a plate of something more.   If photographs of their late husbands exist, they will bring them to you wanting you to know some of the story of their losses. 

They don't remarry, and they know very well they are needed in their homes and communities. Such women assume huge responsibilities in the households of their extended families caring for children, cooking, cleaning, sewing, and gardening.  Of course, you know where you can find them on Sunday mornings. 

8/26/00

Note from Lynn Heath

Margaret,

I never knew my grandmother to wear anything but black, although she was not

widowed until I was in kindergarten.  (My grandfather, of course, did not

wear black.)  In her generation, pretty much any woman over 18 was wearing

black, since everyone had lost someone--a parent, a sibling, a child.  My

father once gave her a black and white checked dress which seemed pretty

disrespectful, but she wore it sometimes.  (This was by no means guaranteed:

he gave her lots of things that she put away because they were "too good" to

use every day.)

When my oldest sister came to visit from Athens with her 6-year-old

daughter, she was quite impressed by her American Ya Ya, who even wears

shorts! (My mother is not Greek, as you know.)  Mom eased Thalia into the

shorts on the third day of her visit--she knew it would be hard enough for

Thalia to accept her in a dress that wasn't black.  At first Thalia, with

the wisdom of a 6-year-old, asked why my mother wasn't in mourning, hadn't

she lost ANYONE in her family yet?  The reply was that these losses were

held in Mom's heart.

Fair enough.  Thalia had been raised by my American sister, and exposed to

plenty of US culture, and she found this grandmother was really a lot of

fun. After a couple of days, she looked my mother over with an appraising

eye and said, "You know, with a haircut and some make-up, we could do

something with you."  End of culture clash!

Lynn

Nicos' Kipos

It is really easy to develop stereotypes and mythologies about people who live in other countries and cultures.  I think Mediterranean men are easily stereotyped from film and books to be extremely macho, dependent on women for cooking, cleaning and child-rearing.  This man, Nicos Selectis , counteracts such a stereotype.  He is married and the father of three grown children, and I don't know how many grandchildren.  Years ago he, his wife, and children left Greece for Saudi Arabia where there was construction work.  They lived on a compound, where Nicos said they were provided everything they needed for a good life to include Greek schooling for the kids. 

When he returned to Greece, he found this small little piece of land on the Aegean on the edge of Ierissos.  He's built a wonderful, intimate and charming cottage, and developed a very productive vegetable kipos [garden] in the back.  He knows I could live on tomatoes in the summer, so he invited us to come for meze and take huge quantities of tomatoes home. I had one just about every day for breakfast- a juicy, delicious source of Vitamin C. 

Nicos' wife was in Thessaloniki most of the weekdays helping with her grand- children returning by bus to be with Nicos on the weekends.  This means Nicos fends for himself Monday to Friday.  You might expect, if you follow the stereo- type, that Nicos would have served us ouzo and perhaps feta.  He did, but there was much more that he had prepared - stewed tomatoes, a salad - which was initiated by his walk into the garden to get just the right tomatoes, fresh parsley, and green peppers.  He had set the table before we arrived. This was a bit like watching a Julia Child show, except we never actually see her go into the garden.   He also had planned for me to savor another extremely fiery pepper.  Stell insists on trying these and then suffers immediately.  Eating hot peppers is genetic, and in my case the genes were passed from my father.  I can't seem to get this across to Stell.

One day we needed more tomatoes, but Nicos wasn't home.  He has a rather large black dog for protection.  Our friend, Yannis, who has a chicken/turkey/rabbit coop next door decided he and Stell should break in and "steal" a bag of tomatoes.  Yannis would talk to the dog while Stell plucked.  Yannis thought it best if I waited at his place with the turkeys.  Actually I was glad, because I don't have a criminal record, and I didn't want to start a life of crime at this stage of my life.  Later I attempted to get Stell and Yannis arrested by telling Nicos and the local policeman, Makis, what they had done. Nicos, who actually seemed honored folks would steal his vegetables, wouldn't press charges, and Makis thought sharing a chipiro made everything okay.  Litigiousness in Ierissos is unlike anyplace else.  Stell continued to steal tomatoes from gardens around the village and has never been apprehended.

Note from Lynn Heath, August 27, 2000

Margaret,

Of course I have heard all the stereotypes and seen Zorba the Greek, but my

Uncle George (who lived with us when I was a teenager) was a chef by trade.

While my father is still likely to ask my mother to make him a cup of tea

while he is standing in the kitchen and she is in the living room, I

associate all kinds of flavors and memories with Uncle George.  (Actually my

grandmother's cousin).  My mother generously turned over both the kitchen

and the garden to him, and he loved trying to get Mediterranean foods to

grow in the Ohio climate. I guess he was trying to substitute the warmth of

his love for the shorter growing season?

Uncle George was a favorite of all my friends as well.  He would bake 5

dozen cookies and they would all be gone by the time my father got home from

work. (He never married, so five children must have been quite

overwhelming.)  He hid them, we found them, and the game started all over a

few days later.  He particularly loved me (maybe because I was the good

eater?  and I didn't cheat at his beloved Gin Rummy games as my sister did)

and said he would come to cook for me and Paul when we got married.  He died

during my freshman year of college. 

Probably 15 years ago, my aunt gave me some cuttings from an angel wing

begonia that he had.  I treasure it, and my memories of him.

Lynn

A Small, Small World

I didn't know these people until this summer.  We were swimming one afternoon, and Stell said,  "I want you to meet a couple."  I thought he knew them, but I soon discovered he had just met them.  Stell said, "This man has opened an ouzeri" here on the beach wants to offer you a drink."  Well, the man, Yannis, actually had a thermos with some chipiro and ice, Greek munchies, and sandwiches.  What Stell already knew in his short encounter was that his wife's [Febi] mother lives in Tucker, Georgia.  Yes, about forty-five minutes from Watkinsville. Febi hasn't seen her mother for several years. Needless to say, I took this photo and several others with one of their daughters, Elli, and this morning I'm calling Febi's mother with the surprise that I've met her daughter and family, and that I have a few photos to send her way.  Febi and Yannis were from Thessaloniki, but they were taking part of their holiday on our peninsula moving from town to town.  I spotted them the next day on the beach, and took a quarter [not drachma] over to Yannis and asked him if the ouzeri was open?  It was, although I told him I was going to report him to the police for operating a business on the beach without a license.  He thought that was really funny, and as you already know from a few of my other stories, Makis, the policeman would have just expected a chipiro himself just to hear the complaint. 

I guess I should say a little about the practice of holiday in Greece and much of Europe.  Europeans have a much better sense of what it means to rest, relax, take a break, and get away from it all.  They may have many short religious holidays throughout the year, but in addition they usually take about a month [for which they are paid] and return to a family village or island.  Often, these holidays involve extended families, so kids really get to know cousins, aunts and uncles, and other relatives more intimately because they have many days of meals and recreations laced with ongoing conversations.  Economically, this paid holiday is shaking the coffers of several countries, and Stell has predicted that more U.S.-like attitudes about holidays are infiltrating Europe.  Undoing this wonderful system is going to be a bit like taking candy away from a baby, I fear.  What I actually believe is we need some type of balance between their system and ours.  Certainly there are many notable downsides to our workaholism.

Many older Greeks also take trips sponsored by the church.  They go to Paris, Cairo, Constantinople, Brussels, London, Alexandria, almost everywhere it's safe to go in Europe and the Middle East.  Tourism is a huge industry, and during the summers planes are full of the Greek Diasporas from places like the United States, Australia [a huge population of Greeks live in Sydney], South Africa, and Canada.   There are some villages, for example, in the Peloponnese that can feel more American in the summers than Greek.  Well, I'm off to call Febi's Mom!

You Saw Him Here!

Save this picture, because in it is one of Greece's finest young artists, Thanos Kolalas.  He's the young man in the middle seated next to his mother, Rula.  His father, Thodoros is on the right, and a man who thinks he owns this house is on the left in the shades.  I met Thanos with his parents when he was three or four, and even at this age his talent was surfacing.  When he was still very young, he painted for me the topography of our area of Greece on three small shells.  A few years later he painted a series of religious subjects on small panes of glass.  I was awed with the work he did with a range of media - almost always miniatures - be the  substance, paint, clay, or wood.

He was born in Thessaloniki in 1981.   From the age of three he started painting and creating miniatures from clay.  As a high school student he received an art scholarship and attended painting classes in Vafopulio, the intellectual center of Thessaloniki.  He also had classes for one year in which he learned to paint on glass. 

During the summer of 1999, he told me had applied to the most prestigious art school in Thessaloniki, but he warned me not to get to confident about his acceptance, because the competition is fierce and very few are selected.  In my heart, I knew he would be selected.  The year 2000 marks his entry for this study.

So keep his name, because you will hear more of him.  The company Stell works with in Athens, Genesis Securities, has recently employed him to do some illustrations of a children's book.  I'll tell you the full story about this later.

If you look closely at this picture, you will see the sun reflected in the windowpane.  This is the special time of day we call illia vassilima, sunset.  It's probably about 8:30 p.m. in August and if you glance up the driveway, you may see one of the herders in a Don Quixote -type of silhouette taking their animals for shelter at night.  In previous years, the goatherders had a huge corral at the bottom of the hill, where they would take between 200-300 goats for milking.  I think goats should be renamed "feta-makers". 

When our guests left, Stell probably said something romantic to me like, "It's time to start the engine."  This translates, It's time to start the engine for a little electricity and to get the water moving.  If all systems are go, the engine starts, we have "lights" for a short period and the showers flow with hot water.  If this doesn't work, we move about with lanterns and take cold showers.  When you live in an arid country for a number of months, your appreciation of water is heightened enormously.  Some summers when I've been in Greece for a month, I've not seen a drop of rain.  This summer we had two substantial rainy days.  They are natural holidays.  We are moving closer to understanding these celebrations in Georgia.

Strike up the Band

If you are at one of the many festivals in Ierissos or a wedding, you are likely to see these four guys.  They arrive early in the afternoon and often stay and play until early the next morning.  I continue to be struck with the long hours people hang around at an event like this.  Dancing until dawn is common in the nightclubs, too.  The pattern of the day, at least in the summers, takes some adjustment.  Breakfast isn't particularly important, and since lots of folks have stayed out late they may not get moving until after 9 a.m.  Nibbling occurs until around two in the afternoon when people tend to eat their biggest meal followed by a lengthy siesta.

There are laws related to being quiet in villages and cities during the siesta period.

After the sleeping, we like to have a coffee or frappé and do some reading or light chores.  Cocktail hour is around 7 p.m., the volta starts after 9 p.m., with a light dinner around 11 p.m.  Then we are off to hear the orchestra and dance and dance and dance.  It's typical to hear young adults say they "got in" around 4 a.m. from nightclubs called things like "KingSize", "Cool", or "Senso."   There are no age limit restrictions for drinking, so kids aren't "carded" or asked for any identification.   Yet, kids who are drunk just aren't an issue.  They appear to drink more coca cola than alcohol.   If Greek authorities raid a drinking place, it is more likely that the raid concerns employment of illegal immigrants than a problem with alcohol or drugs.

Several years ago, some colleagues new to the University of Georgia both from Italian backgrounds were invited to a wedding of another colleague's child.  They hired babysitters anticipating an Italian-like wedding, which like a Greek wedding would mean a pretty long ceremony followed by food and dancing until two or three in the morning.  They were shocked when the Protestant "beige" ceremony was over in less than 30 minutes followed by a reception that consisted of a piece of cake, mints and peanuts, and a glass of punch.  They kept looking at me saying, "is this it?"  They couldn't believe they had been out for less than two hours and we were calling it an evening with a throw of birdseed at the newlyweds.  If you've been to a Greek or Italian wedding, you know that the idea is to enjoy an endless flow of food and drink and then follow the bride and bridegroom into hours of dancing.  In Greece, in addition to the traditional dances with parents and grandparents, there are other dances particular to genders and relationships. 

Another practice that I like in the village related to "events" is that you may just be walking by and you will discover that it's just fine to drop in and participate in the festivity.  People aren't over-wrought with notions of formal invitations.  And if you have a particular song request, take a few drachmas to the orchestra and tell them what you'd like to hear. 

Priests and Mayors

Ierissos has two large Orthodox churches.  One is still under construction but the bottom floor is in use.  The community is large enough to need two priests.  Church and state are not separated in Greece, and this very much means the church gets money from the government to perform a wide array of services such as marrying and burying folks.  Christenings and blessings of homes and new businesses are also major responsibilities for these priests.  Orthodox priests and monks are impossible to miss in a crowd because of their black caps and gowns, long hair and beards.  Because of the twenty monasteries at the tip of our peninsula we have a steady flow of monks who are brought first by boats to the dock, and then met by family and associates who steal them away in fancy cars.  Priests may marry, and most of them do, and it seems to me that they have more children than the one or two most laypeople have.  I don't know why, and maybe the priests I've met have just been more reproductive than the general population of priests.

Although a funeral is not an event most people want to discuss, they can be very captivating in the smaller villages, because those attending usually follow through the streets the altar boys and priests to the cemetery.   You may see a large quiet crowd moving through the streets behind cherubic boys in white robes holding candles, and then the priest in glorious, brilliant attire.  This is not New Orleans so there are no trumpets blaring When the Saints Go Marching In.  There is only silence.  I won't go into detail on this topic, except to add that I really like the idea, like in the Jewish communities, that people are buried in simple wooden boxes.  Also, there is no funeral home, and they are not embalmed.  I can't say if this is the practice in the cities.  The Orthodox protocol then establishes a series of memorial services for the days, months, and years following a death. 

The people on either side of the priest are the Florini's.  Pangyiotis is the Mayor [Demarcos] of the area.  Until this year, I would have identified him as the mayor of Ierissos, but his kingdom has expanded, and he now has several other communities to manage.  Both he and his wife are schoolteachers as well, so mayoring isn't a full-time job.  They have two beautiful daughters.  One, Stella, is a doctoral student in London in microbiology, and the younger, Demetra, just started law school at a university in Northeast Greece.  There are several political parties in Greece, but the two I hear about the most are PASOK and Neo Democratia.  PASOK are Greece's Democrats, and Neo Democratia are the Republicans.   If you don't know what party someone is supporting, you can usually figure it out by watching which newspapers they read.  When a new party comes into power, there are major personnel shifts in all governmental agencies far beyond the shifts that we see in the U.S.  In the U.S. often the staff will stay in place to maintain some consistency, but in Greece it looks like to me things just start anew every time.

Scott and Stell Say "Hats Off to Aristotoles"

How many books have you read in your life that begin with the words, "The ancient Greeks . . . . "  Certainly a favorite son to this day is Aristotle.  Although there is some debate about his actual birthplace, most agree that it is near this site in Stagira on the Peninsula Mount Athos where Scott Kleiner and Stell are tipping their hats to his impressive statue.  The current controversy over the exact birthplace has caused me to want to start an "Aristotle Sightings" Web site similar to the Elvis sightings we so love in the U.S.  "I'm sure that was Aristotle at the Kapi," or "I've seen him with three different women" during the voltas this week."  He is reported to have been quite a ladies man, so some could be convinced that he's out and about.  

No matter what, his marble likeness is one place from which we have photographs of all our visitors over the past seven or eight years.  This is a site with a dramatic panorama with the red-tiled homes in the village just below.  We discovered a new open-air restaurant just a few steps from the statue designed to offer a grand view of the area.  We could catch a glimpse of Mountain Athos, and Scott who clearly has the best vision in our group said he could see the cell transfer towers just above our home at Stavraqu.

If you are a hiker and gardener, you want to walk around this part of Greece with Scott.  He'll identify herbs [oregano is hearty], flowers, trees, and birds.  The Sumners are equally impressive in their knowledge of flora and fauna.  Malcolm, soil chemist par excellence, explained to vineyards' people during his visit how their crop would improve by adding just a bit of boron to the soil.  The year we returned after he had shed his wisdom on the land, people reported their respect of his guidance and I must say their grapes looked better.  I have transported so much dried oregano home from Greece over the years my suitcases have taken on the zesty scent of this herb.  It's very common to see people wandering the fields in July and August picking the oregano twigs, collecting them into small bundles which they tie with a string and hang upside down near their homes to completely dry.  Almost every house has a huge pot of basil, which people frequently rub their hands across to capture the clinging aroma.  In the book Dinner with Persephone [a gift one year from Heather], the author tells of a young Greek American boy who moved from the U.S. to Greece.  He complained to his parents that after his first day of school the priest had come and switched and sprinkled the children with parsley.  He was not accustomed to the blessings of the basil upon the opening of schools.

If your cup of tea on a holiday is traipsing about ancient ruins, then Greece was made for you.  Personally, I get about as excited in seeing Greek ruins as I do exploring forts in the U.S.  If you've seen one cannon, then you've seen them all.

Five Young Women

Teenage girls in Greece are generally incredibly thin and wouldn't understand the concept of bad hair day.  Just one of them seems to have enough hair for everyone in my family.  All of the girls in the photo are delightful young woman, but the one most special to me is second on the left, Natasa [I imagine her real name is Anastasia].   She's the one I've already told you about who when knee-high to a grasshopper, would leave the volta  and come running into my arms and sit as long as she could in my lap.  She's just sweet and smart on her own, but she also resembles my niece, Kate.  Their features are similar, especially the eyes, so it's a little like Kate grinning at me when Natasha and I are together.  I'm anxious to see if Kate and others who see this photo will see the resemblance, too.  Natasa told me this year that she's a member of one of the Greek dance troupes.

The way you see them here is the way they travel through the evening as they stroll around the village.  I'd guess they have a midnight curfew, since they are all probably sixteen or seventeen.   Stell has probably just asked them how old they are, and they've replied sixteen.  So, he's reminded them that he was sixteen once.  Dream on, Stell, dream on.   I must tell you that they also have their own "swimming time."  They definitely don't want to swim with "old people," so they tend to go around four in the afternoon when the parents are enjoying siesta.  I think this schedule serves everyone's purposes well. 

They all attempted to speak in English when our paths would cross, but Natasha is leaps and bounds ahead.  I'd like to think that I have a little something to do with this, because when she started to have English classes in elementary school, she'd correspond.  She 's bold, not afraid to make errors, and not sensitive about being corrected.  She also has a plan to visit with me someday, so this goads her attempts, too.  I make sure we always have some time for just the two of us to talk.  This year we had pizza together one evening, and I felt like I was speaking to an American with a bit of British accent.  We are actually far enough along in our communication that we can gossip, and it's really neat for me to go back to Stell and say,  "Guess what I found out from Natasa! "

One of the projects Stell and I have talked about initiating in Ierissos is the establishment of a library for the general public, but especially kids like these girls.  It bothers me that there is no library outside of what they must have at school.  A town of 3,000 just ought to have a library.  Stell's opinion is that the cultural affairs people ought to cut down on the multiple one-night events, which he says cost lots of money, and put that money into computer training and a library.  I actually think the town can afford both. 

Stell's Two Asses

You might think the title of this vignette is disrespectful, but actually the idea for this photo came from Stell himself.  True, the title is from me.  He wanted his jeep and donkey in the same picture.  His jeep is even named for the donkey he used n the field as a boy, Paraskeví [trans. Friday - not from Dragnet, but the day the donkey was born.] Stell has gained attention from Greek readers of his annual Christmas letter, because he likes to compare and contrast life in his youth to the present-day.  So his holiday tales often have a message or moral about dramatic social changes that are antecedents to economic and technological changes.  I can't confess to pondering such changes to be as dramatic in my own life, perhaps because the changes seem more gradual in a life spanning 1947-2000 in Ohio and Georgia.  However those I have witnessed in Greece in l4 summers are monumental.

I did see many more animals in the mid-eighties used for transport and work.  This summer on one trip to Thessaloniki, we saw a significantly-bent older Greek woman on the main route pulling her donkey who was weighted down with two large milk cans.  One woman in one summer.  One day on the beach a group of three or four bikini-clad girls, a common sight, established their blanket, umbrella, and towels and slipped into the Aegean.  It was a sad day for me because I didn't have my camera, and shortly after they jumped into the water, an older, wonderfully-wrinkled tiny woman in a dark skirt and blouse with matching heavy scarf came to the water's edge and sat in the sand.  I said to myself, "She must be so hot. She's going to soak her tired feet."  About a second after that thought, she stood and removed her skirt and blouse which covered her old-fashioned bathing "costume" and stepped into the water.  The juxtaposition of this old woman along side the giggling sparsely-covered teenagers was a PERFECT photo, which is recorded only in my head.

Each year the roads are improved, due in part to large contributions from the European Community.  Only a few streets in Ierissos were even paved at my earliest visits.  Old model cars were intriguing and common.  Now they are rare, and if there is one on the highway, a caravan of new Mercedes, BMWs and Volvos will whiz around it.  There are even a few Walmart-like multiproduct warehouse-type enterprises near Thessaloniki and increasingly huge supermarkets there, too.  Of course the little villages retain the bakeries, butcheries, sweet shops, and fish shops.  But for how long?  Can I blame the people for wanting the conveniences of one-stop shopping?  But I do know in my heart-of-hearts that something really important is going to be lost in these communities as these changes unfold, and I don't need the Kettering Foundation to explain the social costs.   It's funny isn't it that Greeks gave us so many ideas about citizens, public life, and community.  How quickly we forget.  Koinonia. 

Tuesday Lykee

When you look at this photo do you hear in the background, "K-Mart Shoppers.  Take Advantage of this Blue-Light Special"?    You won't hear these words, but you will hear a lot of competitive hollering for all the merchandise under the tents along two streets in the village.  These out-door market merchants roll into town late every Monday night or in the early hours of Tuesday morning to set up their booths.  The regular shop owners in the villages aren't keen on this idea, but the law allows these merchants to sell for about five hours on this day only.  It's sheer bedlam.  Once in a while, I like to get in the thick of it, but Stell escapes unless he wants to buy some fresh fruit.  You have to convince yourself before entering into the fray that pushing and shoving and a little bartering is good for your general health. 

If you see something you like here, don't worry about the 2000 dr. [drachma], since this is somewhere close to $7.  Since Greece is an EC country it won't be long until the exchange will be the ECU, already in operation in several of the EC countries.  I actually like having Greek money.  The amounts seem so grand that it makes me think I'm in a giant monopoly game.  "Say, Stell, how about giving me 10,000 dr. this afternoon?"  "I can't afford a carpuzzi [watermelon] it costs 200 dr. a kilo - 80¢/kilo."  I like walking through this area, also, because the smells are strong and delightful - fresh peaches, green peppers, oregano, basil, lemons and limes.  Although, I can't say I enjoy sniffing in the area near the fresh fish.  The cats, however, favor this spot.  Another aspect of shopping I noticed immediately in visits to Greece was the display of erotica.  Colorful beach towels hang on lines displaying sexual contortions our Supreme Court would have no problem determining "they know it when they see it."  This is true of magazines, postcards, calendars, and other paraphernalia at the corner kiosks where people stop for cigarettes, newspapers, gum, and phone cards.   I don't think Greek people would grasp our marketing of girly magazines in brown wrappers.  Greece is definitely an erotic country.   Tabloids are full of pictures of provocative men and women advertising everything from Fords to frappés.

One man, a professional architect, wore a tee-shirt to lunch that pictured pairs of turtles in a variety of "positions."  Risqué language on the clothing of people of all ages and genders is not shunned.   Often the words are "English", so at first I concluded they just hadn't been appropriately translated to the wearer.   Now, I'm quite sure they know the meanings, and the culture just has no problem with the openness.   I have seen no overt displays of disrespect for women or men in everyday life in words or actions or evidence of morally-disturbed children.  Thus, I cannot conclude that the display and publication of nudity or sex acts plays out in harmful ways or has unfortunate repercussions.  One hypothesis is that Puritan practices may indeed backfire in more highly-controlled societies.

Paris' Balcony

Paris' Kefalas is Stell's son, and the photo is taken from his balcony on the main drag of Ieriossos.  His apartment is one of four in the house where his father was born.  His uncle, Yannis, has one, his cousins Georgia [pronounced YourYeeah] and Despina and their families use a third for summer holidays, and a New Democratia Congressman, Vassilly, has his office in the fourth. The houses along the main street are both one and two-stories and are part of the new village built after the earthquake in the 30s.  When Stell lived in the house as a child with his parents and siblings, they lived upstairs and the downstairs was a stable for their farm animals.

Living in Greece for many months has made me realize the importance of the balconies.  Most of the books and plays I'd read situated in the Mediterranean contain episodes that occur from the balconies.  Now I realize that hours and hours of people's lives are lived on balconies in Greece.  Obviously, they are the "cool" places to be.  Many homes like this one have balconies extending around several sides to be able to capture the shade as the position of the sun changes across the day.  Yes, on these balconies love-sick suitors have serenaded young women. 

Homes also typically have multiple apartments, since children and their spouses often take up residence in the same buildings.  As you travel through Greece and you see new places under construction, you will note that lower apartments are completed and upper parts are unfinished construction.  The in-process segments are likely to become the homes of the children when they marry and set up housekeeping.  Imagine continuing to live so near your parents and siblings.  How would that work for you?

Most of the houses have the red tile roofs that are best for protecting the structure from intense heat.  Small trees line the streets, and it is relatively easy to steal a piece of fruit as you walk toward the agora [town center].  Everyone has flowers in windows and yards.  Often people take old olive cans and paint them bright reds and blues and then establish gorgeous flowers of all varieties.  Of course, it is extremely common to see a part of the yard dedicated to growing vegetables, too.  Arbors of grapes and roses decorate many small sitting areas. 

I always travel with "skin-so-soft" at night because in addition to my enjoyment of the "kipaki" [little gardens], bloodthirsty mosquitoes cruise these locales looking for donors.   From the back balcony on this house, you can sit and watch the fishermen neighbors repairing their yellow, green and red nets.   I also hang my laundry to dry on the line off this balcony.  Everyone sees everyone's underwear, and it is still embarrassing to me if something personal slips free and is recovered by the older neighbor.  He just grins and returns the property.  [Makes you want to reread Ferlinghetti's poem, "Underwear".]

Discovering a Writer

The story of the woman on my left is deeply woven into my commitment to adult education.  She's another, "Maria," and the young woman on my right is the oldest of her two daughters, Marianna.  Last summer in the early evening, Stell and I had driven into the village and stopped at the corner café, Olga's, to greet family and friends and start the night.   Maria, whom I'd never met, was seated a couple of tables away with her husband and a number of his peers.  After a short time, she came alone to our table very animated and nervous.  She wanted to tell Stell that she knew who he was.  She remembered him when she was a little girl, and now she had seen him on television in Greece on several occasions.  Almost simultaneously, she was trying to apologize to me that she could not speak English.

Stell, of course, asked her to sit down with us.  She jumped into her fascinating story.  When she was in middle or high school [I can't recall which], her mother died, and she had to drop out to help to care for her family and home.  She had loved school, especially literature and writing.  Now as a married woman herself, she worked outside the home cleaning the school.  When she'd finish her work, she'd sit at a desk and look through the books.  She started composing poetry and short children's stories, somewhat like Aesop's Fables.  She had even gathered her courage to show some of this to an English teacher in the local high school, who thank goodness was encouraging.

Several poems she's written she has memorized, so she shared them with Stell as we sat at Olga's.  He did some quick translations, and both of us were taken with the beauty and wisdom of her messages.  She was overjoyed and wanted to know if we would please, please, please stop by her home the next day for coffee, so she could give Stell some manuscripts for his critique.  Needless to say, the next day we went by.  Her two teenage daughters were mortified, incredibly embarrassed that their mother would give this writing to Stell and "the American woman."  We were honored, and I ached for Maria to have an outlet for her work.

Stell took the writings to Genesis Securities in Athens. They've all been typed and several will be printed and presented as holiday gifts to clients this year.  Maria will be compensated as she should, and Thanasis, the young artist you met earlier in these vignettes has been commissioned to do the illustrations.  We had lunch one afternoon with her, her husband, Michaelis, and the girls.  The girls are no longer mortified, and in fact, seem to be looking at their mother with new eyes. By the way, if you have sampled any of the oregano that I sneak home from Greece every summer, Maria is one of the suppliers!  How I wish she could enroll in a creative writing course at the Georgia Center.  Moral to this story:  Never take our adult education opportunities in this country for granted.

Angelos and St. George

I wanted everyone to see the icon of St. George painted for me by Angelos.  Also, the photo will give you a little chance to peek around his studio.  Since my own art is limited to stick people, I'm fascinated with individuals who demonstrate artistic talents without much if any formal training.   I'm no longer trying to help doctoral students in adult education find researchable topics for their dissertations, but I do think it would be exciting to study a community like Ierissos where there seem to be so many people who are self-taught in art, writing, and music.  Is this a natural occurrence when teachers and schools for formal studies simply are unavailable?  Is there something about living near breathtaking landscapes that evokes these abilities?  Probably, Angelos, being the village waterman, would say "it's in the water."

Angelos doesn't paint for any profits [although he paints many prophets.]  I don't think it is commonly known in Ierissos, where everyone knows him, that he even has a studio and paints and carves.  Another curiosity for me about him doing this work is that he is a very, very social guy.  He loves the company of other people.  You won't find him sitting alone in the village anytime.  If people he's with scatter to return to their homes, and Angelos isn't ready to call it an evening, he simply hops on his motorcycle, scopes out the town, and finds another company to join.  Yet, the painting and the carving are extremely private times for him, and his neighbor, Christos, has said he can be seen seated outside the studio carving into early hours of the morning.  So there is this dramatic balance in his life between a deeply private and highly public person.   Stell and I explained to Angelos that we might give this icon to Paris Kefalas [whose Greek first name is George, thus this is his saint.]   Angelos said absolutely not, because he would be making an icon specifically for George Kefalas when he married.  This icon is to stay with me, Margarita, and I hope protect me from the ugly dragons in life!   

Father Anthony, the Greek priest in this Athens, Georgia, also paints icons.  His iconography can even be viewed on the Web.  [Well, so can Angelos' now that I have this digital picture.]  I have to get back with Father Anthony and find out more about my Greek connections to a name's day.  We are pretty famous in Athens, Georgia for having a Gemini Party.  This would be similar except the way the name's day would work is that all the Margaret's would have their day.  I would need to have a little something sweet to eat and a brandy for all of you when you dropped by my place.  Then you'd make the rounds to the homes of other Margarets you know in the area.   I'm surprised that American-born Margaret Papandreou didn't do more about this during her "reign."

Tomatoes on Wheels

In a certain sense ideas go full circle.  I was just thinking about e-groceries.  Clearly, there are sensible advantages for many types of folks to have their groceries delivered.  When I was a child, a milkman, breadman, diaper service, and dry cleaner all came to our home several times a month.    Eventually my Mom stopped having babies and got her driver’s license, so the need for all these home deliveries lessened.  Today a lot of older people, disabled people, and exceedingly busy people are encouraged by the possibility that more and more services and products can come to their doorsteps.  Can you even imagine doctors making house calls in the future?

The fellow in this picture has a lot of fun, too.  I’ve watched him wheel his tomatoes around the village.  He can take all the time he wants and chat with folks at the businesses or homes. I didn’t ask him to fill out any job satisfaction survey, but I’m confident to say he’d score high if I had.  He gets some great exercise as a tomato pusher, too, because he must walk several miles as he makes his rounds.  One of the features of Europe generally, and certainly Greece are the possibilities to walk more are greater than we seem to do in the U.S. It’s very common to take public transportation in the cities, and then find it necessary to walk several blocks to your destination unless you want to devote much of your life to finding taxis.  In Ierissos in the evenings we park near the agora and walk three or four blocks to the sea, and then we of course wander along the water until we go to meet friends for dinner. 

Night and day, you may encounter people like this guy coming by your table with fruits and vegetables, or gypsy nomads with anything from Kleenex to cigarette lighters.  I almost forgot to say that also there are folks selling lottery tickets, and more recently Albanian immigrants can be seen hustling cigarettes. Part of the bad news of Greece and most of Europe is addiction to smoking, young and old alike.  Don’t expect to find non-smoking sections anywhere except on airplanes.  If you have a real problem, you just have to learn to position yourself away from the smoke.  Fortunately, this is pretty easy to do in the summer outside.  I’ve been told that in the winter, the tavernas and pubs are hazy smoke-filled dens.  Marlboro is enjoying a great profit, and I would guess that emphysema and lung cancer statistics are outrageous.  It is not uncommon for doctors and dentists to smoke as well, so clearly the Greek health care professionals are not much of a role model.  Nonetheless our niece and nephew, Demetra and Nicos, two Athens’ surgeons have both stopped for nearly two years – so there’s hope.  You might be amused to know that one of the popular brands of Greek cigarettes is named Assos.  Sums it up for me.   

Women in Business:  Pitas to MBAs

Pitas are Greek specialties almost staples. People around the U.S. will venture to Greek Festivals in any city to have the spinach, cheese, or “multi-other fillings” “pies”.  The pastry dough, phyllo, is easy to find in frozen food compartments of any major grocery, but in the old days, the incredibly thin layers of dough were rolled out by hand.  The skill it took to make these thin layers is unbelievable, but then working with them after they were rolled out was another superlative bakery act.  Baklava is probably the most sought after pastry made with this dough, and when it’s made the layers drip with butter, honey and walnuts.  Some men admit that a decisive factor in picking their wives was for their pita prowess.  There are several visits that we make where a standard practice is to send us home with a stash of pita.  Stell claims he married me for the crabmeat casserole.  Good thing, because I don’t often have the patience to even work with the frozen phyllo.  My daughter-in-law, Vanessa is a pro, so we do have a family pita-maker within driving distance.

The woman who owns this shop is slicing some bougottza for breakfast.  It goes well with coffee.  You won’t find places for bacon and eggs or waffles.  I think a lot of children do have cereal at home, and they probably chase it with Coca-Cola [another Greek staple].  Now, if you go to the nearby peninsula, Cassandra, you will see restaurants advertising English and German breakfasts.  One of our student visitors several years ago fell in love with Aunt Jemima Pancakes, so I try to remember to take him a box of mix and some maple syrup.  If you don’t stop at a place like this shop for breakfast, you can wander into any bakery and probably watch as your tyropita [triangle-shaped pita] is pulled right out of the hot oven.  

Many women own or manage shops.  The Caravassillis butcher shop is called “Maria’s”, the Corner pub, “Olga’s”, and a beautiful woman called Mitzi has recently opened a new hotel.  You might be surprised with the number of young women who study accounting, management, and marketing.  Stell helped establish a private business school in Thessaloniki several years ago, and I would guess that perhaps half of the enrollees are females.  It is called the International College of Business Studies [ICBS].  A young woman, Maria, who works in the village branch of the National Bank of Greece had a drink with us one afternoon to talk about her career plans to get an MBA.  She realized she had gone as far as she could with her current education, and she wanted to have some leverage for advancing herself professionally.  Every summer we spend time with at least three or four young adults like Maria.  Greek culture assigns a responsibility for those christened with the name “Asterios” –  they are to care for young people.  He’s true to his name.

Greek Net-Works

Demetri is working on one of his fishing nets.  This was the first time I ever saw a spindle like the one he was using to wind the lines.  The lines are then dropped into a huge basket, which is dropped into the sea and hopefully later pulled into the boat full of a huge catch.  Hours and hours are spent by Greek men mending and readying their lines.  Demetri is working alone on this one, but often three or more gather and establish a type of Henry Ford assembly line tending to the various stages of the work. 

Ierissos is one of two villages remaining in Greece where huge wooden fishing boats are constructed.  You can walk along the sea where the “boat warehouses” are located and see them in every stage of development.  Last year I finally took a tour and spent enough time to learn how they “bow” the huge pieces of lumber.  The process involved a slow and steady dripping of water on certain points of the wood that would then create the warp needed for shaping the boat’s design.

Fishing all over the Mediterranean is in big trouble.  The waters have been over-fished, and there are multiple issues related to environmental destruction.   People are emotionally and financially pained by the destruction of this industry, and just like everywhere in the world the concerns span the fishing industry and private fisher people.  [I know from reading the Perfect Storm, and Heather has loaned me The Hungry Ocean that women own and operate fishing boats and fleets, too.]  Too many solid wastes from towns and cities find their way into the sea, and there are reports of chemical, toxic leakage from fields and mines. 

On certain nights, the darkest ones without moonlight, a long row of fishing boats hem the bay on the horizon.  They have powerful lights that attract a small sardine-like fish called gavros.  These little guys are not salty like sardines, however, and are lightly fried in olive oil and brought heaped on platters to your table.  Ted Hammock and I agree these are “as good as it gets.”  He even asked me transport some back to Georgia this summer.  I would if I could, but I think it is better to have a suitcase that wreaks of oregano than the perfume of old fish.  Of course, we frequently have octopus and squid.  Paris and Nic, in their younger years, were not keen on the idea of eating either, and Nic would sarcastically say, “more tentacles, please.”  Frances Mayes writes in her latest book, Bella Tuscany, that eating octopus is like eating warm erasers.  I don’t agree entirely – yes, the texture is strange to the novice, but especially when the “tentacles” are barbecued and soaked in vinegar and oil, octopus for me is a great delicacy, eight times over.