Despoina's Sheffield : Chasing Squirrels, Getting a Bear Hug and Designing a House for Kubrick.

This is a story of Despoina’s summer trip: her very first trip to Britain, to England, to Sheffield. Certainly, it was raining in Manchester on our arrival but Sheffield not only smiled on us, but offered us a welcome directly opposite our bedroom window! It has to be said she had been suffering from an ear infection and the additional in-flight pressure changes had not helped matters. Here she is with Mum Angeliki in the Chinese restaurant of her choice, but tiredness overcame appetite. We decided to take supper in carry-our form.

While I waited for it to be wrapped I beheld a memorable scene: some of you may be familiar with the Billy Connolly drunk-eating-chips character who is so coordination-challenged in his inebriate state that he well nigh loses his balance by simply picking a chip from his newspaper container.  (A brief linguistic hiatus: there is an ‘ebriate’ state as well which means the same thing, so the in- prefix is no negative marker here but echoes the ‘in his cups’ sense.) Anyway, as our gent was wobbling over his fish supper, a loud noise was heard nearby. He wheeled round with unexpected force to identify what the source was and, as he did, a veritable arc of Sheffield-fries formed in the air, a pensile potato parabola.   What a story – it even managed to raise a giggle in our tired heroine!

 

           

Next day, she was another person, completely recovered. Every little girl has her dreams. A white roller draped with a pink ribbon – isn’t that part of the princess persona? The bride may have opted for a civil rather than a church ceremony but this was not going to be a half-hearted event!

With her smart-phone in hand, Despoina joins some cheeky chipmunks promoting hi-tech gadgets.

    

 

And she has more furry friends to meet in the Botanical Gardens : chasing tame squirrels, getting a big bear-hug ( he was metal so not so furry) and Despoina sent me this picture of the-face-in-the-tree which I think she’d like me to add here .

                       

 

 Definitely furry, but not so friendly is Kubrick – Jen, my nieces’, very own Garfield look-alike. To improve his mood Despoina designed a house – complete with chimney and welcome mat – for him! Cute, huh?

                              

 

         

 

     

 The local restaurants were child-friendly and our young consumer became quite the reviewer in assessing the range of menu, quality of food and interest rating of the games and puzzles also provided.

 Jen’s friends, Anna and Kate have set up the most amazing Olde Worlde Sweetie Shoppe – check out the glorious pics at :  www.cocoawonderland. co.uk  - where you can get all sorts of wonderland goodies – D gave them full marks for their chocolate brownies! Here she is with her Mum sitting outside their shop - in glorious Sheffield sunshine.

 

                                                          

  

 Of course, Jen was there as were other members of our family, seen here at one of our more sedate meetings, enjoying delicious Italian cuisine.   

   

               

    

 

The previous night we had descended on the Anchorage Bar which was offering specials on steaks and hamburgers – so we just had to sample the fare. There were nine of us and our family is not renowned for silent, seemly behavior at table. When I suggested that the waitress might like to put us at a more remote table for everyone’s sake, she smiled indulgently, saying not to worry, that we would have great competition from the younger (!!) diners.  We were delighted when our waiter and waitress began to speak Greek to us – they had worked in Cyprus for some time! As we left, she came up rather sheepishly to announce I was right – we were the sound champions, having raised the decibels to an entire other level that night – yay!!

Sadly, the time for departure arrived. On the road to the station, D. admired Phlegm’s graffiti figure reclining on the wall.

         

                            

 And she insisted we echo a picture similar to the one I took on my first trip.






Here she is: smitten with Sheffield!

                                                                                  

The Greek Reality

In my last two posts I talked about the reality of our daily life in Greece during the current crisis.

 Yet the term ‘Greek reality’ is one I do not particularly like to hear. 

Years ago, when I was a course tutor on a Cambridge DTEFLA teacher training course, one course participant decided it was time to put me straight on what that was. According to her, this reality meant   Greeks never meet deadlines, don’t take things too seriously (presumably as course tutor I was doing just that!), do not like being told what to do. My response to her was if she wanted internationally acknowledged certification then she had to set her sights higher.

Another course participant submitted all her assignments on time, consistently gave of her very best and was adored by her students.   It came as no surprise, then, to learn that one did not make the grade, while the other gained distinctions in both the theoretical and the practical components.

Sometimes, say, when I’ve voiced disapproval of the pushing and shoving that is getting on a local bus, I’ve been told ‘ This is Greece!’ – subtext: ‘like it or not !’ Now I know there are sensitivities attached to a foreigner criticizing something of one’s own country – I get that; but not the fact that one expresses the phrase almost with pride when the situation is a third world one. 

 A friend recently used that term to me when I’d made what I thought was a reasonable observation about a situation she thought was hopeless, while I disagreed.

 And this ‘Greek reality’ phrase raises my hackles for a variety of reasons: 

·         Firstly it’s condescending; the implication being: I know, you don’t!

·         It usually debases whatever aspect of Greek life is being discussed as being the overall given state and with no alternative: yes, it’s deplorable but that’s the way it is – immutable.

·         It implies you’re ‘stoopid’ since you’re unaware of the environment in which you live, and, worse still, you’re naïve enough to think things can improve.

Let me give you a glimpse of what Greek reality is for me: 

 As a teacher I have had the privilege of working with some of the finest minds: 

·         A fifth form student preparing for admission to Ivy League US universities gained in her English SATs (¾ of the overall sum) scores which surpassed the total score of the then US president in all four of his subjects.

·         Meeting a young man in the street some years after he’d been a little chubby 1^st grader in my Elementary class, we chatted about his future plans. He wanted to study Nuclear Physics and, since I knew he held the University of Cambridge Proficiency in English, I assumed he’d be heading for an American University. His response – that he was also considering studying in Moscow since he was equally proficient in the Russian language – blew me away. Humbling! 

These were just two of the many students who had defined their goals and had given all of their considerable talents to reaching them. These young people represent Greece and Greeks more than those featured in the Go Greek For A Week program on recipients of early pensions and fat bonuses. 

So, my friend, you can keep your Greek reality where you’ve given up almost completely on things here and the possibility of improvement. I’m certainly going to hang on to mine.  Yes, things could be run more fairly and efficiently. Yes, the politicians have short-changed the electorate for many years. People who believed they would benefit from political patronage and continued to vote for those who were operating within a corrupt, bureaucratically bloated system. But gradually the old regime is being pensioned off while new blood and new perspectives take its place.

Since I first came here as a tourist, I have always felt a huge affinity with the Greek people, their language, their culture. For them the family unit and family life is the very cornerstone of society’s fabric.

                            

                      

They uphold and continue to follow the cultural traditions of each region; they honour their unique history, as do others throughout the world. Below you see my beloved karyatides, the noble ladies supporting the roof of the Erechtheion temple on the Acropolis.

     

        

The Greek understands the imperfection that is man and accepts that as part of his nature. There is a generosity of spirit that embraces humanness and forgives its frailty.

 You may not fancy eating sheep’s head but you cannot fault the generosity and hospitality of the host!

And when the wine has been quaffed and the music mingles with it in the blood, that’s when the soul of the Greek overflows and needs to express its joy or sorrow, its chara or kaimos.                         

And he will never be alone in doing that.

                                

 So, all in all, I think somehow we can cope with capital controls, we can eke out the additional taxes, but only if they contribute to something specific: to abolishing the current system and constructing the new, more just and efficient system the Greeks richly deserve. 

 One’s reality is not composed only of one’s perception, it also embodies one’s dreams.

....And The Tragedy Continues.....

Dear God, how long can this go on for? 

This morning around 3.30 am I lost my handbag, purse, credit cards, ID, the lot, and could not find my way home. It’s my classic recurring anxiety dream when I have the sense of not being in control of things – need I say more?

And the answers to my questions in my previous post: no, the banks did not open on Monday, and, yes, capital controls were set in place – and so we continue.

As I said, Tsipras drew out of negotiations and called a referendum to avoid the cracks in his own party becoming more pronounced.  That and the resulting No vote did not go down well in Europe. It was a real strategic error at the negotiating table and elsewhere: we lost their patience and comprehension, our credibility as well as valuable time.

We assumed things were improving when he was asked to put the most recently proposed measures to parliamentary vote. Ironically opposition members voted for them, acting in the national interest, while it was his own Syriza members who voted against, abstained or absented themselves – as was the case with the demoted Varoufakis. Notwithstanding, he returned to Brussels with a majority vote in favour of the measures and we assumed things would go more smoothly. Hope once again began to glimmer, only to be dashed by Germany and Finland blocking the procedure.  

I must admit Tsipras had the brio, balls, cojones – call it/them what you will – to take the stand he did, but we are all paying dearly for that now. He is decidedly between a rock and a hard place: a European blockade and mutinous colleagues. 

Cracks show up elsewhere: containers lie unclaimed at ports and terminals – no one has the money to claim them. On the bus I overheard a conversation between a lady in logistics who had a fruit-producing client desperate to get his produce to the international market. No refrigerated lorries were moving, so they were feverishly exploring other transportation options before the produce spoiled – especially in the current heat. As people panic stock, some stores report shortages of flour, sugar and paper goods – few people claim to be suffering from constipation right now!!   

 It’s amazing how you adapt. Your fears have been realized and you feel real frustration at being denied access to your own money. You lose the sense of ignominy at queuing up, eventually feeling almost grateful that you got some money out for inevitably the ATMs begin to dry out.  

  A little friend has suggested that his family build a tree-house in the forest to avoid paying rent! Of late, the local radio station plays nice, lively island dance-music to keep our spirits up. I’ve noticed a little owl taking up a perch on a nearby house in the cool of the morning and the early evening. I look out for him anxiously for he symbolises my hope that wisdom may prevail.  We all have our coping strategies. My garden has never looked better: I deracinate the couch grass as if I were wrestling with Herr Scheuble himself.  

Tomorrow I leave for Sheffield, not knowing whether, on my return, we will still be in Europe.

We had some other bad news: Margaret and Bill, friends from Aberdeen University, whom we met up with in Crieff last September, were due to come out to visit us here. Unfortunately they had to cancel the trip due to poor health.

 Fortunately, all is well on that front now and we are hoping they may come to see us in the autumn. Still, you know how it is – when visitors come there are things you look forward to showing them – especially since this was to be their first trip to Greece.

 So, guys, here are some moments we wanted to share with you: 

 

                                          

Our magnolia blooms with their intoxicating, citreous-vanilla aroma and the acacia tree’s powder-puff blooms.

                                    

 

Our local courgette festival where we sampled their wares, enjoyed watching the Cretan dancers in their finery - and you’d have loved the Thracian bag-piper – he’d been to Glasgow and played our pipes too!

  

                                                                    

What we are glad you missed was the stormy weather and torrential rain which rendered our tomato plants and strawberry patch heavily under water.                                                         

 

                                             

I was pleased with part of the garden I had redesigned. This is NOT the effect I had been aiming for:

   

                                      

                                       As I said, these are turbulent times.