July 2019

More elections: Greece is holding a general election on July the 7^th, as a result of the ruling socialist party (SYRIZA) being trounced by the centre-right party (NEW DEMOCRACY) in the local and European elections last month. I was confused about those elections, and remain confused about this rapidly-approaching contest. I am, however, not alone, as people I have spoken to seem to share my bewilderment in thinking that neither party is worth their vote. And it seems that Greece is not the only country that is tired of a two-party system: there are murmurs of discontent in the UK, the USA, and Australia. Perhaps there is room for new parties to enter the spaces created by impatience with the status quo.

The expats have arrived. Some have houses here, while others return season after season to stay in their favourite hotel or apartment block. I always wonder what produces an attachment to a particular country: why Greece, and not Spain, France or Italy? (Vegetarians tell me it is too hard to live in Spain, which is a very carnivorous country, it seems.) But I bet most expats visiting Greece are thankful they are here and not in France, where a temperature of just on 46C was recorded yesterday, the hottest ever for that part of the world. Here in the Pelops the summer is as usual: 33-35C on most days.

It is this month that sees me waxing eloquent in praise of gardens and the flames of colour all around us. The jacarandas and the bottle brushes are in full bloom, and bougainvilleas will blaze on walls for months yet. Then there are the roses and the humble geranium. But I missed Kalamata’s flower show and sale this year, as I was away, engaged in being chief cook and bottle-washer for my elder grandsons, now aged 13 and 11. The latter seems set to be some sort of chef, as he very early volunteered to make a most elaborate salad, which was dressed with his hand-mixed preparation. And he was the one who accompanied me to the local street market. He did the negotiating, and I paid, and we both fetched up feeling very pleased with ourselves. And I discovered that big brother likes chilli con carne!

My children and I were always dog-lovers. Well, animal lovers: the boys grew up with donkeys and goats; we once had a hedgehog as a pet, and also a tortoise. Then there were the cats. But in more than twenty years we never replaced Ozzie, a stout-hearted mongrel pup who had been given to us by a neighbouring shepherd. We had Ozzie for twelve years, during which time he always remembered my parents when they arrived for their visits, and he actually seemed to prefer the sound of English. We still miss him.

But now Fotis is on my particular scene. Not that he’s mine, but he lives very close by, so that I have the pleasure of a dog without the usual worry and responsibility. As far as I can ascertain he is a pure-bred tricolor beagle. And only months old. He’s still at the stage of chewing and mauling things, so various shreds of old shoe and tatty blanket are strewn around the big enclosed space that is his domain. We have an evening ritual, he and I, as I have discovered he loves drinking running water from the garden hose. But he hates getting his feet wet, so he manoeuvres very delicately while slurping. He fixes me with his melting brown eyes, persuading me to stand and keep the water supply up for as long as he likes. Never mind other chores. I’ve just read (yet another coincidence) that dogs’ eyes have evolved in order to elicit particular responses from humans: something about how their eyebrows work. Well, many of us have experienced that particular gaze when it is walk time.

Much of the activity I engage in these days is of a displacement kind, as I sorely need distraction, otherwise I spend far too much time contemplating the dire state of the world, and worrying about potential disaster. (I have a list of things that could easily happen.) I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: just as you think the state of the world can get no worse, it does. What can one say about the latest tragedy enacted in the Rio Grande, where a young father and his toddler daughter drowned? And what is to be said about conditions generally at the Mexican border, where children are enduring specific suffering, which simply shouldn’t be happening? Then there is the matter of the young woman, captain of a rescue ship, who has been arrested for bringing people to shore in Italy when forbidden to do so. Her charity is proud of her, but she could face ten years in an Italian jail for allegedly trying to sink a police boat. Then there is the matter of Iran; a brave American woman, speaking on the BBC News, roundly stated that President Trump has brought this latest debacle on himself. Only too true, but I don’t see the Donald as being one to accept any sort of responsibility.

With all this and X number of worries besides, it is almost our dutyto be happy, at least in the moment.