It's Still Greek to Me!
August 2019
I am slightly late in writing this month, one reason being that I still, after more years than I care to remember, lock horns, as it were, with my computer, as it occasionally seems to develop a will of its own. For reasons that remain shrouded in mystery the page suddenly shrank, and it has taken me ages to get it back to a size conducive to legibility. I’m not helped by the fact that all labels, instructions, and the like, are in Greek, and I admit to having yawning gaps in areas such as technical and medical vocabulary. Never mind: so far, so good, at least until the next time.
July 2019
More elections: Greece is holding a general election on July the 7th, 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.
June 2019
A busy month, or I made it so, because I became at least mentally involved in two lots of elections, and seemed to be glued to either the Internet or the TV set for the duration of the campaigns. The Australian Federal election was held on May the 19th, and the EU elections on May the 26th. The EU elections were made more complicated in Greece by the fact that local elections were held on the same day. The practical consequence of this was about 37 pieces of paper: and I thought Australian elections, with the system of preferential voting, were complicated! At the village polling booth the process was interminably slow because of the fact that there was only one curtained off space in each room, and because the desk in this space was cunningly designed to let the 37 pieces of paper slide immediately to the floor. I hope I didn’t accidentally vote informal. In any case the result was a disappointment, with the only bright spot being the poor performance of Golden Dawn, the neo-Nazi party. Over all, the conservatives carried the day.
May 2019
Orthodox Easter, a week later than Western Easter this year, has come and gone. On Megali Paraskevi, Great Friday, I wandered off to church in the early afternoon. But it turned out that I had arrived too early: the building was firmly locked. However, as I walked away I noticed signs of activity: a few women were walking up the road, and clearly church-bound, for all were carrying flowers. One was struggling with a huge bag of blooms, and was carrying a large bunch of flowers as well. They were off to decorate the epitaphios, the symbolic bier that is paraded through the streets in the evening. This progress is always a sombre but still celebratory occasion, led by incense-wielding priests and candle-bearing altar boys with the congregation following quietly behind, equipped with candles and small lanterns.
April 2019
I’m late with the Diary this month, but have a good excuse, as I arrived from Melbourne only last Wednesday, having coughed and sneezed my way throughout the 24-hour trip. By the time I got to youngest son Alexander’s place in Athens, I could barely croak. When in the Big Smoke I usually like to dash hither and yon, but not this time: I sat, not-very-demanding book in lap, and tried to gather my strength. Not to mention my voice. Middle son Niko arrived on Saturday and bore me off to Megara, where he and his family live, and yesterday I arrived back in Kalamata. It was good (of course) to see all four grandchildren, who seem to have grown and developed enormously in the time I’ve been away.
March 2019
Here I am, safely ensconced in Melbourne, and half-way through my visit. Needless to say, time seems to be galloping by as I catch up with people and places and keep tenuous touch with people on the other side of the world. It’s always best to note first reactions, and so I did. I wrote this piece for a magazine, but said journal felt it wasn’t right for them: of course they say that to all the girls.
February 2019
As predicted, I am battling pre-travel nerves at present; I am a week off boarding a flight for Melbourne, and am thus plagued by the usual questions: Have I remembered everything? Are my lists complete? Will I ever be ready? But suddenly I am reassured, for in the middle of all the damp winter dreariness a rainbow has appeared. A big beauty, stretching and arching apparently forever. No wonder our ancient ancestors thought such phenomena were a miracle, and ascribed all sorts of powers to them. I am reminded of a line from my favourite hymn, written by George Matheson, a nineteenth century believer in the Christian hope: I trace the rainbow through the rain/And feel the promise is not vain/That morn shall tearless be. Interesting man, Matheson. A Presbyterian minister, product of Glasgow, he went totally blind at 20, whereupon his fiancée broke their engagement. He always claimed that he wrote the hymn in five minutes, and that it was God’s consolation for his double heartbreak. He went on to become a noted theologian, preacher, and writer: Queen Victoria invited him to preach at Balmoral. At the time, this was just about as far as a non-Anglican clergyman could go, at least socially.
January 2019
I’ve written the word/figures 2019 with a sense of mild shock: I always find it hard to switch over into another year, and the experience seems to be occurring more and more often and at shorter intervals. That’s the ageing process for you. I had a moan about said process to a Kalamata doctor very recently. ‘This ageing business is not a lot of fun,’ I grumbled. (He, of course, seems about 25, at least to me, although I know he’s got to be older.) He looked at me with an air of mild reproof, and actually wagged his forefinger while smiling. ‘It’s a blessing sent from God,’ he announced, stopping me in my tracks. (Greek certainty has always been able to do that.) I tried to recover, and said that obviously the alternative to old age was worse. He continued to smile, and I stopped grumbling.
December 2018
A mild winter here so far, although torrential rain and gale-force winds were a problem for farmers in the spring, with worse weather occurring recently in Athens. Down here in the Pelops a great number of olives fell from the trees, and that of course made the harvest worse, although some people have been lucky. Another problem has been an invasive little insect called the dakos: farmers spray against this breed, which is not a good practice, but then farmers err on the side of ruthlessness when it comes to protecting their crops. There is evidence, alas, that the dakosis developing a resistance to the poison that is directed against them.
November 2018
Kalo mina: have a good month. October is over, and it so happens that I have just come across a thought from Denis Norden, a famous British comedy writer. It’s a funny kind of month, October. For the really keen cricket fan, it’s when you discover that your wife left you in May. I suppose Australian cricket fans make this somewhat sobering discovery in April.
October 2018
As threatened or promised, this offering is late. But I am now back in situ after nearly a month spent gallivanting in furrin parts, during which time I was able to put my despair over the state of the world on hold. Alas, now the dreadful consequences of the Indonesian tsunami and earthquake are naturally on every telecast, as is the dire business of the U.S. Senate hearing involving the unlovely Brett Kavanaugh. Just as you think things cannot get worse, they do.
September 2018
It is hard to admit and we often don’t want to admit it, but human life and memory move on, and so the general Greek public has resumed what passes for normality in the wake of the Attica fires. But I am pleased to note that an eminent Australian plastic surgeon came to Greece in order to donate his services, and that an Australian assessment team has also been over. Let us now hope that this dreadful experience has taught those in power some lessons in how to avoid a recurrence. Those who had done their homework, so to speak, reaped a miraculous benefit: a children’s holiday camp in the Mati area was evacuated without mishap. 621 children were taken to safety and reunited with their parents simply because the people in charge were efficient, and had had a drill only a few days before.
Gillian occasionally writes for
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