The way we are: Elections revisited

I always vote because it's a duty, the only responsibility I've been given to choose how to run the country. Those who don't vote and then complain about the way their country is governed have no right to voice their opinion.

In the first round of this year's elections, I voted for the Greens. All other times I have voted in general elections, it's always been for KKE, as my way of saying "I want a coalition government"; KKE always secured seats in Parliament, but only once (before my time in Greece) did it help to secure a coalition, albeit a short-lived one. I never vote for 'big' parties (ie the governing one and their main opposition) because even in my early years in Greece, I felt suspicious of them. Now everyone admits that they only ever worked for their own limited interests rather than for the common good. Even if their leaders are really saying the truth now, it's obvious the party is over for them - Greeks are sick of the old boy's school club, and the whole of Europe knows this now.

This time, I also let go of KKE for the same reasons that I don't vote big parties. Apart from having tired of the outdated sickle symbol, in the same way that I'm tired of seeing the same faces in politics over the last 20 years who helped destroy Greece, I'm now also tired of uncooperative pretend-do-gooders: KKE knows it will never govern the country on its own majority, but it doesn't want to work with another party to do this, either. Hence: Ουστ!

The Greens didn't muster enough people's votes to secure a voice in Parliament, but I don't feel that I didn't come out a winner; the effect of voting for a small party in the previous elections did something that no other election did in the past: it smashed the system. Not only was there no clear majority, but the two main parties in Greek politics for the last 40 years were now two of the main three parties - SIRIZA took second place in the polls, sandwiched between ND (with a similar overall percentage of votes) and PASOK (who got the raw end of the stick). Even combined, these three parties didn't even get half the vote!!! Other winners included spin-offs whose leaders are former members of the other parties (ie I would never vote for them, either), as well as the Greek version of the Nazi party (who will probably get fewer votes next time round because they do not give a good image in the media).

I don't know what to make of SIRIZA, a fresh new party with a young leader. "Alexis Tsipras, head of SYRIZA, said ... the radical left coalition wanted to put an end to austerity, keep Greece in the eurozone and strike new alliances to overcome the crisis." It all sounds good in theory, but SIRIZA didn't cooperate with anyone who was given the chance to form a new government which led to the new elections. When SIRIZA was handed the reins to form a government, they did manage to get some support from one other party, but it wasn't enough to secure the seats needed. SIRIZA is probably counting on their new-found popularity: ‎"Tsipras argued that the existing political system had been taken by surprise following the recent May 6 elections and was now fighting back." They're suffering from the same megalomania that the other parties have/had, wanting to win with a majority on their own, presumably so that they don't have to cooperate with anyone else when they make their decisions (in the same way that the other parties governed Greece in the past). 


SIRIZA is a whole new kettle of fish. It's still all Greek to most foreigners, who are trying to work out the New Greek Order since the last elections. But it looks as though SIRIZA is going to be a very Greek thing after all. Alexis Tsipras is only 37 years old, a home-grown kind of kid with a fresh face, who's been in politics all his life. But his English stinks: wasn't I arguing a couple of days ago that all Greek children learn English at private language schools? (I wonder what he was doing when he was a little boy.) When Tsipras speaks English, he reminds me of an awkward backwardness, a kind of village bumpkin character that I thought the Greek identity had surpassed.

Listen to Alexis Tsipras speaking with CNN's Christiane Amanpour - she had to simplify her own linguistic style in order to have an interlligible conversation with him.

Tsipras' rudimentary English skills (I'd class him as close to the B2 target, but not quite there), make him a truly home-grown potential leader. For years, Greece had been ruled by people who had grown up or been born in another country, or had studied for so many years abroad, that their thinking patterns resembled the Anglo-Saxons. Papandreou was called an American, Simitis was called a German, Samaras was educated in the US (where he attended university with Papandreou); no one can make such a statement of Tsipras.

Tsipras would do better to speak Greek instead of English to the foreign press, and hire an interpreter, just like his bigger-and-better European colleagues. Merkel is only heard speaking German, while Hollande is only heard speaking French. When Tsipras speaks, it should be in Greek. That's something that was missing from our previous leaders - they were all rich, foreign-born or foreign-educated and had powerful relatives, unlike this new man, a grass-roots Greek at all levels. 

We had our fun in the last election. Now, we have to play the game more seriously. A leader (from amongst many bad ones), preferably among a coalition, must be elected this time round. We can't afford a third chance to decide this, in the same way that we (and the whole of Europe, for we are in this together) can't afford the drachma. I'm keeping track of all the opinions that are swaying my vote on an everyday basis as a way to help me decide who I vote for on June the 17th, 2012 (which I'll start sharing with you soon).   

One thing I'm sure of is that I am so glad I'm living in Greece at this time of my life, to be witness to the destruction of that hated Greek elitist system which got the most stupid people into positions of power, while the most useful among them were relegated to the dark silent background. I'm glad to be in the thick of something new, in the same way that people remember the rise of Papandreou and PASOK in 1981. This novelty is not limited to Greece; it's pan-European, with a global outlook. And I am also very lucky that my children are at just the right age to not have to worry about how their country is being governed at the moment. By the time they leave school and finish with compulsory military duty (if it still exists then), things will undoubtedly be better, no matter who is leading us. 


©All Rights Reserved/Organically cooked. No part of this blog may be reproduced and/or copied by any means without prior consent from Maria Verivaki.

Taste Greek: TasteGreece.co.nz

Taste Greek: documenting online Greek food suppliers.

TasteGreece.co.nz



The only olives I eat are from Crete. This is not just due to a personal bias; Crete is one of the most important olive growing areas in the world. Therefore, it's only natural that some of the best olives will be grown here.

Cretans happen to be very traditional in their food beliefs. So the idea of filled or marinated olives isn't a popular one among the main producers and olive processors. Even though you will find these products being sold in many Cretan supermarkets, you won't find them in the bulk displays of the the traditional food suppliers of the town markets.

Flavoured olives are a refined taste. They are the kind of luxury morsel that you want to have to accompany a good beer or wine. Such flavours are meant to be enjoyed alone, rather than mixed in with too many other foods, where their taste cannot be appreciated.

A lot of new flavours in Greek food have come on the market, combining the aromas and scents that people often associate with Greek food. Taste Greece sells green olives stuffed with tzatziki and preserved in sunflower oil for a lighter taste - a 100% natural product with no added preservatives. Enjoy!

Press Release:
Tastegreece Food Trading Limited is a new family business, run by the Montes families that have recently moved from Greece to New Zealand. Having a strong background in the media and marketing sector, they decided to research all Greece and find the best products that could be offered to the New Zealand market, always considering the best quality/cost relationship. Their Greek olive oils are the ones they would consume in their households and naturally, they consume a lot!

For more information about Taste Greece products please visit www.tastegreece.co.nz. Check them out on facebook too.

NB: Although I am unlikely to buy from them, I often browse online Greek food suppliers for items unknown to me. If I like what I see, and I've dealt personally with the people behind the e-shop, I write a review. I don't personally gain or profit from writing such reviews, so everything expressed in this post is my opinion alone. If you are a Greek food supplier, and would like your online site reviewed, feel free to contact me: mverivaki at hotmail dot com.

©All Rights Reserved/Organically cooked. No part of this blog may be reproduced and/or copied by any means without prior consent from Maria Verivaki.

English examinations (Εξετάσεις Αγγλικών)

I spent last weekend examining Cretan students' spoken English. The food-related picture cards below were used in past EFL/ESL examinations (this examination format is no longer used in Greece). Bear in mind that examination candidates in Crete (and most of Greece, I'd say) that take EFL exams are predominantly school-age, with a small percentage of tertiary students.

While still in primary school, and in the years leading up to the final high school class, Greek children sit examinations to measure their English language skills. Some of these examinations are internal (ie the examinations are written by Greeks and the examination session is organised by a Greek body), but most are external, held by international examinations syndicates like Michigan University, Cambridge University and Pearson's (which recently replaced Edexcel in Greece). Twice a year, I travel to another part of Crete to conduct English language oral examinations for an external English examination company. I call it a company because a lot of money is spent by parents for their chidlren to sit these exams, and few parents do not send their children at some point to do these exams. This year, enrolments for these examinations were down by a staggering 20-25%, all due to the crisis of course: not only are fewer children attending the preparatory lessons (at the frontistirio) before they sit these exams, but they are not sitting the examinations either because they are very expensive - each exam costs the parents on average €150. Pass marks (ie scores greater than 60%) are not always guaranteed, but some examinations are notoriously 'easier' than others, hence they are more popular, keeping both parties happy: the parents will be pleased they got something for their money (although such certificates are quite meaningless in practice), while the examination company is keeping their customers happy.

Intermediate level students, under the general theme of travelling:

Cretan students can relate to this kind of photo because there are a few Asian restaurants in tourist areas on the island. What I found was that they couldn't relate it to the idea of young people travelling for experiences; they thought this would make an interesting meal out for a one-off experience in their own town.

Examinations take place over the weekend. The body that organises them always provides food and overnight accommodation to the visiting teachers. For a weekend's worth of work away from home, we are paid very well, with all due taxes deducted, and without delay. It used to surprise me to hear the complaints of some of my colleagues about their perks we were provided during this period: for example, when the inner-city luxury hotel where the examinations used to be conducted in was changed to the dingy suburban school premises of an out-of-town state school, when the a-la-carte menu we were served lunch from was replaced by a buffet from a catering company, when the coffees were limited to a certain number per day instead of the freely available room service by phone call. The most moaning and groaning was heard when the hotel was changed: for some of those teachers, it seemed that the move from a luxury hotel with silver-service breakfast taken by the pool, to a cheaper hotel with smaller rooms and only a basic continental breakfast, was a very difficult one.

The poshest place I've ever stayed at is Galaxy Hotel in Iraklio where EFL exams used to be held.

  
The high-quality accommodation standards that the English teachers had gotten used to in the past were due to the fact that the profession had a lot of money entering it. As I mentioned, we were paid very well for a weekend's work: I recall making €420 (net) at one time, which used to be half the average monthly salary of a Greek private-sector worker. For this, I sat at a desk for 10-12 hours each day for two days, getting up only to open and close the door to let the next student in and to have lunch. Each day, 70-80 students would be interviewed by each pair of interviewers: one would examine, while the other would assess (this year with fewer enrolments, we interviewed about 60 students per day).

Intermediate level students, under the general theme of travelling:

more of the same as above. Cretan children do not have such a well-developed concept of independent travelling as a young person.

Lowering living standards is a hard concept for people to grasp when they were used to a very materialistic throw-away lifestyle, even when it was provided to them for free. But I am happy to say that I don't hear these complaints any more. The frequent complainers have recently been dealt with quite swiftly. For the last two years, I've noticed that this side of the profession has been filtered out with a fine-tooth comb: these people were the first to go as the crisis hit the sector. It's sad to say this, but the truth is that this particular group of teachers wasn't always the most professional. Some would treat the working weekend as a holiday. Stories abounded of the empty mini-bars in the hotel room and the room service orders. A few of them would even invite their friends along for the weekend, so that they could go out in the evenings, despite an early-morning start the next day (we have to be up by 7am to wash, dress and have breakfast before we start work at 8.30am). Some of them would not even bother to show up to the exams, cancelling at the last moment. Who turns down such money, whether during a crisis period or not? Especially when you have been specifically selected to do the honours? Keep in mind an important point about the identity of these teachers: they were mainly foreign-born Greek women (ie native speakers of English). Teaching English as a Foreign Language (EFL) is definitely woman's territory in Greece.

It has always been too easy to become an authorised EFL teacher in Greece: you sit a European-certified C2-level examination for English language proficiency, and if you pass, you can apply to become a non-state-school EFL teacher, although most teachers often have more than just this qualification nowadays, because of the competition and the fact that most university graduates are unemployed, so they get involved in private teaching of some sort. I have often worked with women who have simply finished high school and gained one of these certificates - really good students of English can achieve this level before they leave high school. These teachers have no idea about teaching methodology, they have very little knowledge of theoretical English grammar, and they have never created their own teaching materials. This isn't necessarily a criticism: ust because they aren't always highly educated doesn't necessarily mean that they don't make good teachers at the end of the day. Their experience as both learners and teachers helps them to teach in a manner suitably directed towards passing an examination. I've also found that most of the time, students pass exams regardless of who the teacher is (in other words, the students took in whatever the teacher had to offer).

Intermediate level students, under the general theme of employment:

this picture was easier to handle than the previous ones, as it is a universally understood topic.

The profession is full of people who don't really have advanced knowledge, even though most of the teaching is very bookish. On this point, frontistirio owners are bombarded by publishing companies (both national and international) selling expensive course books, and some even make deals with them to use specific book series for a number of years - that used to provide perks for the frontistirio (eg advertising stationery with company logos) and sure book sales for the publishing company. English-language frontistiria were often run in the past by people whose qualifications level is quite basic, sometimes lower than the teachers they hire (while some operations are a one-person show); this has changed over the last few years, again due to more competition - frontistirio owners in Crete tend to have ESL qualifications.   

English language teachers have helped immensely to boost the family income. In rural areas where there are few positions of employment available, an English teacher could make a respectable income away from the local food processing plant or fieldwork, supplementing her household income quite handsomely, without too much initial outlay in setting themselves up as such. In a country with high unemployment, teaching English is perfect work 'on the side'. Private one-to-one tuition is rarely taxed (before the crisis, lessons cost anything from €10-20 an hour). Some unscrupulous frontistirio owners don't declare their employees (or even businesses, if they are running them from their own home) to the tax office (and this is continuing, as far as I know). In this case, it's the employee teacher that you have to keep in mind. She's often paid a low rate per hour, she may be uninsured, and when the business closes down for the summer holidays (like state schools do), she has to register at the unemployment office - which she can only do if she was being paid legally: the frontistirio owner would have to be declaring her employment, paying taxes and, most importantly, paying her national health insurance contributions.

Intermediate level students, under the general theme of employment:

another easy topic for our students.

This is what gave English language teaching its weird side in Greece: a lot of those schools and their teachers relied on image projection (pretty teachers and high pass rates) rather than highly qualified appropriate teaching staff. Word of mouth was the main form of advertising; but because frontistiria are as common as zaharoplasteia, souvlatzidika and corner shops (or at least they were before the crisis, while paying a small amount in salaries to some employees who are in a dead-end job), and they are run in a similar way (a little family business providing employment for most members), people often prefer to send their children for ease of access to the closest one in the neighbourhood. When a visiting professor from the UK came to Greece to conduct a seminar for English language teachers, he made an interesting remark at the beginning of his report: when he entered the lecture room, he wondered if he had been sent to a hairdresser's conference by accident, so saturated was the profession with image-conscious women that it was difficult to see its more serious side.

In the good old days when EU loans were pouring into the pockets of Greek state employees, this sudden wealth created the need for services that they could pay for with their new money, which in turn created a host of new businesses (which make up the Martyr's Party, as labelled by Petros Markaris), including frontistiria. But they had been around well before Greece's entry into the EU; however, they were not accessible to everyone. My husband, for example, used to work on construction sites in the summer and the money he earned from there would pay for his English lessons during the winter. In the 70s, there was much less money in the pockets of the average Greek than there was in the 80s, carrying on through to the first decade of the new millenium.

Advanced level students, under the general theme of pollution:

this topic was way off the scale for our students - and our teachers, as I subsequently found out when the topic was discussed over lunch. The idea of carbon footprints and food miles is only recently getting attention in Greece, but not in the form that it takes in the UK (where these exams and picture cards originate).

Such micro-businesses as the frontistirio have been hit hardest in the Greek economy. Civil servants have had their salaries reduced (in theory), but they still get paid something every month, while all those little support services in the form of private businesses that sprouted up around them have mostly gone completely bust. The economy's decline will have a number of repercussions in the frontistirio business, but moving away from the many hours Greek children spend in a frontistirio is actually a positive step in many ways. It may seem as though children won't have the opportunity to become as educated as they were before, but that's looking at the issue in a one-sided way. Most importantly, fewer hours spent in a frontistirio will assist children in their creative development. Frontistirio lessons take place in conservative environments and they take up most of the free hours of a child's afternoon and/or evening. All of the downsides of a move away from frontistiria are counter-balanced by the new technology available to us, which will continue to be available even with a return to the drachma.

The way Greek politics is going paves the way for a new form of frontistirio too. The old system has been crushed or severely bruised, and it needs to be replaced imminently with new ideas. There is no real need to go to a frontistirio these days to learn English (my own opinion - I know there will be a public outcry on this one) because we live in the internet age, and these days, it's unlikely that young Greeks will not have any grasp of basic English skills (check out a potential Prime Minister candidate's skills here! - he clearly didn't like going to frontistirio when he was young). But there is still a need for the frontistirio and its teachers:

• private language teachers will still be needed, but on a more individualised basis - their salaries won't actually be reduced (but they will need to work harder to keep their customers and build up a clientèle)
• private language schools won't need to close down - like publishing houses, they will diversify: many (but not all) are already using interactive whiteboards (or laptops connected to an overhead projector)
• the publishing companies that brought out the course books can now diversify their products and sell online programmes instead of paper material
• children's after-school hours won't be clogged with more sedentary activities, which is what is happening now in Greece (unless they have no one limiting their time on the computer) - Greek children are already regarded as some of the most obese in Greece (and it's mainly due to the many hours they are involved with school work, including frontistiria)
• instead of children relying on being taught English by someone, with internet-based online lessons, the onus will be on them to learn what they need to learn, and at their own pace
• the days of teaching EFL should be regarded as over and done with! It's ESL (English as a second language) that should be taught now!!! 

Before the crisis, Greek parents were forking out thousands of euro per year for their children to learn English. I'm glad my children are caught up in the period of change in Greece, when this kind of spending has clearly lost its significance. It may seem as though children won't have the opportunity to become as educated as they were before, but that's looking at the issue in a one-sided way. Individualised learning programmes require some knowledge of the specific needs that will be included in a tailored learning programme, which is a novel way to approach learning in Greece, since it is still very bookish. But all that is about to change in the coming year (September 2012):  the organisation which used to produce Greek school books has been closed down, because the Ministry of Education (MoE) has decided to produce more online material. Frontistiria can't continue to require that their students spend hundreds of euro (or drachma) a year to buy course books when the MoE will be providing theirs free - for the frontistiria, it will be a case of monkey see, monkey do. It will mean a lot of work in the transition stages, but you don't get something for nothing these days.

Advanced level students, under the general theme of cultural diversity:

students still needed prodding to get them to talk about the actual topic that this picture covered. Most students discussed their interests in the food and music of other cultures, rather than race relations (it was much easier for them to 'see' the topic in the non-food photo below). Bear in mind that students are given only one photo: it depends on their luck as to which one they get.

Since we live in a highly connected world, the frontistiria owners and their teachers are not the only ones who will suffer economically. Remember those examination syndicates offering tests to prove your English language skills and proficiency levels? They're all based in the UK or the US. And Greece - believe it or not - was one of their biggest customers: in other countries, teachers aren't even employed to conduct the oral examinations (they are all taped and sent to the UK, which is where they are assessed, but this isn't possible in Greece where hundreds of thousands of students sit exams all in one weekend). Leading people to believe that they need a commodity is something of an art in the maintenance of the global economy. Somewhere the bubble has loosened and air is being released. The balloon won't burst, but it's already shrunk considerably, and there isn't much air in it now.

©All Rights Reserved/Organically cooked. No part of this blog may be reproduced and/or copied by any means without prior consent from Maria Verivaki. 

The way we were: the 70s (Η δεκαετία του 70)

You never know who you will meet on the internet these days because the internet is so all-encompassing. Remember my review of Sun, Seasons and Souvlaki: A Glimpse of Modern Greece (Athens: Hadjinikoli, 1974)? Betty Blair, the author of that book came across my blog post and gave me more information about how she conceived the idea for it:

"Back in the 1970s, it was very hard to find any books about contemporary Greece. So many books were available in English related to "the glory that was" - telling about the "Golden Age" of Pericles and period when the Acropolis was built- 2000 years earlier. But my idea was to encourage foreigners to look around and appreciate the Greece of contemporary life. And that's where I got the idea to create the book about modern Greece. As expressed in the title - it was a "glimpse," it was not intended to be a deep analysis. It was written to encourage tourists and foreigners to be open and curious and dig further to learn and love the country themselves... Also, it was written under the influence of one of Greece's most distinguished political scientists Dr. Pantazis Terlexis. The book was quite successful and went through three reprints between 1974 and 1976. I left the country in 1977 (after living in Athens six years)."

I was thrilled to be in touch with Betty, who had direct experiences of Greece in turmoil in the recent past. She was also in Greece in the same year that I visited the country for the first time. Betty and I were simply at a different point in our lives: I was an eight-year-old child holidaying in Greece with her parents, while Betty was a university graduate on a long-term working holiday. Sun, Seasons and Souvlaki was Betty's first book. Her second book was also about Greece, entitled Color it Greek, essentially a children's coloring book for in four languages - Greek, English, French and German, again, with an emphasis on contemporary Greek life. Since then, she has edited Azerbaijan International magazine http://AZER.com and been involved in publishing another eight books on other topics.

After initial email contact with Betty, I was dying to ask her some questions about the Greece she remembered nearly four decades ago: what brought her here? what kept her here for so long? has Greece changed in her mind? does she come back to Greece for a holiday? Betty kindly obliged to divulge the answers, and our newly-formed friendship was forged.  

What brought you to Greece in the first place?

Old story. The stuff of ancient dramas. Boy meets girl. Girl follows boy to exotic country. The rest is history.

You lived in Greece for six years (1971-1977). While in Athens, you wrote your first book: Sun, Seasons, Souvlaki: A Glimpse of Modern Greece. That’s nearly 40 years ago.

What is time? I felt like a kid when I first came to Greece. I still feel like a kid now – years later. Greece was a land of adventure for me - so much to see and explore and learn. So full of passion and intensity. I can’t believe so much time has passed since then. It seems so strange to me to consider some of the entries and sketches in my book as history – as “the way things were”. But, of course, you’re right. The mid-1970s were some of the most prosperous days for Greece. Tourism was booming.

Tell me more about your little book Sun, Seasons, and Souvlaki. Why did you write it?

The best books, they say, are the ones that you as a writer would like to read. I got so tired of reading books about “the glory that was Greece”! I wanted something contemporary. I wanted to understand the color, the texture and nuance of life that was going on around me. Back in the mid-1970s, I don’t remember a single book in English about Greece that didn’t focus on the Acropolis, Pericles, the "Golden Age". I wanted something about everyday life. So I decided to write such a book myself. I had been in Greece for several years and could get around quite well with the language. It took me about a year to try to find topics that I thought were typical and representative – not sensational, weird stuff, just everyday things that I was convinced were meaningful to the average Greek. 

ΤΟ ΧΩΡΙΟ: In the wake of the crisis, the 'village' is where urban dwellers are now heading. The reasons are obvious: the village provides cheap or rent-free accommodation, a source of food and the security of family ties.

Even today when I page through the book, I find the sketches and observations amusing. They bring back wonderful memories of Greece. Even though there is humor and liberty and even exaggeration in the depiction of characters, there is a lot of authenticity in the context of the sketches. I tried to make the details in the sketches reflect reality – like the exact number of strings on a bouzouki, or the number of board pieces in backgammon, or the exact wording on signs.

ΤΟ ΚΑΦΕΝΕΙΟ: You will still see backgammon being played in the 'kafeneio' by all age groups. It is still alive today, having taken over the village square, where people can still be heard arguing politics in it, just like in ancient times. In the latest edition of his book The Greeks, James Pettifer argues that the Greek rhetoric has not changed much since ancient times; the strong argumentative stance of Greek rhetoric is not well understood by the troika, hence the misunderstandings in the relationships between the troika and Greece. 

What was your experience like in Greece?

Well, there were lots of firsts. Let me talk about a few related to food. Greece was the first time I had ever bought produce at a local neighborhood street market. What a wonderful institution! And even today, where I live in Los Angeles, I still try to buy my produce at a farmers’ market. I like the colors, the freshness and I enjoy how the sellers take pride in their produce. We’re so used to agro-businesses these days. It’s wonderful when you can connect with farmers who really feel part of the miracle of growth. 

For me, there were a lot of new tastes in Greece - like octopus and squid. It was the first time I had ever seen a baked lamb’s head, eyeballs and all staring up at me on a plate. Greeks tried to convince me that it was a delicacy. I’m still not sure! Snails. Another first. I’ll never forget the first time I went “snail collecting”. It was after a spring rain and people were wandering over a hillside with plastic bags, collecting snails. Me and my friends decided to do the same. We gathered the snails, took them home and put them in a box for a couple of days. I remember asking Why?, and then we cooked them up in a tomato-onion stew. Incredibly delicious! Artichokes were new to me. I still like how the Greeks stew them with carrots and potatoes. 

Oh yes, and camomile flowers. Another first. What a delight to go to the hillsides in spring and pop those tiny daisies through your fingers and then spread them out to dry on newspapers for your own supply of camomile tea for the whole year. Wonderful fragrance. I still drink camomile tea.

Camomile is sprouting up all over the place now in the spring.

And Greece was first where I learned to love yoghurt. Plain yoghurt. Not the manufactured kind that is so popular now in the States with all that sugary fruit in the bottom. Just plain fresh yoghurt made from sheep’s milk. There used to be a little old man who had a tiny shop around the corner from where I lived in Athens – you couldn’t even call it a store front. Just a little door to a tiny hall-like passage, lit by a single naked light bulb where he sold small plastic containers of yoghurt. He prepared them fresh each day, we bought them early evening every night. They didn’t even have any lids on them. The yoghurt, with its wrinkled skin, was exposed. If I remember correctly, we paid 3 drachmas for each container. 

Add a teaspoon of bulk-buy yoghurt to a glass of homogenised milk, leave it in a warm dry corner of your kitchen, and the next day (or sooner, depending on how hot it is) you will got a thick creamy smooth yoghurt, with no milky water liquid residue.

And you learned Greek?

You miss so much local flavor if you don’t. And I was living there. I didn’t consider myself a tourist. So yes, I learned Greek and could get around quite well after a while. Of course, I would never have dared to give a university lecture in Greek – but I managed everyday life. At the time, I remember there were four or five grammar books for the native English speaker. I bought all of them. And then generally tried to “catch as catch can” – using every opportunity to learn. Besides, there are many words in English that are derived from Greek. I remember one summer going through the thick American Heritage Dictionary and putting a dot next to every word that had roots in Greek. I was amazed, there are so many!

Where did you work in Greece those six years?

At first, I taught English at Dina Yannakapoulou’s frontistirio. And I tutored students privately. I would ride the trolleys and buses and teach kids in their own homes. There was a big urge to learn English back then. Most of my students were younger than 10 years old. After a few years, I began teaching at the Middle School at American Community School (ACS) in Ano Halandri. Most of the diplomatic and international business community sent their kids to ACS. There were a lot of military kids, too, from the American naval base.

It's a rare Greek child who has not studied in a frontistirio at some point in life..

You mentioned a special course that you had taught about the Acropolis.

Middle school students sitting on the classroom floor at the

American Community School, Athens, enjoying the Acropolis Unit

Emily (now Dr.) Stewart and I were approached by the Middle School principal Dr. Pimenides: “Why don’t you two get together and create a course?” Emily had had just arrived in Greece that year (1975) and was assigned to teach 7^th graders in Social Studies. I taught the same students in Language Arts. But we thought about it and decided to do something different. We were convinced that kids had a lot of “different kinds of smarts”. We created what we called “The Acropolis Unit” with about 160 activities for students. The desks and chairs in the classroom were moved out of the way. The students could sit on the carpeted floor and work together with their friends. Talking was encouraged. The activities included anything from memorizing some of Pericles’ speeches, to writing plays, wearing chitons, designing jewelry based on ancient Greek designs, drawing Doric columns with their 20 flutes with a compass. Word games. Really so many fun things. 

Me and my family holidaying in Greece, 1974, inside the Parthenon

Students wearing chitons, 1975

And then we took a field trip to the Acropolis. Actually, that year, 1975, was the last year that the public was allowed to walk up into the Parthenon. Students were able to step off distances between the columns and measure the circumference of columns with yarn. Corner columns are thicker and built closer together; otherwise they would appear thinner as they get more exposure to the sunlight. Students actually measured these architectural details so the genius of the architect’s plans became more tangible to them. Students searched the Parthenon for games that had been chiseled out on the marble floor, and for remnants of Christian icons painted on the walls. 

Worksheets from The Acropolis Unit

It was a great unit. And I would say the highlight of my entire teaching career. We wanted to create an atmosphere where students would love what they were studying and where they could be creative in pursuing their own interests and in asking questions and seeking answers. The Acropolis just happened to be the content. I hope some of the students have returned to visit Greece because of the happy memories of that class.

Last year, Emily and I met up with each other again in Los Angeles and mused about the fun we had had in Greece years earlier. We concluded that the things we had done in that class would be forbidden today in American classrooms because of the constant pressure for standardized testing. Teachers have to teach to these tests or the school loses funding. It was sad for us to realize that 30-40 years earlier, far away in the land of Greece, we had more freedom in what we could teach than what is possible today.

Did you ever visit Crete?

Yes. It’s a strange story. While living in Greece, I visited many of the islands but never managed to get to Crete. In 1977, I accepted a teaching assignment in Iran. The following October as Library Media specialist, I attended a conference in Frankfurt. I planned to be away from school for only a week. After the conference, I stopped overnight in Athens to say hello to some friends on my way back to Tehran. But then the unthinkable happened: Iran Air went on strike! It would have been possible to take another international carrier to Tehran, but within the country, only Iran Air operated. I was working 17 hours by bus south of Tehran, not a smart move for a single foreign girl when the political situation was becoming more and more volatile.

         Well, I stayed in Athens for a few days, thinking that the strike would soon be over. But no. The strike continued. Soon I got worried that I would wear out my welcome staying with my friends so long. What to do especially since I was running out of money? Keep in mind that there were no such things as credit cards back then, or bank transfers via the internet. One carried Travelers’ Checks and I was running out of money in any form. That’s when I decided to stop by the publisher of my book “Sun, Seasons, Souvlaki.” Could she help me out? Sure enough, she did. With $250 in my pocket, and not knowing when the airline strike would end, I took a ferry boat to Crete. Back in those days, one could travel economy class for about the equivalent of $1 per hour. As I recall the voyage was overnight but cost only about $12 or so.

          By the time Iran Air got back into operation, nearly a month had passed since I had left school. I began to sense that life was starting to become quite unpredictable in Iran. Little did I know that this chapter of my life would come to an abrupt end and we would soon be evacuated.

What was it like in Iran back in the 1970s?

The school where I taught was located in the remote mountains of southern Iran, at a copper mine — Sar Cheshmeh. This was the second year of the school’s existence (Kindergarten through Grade 8). Classes were small: most had fewer than 10 students. The children came from many countries — Scotland, England, South Africa, Chile, Philippines. Their dads were helping to set up the copper mine. I might add that the mine seems to be quite productive today. It’s considered to be the second largest copper deposit in the world. 

Although Betty had never ridden a dirt bike before, it became her only transportation for 15 months while she was in Iran. On weekends, she would get together with other teachers and head up into the desert mountains to villages. They always wore a helmet and the bikes were heavy. When Betty was evacuated, she was one of the lucky few who got to sell her bike for $500 - half what she had paid to buy it. At Christmas, all the couples left and not a single woman got back into the country. The men flew to Pakistan and took buses back in; their wives ever saw Iran again.

So many things were exactly opposite to what my life had been in Athens. What a stark contrast. A few months earlier, I had been driving around cosmopolitan Athens in heavy traffic in a Mini Morris. In Iran, we rode “dirt bikes”— those Yamaha motorcycles with the nubby tires. On weekends, the teachers would head out on the barren dusty roads to villages. I had never ridden a motorcycle in my life. In Sar Cheshmeh, skies were blue. Somehow, I’ve always had difficulty thinking there is trouble in the world when skies are so bright and clear. Bright stars — like brilliant diamonds — filled the vast dark sky at night. I had never seen such a vast Milky Way — zillions of stars.

But those years were difficult in Iran, weren’t they?

You’re right. The oppressiveness of the Shah’s regime soon led to protests in Tehran. Soon unrest started to affect the copper mine as well. We foreigners were evacuated two days before the Shah left the country in January 1979. We left on January 14^th; the Shah left, January 16th. And Ayatollah Khomeini arrived a few weeks later. Iran has never been the same. Back in the States, it was a very unsettling time for me. Being evacuated had been like death to me. I liked Iran. Leaving must have been incredibly painful for those who had to leave their Homeland and who have never been able to return. 

 Betty Blair, 1976, standing outside a periptero (kiosk) at the Corinth Canal, proudly showing off her colouring-book being sold. The Corinth Canal is now no longer touristy; since the building of a road over the isthmus, the canal lost all its tourist value. Note the kiosk's advertising: English, international and highly European.

What did you do since leaving Greece and Iran?

More travel! Lots of travel to remote locations in South American jungles with linguists who were studying tribal languages. Then graduate study at UCLA in folklore after I realized that folklore was not just about folk tales – but was really the deep study of how beliefs are transmitted through history and how these beliefs were spread geographically. Actually, it was really what my first book was about – studying traditions and practices in Greece.

You’re still involved with writing professionally, aren’t you?

Yes, I was the Founding Editor of Azerbaijan International magazine, which we established in 1993. Next year marks 20 years that we’ve been publishing this magazine. We have one of the world’s largest websites in the world about Azerbaijan, http://AZER.com. The website archives the articles from the magazine and mostly focuses on cultural topics – literature, music, history, etc. Lately, we have done a lot of research about Azerbaijan’s most famous novel Ali and Nino, which has been published in more than 30 languages including Greek.

Would you say that your early days in Greece influenced your present work?

I think yes. Greeks were always so generous and hospitable. And they were quite impressed when I would speak with them. "She’s one of us," they would say. They were so open to share their traditions and explain things to me. And I think the confidence they gave me – to dare to talk with strangers and to try to learn about new people and new cultures – originated in Greece.

You returned to Greece in July 2011. What were your impressions after being away since 1977?

Frankly speaking, returning to Greece was a disappointing experience. I had lived in Greece for six years when it was booming! The weakened economy has affected everything. But so many things have changed since then. Even the airport was located far away from where I remembered it! Hotels were very expensive. I can remember when you could get a room for about $10 on the islands. Athens used to be so crowded with tourists primarily from Europe. But this past summer, most tourists seemed to be American and Chinese. Where were the Germans and the French? Europeans seem to be heading to Turkey, which is much less expensive for tourists.

       

 Although the view of Acropolis is not obscured, it's lost that old-time glamour...

Of course, there were many familiar landmarks – starting with the Acropolis. I have to admit that I loved the new Acropolis Museum with the see-through glass floors and the architecture plan that puts the statues on display so that you can study them from any angle. I’m not one who usually cares much about museums but the new Acropolis Museum is worth a visit to Greece just to see it. 
       And I was so pleased that the buildings in the city have remained relatively low – no high rise buildings – which are so characteristic of metropolitan centers today. I was so glad that views of the Acropolis have not been blocked by skyscrapers. But the day that my husband and I climbed the hill to see the Acropolis, we arrived only to be told that this ancient monument was closed. How could the Acropolis be closed?! There was a strike taking place in Athens. We were so disappointed. We had come all the way to Greece , expressly to see the Acropolis.
       We left in complete dismay. But at the same time, it was “deja-vu” all over again for me because back in 1973, I had had a similar experience. I had arrived at the entrance of the Acropolis only to be told that curfew had been announced for 4pm for the entire city and everybody had to return back home by then. This was a crackdown by the government in response to an uprising by students at Athens Polytechnic Institute - the day the tanks rolled in. I remember heading down the hill from the Acropolis and walking home the five miles - joining hundreds of people in the streets. The public transportation was not working .
 

 The sisters wait to be reunited once again...

But evidence of economic decline was everywhere. Talented people were doing jobs far beneath their capability. You could see that people were struggling. So many stores were shuttered and empty on the main streets in the most prestigious parts of town. The main bookstore on Syntagma Square that had sold Sun, Seasons and Souvlaki and other English-language books had closed down. There were demonstrations in the streets, and gatherings and speeches at Syntagma Square each night. It brought to mind protests and demonstrations in the streets in the 1970s. Actually, it was exciting to see how people were gathering and trying to protest at the conditions. But clearly, the problems are not going to be resolved for a long time and Greece is going to face even darker days. Somehow, we grew up with the belief – perhaps “myth” would be a better word – that life gets better and better. But my visit to Greece made me realize that this is not necessarily so. And if it isn’t true for Greece, it means that it likely isn’t true for many of the rest of us in the world as well. 

*** *** ***

Greece is changing in a direction that was once thought impossible. Remembering Greece as she was is of pressing urgency now, even if at times it seems that Greece's future is heading in the direction of her past. But knowing your past makes you wiser, by giving you the chance to plan ahead.

I acknowledge the internet for bringing me together with Betty, thereby forging a new friendship. 

©All Rights Reserved/Organically cooked. No part of this blog may be reproduced and/or copied by any means without prior consent from Maria Verivaki.

Crete, not Athens (Κρήτη, όχι Αθήνα)

Today marks the commemoration of the Battle of Crete.

During our one-night stopover in Brussels (which I toured through two decades ago), half the family had a bad cough, a result of the snap change in climate as we travelled from south to north. Instead of becoming acquainted with the food, we tried to get acquainted with the northern European climate. On our arrival at Brussels Midi (from London via Eurostar), it was raining steadily, leaving us feeling quite despondent. Although I'd booked a hotel reasonably close to the station, walking in the rain with luggage and children was out of the question: there were no extra hands for holding an umbrella upright. The streets beyond the station looked like an untidy muddled cluster; the taxis parked right outside the train station looked much more tempting.

As we neared the rank, a slim well-dressed young black man nodded to us as he opened the boot of his cab. I gave him the address of the hotel.

"Fifteen euro," he said. The price didn't sound exorbitant. In Greece, we are led to believe that taxi fares in northern Europe are expensive. But Greece has recently caught up to their prices - since the crisis broke out, laws regulating the Greek cab business have made them quite expensive here too, not to mention the rising fuel costs. (But our tourists are still slow to catch on to this fact.)

Once the cabbie had placed the luggage into the boot, we all got in, and off we went.The taxi meter wasn't turned on, which didn't concern me, as I thought perhaps this was legal in Belgium, which of course it probably isn't; likewise in Greece. EU countries all have their own laws and countries still debate within their own national borders because there is no European public space.

"Where are you from?" he asked us in French. He spoke French most of the time, but when I didn't understand, he did his best to speak in English and make himself understood.

"Greece."

"Athens?"

"No." We all laughed, and so did he. "We're from Crete." We had had exactly the same experience with a Nigerian taxi driver in London only the same morning, and another Nigerian Eurostar official who was thrilled to hear we were from Greece. He narrated the story (in broken Greek) of his arrival in Greece, which is where he had entered Europe from before ending up in London at the suitcase security check-in of St Pancras International.

"Crete?"

"It's an island in the Mediterranean, located north of the Libyan Sea." (I stopped myself from saying "located between Greece and Libya." It's easy to confuse other people about Crete's status that way.) He looked puzzled. We were now driving along wet narrow roads and one-way streets. It all felt very disorienting. This isn't what I imagined as meaning 'close' to the hotel.

"And where are you from?" I asked him.

"Nigeria."

While we were being driven to the hotel, I took the opportunity to find out whatever I could from the driver about the city.

"What's that?" We were driving along what looked like a castle, although I could only see its spire.

The cabbie looked in the direction that I was pointing to. Very politely, he explained that he didn't really know what it was, but it must be some kind of historical monument, and it's very old. Again, we all laughed. We take things for granted when we see them on a daily basis; tourists are often better informed than ourselves.

We had left the avenues and were now driving along very narrow roads full of cars parked in strange positions, resembling the maze of Athens streets, but without the dust, grime and sunshine. The roads were busy with vans being loaded or unloaded... but many shops also looked closed, as if out of business. It wasn't quite clear to us what was happening in Brussels. We would only realise later that we were seeing the most obvious signs of the European economic crisis in Northern Europe.

The drive seemed to take a much longer time than I thought it would. The narrow busy one-way streets, half of whose store fronts were unlit from disuse, continued until we came to a very large square where some kind of activity was taking place, despite the pouring rain.

Place du Jeu de Balle, Brussels' flea market, as seen from the hotel window

"Place du Jeu de Balle," our driver pointed to the right. "Hotel Galia is down here." He was worried that the flea market had closed off the streets, but he drove us round the square, straight to the hotel, which directly faced it. The shop fronts on the square looked in a dismal state - the premises directly next to the hotel were boarded up, while a building on the corner had been demolished. While the raindrops were falling on their heads, people were selling all sorts of what looked like household bric-a-brac at partly covered stalls. Some goods were laid out on tables, while others were in buckets, and others were strewn over a piece of plastic over the ground. They could not be called antiques. We'd call it junk, and it was difficult for us to understand who would be desperate to come out here on a cold wet dull grey day to buy this stuff.

We paid and thanked the very sweet driver, our first introduction to Belgians, and entered the hotel with our luggage, where we were met by a beautiful slim young lady, humming to a tune that was being played on the radio. She looked as if she were expecting us.

"Have you just come from Athens?" she asked us with an excited look on her face.

"No, Crete!" Again we laughed. Thanks to the Greek mass media, the whole world now equates Greece with Athens. This time, the woman showed some recognition of the place name.

 

Our hotel room was actually two rooms, with one double bed and a bunk bed. The wallpaper gave the room an art deco look.

"Was it sunny in Greece when you left?" she asked us. This opened up a discussion about the climate, an obvious choice of subject in Brussels."Here, it rains nine months a year," she said gloomily, handing us a set of keys. We were given a choice of appropriate rooms (finally selecting one on the first instead of the third floor). The rooms had recently been renovated, the bathroom was large and clean and the beds were comfortable. We took a short rest for the sick members of the family to revive their energies.

*** *** ***

From a Brussels tourist brochure found in the hotel: "City tourism isn't just about big monuments and museums: excursions off the beaten track create the true emotions of a visit. Meeting real life and seeing the real city creates those unforgettable memories, because you can't find it anywhere else!" VisitBrussels Week-end Bienvenue/Welkom Weekend

On the hotel map, I found the locations of Manneken Pis and Grand Place, being the two places that we thought would take us to the most touristy sites in the city on such a short visit. On a one-day stopover, you can't do much more than take a walk and have a bite to eat. Along the way, we would also pass various other sites of interest according to the map, which also held one surprise: in the vicinity of the hotel was a Greek Orthodox church. We aren't church goers, but it means a lot to Greeks to bump into familiar cultural sights when away from home. Armed with umbrellas, we set off.

 We stayed in the Marollen neighbourhood - the Greek church is pointed out by the blue arrow. It's the first time I've seen a Greek Orthodox church specifically mentioned on a non-Greek tourist map. While respected as a minority group, Greeks usually keep a low profile in Europe. Greek communities in Belgium have a long history spanning four centuries, but a large number of Greeks settled there during the post-war years, working in minefields.

The Greek Orthodox church in Brussels;
it's built along the lines of local
architecture rather than the Greek way.

To see the church, we had to take a detour off the main road that led to our chosen sightseeing route. We found the church closed; its offices were open every weekday except Friday (which is was that day). The detour was not wasted; by walking down this side street, we got acquainted with the Marolles neighbourhood of Brussels, well known for its street art and comic strip tour, some of which we saw during our walk. The art work contrasted starkly to the rather grim looking buildings in some parts of the area. A number of walls were covered with graffiti.

Our detour led us into the "comic strip" roads, as well as through lesser known area covered in graffiti; note the Greek - ΠΡΑΣΙΝΗ ΘΥΕΛΛΑ (green wave).

Continuing our walk, we came across all sorts of weird and wonderful street scenes: sandy sectioned off areas for dogs to poo in (?!?), highly visible public urinals on main roads (!?!) and recycling centres separating all glass colours (which explains the need for urinals, I suppose). Activities such as these seemed strange to us because, in all fairness, we don't see people drinking alcohol straight on the road in Hania - this activity is reserved for our Northern European tourists. Looking after select breeds of small dogs, however, is on the rise, even in the crisis. We often see young people - both male and female - walking their dogs both in the city and around the villages.

At one point, we came across what looked like a grand old Gothic-style church, across the road from a funky art dealer, all neighbouring a skating park which was covered in the graffiti style often associated with skateboarding. We found the contrasts too confusing. The church had lost its significance amidst its incongruous surroundings; its cavernous emptiness made a glum impression on our minds, dampened by the rainy weather that we were once again about to subject ourselves to. The art dealer's shop was the only lively looking store we had seen so far - there were no customers, but the outdoor decorations made an impact against the general greyness. The whole scene looked culturally incoherent.



The church led to what looked like a promising side-street. It was pedestrianised and lined with cute buildings, cute cafes and cute artists' galleries. We had entered the area famed for its Belgian chocolate. The elegant displays in the chocolateries had matching prices: something like €32 for a box of 25 hand-crafted tiny balls of chocolates. I was disappointed. Clearly I could not buy chocolate at this price, but somebody else probably is: Brussels has a constant flow of grey-suited men coming and going, and they don't make ordinary wages. A few people were sitting outdoors in the dank sky. What could have been a moment of joy at the Place du Sablon in better climatic conditions suddenly took on a morbid miserable appearance in the bad weather.

Presentation: it's everything in places like this - maybe too much.

Back on the main road, the ruins of a wall with a Rapunzel-like tower caught our interest. This was the 'castle' that we had seen from the taxi. No wonder the driver had no idea what it was - there was no sign on it to indicate its significance to the city (it turned out to be a surviving part of the old city walls).

During this time, the sky was changing colours - one minute it was blue, the next it was dark. At this point, our luck started to run out. On our way to Manneken Pis, we got caught in a downpour. No matter how much we kept our umbrellas hugged around us, we could not keep dry. As the only sane person among my company (two were sick and one was under-age - no one was in the best of moods), I led them into the first eaterie I could find. Neither the name of the non-descript cafe nor the range of food it offered was of any importance to me at that moment. I just needed to salvage my family's sanity.

*** *** ***

The casual diner was run by an Asian woman with impeccable English skills and polite manners. Her husband was just as welcoming. The last customers (schoolchildren) were on their way out. We had the place to ourselves. The display case contained an interesting mix of dishes - spaghetti and mince, noodles with vegetables, chicken breast slices, rice-paper spring rolls, and various sandwich fillings. We had last eaten on the train (Sainsbury sandwiches). Anything edible looked tasty at that moment.

The man showed us to a table and laid some placemats in front of us. "Where are you from?" he asked us in very broken English.

"Greece."

"Ah, Grecia! Io, Italia! Una fatsa, una ratsa!" We were just as excited to hear this as he was to say it.

"Where from in Italy?" my husband asked him.

"Sicilia."

"Ah, isola!" my husband spoke to him in the broken Italian that he remembered from his study years. The man responded in Italian; we caught the words "Magna Grecia".

"Noi, Kriti," my husband continued.

"Atene?" The Italian did not seem to understand. Like most non-Greeks, he seemed to know only of Athens. "Why Brussels?" he asked us, speaking more with his hands than in words.

"Holidays," I said.

"Vacanze," my husband translated.

"Vacanze?" the man exclaimed. "In Brussels?" He made the sign of the Roman Catholic cross as we all laughed. "Vacanze in Brussels?!" He was now shaking his head. His wife was busy in the background heating up our order, with a smile on her face, acknowledging her husband's joke.

Sometimes the food is not important - my conversations with the owners of this cafe were priceless.

We found an opportunity to ask the couple about the closed shops. The woman explained that Brussels was in the midst of an economic crisis, where 40% of the commercial area had closed due to the bad economy and the number of people living on welfare had risen quite sharply. It came as quite a shock for us to hear this. We'd been brainwashed into believing that southern Europe was facing a crisis, not the prosperous north. In places like Brussels, it's easier to see the crisis seeping through the threads, unlike in London where we had stayed close to one of the most deprived areas of England - despite its social problems, it had what seemed like a bustling local economy.

A young girl entered the cafe. She went to the back of the diner that was not so visible from the shop front. She took out a small laptop from her bag, together with earphones, and began tapping away as her order was taken. The woman returned behind the counter, taking a teabag out of a box. Then she heated up some water in the microwave and took the tea to the girl's table. At that point, the man left and got into his car which was parked outside the shop. The woman followed him, placing two chairs from the shop on the road to keep other cars from parking there. At this point, I had the feeling of deja vu. Although this is a common procedure in the south, hogging parking spaces in this way wasn't what I expected to see in the north.

The rain continued to fall steadily until the end of our meal, when it stopped pouring - now, it was only drizzling. As we paid for the meal, I asked the woman where she was from.

"I am from Bali in Indonesia," she spoke softly. "Do you know Bali?"

"Yes, of course, it's an island, just like Kriti," I told her. "Most people in Europe know about Bali, it's a popular place for holidays." She looked so happy to hear this; her eyes brightened as she smiled. But what was she doing in Brussels, so far away from home?

"I came here because of my husband, we live and work here now."

"So you're here to stay?" I asked.  She hesitated before answering.

"I suppose I'd like to go back one day to see my family, but it's not easy. Life brought us here to Brussels," she said, with a tone in her voice that I recognised. We thanked her for her hospitality and continued on our way.

*** *** ***

Belgian icons: waffles, chocolate and Manneken Pis

Our destination - Manneken Pis - would take us through more empty roads, although the stores looked slightly busier in this area than they did in the Moralles neighbourhood. The first sign of tourist-centred activity was pictures of Jacques Brel on the window. I'm a big fan of Jacques Brel, having been introduced to his music in my school French lessons, and the first CD I ever bought was in Brussels: a Jacques Brel collection. But that was twenty years ago - and he's been dead for more than a decade already. It's a lack of modern icons and heroes that causes this attachment to the past - Greece suffers a lot from this imagery attachment herself.
 

Oh, look, waffles for €1!

The streets from this point on were getting busier, with shops clustered closer together and more people milling about. A few people were obviously tourists like ourselves, judging from the maps they were holding in their hands. We came across a few eerie sights: a couple of shop windows were broken, and boarded with cardboard stuck over the hole in the glass. Whether this was caused by vandalism or burglary is not significant - these were the first signs of direct parallels with the demonstrations that have been taking place in Athens in the last three years. Less than a week before we arrived, Brussels was the scene of more crisis-related street rage by state sector workers (among previous cases of social unrest).

Before entering the side street leading to Manneken Pis, the hullaballoo was already evident. The main road was vacant in comparison to what was going on in the narrow road. The souvenir shops made a garish impact, in the same way as in the centre of Hania, once a tourist starts walking along Halidon St. The area clearly becomes a tourist magnet, an enclave disassociated with the remaining area that the locals probably avoid unless they want to buy cheap seashell chocolates, waffles and ceramics in the shape of traditional Belgian architecture.

Although the signs all clearly said €1 (at two different shops), this is totally misleading (it should have stated: 'v.a. €1' which means 'starting from €1'.  I ordered two waffles for the children (below) - I was charged €6. It was raining and we were lucky to find cover under the balcony of a disused building sandwiched between two souvenir shops so that we could eat the waffles without getting wet. Maybe each topping was another euro or so - who cares at this point, right? All I'm sure of is that I was purposely misled.

 

As for Manneken Pis, no one had bothered to dress him on that day. He looked so much happier twenty years ago when I last saw him, wearing a medieval suit in the middle of summer under a blue sky, when the European Union was celebrating her comeuppance rather than her demise. But that is not the general image of Brussels in the media. Brussels, together with Berlin, is where all the decisions regarding Greece's future are made. Brussels is where the Eurozone finance ministers meet to decide Greece's fate. The Belgian central bank governor recently broke the taboo of Greece leaving the euro by describing the situation as an 'amicable divorce', while Brussels policy documents are littered with the word 'growth'. On the other hand, Athens is Greece, and Greece is Athens. Maybe it's time they all looked into the mirror themselves. 

After tasting our first (rather overpriced) waffle (nice and sweet), and making a decision not to buy the 6-boxes-for-€10 chocolates that were selling at the souvenir shops (on the pretext that we are probably better off saving our money to buy better quality ION chocolate when we get back home), we wandered into La Grande Place for a quick look at the main square in Brussels. We could not stay long enough to admire the interesting architecture, because our stroll was spoiled by more heavy rain.

At moments like these, I like to remember Cavafy's words:

"And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you will have understood by then what these Ithakas mean." (Ιθάκη - Ithaka)

 *** *** ***

After La Grand Place, we walked back to the hotel, taking a slightly different route, constantly ducking under the awnings of the large buildings to protect ourselves from the rain, taking care not to disturb the homeless who were sheltering in these protected parts of the streets. The evening was spent at the hotel, so that my flu-ridden family members could recuperate. The brasserie's tempting aromas wafted up to our room, with free entertainment provided by the sounds of a jazz concert taking place there that night. A meal out in food-loving Brussels (as I was told by a colleague) was not to be for us that night. Instead, we downed the last of our Kettles crisps, bought from Sainsbury's.

 

Hotel breakfast room by day, brasserie by night: the Chez Nous restaurant attached to Hotel Galia was decorated with items bought at the flea market. 

Maybe I was more open-minded when I first came to Brussels. My mind has been shaded by my experiences of living in Europe for two decades, and is now clouded by the problems Greece is facing. Even in my own country, I cannot see the problems so clearly, because I live in Crete, not Athens. But from what I saw in Brussels, it was obvious that the feared contagion had already begun.

Breakfast contained a rich variety of cold meats and cheese, good coffee and delicious bread.

I had ordered a taxi in the morning to take us to Midi for the next leg of our journey. After a very filling delicious breakfast (included in the price of our booking), we noticed a very gruff stocky white man standing outside the hotel, who did not even bother to announce his arrival to his paying customers, or even to the hotel staff that had made the booking. When we emerged with our luggage and children, he opened the boot. No Bonjour (or Goedemorgen), no assistance in placing our luggage into the car, not even an acknowledgement of our existence as his precious customers. But the drive to Midi station took half the time that it had taken the previous morning and the meter was turned ON. When we arrived at the station, he parked the car and opened the door of the driver's seat without even looking at us.

Breakfast at Hotel Galia

"How much?" I asked on purpose, just to see if I could get a spoken response from his tight-lipped mouth. He pointed to the meter without speaking: €7.20, half of what we were charged by the very sweet polite Nigerian the previous morning. It seems that being helpful and cheery comes at a price!

©All Rights Reserved/Organically cooked. No part of this blog may be reproduced and/or copied by any means without prior consent from Maria Verivaki.