Πέμπτη 20 Σεπτεμβρίου 2007

The unthinkable


Our apartment in Nafplio.

September 5th 2007

Hello, beautiful people,

First of all, let me issue a reassurance to all of you, as several people have expressed horror at the idea of setting foot in this country, following my less-than-hopeful descriptions. Greece is a wonderful country to visit. Don’t let my misadventures deter you, the Greeks are only obstructive with other Greeks. Tourists they love. Want proof? If we want to be sure we’ll be treated nicely, my mother and I speak French. I guess it’s just an exacerbated case of the grass is always greener…

While driving back on the freeway from Nauplion, the Peloponnesus town where my grandma was born and where we still have an apartment of hers, we were delayed by 2 cars. Their drivers were engaged in an animated conversation and had slowed down to a crawl, while on the 3rd lane cars zoomed by at 100 miles/hour. My mother and I had the misfortune to be stuck behind said cars, and after about 3 seconds of this, my mother started honking nonstop. (Let’s not forget that she is 100% Greek after all, even if she is convinced she is nothing like them.)

The drivers were absolutely oblivious of her rage – or maybe they didn’t even hear her, engrossed as they were in their obviously fascinating conversation. After remaining at the same comfortable 15 miles/hour for over 5 full mn, they cheerfully waved at one another while the one on the right exited the freeway. My mother was left foaming at the mouth.

This shouldn’t have surprised us though, in a country where people are regularly found driving backwards on the freeway when they happened to have missed their exit. No, no, this is not exaggeration or a myth, yesterday was already the second time we’ve almost had a frontal collision with a car going backwards on the freeway. One thing about Greece: it is rarely boring.

But I guess Greek people are born with an innate sense of fatalism, the idea that if it’s your time to go, it’s your time to go, so you might as well live dangerously. After all, in a country where you drive through places called “Evil Staircase” “Bad Spirit” and “Black Day”, you quickly realize that optimism is not the local population’s key virtue.

And then, the unthinkable happened.

I was coming out of the sea the other day, and wanted to take a shower. When I arrived at the open-air showers, there were 2 people rinsing their feet, entirely dressed. So I patiently waited until they were done before showering, so I wouldn’t drench them.

I had barely turned my shower on, when suddenly it turned into a trickle. Turning around to see what was wrong, I noticed a little grandpa had arrived to use the shower next to me to wash his feet. He was also entirely dressed, and grumbled at me: “I turned your shower off because you were drenching me.”

That’s when the unthinkable happened: I opened my mouth without knowing what I was going to say, and barked the following sentence: “Well, I was here before you. What can I do?” And stepping to the next shower over, I turned it on full blast.

I had become one of them.

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SOME FEEDBACK ABOUT THIS NEWSLETTER:

Mik H:
Ah, poor grandpa...

Marc G:
You pretty much sum up why the Mediterraneans are so exasperating and endearing all at the same time. I am proud to hear the beach shower story. Once you start abusing old people, you have truly arrived.

Will M:
Wow, both the cars-driving-in-reverse-on-the-highway and the shower bits would be great for a movie. They're really funny.

Marc O:
Merci, merci et encore merci ! And don't worry about becoming one of them: happens to me about a dozen times a day when I have to drive in Brussels or namur during rush hours. Granted, "them" is the Belgians, not the Greeks. But it doesn't make any better !

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