Night and day: Greece, August 2012

Like the beat, beat, beat of the tom tom

when the jungle shadows fall.
Like the tick,tick, tock of the stately clock
as it stands against the wall.
Like the drip, drip drip of the rain drops
when the summer showers through.
a voice within me keeps repeating...

 ...doom, doom, doom!

With apologies to Cole Porter, that’s pretty much how life in Greece feels lately. Like Chinese water torture or the slow but sure tightening of the screw stretching its victim on the rack, every night and day brings a small but inexorable increase in the pressure affecting most folk simply trying to get on with their lives with some semblance of normality.

We adjust, we trim, we sacrifice, we surrender another degree of sovereignty. We try to accept the inevitable stoically, to take yet another deep breath and tighten the belt yet another notch.

But after two solid years of constant squeezing, we wonder how much more uncertainty we can stand as incomes dwindle (or are slashed) across the board, with deepest cuts being made in the pockets of those with the smallest reserves.

Every news bulletin brings the latest ‘expert’ opinions about Greece’s impending doom, and we grit our teeth for yet another round of cuts, raised taxes and spiralling prices. All the while, we wonder if any of it will avert the disaster and final melt-down, the prospect of which has certain international pundits rubbing their hands with glee.

Meanwhile, the long hot Greek summer is gradually drawing to an end. The temperature is still in the 30s, occasionally spiking into the 40s, but those still in work are returning to duty and parents prepare for the back-to-school flurry of early September.

Few have had the luxury of a proper summer holiday, though those that could may have left the city to spend some weeks with family in the country. But now, as the last few days of August play out, it’s time to get back to business and face whatever the autumn will throw at us.

Above all, the Greeks are a resilient, stubborn lot. Whether that’s enough to get them through the next round of trials that await them remains to be seen.

Letter from Athens: 26 July 2012

Greece is divided. 
Not in the way you might think, between haves and have-nots, or between the powers that be and those who have to put up with their machinations. But over the ill-judged quip of one of its Olympic hopefuls.

As the world’s top athletes started limbering up in London for their events in the 2012 Games, triple jumper Voula Papachristou opened up her Twitter account and posted a not very funny ‘joke’ about mosquitoes carrying the West Nile virus and the increasing number of African migrants in Greece.

Presumably it was meant to make someone laugh – though who would be amused by such a weak attempt at humour is debatable.

They certainly weren’t laughing in the offices of the Greek Olympic Committee when they heard about it. They were so upset by the offending tweet, deemed racist by some, that they expelled her from the Greek Olympic team and sent her packing. Papachristou, they said, had expressed herself in a manner that is contrary to the ideals and values of the Olympics.

In truth, her comment was probably no more offensive that hundreds of so-called jokes bandied about in cafes, bars and even the media every day in Greece.

Whenever someone hits the headlines who is not a Greek national, their country of origin will always be reported regardless of whether it is relevant to the story or not. Kids throw around names in fun that would have many a northern European bleeding heart liberal covering their ears in horror. The terms 'Albanian', 'African' and 'Pakistan' are rarely used as complimentary or purely descriptive adjectives. And Mitsos in the local coffee shop has a whole repertoire of immigrant jokes to keep his pals amused as they battle it out on the backgammon board.

It’s harmless fun, many a Greek will tell you, and not indicative of any deep-seated animosity to foreigners.

They’re right. Up to a point. Despite the rise of anti-immigrant sentiment in the current tough times, and the new presence of the extreme-right Golden Dawn party in Parliament, most Greeks are not racists. But casual verbal racism does persist in the kafenion, in school yards, the workplace and – as illustrated by the case of Voula Papachristou – on social media, where many young Greeks are enthusiastic participants.

The thing is that Papachristou is not Mitsos from the kafenion.

As an Olympian, she is a figure head, a role model and – like it or not – a representative of her country. When she opened her Twitter account this week and decided to make her wry remark, she failed to consider the weight that her sporting prowess would give her words in the public domain. She also failed to consider that the eyes, ears and translation tools of the world were now on her and her fellow Olympians, and that what might be a harmless throw-away remark in her neighbourhood could be perceived as highly offensive elsewhere.

She tried to put it right with a public apology, but it was not enough for the Greek Olympic Committee. As a result, she has paid a high price for her foolish remark.  She has lost her chance to compete against the world’s best in the biggest sporting event – something she has spent years working towards.

Some say it’s too high a price to pay. That whatever her personal political opinions, her comment was as innocent as it was ill-informed. Others say she has no business expressing such an opinion when she’s representing her nation at a time when its image could do with some positive vibes.

However you see it, Papachristou has learned the hard way a lesson we should all take on board: “Think before you tweet!”

Letter from Athens: 12 July 2012

Greece is in the grip of another heatwave. 

When the temperature soars to more than 40 degrees Celsius during the day and stubbornly refuses to drop below 30 even in the dead of the night, it’s hard to stay focused on the job in hand (if you’re lucky enough to have one).

Those that can have abandoned the city. But for those who can’t, due to obligations or lack of funds, it’s a struggle. 

Refuge is sought in air conditioned shops or offices, fans are pulled out of storage to move the lethargic air around, sweat-soaked workers flop onto armchairs the minute they reach home, dogs pant madly for relief in the streets, a million cold showers are taken, cats refuse to budge from the shady spots they've stretched out on, and those who have to venture out into the sizzling heat bouncing off the city's cement and marble find it hard to put one heat-weary foot in front of the other.

Like many Athenians, I take the city’s public transport to get to work. It’s relatively cheap (though who know how long that will last), it’s eco-friendly, it saves on petrol and eliminates the problem of where to park once I arrive at my Piraeus office. On the downside, it’s slow (60-90 minutes one-way from my home in the northern suburbs to the office), often crowded, sometimes bumpy (I have the bruises to prove it) and with air conditioning that’s unequal to challenge set by this week’s weather.

But it’s one of those things you accept, warts and all. The inconveniences are as much part of the Metro, bus and electric rail network as the conveniences it offers…

…unless you’re an MP.

This week, New Democracy MP Adonis Georgiadis went on record saying that it would be an unacceptable humiliation for Members of Parliament to take the bus. (Presumably, he doesn't feel the need to win any popularity contests now that he has been voted in once again.)

That’s why they accept the complementary hire cars afforded to them by the Greek system. That’s why your chances of seeing a Greek MP riding the Underground like New York’s Mayor Michael Bloomberg, or even pedaling round the streets like London’s Boris Johnson, are about as strong as they are of Angela Merkel being named Athens' favourite blonde. They won't be found hanging onto the straps on the crowded train, sharing body odour and reminders of last night’s tzatsiki with fellow passengers. 

Greek MPs apparently are worth more than the people who voted them in – and they certainly can’t risk be confronted by a tired, sweaty constituent while riding the No.040 to Syntagma Square.

But we mustn’t condemn them for stinginess, for they’re saving none of their own money by refusing to join the common people in the public transport system.

MPs get to ride for free - unlike the unemployed, who aren't even entitled to reduced ticket prices.

Letter from Athens: 5 July 2012

This week, I managed to escape the city. Thanks to the wonders of the Internet, I’m now slaving over a hot keyboard as I sit at a battered kitchen table several decades older than me, under the shade of a feral grape vine in the back yard of my in-laws’ small country house an hour’s drive from Athens.

And yet, although the insistent buzz of the cicadas has replaced the city’s shouts and sirens as my workday soundtrack, my escape is incomplete. The noisy insects have a rival for the attention of my eardrums – the relentless drone, and occasional explosion, of wall-to-wall TV news from the moment my husband’s parents make their morning coffee til late at night when they head for their bed.

Like many things in the country, the Greek way of delivering broadcast news takes some getting used to – especially if, like me, you’ve been raised on a diet of BBC’s Radio 4, ITN’s News at Ten or (on particularly daring days) Channel 4 News.

Greek news broadcasts are an entirely different beast. Though the main channels aspire to the standards set by Auntie Beeb, CNN, even Al Jazeera, with fancy opening titles, dramatic music and somber-faced anchormen, they don’t quite deliver.

For domestic news, especially politics, the main order of the day – every day – is shouting. Loudly, insistently and without a care for whether viewers can actually make any sense of what they’re watching. In a news technique particularly loved by the country’s private TV channels, a panel of guests are invited to (ahem) ‘debate’ the issues of the day, with each talking head shown on screen in a separate ‘parathyraki’ (little window). Perhaps it harks back to the days when the news of the day was passed from window to window in the villages that many Greeks still consider their ancestral home.

In reality, guests will probably be seated around the same table in the studio, but on screen we see each one in their own little box. And even before newsreader finishes their intro, we know that that three or four of squares will spend much of the following debate staring blankly out at us, saying nothing but looking increasingly frustrated and taking sneaky peeks at their watches, while the two most vocal – or extreme – members of the panel with go at it hammer and tongs. Most times, it’s little more than a formalised slanging match, a legitimised form of a schoolyard brawl (quite literally in a recent case), that viewers can justify watching in the name of staying abreast of the news of the day.

Almost everyone complains about the news programmes, whether it be for their sensationalism, political bias or obsession with plunging necklines for female newscasters. But the older generation, a highly-politicised group who built their lives against a backdrop of post-WW2 hardship, civil war, military dictatorship, the return of democracy and a period of prosperity before the current storm, stay loyal.

Not so, however, their children and grandchildren. They have grown up with, or been born into, the digital age. More and more, the theme tune of the morning, midday, early evening, mid evening and late night news is their cue to switch off, change channel or head out of the room for a toilet break. It’s not that they don’t want to be informed – though many would love to be able to simply turn a blind eye to the daily diet of doom and gloom – they just don’t trust the TV to deliver anymore.

Civilian journalism is on the rise. Countless blogs and portals have sprung up to keep the citizens of Greece – and beyond – abreast of what’s going on, and what’s not, in the country. Some are reliable. Others little more than rumour-mills. Some are highly professional. Others would make a fifth grade school project look good. Some strive to maintain balance. Others have a clear (or worse, hidden) political axe to grind. Here, as elsewhere, the extreme open access nature of the www is both its blessing and its curse.

Since I first arrived in Athens 23 years ago, the news landscape has changed beyond recognition. Then, TV was a stark choice of what was on the menu of the state-sponsored broadcaster, ERT. Today, myriads of private channels vie for the attention of your living room, and more and more people go online for their updates.

Babble is the order of the day, even in the idyllic Greek countryside. Most humble country retreats are equipped with antennas, so even when sipping your frappe over a game of backgammon on a balcony with a view of the Aegean, there’s always a timely reminder of the impending doom to compete with the shimmering summer heat and incessant cicadas.

Letter from Athens: 28 June 2012

This week should have been when those the Greek public reluctantly elected to run the country finally got down to business. 

It should have been. But it wasn’t.

It seemed like just moments after Antonis Samaras was sworn in as Prime  Minister when an announcement came that he was being admitted to hospital for emergency surgery for a detached retina.

Looking at it charitably, you might say “Tough break, Ant” and put his optical problems down to the huge strain of the daunting task ahead of him. Greeks, however, are not over-inclined to being charitable towards their politicians – especially these days. The moment the news broke, the cyber waves were swimming with cartoons and heavy satire about the one-eyed ruling the country of the blind.

If that were not enough, the Finance Minister was rushed to hospital after collapsing before he could be sworn in. Details were hazy – some say he fainted, others that he had a gastric problems, others yet that he was not happy with the make-up of the cabinet. But the result was the same - he resigned from his post and was replaced by (surprise, surprise) a banker.

So, the governance of the country was left to limp aimlessly along as Europe’s Big Wigs met again to try to sort out how to tackle the continent’s growing crisis, and the 83-year-old President of Democracy (a largely symbolic role) Carolos Papoulias flew Economy Class to Brussels to face the music.

Beyond the hallowed halls of Government, schools have now closed. The morning commute has become easier, now that hundreds of school buses and doting parents are not delivering the kids to class. Families around the country are coming to terms with exam results of varying quality and kids have their mind on their next trip to the beach. Many have been shipped off to relatives or summer camps in the countryside.

No such luck for elected MPs, due to be sworn in today, who are among the few to benefit from a cash injection. The same state that is figuratively pulling out the sofa cushions to look for spare change to keep the country’s health system creaking along has come up with 50 million Euros for its beloved political parties. 

The lion’s share goes to election winner Nea Dimocratia (15.4 million, down from the 17 million it received in 2009), followed by the leftist SYRIZA coalition which gets 14.1 million and former political heavyweights and now 'Yianni-no-mates' PASOK getting a mere 7.5 million. Smaller parties - the Independent Greek, the ultra nationalist Chryssi Avgi (Golden Dawn), the Democratic Left and KKE (the Communist Party of Greece) - each get between 3.4 and 4 million. And perhaps as a consolation prize, 750,000 Euros went to two more parties that failed to muster enough votes to enter Parliament.

Meanwhile, the mercury has been steadily rising to 'hotter than a handbag in Hades' levels. In temperatures up to 40 degrees Celsius, you're sweating before you stepped out of the shower, cats and dogs lie panting spread-eagled on the coolest spot they can find and ice cream melts before it reaches your mouth. In the city centre, tarmac on the roads sticks to the heels of your shoes and pigeons in Syntagma Square dive-bomb the fountains in search of a little relief. In shops, offices and homes that can afford it, air conditioning offers some artificial relief but the burden on the power grid has already bought the first (albeit thankfully brief) black-outs in some areas.

Things have started to hot up elsewhere too. 

Strong winds combined with soaring temperatures have put much of the country on high alert for forest fires, and the first of the summer’s blazes have already claimed swathes of green countryside and country homes.

Back in the capital, presumably in a misguided attempt to make a political point by targeting a big name multinational, armed arsonists set fire to the Athens headquarters of Miscrosoft. Apparently, however, they didn’t know that Microsoft Hellas is one of the few organisations offering practical assistance to small Greek start-up companies trying to make a new start in these trying times, by offering them office space and access to equipment. And it was the offices used by those Greek start-ups that were damaged by this week’s fire. 

Proof positive that the word 'irony' is Greek in origin. But then again, so is 'drama'.

Letter from Athens: 21 June 2012

A mass sigh of relief was let out across Greece this week – and it had nothing to do with the politicians who managed to strike a deal and form a Government.

School’s out for the nation’s schoolkids, and for those aged 12 and up, that marks the end of a grueling month of intense revision for their end-of-year exams to determine if they graduate to the next year of High School.

By yesterday evening, the ink was dry on the last of the exams in the nation’s schools (though some youngsters still face the tests set by foreign language institutes, taken through private evening schools) and the kids could finally let their hair down and enjoy being young.

In an ordinary middle class suburb of northern Athens, like many across the country, the class of 15-year-olds graduating from Junior to Senior High celebrated in a uniquely Greek way with a show that combined a spoof awards ceremony, self-penned songs, traditional folk dances and a full-on mini-rock show by the students.

It was a much needed release of tension for these adults in training. They’re part of a generation having to come to terms an uncertain future, the overturning of expectations and prospects, and the strain put on Greek family life by the economic woes of the country. These past two years have been more of a baptism of fire than an education for these teens now at an age when they’re becoming aware of politics and its effect on the society they live in.

Many have been caught up in the general anger of the time, fueled by massive disillusionment at mainstream politicians. Some have thrown themselves enthusiastically into the mob expressing their frustration in the most physical way at protests. Others have been even been charmed by the sinister siren call of extremism.

And yet, for most, teen life still goes on - albeit with some serious cutbacks. Fewer families than ever before have the means to head off for a week or two on an island or even their grandparents’ villages, take-away coffees drunk in the leafy shade of public parks have replaced hours spent in the city’s cafeterias, and jamming at a friendly house has taken the place of heading for a night at a club.

At their best, both Greeks and adolescents are irrepressible. They’re nearly always loud, frequently argumentative, often messy, and perhaps a little wayward – but their energy and lust for life is what they are all about.

Despite what some might think, it doesn’t take much to make them happy. A little respect, someone willing to listen to their point of view, the chance to express themselves without being slapped down by the Powers That Be (be they parents, teachers or the EU and IMF) and the right to have a say in their own destiny. Most just want to be left alone to enjoy the things they love – their friends, their family, their music and (yes, still) their beautiful country.

You’ll see their patriotism and passion on full display in the living rooms and balconies, coffee shops and bars of the country tomorrow night – when Greece and Germany go head-to-head on the football pitch in the Euro quarter-finals. Though few really dare to believe it, there’s a spark of hope that maybe (just maybe) the players in their national team might repeat the giant-slaying trick they pulled back in 2004.

Now, more than ever, they need a reason to celebrate.

Letter from Athens: 14 June 2012

Things are hotting up in the Greek capital – in more ways than one.

The mercury hit 39 degrees Celsius this week. Everywhere you look, Athenians are fanning themselves on public transport, seeking out shade and cooling breezes in the city’s parks and squares, swigging on bottles of water as they walk down the street and generally trying to keep their cool as another sweaty summer arrives with a vengeance.

They know how to handle the heat, and they embrace it by camping out on their balconies to catch a whiff of a breeze by night as they discuss the events of the day over an iced coffee or a chilled beer. After all, you can’t live here without becoming accustomed to scorching weather in June, July and August.

But what Greeks are NOT used to is the violent turn that the over-heated political climate has taken.

To most foreigners, the Greeks seem an excitable lot. You get off the plane at Athens airport or the ship at Piraeus port and all around you are people waving their arms and shouting at a rate of knots. Passions run high, voices are raised, moustaches (male and female) quiver, faces turn a delicate shade of magenta. Any minute, you expect to see daggers drawn and blood spilt. And then, they roar with laughter and embrace like brothers.

Greeks shout a lot, but they rarely get violent.  

However, since the last inconclusive election of 6 May, that has changed in a very real way.

Every day brings new reports of violence:

- A family of immigrants that has lived and worked in Greece for years is attacked in their home – one is so badly injured he had to be hospitalised;
- During a live TV debate, the poster boy of the self-styled Nationalist (critics call them Neo Nazis) Chryssi Avgi (Golden Dawn) party throws a glass of water at one woman politician and repeatedly punches another in the face when she smacks him on his arm with a newspaper in protest (he escapes arrest for assault by hiding out until the warrant expires, then emerges to announce he will sue his victims - and others - for ‘provocation’);
- A Communist party representative campaigning for this Sunday’s repeat election is beaten in the face with a knuckle-duster (or “iron fist” as the Greeks call them) when he challenges a group of thugs throwing water and juice around his party’s kiosk in a bustling suburban square;
- Reports of attacks in the street or train on foreign-looking people now so common they almost go unremarked.

This is a new and disturbing trend in Greek society. Of course, the potential for violence can be found anywhere, but despite the headline-grabbing images of rioting crowds throwing Molotov cocktails in Syntagma Square earlier this year, one-on-one up-close-and-personal violence has always been a rarity here. And even as police launched tear gas at protestors in Syntagma, just a few streets away people could be found sitting outside cafes sipping their coffee as they read the papers, discussed politics or battled it out on the Backgammon board.

There’s little doubt in most people’s minds what has sparked the latest rise in the frequency, severity and sheer nerve of the attacks in the past six weeks or so. Since winning almost 7% of the vote (presumably some of which came from desperate voters looking to punish mainstream politicians) and 21 seats in the Greek Parliament in early May, Chryssi Avgi have become increasingly vocal, volatile and – yes – provocative. Few think it’s a coincidence that the increase in violence has coincided with the rise of a party whose second-in-charge is a self-styled ‘street fighting’ specialist, and whose candidates openly give campaign speeches threatening to enter hospitals and childcare centres to throw out immigrants and their children.

It scares many a Greek. But there is a significant minority who justify such actions or even openly applaud them.

Fuelled by spiraling poverty and unemployment, rising prices, increasing tax demands on shrinking or non-existent incomes, and their beloved country being branded the bad boy of Europe, many Greeks are desperate for someone to blame and someone to punish. Illegal immigration is a huge burden for a country unable to support even its own people. The fabric of the state is close breaking point, with the health system almost collapsing and cancer patients unable to access the medication they need. Mainstream politicians are condemned by many for betraying their country and feeding the ordinary working folk to the wolves.

It’s a country haunted by fear for the future and a lost faith in the past. Little wonder then that there’s been a rise in support for the far right who condemn the powers that be and make grand (but vague) promises of restoring patriotic pride.

Three days before the next election, many Greeks still don’t know what they will vote. But most want the result to be conclusive this time. The uncertainty of the past two years, with Europe or the IMF dangling the Sword of Damocles over their heads, has taken its toll in many ways - including a worrying spike in the number of suicides in the past months.

If this Sunday’s election still fails to form a workable Government, they face yet another vote and weeks of uncertainty. And they will be robbed of yet another Sunday that could otherwise be spent enjoying one of the few things that are still affordable – the glorious Greek summer and a dip in the Med.