beRARE blog

floR's adventures - Greece

On this page are my first impressions of my stay in Greece. I did my internship for my study in Thessaloniki for 5 months, together with a friend of mine, who probably wants to stay anonymous, right Elmar?

About the pictures, I know I'm not the best photographer, and besides, I had a lousy camera, but I'm content with the result.

Part One
Part Two

Part One

This first part was written in the first two or three weeks in Thessaloniki. Having never been in Greece or even abroad (apart from my internship in Sweden) many things seemed strange or even sick to me. Although I am not a writer and don't keep a diary I just started writing one day. I am not sure what the motive was, to write about my adventures far away for my friends and family, or just for myself, to help my memories relatively fresh. Anyway, maybe you will enjoy reading it. Then again, maybe not.

The motive

After our great stay in Sweden, Elmar and I decided to go to the other country (Greece). Via our generous questions and the poor Greek answers by e-mail, we came to the intership description "project". Though relatively vague, it didn't have a negative sound. We decided to be satisfied with this information and prepared for the internship.

The journey

There we went. Two guys adventuring to Greece. Both Elmar and I had only flew once before, in a Cherokee Pipercup. This time we would fly in a real plane, like a Boeing. We had also developed a plan: we would check in at 8 o'clock at Schiphol, take the plane at 9:35, entertain ourselves and each other from 11:10 to 12:05 in Zurich and finally to our destination, Thessaloniki, where we would meet our contact Demones Satanis at 15:30 local time. Or not.

It started out according to plan. Early in the morning, 8:00, we were at Schiphol. We checked in and watched our luggage leave us. At 9:00 we boarded the small- to medium-sized flying tool of CrossAir, the stepsister of SwissAir. The reason we couldn't take off for an hour, had nothing to do with the beauty of the stewardesses. Although our untrained eyes couldn't even spot a bird in the sky, our delay seemed to be the result of rush hour traffic in the air. Sure.

After some calculating I estimated that we would arrive 5 minutes too late for our transfer in Zurich. While we landed in Zurich I cursed my arithmetic capabilities, as we were just in time to wave our transfer to Thessaloniki goodbye (which, of course, we didn't).

Cursing out loud we stepped up to a desk, where we explained our situation to a lady whose beauty I didn't respond to at that time. After some phonecalls a flight was arranged via Frankfurt. To bridge the waiting time of only five (5) hours, we had a lunch, on SwissAir's expenses of course, because they were to blame for leaving on time.

An hour before boarding we walked toward gate A81. We allowed, as we did at Schiphol, customs to scan our luggage, of which I, by the way, weren't permitted to take a picture of, and boarded the plane, which was only fifteen minutes too late. This SwissAir airbus was quite luxurious and the flying waiters attended to us like good slaves. Over our heads hi-res LCD screens popped out, on which at the beginning of the flight the safety instructions were taught to alert passengers, using a daring computer animation. The rest of the flight the screens showed information on the flying speed, altitude and temperature. This is how I learned that it freezes 20 degrees centigrade at 8 kilometers, if I remember correctly.

After a short flight, complete with very tasty drinks and snacks, we unfortunately arrived in Germany. We spontaneously had to take a shit, took a modest Coke of 6 DMark and waited for another few hours for the flight to Thessaloniki by Olympic Airways. This plane arrived at Frankfurt, like expected, unexpectedly late, only 45 minutes.

This nostalgically antique plane of the Greek company exceeded all our expectations of size, safety and comfort. Although only about 8 people had boarded the plane and a crew of at least as many, the plane was practically empty and I had to look for a long time before finding a seat which was already taken by someone. This turned out to be Elmar.

During the take-off the lights had to be turned off. My naivety prevended me from feeling relaxed at this. I did get a magnificent view of Frankfurt-by-night, though. Despite the suspiciously dancing of the gigantic right engine and the hazy Greek salads, the journey went fine, even over the then war territory Yugoslavia. During the landing the light turned off once more thus treating me to Thessaloniki by night now. Shivering of exhilleration we let our ears pop for the last few times and the landing was a fact.

Oddly enough our luggage had followed us around the entire journey, so we could pick up our bags and step into the damp warm night towards a taxi. The poor man hardly spoke English but we finally, after a wild ride, arrived at hotel Delta.

The hotel

Actually, it isn't a real hotel (it used to be) but more of a student flat for TEI (Technological Educational Institute) students. The building has 10 storeys (IS, HM, R, 1-7) and luckily there is an elevator, because I live on floor 7.

De room, 705, is really a to a double room converted single room, that is, with well-considered randomness an extra bed is placed in the room. With a strong sense for summer heat the room is situated toward the southwest. At an average day temperature of 35 degrees centigrade I really have to do my best to appreciate this fact.

In the bathroom is the first thing that catches the eye, the toilet. The bowl is filled almost to the rim with water. I am not quite sure of the reason. It is probably the result of an architectural error, but is sure is handy; the turds, because they float, don't leave any marks, which is reasonably compatible with my strong talent of not to clean.

What anyone else might notice first, is perhaps the bath tub, but if you, like me, do not recognize it as such, your attention is immediately drawn toward the poetically filled toilet bowl. After a couple of days I dared to try the bath (I had never taken a bath before) and since then, I frequently take a dive in the chlorally blue water.

The thing I thought was neat (although completely redundant and therefore unappreciated), were the sheets and blankets, the towel on the bathroom door, the piece of soap over the sink at the mirror and the roll of (unused) toilet paper.

One point of consideration still, was how I was to keep my room clean, vacuming and the like. Perhaps that once in a while a cleaning bitch would come by and 'do' me.

At night with a little imagination you can cry yourself to sleep with the comforting sound of traffic on the six lane highway, nine floors below.

The view

As I said, nine floors below is a six lane highway on view (actually, it has only four lanes, but Greeks are very creative when it comes to driving). There's always something striking to see. During daytime the road is full with traffic. At night, however, also. Pay specific attention to the keywords 'bus' and 'taxi'. Although somewhat noisy, the headlights in a row kinda look pittoresque.

With some hanging over the balcony and stretching with my neck, I could stare for hours into my neighbours' appartments. However, this is completely boring and rude too, so I don't waste my time with this. But one of my favourite activities is to look for ages at the street below.

On the other side is a filthy looking office building, where you can seldom to never observe the unbridled sexual excesses of office sheep. If this and other buildings would be there, I would have a view over the ocean and the famous (no?) White Tower of Thessaloniki.

When it is, like in the first week, thundering and lightning at night, it is a delight to be on the balcony outside. With a little luck you can observe many lightning bolts, which, by the way, cannot be photographed easily.

At night, if you would take in a strategical position (my balcony), you could look in every direction (except backward) en ejoy the infinite fields of lights. Especially against the slope this looks enormously cool. At the glimmering of dawn you could see in the distance in gray a large heap of hill.

The food

Just around the corner a ChiliBurger with a touch of genius is mass-produced a fast food restaurant Goody's. This is one of the few places they have a translation in English on the menu. And sometimes I still dream of the gorgeous waitress Maria...

More commercial and therefore slightly more artificial is the MacDonalds, also at Egnatia avenue, a street of about 6 kilometers through the city. But this is a long walk and the burgers don't come anywhere close to the ChiliBurger of the Goody's.

To try the more traditional food you must have a lot of nerve, since you have to be able to decypher the Greek menu, or you won't know what you will get. The GhammaIpsilonRoOmikronSigma is indeed safe to the point of quite tasty.

On the journey in the plane we were served some vague farmer's salad, but that didn't turn me on. Even so much so, I think the feta wasn't fresh anymore and especially the olives, which I plan to avoid carefully in the future.

On a warm day specifically and maybe even generally, a cold coffee (cafe frappe) tastes very good. With a hint of milk, lots of sugar and a few icecubes, the coffee is deliciously suckable utilizing the matching straw.

In the supermarket you can buy potato chips with TechnoFlippos! Very famous in the Netherlands in 1996, they are called Mega Tasty Tops in Greece. My Top has a three point value and shows an angry Wile E. Coyote (nr. 88a). The thing was packaged separately in a bag of Cheetos. It is more shiny than a Dutch Flippo and looks kinda chique. I'm very happy with it.

The weather

Temperatures of over 30 degrees centigrade are normal on a daily basis. Sunglasses are recommended, as is airy clothing, including shorts. Oddly enough few natives walk around in shorts, but perhaps this is because of habituation (and not for religious reasons, as Elmar theorized).

At night, the first few weeks I was here, in September, there is quite a bit of thunderstorms (lightning and stuff) during which it rains considerably. One night it rained at least ten centimeters within, at the most, 10 minutes. Added to this was the fluid from the higher parts of town and the waves clattered through the alleys and onto the streets. One and a half hour later the street was corky dry again.

In spite of the roaring traffic below, since it is over 20 degrees at night, I have the doors to my balcony constantly open. I didn't bring my Nomad Polydaun sleeping bag, type 'Trekking', named 'Blazer' for nothing?

No, as it turned out, in the winter, when every Greek student had left for the holidays with their parents, it was literally freezing outside. And, since everybody left for the holidays with their parents, they turned off the heat in the building so it was freezing inside as well...
The story you're reading now is only of my first impression in this city. I lost the sequel, which also dealed with the rest of my stay here. I could recollect some of the memories, but I'd rather find the second part of the story first.

The City

Thessaloniki, affectionately called Salonika by the natives, is a city of more than a million inhabitants, at the sea, Gulf of Thessaloniki, and partly on a slope. The city breathes a non-aggressive atmosphere, in contrast to, I think, Amsterdam, but even informal to pleasant. I can just stroll through the darkest alleys without feeling threatened.

Especially in the inner town is a kiosk at least on every streetcorner which are open the most of the evening and some even all night. You can buy snacks, magazines, soft drinks, telephone cards and sometimes belts and bags. Many of the kiosks have their specialty. Some have, for instance, their porn spread out at a child's height.

There is always a little cafe open nearby and in some alleys discos, which of course don't need a bouncer. A couple of times we have witnessed a peculiar action, sitting on a terrace. Suppose, you're minding your own business when someone with flyers walks by and slides a specimen under the ashtray on every table with people at it. You think to yourself "Har?", but no one seems to notice and pays any attention to either the flyer or the doer. Three minutes later the guy returns and without a word takes the pamphlet away again. What do you do? I decide it's part of the Greek culture and drink my cafe frappe.

Now and then you run into a piece of town wall or an old chapel (or whatever religious building it used to be) and you know you are dealing with so-called 'archaeological remnants'. Or anyway, something old and dilapidated, where might as well have been a supermarket. In 1997 Thessaloniki was the Cultural Capital of Europe because of this scattered debris. Why? It has been there for a couple of hundred years, did they just notice it?

Of course in the center of the city at the sea is the White Tower, depicted on many images, claiming to be the tradesmark of Thessaloniki. Perfunctory I took a photograph. But not a pretty one, I'll tell you that!

Also in a town like this, garbage is collected, namely at about 1 a.m. Monday night. Probably at this time, since it might be the least busy and only a few (hahaha) cars are parked along the streets. Parking, by the way, is an art in itself. Pay attention, for it is quite a quick event, even for the practised driver: 1) stop the car; 2) done. Next to another car, in the middle of a crossroads or randomly at a roundabout, it's all the same to our Greek parker.

Greek, or at least Thessalonikian traffic has two states: accelerating and jamming the brakes on. Mopeds and scooter dart between the buses, taxis and normal traffic. Wearing a helmets is a rarity. Also safety belts are a luxiary. We even got a lift from a guy who had never heard the word 'driving license'. Yet I have only witnessed two accidents (no deaths).

The people

At our arrival the first day, we were (almost) met by someone who, because of the time we arrived, had to be the night porter. Generously avoiding us with his silence, he could hardly be distracted from the local testscreen on his little black-and-white television. With smothered intelligence glimmering through in his half-closed eyes, he was zealously looking for the right words, unknown to him, to welcome us. We gratefully declined his spontaneously unoffered help and rushed to our rooms.

The next day a happily blonde wench was grinning at us from behind that same desk. This particular one was quite helpful but spoke and understood only a few words of English. When, for example, we inquired about the hours we would have warm water in our rooms, a slight confusion arose:

We: When is there hot water?
She: Zer ees no hot wotter...
We: Har?!
She: No hot wotter.
We: There is no hot water..?
She: Har?! Zer ees no hot wotter??
We: We don't know. When should there be hot water?
She: Ze man hoo fixes wotter ees not heer.
We: Never mind...
She: Yoo want no hot wotter?
We: No, of course we do, but we want to know when...
She: After ze weekend ze man ees heer.
We: *sigh* Today... when... hot water?
She: I give yoo kee to 712 so yoo can wosh.
We: In other rooms... when... hot water?
She: For too ten, but...
We: Ok, thanks.
She: ...

Part Two

When I started translating my Greek adventures, I thought I lost the second part, the part I had been writing after the first few weeks. In the Part One are mainly my first impressions, my acquintance with Thessaloniki, the things I noticed because they differed so much from my every day life in the Netherlands. Over the next months, I had more experiences and noticed other things. Anyway, I recovered the sequel to the first story on an old floppy, so without further adue, I present: Part Two.

Trips

Since we were in Greece for five months, we might as well tour around a little bit outside the filthy city. During our stay we took only 4 trips: two daytrips to Halkidiki, a weekend to Meteora and a weekend to Mount Olympus. On the weekend-trips we were joined by the English exchange students, who also stayed in hotel Delta, Jonathan, Steve and Stuart.

Thessaloniki

In the first week we were in Thessaloniki, we decided to look for the beach. The city is situated at the Gulf of Thessaloniki, so apart from the boardwalk and the promenade along the shore, we had been told there was a beach nearby with sand and all. After three hours of walking, we arrived at a beach-like area, unlike what we had expected, so we turned around and walked home. This could not have been it.

Halkidiki

Over the next few weeks, we took the bus to Afytos, a tourist-oriented village on the first 'finger' of Halkidiki, at 80 km from Thessaloniki. The sea that we saw there, was unlike every other sea that I had seen. It was turquoise blue, like the water you see in travel brochures. I always thought those pictures were touched with Photoshop, but they indeed exist.

We figured out which bus to take to the bus station which had buses leaving to Halkidiki. We bought our tickets not in the bus, but in the bus station. We guessed how to write Afytos in Greek and got the right tickets.

Tourist season was over (it was September or October) so most of the tourists were back where they belonged. In Germany. We got out of the bus at Afytos after we had yelled to the driver that we wanted to get out. We decided to eat something first so we ordered two spaghettis (two menus, not strings) at the first restaurant we saw. The owner of the restaurant hit me on my back and shouted "my friend!". Elmar thought it was very funny.

After lunch we went further down to the beach, gasped at the turquoise water and went for a swim. Not actually a swim, but more like a float. And float we did.

Later that day we searched for a bus stop, halted a bus to take us back and this time, bought our tickets in the bus during the trip from a dude who at some time stood up and started selling little slips of paper.

Mount Olympus

In late October we went to Mount Olympus together with an english Erasmus student, Jonathan, whom we met at the ex-hotel/dormitory. Upon arriving, we immediately set out in search of a hotel or pension which would take us. The second we tried, a pension, had room for us. Then we started walking.

At a height of about 500 (?) meters was this small church. It was an uneasy climb, and the church was deserted. I wonder how many people would visit it on Sundays. We continued climbing, ignoring the fact that there was no path. After having almost plummeted to our deaths several times we reached some sort of meadow, consumed some drinks and Mars bars and decided that we'd better get back if we didn't want to climb down in the dark (which we really didn't).

At night we checked out the local nightlife, even though I really don't enjoy myself going out. I never seem to feel at ease. But after a few drinks, everything looks brighter and I even thought I could unpunishedly hit on the nice girl who had us drink ouzo. The drinks were on the house, as she turned out to be the bar owner, together with her husband. After that blunder I couldn't bother to find a new prey and since Elmar and Jonathan could and enjoyed themselves, I really wanted to go home. Jonathan found me a wuss for wanting to leave while we arrived together and I found Jonathan an irritating little fukc for not giving me the key to our room.

The next day we rented three mountainbikes in order to see more of the surroundings. Having neglected the characteristics of such surroundings, we decided after a few hundred meters that it would be easier to cycle back down. We returned, chose a different route. A worse route, we found out when we suddenly found ourselves being chased down by a big aggressive dog. Which is not a comforting thought on an unknown bike in an unknown town. After a couple of hundred meters, drifting and sliding over bumps, through woodland, up slopes, down valleys, we finally lost the dog. I also lost control of my heart, but that solved itself in twenty minutes.

We tried the tourist route, usually only used by pedestrians, through the canyon of Mt Olympus. The path was about half a meter wide with at some points unguarded by a railing. So the german who yelled at us that we should not ride our bikes there, because he, as a german pedestrian, felt superior, came at a very bad timing when we needed all our concentration to take an unfenced bend.

Meteora

Half November we were very lucky to have nice weather and together with two of the english guys, Jonathan and Stuart (Steve stayed at home, banging his Greek mistress Sofia), we went to Meteora, at Kalambaka. Since we left Friday afternoon after work, we arrived at night, after having switched trains in the middle of nowhere, running into our traindriver of the first train, who was obviously drunk.

We found a hotel and went to sleep. Again, as was the case at Mt Olympus, it took quite a while to fall asleep for the silence was so in contrast to our usual sleeping conditions. The next morning we realized what Meteora was really about, as we stepped unto our balcony to see the tall sandstone natural structures hovering over the houses.

We rented mopeds this time and raced through the silent mountains. We regularly stopped for some photographs and resting while enjoying the view. We met a few nice tourists from the United States (of America), Australia and Africa. Twice more that day we met Alan, from the US, who also dropped by that evening to pick us up to go to a bar. He told us a bit about his life and that he had been traveling through Europe for a couple of months, being a ski instructor among other things.

Seven of the convents, that they had build on top of those phallus-shaped mountains, were open for public. We entered two or three. One of which was really worth the climb. We met a domestic cat and I had the greatest view ever taking a piss. The other convent was used in one James Bond movie.

Beer

Whoever said Greece is cheap, should order a beer in Thessaloniki, because beer is in some bars 2000 drachme, something like 7 dollars. And no, that's not a six-pack. In strip joints you might pay 3000 drachme (I've heard). Lucky for me, I don't like beer.

Just for fun (why else?) I checked the menu, the beer section.Much to my surprise, 70 percent of the beer was Dutch. I even discovered the Limburgian pilsener Brand. But what about Grolsch? And if you would count Belgium as southern Holland, Duvel makes the score to 80 percent.

Bus

In Groningen it pissed me off when the city bus was 10 minutes late. Hah! If there was anything consistent about the buses in Thessaloniki, it would be departing at random times. Sometimes the bus heads in the right direction, but when? At some places there is a hand written paper with numbers and letter, but is it a timetable? And if so, are they local times?

Finally in the bus you walk to the back, buy your ticket and sit down on a wooden chair, fatal for your back. You look around and who happens to also ride the bus today? Jesus! Not himself, but an icon. But still... You think to yourself, "is that necessary?" and hope, when you see an old lady does one of those cruciform moves, that it has nothing to do with the driver's capabilities, who is happily humming along with whatever music he's listening to on his walkman.

Electricity

In hotel Delta is a brilliant electricity network. Whenever Elmar turns on his television, by power shuts off. Or something. It all has something to do with the overloading of the net. I did not know that.

My power went dead, came back, went dead, came back, went dead and stayed dead. Vaguely I was beginning to think that something was wrong. I waited a few more minutes and went down to a bitch who did not appear to understand English (although we think she's faking).

Me: Hallon!
She:
Me: Anyway, my electricity is doing a bit strange.
She: Eh no understand.
Me: Electricity?
She: Ah, skopa? (while making frantically jerking gestures)
Me: Har? Eh.... light!
She:
Me: No?
She:

Already I lost my patience and walked away. After a while of course I returned since it was getting dark. She showed signs of a light panic and pulled someone from a card phone, who translated her and said that the electricity was not working and went back to his phone call. The bitch, as I will call her for the sake of convenience, gestured to me that I should wait and had the Greek translate that I was in room 705, after his conversation was over. The Greek then passed me to another, smaller Greek who took me upstairs.

This particular Greek was quite helpful even though it didn't have any result whatsoever. I went back down, just in time to almost see the bitch having a seizure from misery and I grinned that it still wasn't working. She started making some aggressive phonecalls and fortunately for her the small Greek came downstairs again. Angrily she started babbling to him, while giving me a pissed off glance and he went to the Goody's. When he returned, I had to go upstairs with him again. There he told me he couldn't help me and walked to his room.

I went and told the entire story to Elmar, who also was not interested and thought I was long-winded, when a short, chubby girl started talking to my doorway. I was beginning to feel guilty and walked over to her. She was going to help me. After some pulling and pushing of levers and buttons, my light flashed on and she told me the Legend of the Cause. I said "thank you very much", she answered "parakalo", I tried "efcharisto", but she could easily take me on and replied with a bunch of traditional Greek before we each went our own seperate ways with the rest of our lives.

Completely fascinated by the Greek language and literature, I decided to inform the bitch about my solved problem. I went to the desk, yelled "ola kala!", but she grinned at me stupidly. I mumbled "endaks", and the bitch tried to nod friendly. She failed. My job was done here.

Then I quickly went upstairs to take a bath, but the water was cold. For a moment I considered going down to the bitch, but remembered a previous conversation about warm water with a woman whose English was much better, and decided to let it go.

Film

There were rumours that movies, when they appeared in Greek cinemas, were already in video stores for two years in other countries. Fortunately this was heavily exaggerated because for instance The Island of Dr Moreau was in Greece two months before it was in Holland. Okay, so maybe I shouldn't compare it to Holland.

Anyway, during that movie, an old man was sitting in front of us. The man appeared to have caught a cold, because he was constantly sniffing deeply. But that was just the beginning. After having sniffed and snuffed for a while, the gentleman took out a liter bottle of nose drops, convenient for situations like these. He started inhaling heavily with it, at the same time fiercely shaking his head backwards. After the break we did not see him again.

Another night, thanks to the language barrier we ended up at The Substitute (which sucked), instead of The Arrival, for which there were posters on the cinema wall outside. How were we to know how to read or write "coming soon" in Greek?

My knowledge of English has never been a big problem, until I saw Trainspotting with Greek subtitles. I did not understand a fukc of it. Other movies we saw included From Dusk Till Dawn, Independence Day, Crash, The Nutty Professor, A Time to Kill and Sleepers (with Rania...). I had no trouble understanding these, so I had time to learn from the subtitles a few Greek bad words, malaka!

And of course also in the cinema are the Greek anti-social. They shout, yell, whistle, creak, telecommunicate and slide coins over one another right behind my ears.

Graveyards

Even in Greece people die and get buried. So Elmar and I dug up our camera and went in search of some graveyards. Having found one, we almost lost ourselves while immortilizing graves, which must have consumed huge life insurances.

Elmar thought it necessary to joke around and photographed a grave with a life-size (how big is that?) cross upside down and suggested that I should lie down in a nearby open grave. Hesitating I continued walking and was surprised at how many stones there were that looked exactly like jawbones and hip-joints and the coincidence that they were lying here of all places.

Disappointed, because the sun didn't shine deeply enough into that one tomb, so we could not have a closer look at the sphere-like dull-white head-size boulder with the jawbone-like branch in the same colour, we left the cemetary.

Girls

The Greek girls of Thessaloniki are unnecessarily beautiful. Walking around on a summer's day in their black tight shirts, waving shiny black hair, big bright brown eyes... Too intimidatingly pretty that the thought of even smiling at them did not occur to me.

But they are not all so gorgeous. Some 'girls' disturb the serene presence of the goddesses by walking amongst them unshaven. That's right: some 'girls', not many but some, compensate the supernatural beauty of the typical greek girls by walking around with their greasy hair, fat ankles, hell, fat anything, and worst of all, with facial hair to be jealous of if you were a guy.

And then there was Rania...

One of the more pretty specimens, with a knee-weakening sweet shy smile. She sometimes had computer class in the room we were in and it occurred to me that she sat down next to me more often than was statistically average. So after a few weeks I wrote her an e-mail, apologizing that I was too shy to ask her to a movie. She replied "Which movie?". Damn, I had not anticipated that, now what? When she did not reply my pathetic attempt "I don't know, are you asking me out?" I was out of inspiration and guts.

Christmas holiday was approaching and for sure, Rania would leave to her parents, far away and I would not see her again, if at all. But that day, I believe it was Tuesday, she sat down next to me again. Shyly smiling "hello" at each other, I was trying to concentrate on my work. I couldn't. After about half an hour, she stood up, got into her coat and smiled "bye". I stuttered and watched her leave. I glanced at Elmar in desperation who gestured that I should not sit there like an autist, but go after her. So I gathered all of my courage and faked some, and pursued her into the hall.

Me: Rania!
She: Yes?
Me: Uhm....uhmmm...
She: *smile*
Me: So uhm... would you ..uhm.. like to go to a movie.. uhm... with me..uhmm... tomorrow?
She: I can't...
Me: Oh...
She: What about tonight?
Me: ....Ok...

So that night after meeting up at the Mac, we walked to the cinema to see Sleepers (I had no idea what it was about, but who cares? I was going there with Rania!) and I discovered her English kinda... sucked. During the movie all I dared was holding her hand. Afterwards I walked her halfway home and she smiled "bye". We kissed (no tongues) and I convinced her to sit on a park bench for a while and talk. She told me she had just broken up with her boyfriend and I decided that it wasn't a good sign. Anyway we talked for a while and that was all my courage would let me do.

For all the guys reading this, who would have talked her into bed by now and think of me as a whimp, maybe I am, but I think of you as sex-oriented insensitive opportunists and I envy you, you male whores!

Anyway, that Friday was the last day I might see her, but I didn't. Desperate, I decided to go home early and try to meet her at the train station at 14:00, when I thought she would leave. Of course, she was no where to be found and I spend the next two weeks in the cold hotel with the heating turned off.

After the holiday it was my birthday and Rania remembered because there was a knock at the door and behind it was a messenger carrying red roses and candy. Huh? Are girls supposed to do that? Not according to the Greek girlfriend of one of the English students, so it must mean she was really keen on me. Whatever. We were going home in two weeks and I wanted to spend the rest of my stay with Rania so Elmar took a plane earlier because he didn't want to be in our way. Sorry dude. To compensate, I booked my flight back a week later.

Now it gets painful.

I called Rania that Saturday and asked if she had anything to do that night and if not, would she spend the evening with me? She would. She arrived around nine and we talked, listened to music, looked through my pictures and talked some more. At midnight she said she had to go home. I collected my courage again and casually said "So we're not gonna kiss?". She blushed and explained "I have a boyfriend". Oh you do, don't you, you little bitch? Would that be your former ex-boyfriend by any chance? "Do you want me to go?" "Uhm, doh, maybe that would be nice, yes." So she left.

I cooled my anger with a well-aimed hit against the bathroom door (sorry about that) and decided that I would feel better if I talked to her about it. So I went after her and walked her home. I asked her what that was with the flowers and candy. She claimed that it was normal between her and her friends. Whatever. She invited me in and we talked about ... well, nothing really, because her roommate was also there. She showed me her supposedly artistic photo mosaic, which she had made. I took the opportunity and insulted her by saying it looked like something a 5-year-old could have made (it did, actually). I convinced myself it had made me feel better and went home. But it hadn't.

Nameday

Many Greek were named after saints and stuff. Not surprisingly if you check how many saints there really are. Usually such a name is adjustable to another, easy-listening name. And since a name is something to celebrate, Nameday was created.

However, not every Greek is fortunate enough to have a nameday. I think this can lead to severe emotional disorders with a child, which undoubtedly will have its effect when the subject has reached maturity.

So what do people do on a nameday? Kids who have their nameday get spoiled by their family. Then, early in the evening, they massively go to church to light a candle and kiss a glass window, after which sits the image of the concerning saint.

Yet is nameday not always a party. There was this little boy whose parents gave him on his nameday a case to store his toys. It was a fine quality because when the boy hid himself in it, it could not be opened from the inside. Moreover, the gift was indeed a successful investment, as the case turned out to be airproof.

Personal care

When you're so far away from your home country like I was, that doesn't mean that you don't have to take care after yourself, because it does, you do. That's why I, for instance, did the laundry in the bathtub. The water was blue with chlorine after all (of course I added detergent).

For food I preferably went to Maria of the Goody's. Or I consumed cold peas right from the can, or toast with hazelnut spread. Many variations were possible, I found out, with candy bars like Mars, Snickers and Crunch. Unfortunately quite late, I discovered the chocolade- or jam-filled croissants in foil.

The traditional food is quite a bit too fat, for my taste. Even French beans in can are not floating around in water or their own juices, but in olive oil. That cannot be healthy!

Religion

I am not against religion, don't get me wrong. Many people need it to be happy. I myself blame my state of happiness on me, other people or situations, but not on some dude everyone talks about but has never actually seen. If I would lose my job, it probably is my own fault or the company is fiscally challenged. If my girlfriend would die, it's because she had a tumor or, more probable, she had a car accident because she drove too carelessly. I just absolutely refuse to believe that 'her time had come'. What the hell would god need dead people for? And even if I'm not smart enough to understand heavenly matters like that, couldn't he choose his corpses more carefully? Like criminals or old people?

Sorry, back to Greece.

Throughout Thessaloniki are churches of all diversity. Old, new, small, huge, but every church a bus drives past, half of the people on the bus are making those if-I-make-a-cross-gesture-now-I'm-going-to-heaven gestures. Actually, the gesture looks more like an upside-down Satan-like cross. Think about it, forehead, chest, left shoulder, right shoulder. To make a god-like crucifix cross, you ought to touch your navel or genitals. Sorry again. Anyway, if I wanted to see a church, I didn't need to be on the lookout outside the bus, I just observe the people in the bus and know when to look outside. But I didn't want to see a church.

In Greece, next to the Halkidiki peninsula is another piece of land, Athos, where only men are allowed. And what happens over there? They're not partying, drinking beer or watching football, no, they're practising religion. For the life of me, I can't imagine what's there to practise about fulltime (or any time; religion should be nothing more than a feeling, a believe, not a devoted lifestyle). Why are women not allowed (Why don't feminists have something to say about that, rather than complaining when a tv commercial shows a set of breasts?)? Aren't they any good at practising? Or do they tempt the men into erotic thoughts? If they do, are the men on the island even worthy of practising, if the sight of just one woman makes them fall from their faith? Or are women really demons? If so, shouldn't the men be practising outside Athos and kill some of those demons? It's probably the sex thing. But doesn't that kinda proof that religious folks are weak, one diversion and they can't concentrate on what they are supposed to be doing? One idea is put into their heads ("there is a god") and being the weak people they are, they believe it, but they need to be isolated so as not to expose them to other, more plausible ideas.

Anyway, sorry again and stuff, it's not that I don't like religious people. I may like the person, the individual, just not the idea that we're all god's children, like we're all the same, because we're really not. Be realistic, believe in yourself.

Greece may be the land of the gods, but don't exaggerate.

TV

One thing I like about Greece is television. Via the ether (no cable) you can receive about 25 channels rather well. Every night there are at least two movies on probable illegal channels like Euro.

Many channels also imply enormous variation in programmes. For example, you can spend many hours watching religious discussions and psalm-warbling, tapestry auctions, live impressions of the local nightlife somewhere in a club in the city and at night soft porn, usually connected to a phone number.

Elections

Since recently, I've been told, Greec is democratic and the natives (including women) are allowed to vote for the party of their choice. But they have to go to the city in which the party resides. From day to day the campagnes are getting more aggressive. Tons of paper are hurled out of passing pickup trucks; cars which overrun potential voters while they're ignoring traffic lights.

Then, when you think things can't get any worse and you can't remember having seen anything else than elections on your lap-television, they go on for a few more days. Fortunately that, too, ends and the votes are added. Tension rises, sweat flows, bladders burst until the moment which the result is declared.

The rest of the evening and night the entire country is in commotion. While there's still not a normal show on TV, cars drive through the streets, honking their klaxons maniacally (more than usual). One woman even dances in the center of the 6-lane street, with a serious case of schizofrenia thanks to which she doesn't know whether to shriek like an infant or to treat the cars as if she were a matador.

That night I lay awake in my bed for a loooong time, annoyed and hoped that the police, who were massively on patrol, would escort the woman from underneath my window.

Toilet

In Part One, I got all lyrically about my filled toilet (turds don't always float by the way) and harldy dared philosophizing about the shitholes at the TEI. Well now, some time has passed. A time in which I have developed numerous theories on how one would utilize the hole when doing the daily task (

1.
a. pull pants down
b. hnnnnng
c. pull pants up
d. clean pants at home

2.
a. pull pants down
b. hnnnnng
c. clean pants
d. pull pants up

3.
a. hnnnnng
b. clean pants (at home)

4.
a. take off pants (*)
b. hnnnnng
c. put pants back on

5.
a. pull skirt up (**)
b. hnnnnng
c. skirt down

6.
a. pull pants down
b. hnnnnng
c. dab with water (***)
d. pull pants up

7.
a. pull pants down
b. lean to back wall backwards, squatted
c. hnnnnng
d. detach from wall (tricky!)
e. pull pants up

8.
a. pull pants down
b. lie down
c. hnnnnng
d. undress (get up first)
e. shower (where?)
f. get dressed

9.
a. pull pants down
b. hang from watertank
c. swing legs to front
d. hnnnnng
e. let go of watertank (watch the landing)
f. pull pants up

10. hold it until home

(*) where to leave pants? I did not see hooks.
(**) special case
(***) Magne's theory. I think this leaves you in a wet spot.

).

By now we have submitted the case to our mentor. He started giggling unexpectantly but began his explanation nonetheless: "The hole in the ground is also called a turkish toilet, and is regarded by some (who?) as more hygienic and therefore cleaner than an ordinary toilet, on which everybody plants their behind. And paper, everyone brings their own paper."

Cleaner my ass! What if someone my have been spraying thoroughly? It happens. And in such an unfortunate case the toilet floor is no longer entirely clean and every next visitor, even if only taking a leak, so it can happen to me as well, takes a hump along under his/her soles and hop! before you know, the hallways, classrooms, restaurant and even the bus (thereafter the rest of the city) are stained. No, Thessaloniki is not a clean city. And even if one would bring his/her own paper, that still doesn't solve the problem of avoiding his/her pants.

I wonder what the ladies' room looks like?

Toilet - revisited

As it turns out, you could also just strip off the pants to the knees so you don't have to worry about shit dropping the wrong way.. I discovered this recently when I had to go so badly, that I didn't care anymore.

With our own toilet paper I ran to the toilets as casually as I could under those circumstances. This was at about three o'clock, so luckily everyone had left. For the sake of convenience I chose for method 1. Because of my extreme urge, I didn't bother to strip my pants down the entire way. Doing so, I discovered that I could forget about 1d and just apply the paper. I did rather well on the aiming, despite the small hole (in the ground).

When I came back to share my joy with Elmar, he did not appreciate the details of my visit.

Vienna

Of course a stay in Greece would not be complete without a visit to Vienna. In Octobre we had to fly to Austria to present the project we did in Sweden at the DA/DSM96 conference.

Shops

Thessaloniki counts many shops. Of course. But many shops are specialized in one particular type of object. There are curtain-rail shops, bench-vice shops, scales shops. There is also a shitload of jesus shops, small shops of which the windows and show-cases are sparkling with religious icons with leaf-silver. Or aliminum foil. Something which glitters anyway.

Also the 'good life' is represented. Standing on my balcony I could make out at least 5 fur shops on the other side of the street. Most of the hardware stores also sell firearms like revolvers, shotguns and uzis. And strong liquor, you just buy that in the supermarket, also open on Sundays.

In clothing stores it is a habit for the owner to walk behind the customer (who looks suspicious (me?)), sometimes making suggestions what you could buy. And when they finally know what you want, they speak german...