A Citizen

Tags

education, Greekness, protests

On Thursday, March 6, 2013, I broke out of the comfort of my apartment and went in search of the Hilton Hotel where I hoped to swim on a regular basis. As I reached Vassilissis Sofias, I could see that more than the usual amount of people were walking towards Symtagma Square. Change of plans. I followed them. The closer I got, the more police I could see. Finally the street was completely cordoned off, so no traffic except those of us on foot could pass in front of the Parliament Building. The police were stationed on the side of the building close to the florist I’ve sometimes patronize. The incongruity of colorful, fragrant flowers lining the street along side riot geared, machine gunned, gas masked police on the ready made me smirk in painful irony. I was reminded my own protests in the sixties. I am living the class I am teaching at the university, Film of the Sixties.

I put on big sunglasses and armed with my iphone readied myself to be a “citizen journalist.” I had tried to do the same this summer during the elections while staying in Spetses. I posed the question to myself that someone had put to me, “How can you be “observing Greece” from the lap of luxury,” Living in Kolonaki, on my way to the Hilton, and not speaking Greek does create some difficulty. I didn’t understand the signs; I didn’t know what was being protested. Most of the people in the streets were young, so I considered this might have to do with unemployment which is about 25% for youth.

My classes had been canceled on Tuesday due to a protest against the merging of departments at the University which would result in an elimination in part of the Humanities. However, I thought that took place on Tuesday.

I took photographs, placed myself directly in front of the Parliament, and waited to see what would happen. There seemed to be about 2 or 3 thousand people. Standing next to me was a “woman of a certain age” as the French would say. She petted a dog who like many in Greece has a collar but belongs to no one. She spoke to me in English after I made my one statement in Greek that everyone seems to understand, Then milaw Ellinika. I don’t speak Greek. She told me that the dog’s name is Victory. We laughed. I found out that the protest concerned the changes being made in education, that is, firing of teachers, getting rid of some schools. I was in the right place.

After some discussion about this situation, she confided that she had given up her Greek citizenship. Shocked, I asked her why. She said she couldn’t be part of a country that handled this crisis so stupidly, whose leaders were corrupt and still no one did anything. I told her how I had wanted to quit the United States when George W. Bush was president, but my husband had insisted that “someone had to stay and fight.” She went on to say that she is having trouble living in Greece because she speaks her mind, saying what other’s don’t want to hear. I wondered if she was being harassed by people from Golden Dawn as she kept mentioning cults. However, no, this wasn’t the case.

She is on her own, but she fights within her community, her neighbors to be free. I kept being reminded that Freedom has a price. Just that morning, I had been considering applying for a Greek passport, having dual citizenship. I can as my grandfather was born in Greece. Another contradiction, another consideration. What does it mean to be Greek with the blinders of romanticism taken off?

Return to Athens

Tags

Film, people, places

I have been in Athens for almost a week; this visit is different. I will be living here for three months with an apartment, a neighborhood, and a job- teaching film studies. Presently, I am living in a posh neighborhood and seem to be partially “protected” from the desperation that lives in other parts of the city. There is the graffiti on a few walls and occasionally a homeless person emerges and posts herself next to a kiosk; however unless I move out of this enclave, I see little of the suffering Greeks are experiencing.

Last week, as I walked to the National Library for an exhibit, another seemingly professional man seemed to be lost. He followed people, mostly women, looking for direction, not directions, but direction. Naturally, those he approached were uneasy. People moved away from him and police scoured. He drifted away.

Two days ago, as I sat in a cafe reading the International Herald, a middle aged man who also had the air of the middle class about him, paraded in front of the cafe speaking aloud to the coffee drinkers. He wasn’t particularly aggressive nor did he seem unhinged. Yet, he had something he needed to share. No one responded.

As I was walking home that same day, I was crossing behind the gardens and happened to look over my shoulder to see a soldier with a machine gun held to his chest. Who is he protecting?

Another sight that seems more prevalent on the weekend are individuals laying prone on the sidewalk arm extended for an offering. One such women lay in front of an expensive boutique. She moaned as two young women discussed the price of the handbag displayed in the window. I now find myself crossing the street to avoid beggars. How much would it cost to give to everyone I see. Then, there is the my New York scepticism. Are they for real?

Yesterday, I decided to go to a high end shopping center which turned out to be a block long department store. As soon as I entered, I wanted to leave. There were many clerks but no customers. The store, Attica, could have been anyplace where wealth was possible. In Greece, where universal health care has been eliminated and people are cutting down wood in the national gardens to heat their homes, this store wreaks of moral decay. Berlin in the thiries?

Learning Greek

Tags

culture, Film, identity, Language

Many months have passed since my last entry. Is there anybody out there still interested? I am taking a bit of a left turn as I move closer to not only observing Greece but perhaps understanding it as well.

Three months from now, I will be living in Athens and teaching a film studies course to university students as a Fulbright Fellow. Although I will teach in English, I hope to communicate in the language of my students. Therefore, I have become the student and am presently taking an elementary course in Modern Greek. The class has seven students, and I am the least accomplished. This situation comes as a great surprise: I never had a failing grade in my life. I had thought to abandon the class; however, I enjoy that hour once a day listening to Greek, learning to write in Greek, reading in Greek, even if I seem to master only forty percent.

I find my response interesting. Who enjoys failing? Hearing and reading the language creates an excitement about the people, their lives. Even though I am not successful, I feel a pride in knowing I can write a sentence in Greek. I can, even, read a sentence in Greek.

Perhaps, I will be able to read the newspaper Kastelliotika Nea sent to me every month from the village where my grandfather was born. I am one quarter Greek on my father’s side. Since 2001, I have made seven visits to the village. I could not speak Greek and the uncle who lives in my grandfather’s house does not speak English, nor did his wife, his sister, or his sister-in-law who were the family members I saw most often. I have younger cousins that speak English, but they never seem to be there when I am. Yet, not speaking didn’t seem to bother me. I felt at home in the courtyard of my great grandfather’s house, in the village square where we have souvaliki at night, tiny pieces of marinated meat skewered on a large toothpick, grilled over charcoal and squeezed with lemon. A “meza” before the evening meal.

The first time I went to Greece, I climbed into a closet every day and cried. The Greeks looked so cranky, pushed up so closely, and spoke with what seemed like aggression and abruptness. When I visited the village and was embraced by one relative after another, the two impressions didn’t jive. Now as I learn Greek, I start to understand. So, when I attempt to say “nai” that is “yes” in Greek as it sounds in class or on the CD I use, I hear my voice emphasize, not in abruptness, but in, perhaps, the joy of agreement, the pleasure of interaction, maybe even, some Hellenic pride.

THE TEMENOS EXPERIENCE

Tags

Community, Creativity, Film, Greece, Heritage, Markopoulos

Almost by accident I was introduced to Temenos by sitting in on P. Adams Sitney’s showing of Markopoulos’ films at Princeton University. The course was titled, The Image of Greece in European Cinema. As the film screeings are open to the pubic and as I live in Princeton, teach film, and was keen to more about my Greek heritage, I made sure I attended whenever possible. The Illiac Passion was shown that night along with a few of Robert Beaver’s films. Mr. Beavers presented the films, spoke about Temenos and fielded questions. I was on fire. The thought of seeing Markopoulos’s films under the stars in a remote region of the Peloponnesus ignited my imagination and I vowed I would go to the next one. I kept my promise; however, I added to my motivation by applying and getting a Fulbright grant to do research into Markopoulos, his drive and his creation of community. As Robert Beavers said at this year’s Temonos, the showing of Markopoulos’s films which are free and without any commercial restraint provide an artistic respite for the filmmakers who attend -a community, certainly.

I looked forward to participating in this three day “community forming.” However, circumstances altered my place in this newly formed group. Since my son and I had a car, we were not housed in Loutra Iraias where the most of those attending were housed, but, instead, almost 30 minutes away in Rafti, so we were a bit isolated from the rest of the group. Also, we didn’t arrive until close to 7, another consequence of driving from Athens and getting lost on several occasions, . By the time we got to our rooms, it was late and we were too tired from the stress of driving to make the trip to the first night’s celebration in Lyssarea.

Robert Beavers when speaking to the group as a whole on Sunday told of how a friend of his and Markopoulos described them as a “society of two.” My son and I for the most part were a “community of two.” Nevertheless, the thrill of making our way to each evening’s films and the experience of the films themselves created exhilarating discussions and challenging discussions. As an undergraduate sculpture major, he had ideas about what art should do to an observer. I loved to discuss Markopoulos’s intentions while he questioned if his intentions made their mark with the audience,

FROM WES ANDERSON TO GREGORY MARKOPOULOS

Tags

Driving, Film, Greece, Peloponnese

One night we were looking at a commercially successful film in Athens, two nights later we were in a remote area of the Peloponnese watching parts of Eniaios, filmmaker Gregory Markopoulos’ life work composed and shown without any outside influences, at Temenos, his sacred grove near his father’s birthplace of Lyssarea.

My son, Larry, chose to be the first driver and has yet to give up that position due my fears as we climbed narrow mountain roads with no side rails. On our way to Corinth before we started our “stairway to heaven,” we discussed Anderson’s film, Moonrise Kingdom. Being annoyingly picky, I pointed out that saddle shoes worn by the female protagonist were not “Sunday” shoes as described in the film nor were they popular in 1965. They were all the rage much earlier. The film can capture most spectators with its fairytale mise-en-scene, its belief in a first true love, and a plot with obstacles overcome first by two misfits and then by the “in crowd ” realizing they should be good “scouts” and join together to save the orphan and his love. Perhaps I’m jaded, perhaps I gazed at the lit up Acropolis too long. Yet, the idea of a truth existing no matter how outrageous, no matter how difficult to bear, is not so far from Markopoulos’ intention as he decided to go his own way, making films by doing every part, filming, editing by hand. Then, he only allowed his films to be shown as he directed no matter what the cost, which was often quite high as his films did get seen often. He had a vision, a truth and, since the eighties, he shared it with whoever made the journey to Temenos. Then, as today, there is no charge. A pilgrim has only to pay for his or her room and board.

Several hours outside of Athens, we started to climb up and down the Peloponnese mountains. We both agreed that the drive with its hairpin turns, its goats and sheep blocking the road, with the undulating blue of distant peaks welcomed us into the miracle of Greece, a miracle that Temenos creates every four years enticing filmmakers, students, academics from different cultures to
it’s sacred grove.

CINE PARIS ATHENS

Tags

Cinema, Greece, Traveel

Another child has joined me for the last leg of the trip, my son. We repeated in one day some of our first outings in Athens when he was only eight year old. On most of these excursions, there was a significant lack of tourists, good for us, bad for Greece. Yet, newspapers reported that once the elections were settled, plans to visit Greece went up 27%.

We began the day at the Acropolis, a good day to visit. The day was overcast, the heat less intense, and the crowds thin. We took pictures in front of the steps where once he had sat and now visitors are forbidden to trespass. Then, we made our way to Monistraki to eat the city’s best souvlaki. Here there were hoards, some tourists, many locals stopping for a quick lunch, street vendors selling knickknacks, and children playing instruments, hoping their serenades would entice a euro their way, But this has always been the way in Monistraki.

That evening, we went to my favorite outdoor theater, the Cine Paris to see the new Wes Anderson movie. The air, cool and clean, blew gently across the theater, and finally when dusk became night, the Acropolis lit up. Not much more could be asked for: a good companion, delicious air, an excellent film, and history lit up like a jewel.

Afterwards we had dinner down the street at a famous taverna. The restaurants around the square in this usually busy area of the Plaka were barely filled. Will those tourist ever come?

ANOTHER ATHENS HOTEL

Tags

thinking, travel, writing

I’m having a Chelsea Hotel moment even though I am once again at an upscale hotel, The Periscope, and am once again in the “quartier” of those who have swimming pools on their roof, Kolonaki. I have left the hotel only twice in the last 24 hours: to go to a meeting concerning my Fulbright grant after which I returned and slept and, then, 3 hours later, to walk three blocks for souflaki and a beer. I was back in my pajamas and back in bed within an hour. Soon, it will be 8:00 P.M. and I could go out and find a taverena, but I’ve decided to skip dinner, have a drink and some potato chips from the minibar. Did Faulkner and other writers at the Chelsea succumb to “ennui” so easily?

I didn’t surface for very long; however, although, many pedestrians carried shopping bags with the labels of expensive stores, I did see signs of change besides the previously mentioned graffiti. A very old women in widow’s black surrounded by her belongings in plastic bags had strategically placed herself on the pavement next to ATM machine. Nevertheless, she didn’t seem to be profiting by her location. Several older men and some children moved up and down the steep streets with outstretched hands. Finally, a young women sat in a doorway breastfeeding her child, her breast completely exposed, her hand extended.

In today’s International Herald Tribune, Paul Krugman writing about the European economic crisis said, “(Forget abut Greece, which is pretty much a lost cause; Spain is where the fate of Europe will be decided.)” For some, he seems to be speaking the truth; others may be “fiddling while Rome burns.”

A TURKISH RESPITE CONTINUED

Tags

tourists, travel

I have been in Istanbul with my daughter Medb for almost four days. Indeed, this visit is a respite. When I returned to Athens the night before my flight to Istanbul, I was disheartened. My week on Spetses demonstrated in an elite vacation setting how Greece will suffer if all the attempts to overcome past economic practices don’t work. Already, hospitals have cut back on services and in some places, electricity is turned off on a regulated basis. On the taxi ride from Piraeus to my posh hotel in Athens, I saw the anger of the poor and the young against the rich and established. The hotel, St. George Lycabettus is located on the hill opposite the Acropolis in the upscale neighborhood of Kolonoki. However, the graffiti festooned on almost every building destroys the charm of the leafy streets of exclusive shops and restaurants. Now in Athens, there is no escape.

Istanbul rests my eyes. It appears cleaner, more gentile, more hospitable than Athens. I know this view is most likely the result of my own ignorance. I am staying at a sweet hotel with a rooftop garden where I have breakfast every morning and can gaze out the windows at the Bosphorus. My excursions have taken me to a rug shop, a jewelry shop in the Grand Bazaar (recommended by a friend who lives in Istanbul), the Hippodrome and an excursion up and down the Bosphorus. I have seen little, but I have felt welcomed by almost everyone I encounter and by beauty wherever I turn my gaze.

A TURKISH RESPITE

Tags

discovery, people, travel

After a week of considering politics and its consequences on Greece, I am having a reprieve in Istanbul for almost a week. I have not read a paper or watched the news except to see the new Greek Prime Minister be sworn in. When I asked the Greeks I met on Spetses what they thought would happen in the Sunday elections last week, they almost always answered, we’ll see what happens on Monday. I imagine they meant the day after would tell them more about the future, then who won. The same seems to hold true now that they have a new prime minister as he maneuvers to form a new government. When I left Greece for Turkey, the media was still predicting disaster for Greece’s future even though the less radical candidate was elected. I will use the same approach and wait to see what has developed when I return to Greece on Monday, June 25.

STILL IN PARADISE

Tags

GREEK ELECTIONS

My fifth day in Spetses and I’ve only gleaned a little of how the Greeks at least on this island feel about the election and about their future. Until Friday night, the island seemed deserted. All the typical stores were open: the trinket shops with all forms of the “evil eye,” the expensive clothing shops for women and “yachtsmen,” the stores with all forms of worrybeads. Yet, I’ve not seen one man fingering those beads for solace. Worried they must be, though. An International Herald Tribune editorial stated that of the 11 million eligible Greek workers, 1 million are unemployed. The writer spoke of a lawyer friend of his who is considering giving up his practice as his client list drops to return to the land where at least he can feed his family.

My friends and I have mostly used taxis to get to some of the exquisite beaches of this island. Today, Saturday, June 16, the day before the election, we went to a beach on the other side of the island. Our driver is a graduate in electrical engineering. He drives a cab because he was making only 800 Euros a month, the equivalent of $1200. He couldn’t manage living in the capital on such a meager amount, so he came back to Spetses.

Last night as I sat in a cafe facing the harbor, Septses came alive. Most restaurants had a decent number of visitors instead of the hundreds of empty tables, I had seen all week. People seemed excited, happy, like many Friday nights in most countries.

By Saturday, the crowd had grown and even at 10 in the evening, many children were playing together in the square in front of pastry shops. Every day, I would read The International Herald Tribune, and the news was not good. In fact, disaster seemed to loom ahead no matter what the outcome of the election. But tonight, the night before was all about football,escape from such matters such as returning to the drachma, having a job. And the vultures are circling. Hungry Greeks are raiding ancient sites, hoping to find valuable antiquities. While some companies such as France’s Carrefour pull out of Greece, others are prepared to buy up vacation house for cheap.