Miscellaneous Athens sights

In looking back at our photos, I find several interesting, but not worthy of an entire blog.  They are offered here.

Candles in church can be purchased in various thicknesses for prices ranging between 30 "cents" (most of those in the photo) to one Euro.  Many people buy and light several of these thin ones (perhaps memorializing various members of the family?).  When lit, they are placed in a revolving sand tray within a large glass enclosure.  A woman (not pictured) monitors the process, repositioning candles toward the center and revolving the sand tray as necessary to avoid burning the next parishioner.  She also removes the candles when they have burned about half-way down and puts them in a large plastic garbage bag; the wax is then recycled into new candles.


One expects that translations sometimes don't quite get it right.  Here's a couple we found amusing: 

Outside a hair salon trying to appeal to international tourists.  We wondered if they got any of the other translations wrong.  

 We wondered how those lamps would taste!

 

Burberry is HUGE here.  We've seen it on handbags, shopping carts (the "rollies" that people take to the Farmer's Market), umbrellas, scarves, as "accents" on all kinds of clothing, etc.  But this was clearly the most extreme!

This man is carrying  multiple individually wrapped large rolls of  paper towels slung over his shoulder.  He sells them by poking his head into small shops to ask if they need such supplies.

This hotel is a 5-minute walk from Syntagma Square (major site of demonstrations).  We've passed there a zillion times, but only recently craned our heads high enough to notice the bougainvillea.  The plant starts at the ground floor, on the right side of the "Hotel Metropolous" sign.  It must have taken years to get this huge.  It climbs up more than 5 stories--each of the top 4 balconies has a branch.  Also, what appears to be a section in front of the light-colored building on the right is actually a branch floating over the street, suspended by a cord from the middle of the top level (if you look carefully, you will see a white diagonal line holding it up).

We don't quite "get" the popularity of jeans that look like they are threadbare.  These are among the most extreme we have seen. These are NEW moderately expensive pants.  The edges of the "worn"  parts are outlined in rhinestones! (The orientation of the photo is correct--the mannequin is lying down.)  The other pants, behind the gold colored handbag on the right, has wide slashes in the fabric every few inches and rhinestones scattered throughout.  

 

The jeans (above) were at a neighborhood store, not at Dolce & Gabbana.  Ironically, we took the left-side photo on May Day (see earlier blog).  Please note: the least expensive item on the list is a T-shirt for 225 Euro (about $300).  The most expensive is a handbag: 2040 Euro (about $2700).  

Judging by the people coming out with shopping bags, they were doing a brisk business both times we went by.   Meanwhile, in the street right outside the store, thousands were parading to protest deep cuts in workers' pay, accompanied by higher taxes.  Some of our professional colleagues have described 50% or more involuntary reductions in their salaries.  But D&G appear to be doing fine, thank you!  :(:( 

 

 

Athens was essentially a big village up until the last 100 years.  There was no master plan for growth, so streets go every-which direction and several street names are repeated.  (Google maps doesn't always know this.)  Most of the narrow side streets were eventually made one-way for better traffic flow.  Nevertheless, this is a typical scene.  The truck with the blue top is parked to make delivery.  The yellow top can't get through, nor can the traffic behind him.   Plus, we've noticed that one-way signs are merely a suggestion, especially to motorcycles. 

But as the video shows, apparently also for many cars.  This side street connects to a major thoroughfare (6 lanes wide; three in each direction) that runs next to Syntagma square (which is about two blocks away).   So several of these cars will pull out of a one-way (the other direction street) to join traffic.  Or they will pull into a driveway and negotiate a three-point U-turn.  Sure!  Why not?  BTW: because this street is so close to Syntagma and the Parliament building, there is always a contingent of police (and on demonstration days, soldiers, too) nearby.   Apparently, they are too busy to think about parking tickets.  Generally, when we walk by the large, air-conditioned vans that hold communication equipment and riot gear, they are sitting inside, drinking "cafe freddo" and talking or emailing on their cell-phones. 

 

The Economy of Place

All around us are the effects of what everyone calls simply “the crisis.”  As we listen to our Greek friends discuss economic perspectives, I have begun to understand that we (Americans) think about money, ownership, and financial arrangements in fundamentally different ways than they do.  With no background in economic theory, I can’t assess the relative merits of these perspectives.  Nor do I know how representative is the small sample of people with whom I have had these discussions.  With those caveats, here is what I think I am coming to appreciate.

Mind-set may not be everything, but it’s a lot.  (Gee, who would have thought that people’s socio-cultural frameworks and life experiences might contribute to their world-views—which, in turn, would direct their activities?  Whaddaya know!)  

Facts/surmises in evidence: After its well-known period as the illustrious home of the great classical philosophers, Greece was overrun in every direction by conquerors and occupiers.  I have little detailed knowledge, but the last 400 years of Turkish/Ottoman oppression ended only 175 years ago, give or take.  During that period, as blogged earlier, the core values of society were “family first, religion always, and screw the Man whenever possible.”  (“The Man” being the term for those who tell you what to do and over whom you can exert little direct control—or as it is known in modern times, the “government.”)

[Granted that my understanding of American history is also full of holes, I nevertheless contrast that with the early American values of “freedom first, individual effort is (often) rewarded, and government is (more or less) in our control.” (Though this last deserves deeper analysis, in the U.S. periodic “elections” have over the centuries brought new people and ideas into prominence. Government was not an unrelentless “them” to be mistrusted and countered in whatever ways one could manage.)]

So here is an illustrative example of how things work in Greece in light of the sociological imperatives just described.  It condenses aspects of several stories we have heard.  How do Greeks who appear to be “middle-class” come to own new, well-situated flats outright, with no mortgage?  Apparently, somewhere in recent history there was an older house that might be dilapidated and outdated (no indoor plumbing, for example) or where the owners died, leaving (more or less useless) property to family members.  But the house was situated on property that could be developed into apartment blocks.   (And with the coming of the European Union, there was both more money available for such development and more people wanting to own.)  

The “arrangement”: The developer got to build; the old owners got some number of square meters of the finished building—which might be more than one flat; or some additional money might change hands for extra amenities, and so on.  (We didn’t follow all the details but there it seemed there were also tax advantages in such property exchanges.) 

   

When we described to our friends what we considered the “normal” approach in the U.S., where the old house and property would be bought outright and developed and then all the apartments would be sold on the open market, one friend said emphatically “we [i.e. Greeks] never sell property!—our dream is to own property."

This in turn leads to the following peculiar (to us, but not unusual here) phenomenon. Given the crisis, many developers ran out of money before their project could be completed.  But—because construction here is stone or concrete/plaster, as compared to ours which is largely wood-frame—it is possible for them to leave the building unfinished for years and come back to it later. (To be clear, “unfinished” means that it has all the walls, ceilings, and roof.  

Note: first floor is occupied; above is "skeleton."

See photo on left.)  By comparison, we in the US can’t leave the framework of the upper levels of a wood frame house unfinished for years. And commercial buildings can be left unfinished, but if so are unusable.

Here in Greece, we have seen many apartment blocks that are obviously only partially completed, yet people live on the completed lower floors!  (One such building had a taverna on the ground floor, presumably the owners of that business occupied the floor above, and two additional floors were unfinished.)  Our friends say of these incomplete buildings, “they will finish it when they have more money.”   

Again, the idea of cutting one’s losses, selling the property to someone who does have the money to go forward, and then starting a new project when one has the needed funds—this is anathema!  (I asked one friend about the “time value of money.”  She said, “yes, we know this concept”—but didn’t seem to think it was relevant.)

A related phenomenon occurs even in commercial buildings.  (See photos below.) When we asked our friends why some industrial-looking buildings seemed to have a forest of rebar above the top floor (usually at the corners of the buildings or above weight-bearing columns) we were told, “they had a permit to build higher than they had money at the time.  They are prepared to add another level when they can.” 

(Note "forest" of rebar at corners and above structural columns.)

   

 In the apartment buildings, as noted above, the person who owns the property and outdated or derelict house negotiates with the builder (who may occasionally be a distant member of the family, but that is not an essential factor) for some percentage of the finished project.   In one case, several family members inherited from an aunt who had no children.  Their family decided who should benefit from the windfall.  The sibling in another country and the well-established sibling in another city in Greece “didn’t need” it.  So each of the two remaining siblings got an apartment in the new building.  One was married with kids and got the larger flat (and even paid more for an extra bedroom).  The other wasn’t married and so was given the smaller apartment—even though he didn’t live in that city.  The idea was that by renting it out, he would off-set the costs of his rent where he actually lived.

At one level it’s quite brilliant.  From our perspective, though, it seems oddly convoluted. 

He has rested and risen; now he’s getting ready to EAT!

Need I say that the heart of every Greek holiday (not unlike just about every other culture I can think of) is the FOOD?!  Last night, about the time Ken and I headed to bed, our hosts went to church for the obligatory midnight moment: HE IS RISEN!  

That done, they came home to eat a huge meal.  (We are told some of the older folks actually fast most of the day.  For many others, “fast” is a relative term that, if applicable at all, describes having given up such things as meat, oil, sugar, etc.— not necessarily all of those nor for the entire Lenten period, which in Greece can extend to as much as 49 days, depending on particulars of the calendar we didn’t follow).

Today, Sunday, is going to be the traditional Easter bash, which means days of advance preparation.  In this case, it also means roasting an entire baby goat (our friends had lots of fun with the double meaning in English of “kid”).  Here's a few videos of the process.  NOTE VEGETARIANS PROBABLY DO NOT WANT TO VIEW THESE.

In addition to roasting the kid, our hosts made a traditional dish that Ken, my farm-raised sweetheart, looked forward to in a big way. Suffice it to say that I don’t eat “parts”—not even when they are all skewered together (heart, liver, stomach, lung, and a few other things I don’t remember) and then cocooned in intestine and roasted on a spit. (Yum?) I did, however, take a lot of videos of the process of preparing the goat and the. . . other dish.  Anyone so inclined is welcome to try this at home.  (Let me know how it worked for you.)

Here's "Greek Home Kitchen" demonstration of making "kokoretsi" (my best attempt at a transliteration):

Post script: Just as those of us who had spent the night (or live) in Sparti arrived at the farm, the metal spit--on which the goat had been rotisserie-ing for less than an hour--broke! The men-folk spent some time trying to improvise a splint with a thinner metal rod but even though they got it all the way through, the new setup clearly wasn't going to turn for the several hours required.  (It was binding somewhere inside the goat and the motor that turned the spit was laboring.)  

So they performed "surgery," cutting the goat into roaster pan sized pieces that could fit in the oven, and cooking resumed. 

He is . . . resting? Part II: Late Friday

After an enjoyable afternoon at a taverna by the sea, we decided to skip the village church and join the crowd in Sparta's main square.  

 Many people, young and old, were holding candles some of which had little drip-catcher attachments to keep hot wax from falling on hands or clothes.    

The Big Friday event began with services in four local churches, culminating with moving the “epitaphs” (new meaning of that word!) each church had built and decorated with flowers.  These represent Christ’s grave and each is more elaborate than the next (think of a miniature Rose Bowl float).  One of our Greek friends said this was the first one she had ever seen one that was also electrified--she said it make her think of Las Vegas. 

 The epitaphs are carried out of their churches and then lifted onto the shoulders of the carriers (in this case, there were several anxiety-provoking wobbles as they did so), and then carried to the central square by sufficiently hefty (one hopes) parishioners, preceded by robed prelates and their assistants carrying banners (see below) and followed by the faithful as they pour out of the church.  

Other folks, like us, skip the service and head directly to the central square, which was roped off around the four tables on which the epitaphs would be placed.  Surrounding the central square, of course, are cafes.  So at least half the “participants” are watching the goings on with their drinks or coffees in hand, children running around and across the square, families chatting with one another—more of an “open air marketplace” than a “solemn religious occasion” feeling.  (We liked that aspect.)

I also discovered the power of the camera.  Having both a still and video camera with me (one hung around my neck), I found I could move inside the rope barrier—I didn’t press it in terms of standing in middle of things, so I missed the straight-on photo of the dozen or so robed prelates (here's some fun back and side photos, though).  

But one skinny kid who couldn’t have been more than 11 was going everywhere and apparently shooting everything—with his baseball hat on backwards and his I-phone (or something similar) held in front of his face.  Though there were clearly official photographers moving through the main action, getting close-up shots of everything, no one could have confused him with one of them…still, no one challenged him, either. 

 













Below is a video of one of the epitaphs being placed on its table in the central square.  Behind the folks standing at the rope line are cafes full of others not entirely riveted by the spectacle.  In about the middle of the video, the lovely sound of the traditional chant gets louder, perhaps because more of the parishioners following the epitaph from the church have arrived in the square.

 
 One of the epitaphs is preceded by a uniformed brass marching band and then carried in on the shoulders of soldiers in camouflage uniforms.  Several other soldiers accompany the epitaph with their guns held upside down and pointing backwards.  I don't know if that was a safety measure or some other symbolism. 

Below are pictures of all four epitaphs, one in the top photo and three in the bottom photo.  However, in the second photo, the electrified epitaph is behind a flowered one (both are on the left of the photo)--unless you look closely, it seems as though the one in the foreground has an  the electrified crown.  

After the final epitaph arrives and is placed, all the robed prelates walk up to the front and begin a chant that many in the crowd also join into.