Miscellany . .

I came across blogs that I started in Word at various times, but somehow never posted.  So this is a bit of this-and-that . . .

Last night, June 1, I Skyped into the Cohort 13 Orientation--it was morning in California.   The tech folks had figured out a way for me to see the individual students, which was fabulous, since I had not seen most of them face to face, but had worked with them toward admission by phone, email, and Webex.  

I had prepared a few opening remarks that began with, "Kali mera--welcome to sunny Athens!"  More or less at that exact time, it started raining!  Not only that--for the first time in weeks, Ken and I had to wear pajamas to bed.  This is entirely unseasonable weather for Greece on the first of June!!  (To say nothing of the rest of Europe, that has alternately sizzled and frozen during this entire grant period.)  Which reminded me of an earlier post that I had started late in February, but never finished.  

WEATHER OR NOT . . .
 There's been a huge downpour for several hours--thunder, lightening, and about an inch of water on our balcony (the drain can't empty as fast as the rain is coming down).  Now we understand why there is a 3" high marble door-sill between the living-room floor and the balcony.  This isn't the walk-between-the-raindrops we're used to in California--this is taking-a-shower-with-all-your-clothes-on monsoon.  Oh, did I mention the hail?  I think we're getting the tail end of a blizzard that made its way across Europe.

It also knocked out our Internet, which makes for a very disconnected (no pun intended) feeling.  I can live without checking email for a while, but not be able to google?!?!  Hey, Universe, I'm doing some research, here--what's with the being cut off from anything that isn't actually within arms' reach?  I mean, c'mon!  Enough already with the waterworks.   We're good, okay?  Reservoirs full, farms moist, ducks happy.  Besides, today is open-air market in our neighborhood.  Trucks need to drive in from the farms; we need to walk over and replenish our fresh foodstuffs.  So are you done, yet?

[Later in the day, after it had cleared enough for me to meet a colleague for lunch, I learned that these warm monsoon rains began to occur only 5 years ago.  Welcome to climate change, Greece!]

YES, NO, MAYBE . . . ?

Here’s how to say no in most of the languages I can come up with quickly: nein (German), non (French), no (Spanish, Italian).  Here’s Greek (transliterated) ochi.  (Pronounced like the “och” in Loch Lomond, followed by “ee”; accent on first syllable.)

Here's how to say yes in those languages: ya, oui, si.  Here it is in Greek: nai (pronounced in between the sound a horse makes and the "e" in "get").

Listening to Greeks seems to be a whole lot of "no, no, no, no"--except it isn't.  And "ochi" can sound awfully close to "OK." 

Body language just complicates things further. We nod our heads up and down for yes; side-to-side for no.  Greeks do a half-nod down to indicate affirmation and up to indicate denial.   Think of neutral head position as looking straight ahead.  If the chin drops toward the chest, it’s “yes.”  (This can be repeated, which looks reasonably like our own assenting nod.)  But if the chin goes up in the air, it’s “no.”   That, too, can be repeated…leading the unsuspecting to think there is agreement.  

Then there's the high-energy Greek conversational style that means hardly anyone waits until the current speaker has finished before beginning a comment or response. (It's a style I'm very familiar and comfortable with, coming from New York.  Ken, however, is from Iowa--they actually wait a fraction of a second after the current speaker is finished, just in case there is an afterthought.  Of course, that means when all my family is gathered, he hardly gets a word in edgewise.)  

All of which can lead people to the impression that Greeks are confrontational (especially if one cannot understand the actual meanings of the words).  From another perspective, one may say they are enthusiastic, high-affect, ebullient, warm, engaging, upbeat, and so forth.  Only through the generally more "WASP-ish" US (and UK, for that matter) lens might they seem argumentative, rude, loud, obnoxious (all words I have heard applied to folks from the East Coast, so I know those are common interpretations.)  There's obviously a message here in cross-cultural understanding.

Professional Development

I recently presented a workshop on Engaging the Adult Brain for graduate students in the Adult Education department of a Greek university.  It starts with a powerpoint about the implications of current brain research on how adults learn (or don’t). Then the fun begins—participants are given a task to work on in small groups and report their conclusions back to the larger group. 

My hosts warned me more than once that “Greek students are very passive” and were unlikely to participate in the workshop.   I admit to some concern, but it’s not in my DNA to stand there and lecture, so I was willing to take the chance.

As I suspected, after a few moments of discomfort (largely among the youngest of the students, based on the conversations I had as I walked around interacting with groups that were temporarily stuck), nearly everyone got into the task and a couple of groups (my impression again was that those groups had a higher proportion of more experienced, more mature members) really let their imagination and creativity loose.

Their presentations were lively, clever, informative, and engaging—pretty much as I expected.  A colleague who had warned me not to expect much from her students said, slightly abashed, “I could never have believed it.”  So we talked further about this interactive approach.  “But I am a very structured person,” she demurred, “I need to plan in advance what will happen.”   

I did not think to ask at the time, what part of the workshop seemed unstructured!?  I started with a detailed introduction to the content, then described clear and specific directions for the group task (and handed out  a one-sheet synopsis of the major points of the introductory powerpoint).  On reflection, I wondered whether “unstructured” to her meant I don’t know what the students will do or say.  And, perhaps more centrally: will they come away from this experience thinking what I want them to think?

Were I to return to that conversation now, I would ask, “how do you know what they think at the end of your usual lecture?  You know what you told them….but they are not computers recording data.  They are listening and interpreting through their own experiences." (Isn’t that precisely why students get different grades?) And I would also say, “A lot of advance work and planning goes into whatever activity I ask them to do. I structure their small-group experiences with an eye to carefully delineated learning outcomes." 

Though I was initially somewhat disheartened to realize that my well-meaning, sincere colleague is teaching the next generation of adult educators (!), she later asked where she could find articles or a course that would tell her how to do some of these “techniques.”  This was an opening for me to suggest that she and I stay in touch (via Skype, for example) about teaching strategies more attuned to adults’ learning needs--which we are planning to do. (And among the first things we're going to examine is whether simply adding to one's "tool kit" is sufficient to become a more effective adult educator.)  I look forward to the opportunity for further professional dialogue--it could be “the camel’s nose under the tent.”  

Trip to Thessaloniki

This blog entry will be a bit choppy.  This is my first opportunity to blog, though the trip was a couple of weeks ago.  Also on that trip my still camera was not working properly, so most of the documentation is video--not ideal for what are essentially static shots.

We stumbled across the Osios David Monestary by getting lost--one of our talents.   Really.  We delight in finding ourselves where we didn't expect to be.  This tiny (30' x30??) church with a slightly larger courtyard is not the  monastery, itself.  The caretaker told us we could not take photos inside the church, but she kindly explained to us what we saw.  Fortunately, Ken's command of Greek was mostly adequate to the task.   It helped that we knew enough about the life of Christ to fill out the parts where he didn't know the vocabulary.

The church was built  in the 5th century.  That would make it more or less coterminous with Constantine's conversion.  In the 13th century, it was taken over by the Turks (probably not the correct historical term) and turned into a mosque.  Parts of the structure were changed and the religious mosaics and frescoes were plastered over and forgotten.  

This was fortunate from a historical standpoint, because it preserved the ceiling almost intact, and much of the frescoes.  The ceiling was unique, according to our guide, because it depicts the "beardless Jesus"--the only one in the world, she claimed.  The frescoes showed many scenes from the Gospels according to Matthew, Mark, Luke and John in the "flat" style Ken and I have come to associate with Byzantine painting.  After all these centuries, the colors have also faded and there are blank "islands" in the scenes where the fresco could not be saved.  

However, the ceiling over the alter was resplendent in shiny, colorful mosaic.  We didn't have enough Greek to go into details about the restoration process, but it looked to be in very good condition.  It showed Jesus embracing the entire world and sitting on a rainbow.

This is a busy corner in downtown.  In front of a banner strung along a fence is a line of what look like memorial or funeral wreaths.  Ken didn't recognize all the words immediately and we thought we'd figure them out later when we reviewed the video--it wasn't quite clear enough.  Ken's best translation is along these lines (this is a literal, word by word translation, rather than idiomatic):  Nothing treats us with favor or indulgence.  Everything is won with struggles.  Workers everywhere, demonstrate on the street.  May 36  Let's go.  We were puzzled by the date--does it refer to 1936? 

Several of the ribbons on the wreaths identify political or worker organizations.  The ones we could figure out are: Panhellenic Workers' Union, Union of Industrial Employees, and KKE (the Greek Communist Party).

Our final day in the area was spent with a colleague and her husband, who generously invited us on a day-trip to the Halkidiki seashore on the western of the three "fingers" (peninsulas) below Thessaloniki.  On the way we visited the prehistoric caves that had been rediscovered only in the early 20th century.  One of the finds is a 700,000 skull that demonstrates that very early humanoids were here--which expands the narrative of our African origins.  This hillside view doesn't adequately capture of the beauty of this seashore--but I hope you can see how utterly clear the water is!!!!  This is a favorite get-away spot in summer and boasts spectacular beaches and swimming.  We had a fantastic meal--seafood, of course--looking over this gorgeous seaside.

But the knock-your-socks off tourist attraction is the tomb of Philip II--Alexander's father.   In contrast with most Greek ancient sites, which had been discovered and plundered over many centuries, this was successfully hidden until 1977, which meant that its contents were preserved.  In fact, this "museum" actually incorporates the actual tomb!!  (TombS, plural, because two others were also discovered: that of a child assumed to be one of Alexander's siblings, and also of a queen named Cleopatra--not THE Cleopatra--the last of Philip's several wives.)

Because my camera wasn't working well, I couldn't get any fabulous pictures to share.  Just go to the web.  The gold objects in Cleopatra's jewel-box are stunning in their delicacy and beauty.

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.