In Greece, when you ask someone how they are, they'll usually reply "kala" (good), or "poli kala" (very good), or "etsi kai etsi" (so and so). If they aren't doing so good, they'll tell you "Eimai halia," which roughly translates to "I'm f*cking terrible." People have been describing the weather as "halia" too, because lately there's been some rain and the sky is grey. (The temperature is still in the high sixties.)
Greeks like to exaggerate.
Greeks like to exaggerate.
A few days ago, in the little grocery store near my apartment, I witnessed what would've resembled a stickup if the word for "umbrella" in Greek didn't sound exactly as it does in English.
While I was standing at the checkout counter, a tall Greek man dressed in black walked into the store and began yelling in Greek. My cashier immediately put down the cherry tomatoes I was purchasing, walked around to the front of the store, and began speaking with the tall man in a calm voice, as if trying to settle him down. Soon I recognized, "Brella," and realized what was going on, but as the look on the cashier's face began to match the tall man's look of grave concern, I wondered if I was missing something. The cashier's voice escalated. Both mens' gesticulating hands moved like orchestra conductors', and I wondered if someone would throw a punch. The short, fat woman who weighed the fruits and vegetables rushed over to the two men and began yelling as well, as if to break up the fight. The tall man pointed in my direction. "Seriously?" I thought, "How am I involved in this?" The three of them walked towards me, and I got ready to run. Screw the cherry tomatoes. But they ignored me - the man wanted to look behind the checkout counter to see if his umbrella was there. A line began to form behind me. Another employee, a Greek man in his sixties, rushed up from the back of the store, flailing his arms and yelling "Brella." I began taking deep breaths, wanting to just pay and get the hell out.
I'm not sure if that man ever found his umbrella. But I doubt it mattered to him half as much as the operatic display in the store would have any observer believe - that's just the Greek way of expressing things. Like Italian, the Greek language transforms even the most mundane subject matter into what sounds to a foreigner like the recent birth of triplets or someone getting hit by a bus. It's all very escalated.
Speaking of drama, part of my job is to help out with "forensics." No, I'm not lifting any fingerprints or fishing for blood samples. "Forensics" is what the Greeks call the very popular, very competitive debate and public speaking club in high schools. The word forensics comes from "forens," which means belonging to the public/forum - so it actually makes sense why the word has taken on two so very separate meanings. Soon I will begin coaching a few students in oral interpretation (where they sit on a stool and read a piece of literature aloud) and duet acting. I'm looking forward to it. :) Also speaking of drama, teaching is all about acting and stage presence. I like teaching a lot more than I thought I would. Being in front of a class was scary at first, but now I just find it fun. Hooray!
I didn't have school yesterday or today, and won't have it tomorrow either. Yest
While I was standing at the checkout counter, a tall Greek man dressed in black walked into the store and began yelling in Greek. My cashier immediately put down the cherry tomatoes I was purchasing, walked around to the front of the store, and began speaking with the tall man in a calm voice, as if trying to settle him down. Soon I recognized, "Brella," and realized what was going on, but as the look on the cashier's face began to match the tall man's look of grave concern, I wondered if I was missing something. The cashier's voice escalated. Both mens' gesticulating hands moved like orchestra conductors', and I wondered if someone would throw a punch. The short, fat woman who weighed the fruits and vegetables rushed over to the two men and began yelling as well, as if to break up the fight. The tall man pointed in my direction. "Seriously?" I thought, "How am I involved in this?" The three of them walked towards me, and I got ready to run. Screw the cherry tomatoes. But they ignored me - the man wanted to look behind the checkout counter to see if his umbrella was there. A line began to form behind me. Another employee, a Greek man in his sixties, rushed up from the back of the store, flailing his arms and yelling "Brella." I began taking deep breaths, wanting to just pay and get the hell out.
I'm not sure if that man ever found his umbrella. But I doubt it mattered to him half as much as the operatic display in the store would have any observer believe - that's just the Greek way of expressing things. Like Italian, the Greek language transforms even the most mundane subject matter into what sounds to a foreigner like the recent birth of triplets or someone getting hit by a bus. It's all very escalated.
Speaking of drama, part of my job is to help out with "forensics." No, I'm not lifting any fingerprints or fishing for blood samples. "Forensics" is what the Greeks call the very popular, very competitive debate and public speaking club in high schools. The word forensics comes from "forens," which means belonging to the public/forum - so it actually makes sense why the word has taken on two so very separate meanings. Soon I will begin coaching a few students in oral interpretation (where they sit on a stool and read a piece of literature aloud) and duet acting. I'm looking forward to it. :) Also speaking of drama, teaching is all about acting and stage presence. I like teaching a lot more than I thought I would. Being in front of a class was scary at first, but now I just find it fun. Hooray!
I didn't have school yesterday or today, and won't have it tomorrow either. Yest
erday was the "name day" for "Dimitris" - name days are sort of like Birthdays, here. According to Greek Orthodox tradition, every day of the year is dedicated to a Christian saint or martyr. Because Dimitris is considered the protector of the area where the school is, we got the day off. Usually for name days, kids bring sweets to school for their friends and their friends tell them "hronia polla," meaning many years - a wish for good health and prosperity.
I'm not sure why we get a day off today. We seem to get a whole bunch of random days off between now and Christmas. Tomorrow (October 28th) is "Oxi Day," a national holiday. It is remembered for General Ioannis Metaxas' strong reply of "OXI" (no) to Mussolini's request to allow Italian troops into Greece at the beginning of WWII.
Lizzie is in Paris until Sunday, so I've had the apartment to myself now for two days. As a teacher, you're talking to people and at people all day, and alone time is rare. Right now I'm feeling a bit like Emily Dickinson and I'm actually really enjoying it. I haven't spoken to anyone (face to face) today except my landlord, for all of five seconds, when he knocked on my door to give me some mail. (Allie, I got your package!) I finished a book today, cleaned my room, spent no euros, went for a run, began some paintings, wrote a song, and have had time to write this blog. Although I wish I could've gone somewhere and used the break, I think this was a necessary "break" for myself. Not that my job is stressing me out, but it feels so good to finish off all the "to-dos" on my list. I know its autumn, but being alone is like spring cleaning for the soul. And we all need that every season.
you got the secret of roan inish! perfect movie for a little vacation with yourself. wish i could have been there to see the melodrama. wish i could be there to MAKE to melodrama with you.
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