A weekend in Thessaloniki

(Notes from my Journal)

Sunday, August 16th 2009:

I’ve heard before that Greeks are generally a very loud and expressive bunch. After 3 days in Thessaloniki I saw nothing to contradict that statement. I stayed with my Greek friend Sofia, and was able to catch an inside glimpse of how they live there. Sofia and her family kept getting into these huge, loud conversations in Greek, complete with lots of hand motions and shouting. When I asked her what was wrong, she just looked at me in blank surprise and said “Oh, nothing! My mother just wanted to know what we wanted for dinner!” I quickly found out that this was the norm.

Sofia's parents were simply adorable. I quickly learned a few good Greek suck-up phrases so that I could compliment her mother's cooking, which resulted in ever more food being piled onto my plate. I think I gained about 5 pounds in three days there, as the pictures will show.

Sofia and her older brother both still live with their parents (as is the custom there) in a small flat in a well-off part of the city. When I told her mother that I no longer live with my parents, she became visibly upset. She started muttering in Greek, and Sofia just shook her head and told me "I never should have translated that. She's very worried about you now." Her mother just had no idea how families could move away from each other like that. It was at this point that Sofia's mother located my parents' phone number from when I had called them the night before and took the liberty of calling them again for me. This would normally be fine, but then I looked at the clock and did the math: it was about 3am in Seattle. I quickly hung up, hoping that the call hadn't woken them up. I tried to explain to her that it's normal in the US for kids to move out of the house when they turn 18, and the idea was just inconceivable to her. "I would miss my children too much if they ever left me," she said. Momma mia!

I asked Sofia if it ever felt a bit claustrophobic, living with her parents at age 26, but she seemed very content with the situation. "Why would I want to leave?" she asked me, "My parents cook for me all of the time, and it's so much cheaper this way. My mom even does my laundry!" Hmm. I began to see where our differences lay. I can't speak for all other Americans, of course, but I know that MY mother would never put up with doing all of my cooking and cleaning if I still lived with my parents. I would get a swift kick to the rear for even trying that one. Hell, she didn't even do that before I was 18! We all had to pull at least some of our own weight, which I can now appreciate. I wonder if Sofia's parents ever resent their continued responsibilities for their grown children, or if that's just what they expected to do. Either way, it was interesting to see the different mentalities between Greece and the US.

Every time we left the apartment in the next three days, Sofia's parents were there waving goodbye to us over the balcony. It was so sweet; I just wanted to put them in my pocket and take them home with me. And if they wanted to cook and clean for me that would be fine, too.

Every night Sofia took me out to someplace new. The first night was pretty slow: we just sat at a bar all night with two of Sofia’s friends and chatted. I visited in August, and apparently most of Thessaloniki was gone that particular week on vacation, just like in Cyprus. And here I thought I was going to one of the exotic locations that people vacation TO, but apparently not. So they leave tropical Cyprus and beautiful Greece - where the hell do they all GO, I ask you? I wasn't surprised, to tell the truth; I have terrible timing when it comes to planning anything, so it would stand to reason that I would visit Greece when most of the actual Greeks are gone.

Well, we managed to cause a decent amount of trouble without the crowds. We stayed out til around 5am every night I was there. I’m still trying to adjust to waking up before 3pm (rough life, right?). The second day we went to the beach. I tried to tell Sofia that we didn’t need to go, as I lived near the beach on an island, but she would have none of it. I was going to a "real Greek beach", not some Cyprus wannabe, and that was that. So we went, hung out and drank beer at the beach all day while I snickered at the fantastically colorful speedos that were on display. One of my long-lasting grievances about living in Europe is the prevalence of speedos on every beach that you go to. Back home, I was only occasionally accosted by the sight of a pot-bellied old man in a bright red speedo, but unfortunately it's in fashion for all ages here. I strongly believe that male butt-floss should be avoided at all costs, for the good of humanity. They don't look good on anyone, so why people persist in wearing them is a mystery to me. Maybe I should make protest signs for my next beach day. Hmm.

2:00 pm:
As you may know, I detest blanket statements. So I am saying the following solely based on my limited 3 day exposure to Greek culture. Everyone that I met was very fond of saying that “all good things come from Greece.” I thought it was cute, and also incredibly arrogant at the same time. I feel like serious national pride like that is virtually unknown to the US (at least in Seattle). Sofia kept telling me that certain things are only found in Greece, but I learned to take that with a bucket of salt. For example, Greek “Frappe’s” (literally just coffee with ice in it), and the Bozooka (concert with people sitting around tables eating), didn’t seem terribly original to me. Don't get me wrong; I had a blast there. It was definitely fun, but it just didn’t strike me as being terribly different from other parts of the world. The pompousness started to annoy me.

On Saturday night, we started out at a bar around 9pm. As soon as we ordered drinks they brought out complimentary plates of food to munch on. This time there was a banana-split-like concoction! It's a good thing that I was only there for three days, or they would need a forklift to get me out. Anyway, Sofia’s friend Christos (that’s right, Christ) met up with us around 11, and they all proceeded to talk in rapid Greek for the next two hours. I try to pay attention and look interested in these situations, but there’s only so many smiles that you can fake when you don’t understand more than five words of the language. I tried using some of my newly-acquired Greek lingo, but unfortunately “Hi, nice to meet you, I’m hungry” only gets you so far. Who knew?

Anyway, around 1:30 am we left the bar to go watch a “Bozooka” performance. Sofia reassured me that this was one unique aspect of Greek culture that I had to experience, so I was game. It turned out to be a concert, led by a singer called Nikos Mecropolis, where people were sitting around dinner tables. They ate and drank, and occasionally got up and danced on the tables. The problem was that we couldn’t get a table for a group of 4, so we stood in the aisle the whole time, which kind of diminished the experience. Still, I genuinely like traditional Greek music, and this was no exception. I must remember to pick up a CD from good old Nikos at some point.

16:30 pm at the airport:
Do you know how many Greek singers are freaking named Nikos?? I am looking through the CD store, trying to find Nikos Mecropolis, but everyone and their mom has that same first name. It doesn’t help that everything is listed in Greek. Oh well, I’ll have to look for this CD when I have more time and inclination.

16:55 pm:
By Superman’s panties, these Greek’s crack me up. I’m now more or less positive that the concept of cutting is completely lost on this culture. I had no less than six little old ladies toddle over and blatantly cut me off in the line to board the plane. I mean, really? We’re all getting on; it’s not like they shut the doors after the first 50 people! At first I was very annoyed, but after little old lady #4 cut me off I decided to be amused. This is just too ridiculous to be taken seriously.

17:05 pm:
After staying with Sofia and using her shower, I am eternally grateful for the previously scorned trickle of a shower that’s in our Cyprus apartment. At least that shower is tall enough for me to stand up straight in, even if it takes a good 20 minutes to get enough water out of it for a rinse off. Literally, Sofia’s “shower” (and I use the term loosely) was raised up off of the ground so that it couldn’t have been more than 5’7” high. Good times for the Amazon, I tell you. To top it off it was incredibly narrow and slippery to boot. It was on shower #3 that I discovered that you’re supposed to sit down in it. Euww-talk about gross, try putting your bare butt to Greek porcelain. Needless to say I decided to forego the whole debacle today and remain stinky and hairy. Come and get me, boys!

17:10 pm:
Absorptive towels are also an undiscovered jewel in Greece. Must remember to bring a cartful next time.

17:12 pm:
Walking around Sofia’s neighborhood, it became clear that they have a very close-knit community. We saw her dad hanging out with his cronies in the town square twice in two days. I thought back to Seattle where things are, well, a bit different. The two cities are roughly the same size (~1 million) but Thessaloniki felt a lot more intimate. Sofia knew all of the shopowners, and a good deal of the people on the street as well. That occasionally happens with my parents out in the FC, but rarely do I recognize people in the streets of Seattle.

17:30 pm:
Don’t you just love it when you break down and run to catch a plane/train/bus because you think you’re late, then it turns out that you had time after all? I feel like I’ve done that a lot on this trip, and it never fails to turn me into a flustered mess. Running = bad. That is the basic moral of this story.

17:32 pm:
Moving on up in the world: usually the screaming obnoxious brat is in the row ahead of me on the plane, but this time I’m the lucky winner who gets to sit right next to it. I’m learning new things, though. For instance, did you know that a 30 pound toddler can shake the entire row when she jumps up and down repeatedly? Thank Dio for IPods, that’s all I can say. Well, that and “where’s Jack when I need him?” At least I can drown out the screaming, even if I’m bouncing up and down the whole flight.

18:00 pm:
You have to love mystery meat. I feel like all airplane food should come with labels. It’s only fair.

18:10pm:
I think I am developing a notable caffeine addiction. Eh, what’s another vice to add to the list? Oh flight attendant, can you please add some coffee to my Bailey’s?

20:00 pm:
Everyone in the plane burst into applause when we hit the runway. I am so reassured.

22:00 pm:
I'm back at Home Sweet Swepco (that's the curiously unidentifiable name of our apartment complex. Is it Greek? Is it Cypriot? Or just a random correlation of letters? We may never know). Sofia and her parents all cried when I left, which of course caused me to start crying. It was a messy scene. Her mother stuffed two jars of homemade jam into my bag, as well as a packed lunch (the jam was of course confiscated by the heartless airport security guards, who are probably enjoying my homemade jam as we speak. Jerks). I asked her if she was sure she couldn't just come home with me, but she just laughed. I don't think she knew that I was serious, but I didn't insist. I guess I'll just have to settle for coming back to visit them as often as possible. Sofia's parents waved from their balcony as we pulled out to go to the airport. I kept waving until they were out of sight. I think I am quite in love with Greece.