Observations from Greece

I’ve spent the past week and a half in Greece, mostly on the islands of Mykonos and Santorini. I’m off to Ghana tomorrow, and I don’t have any single insight from this trip that would warrant an entire post. So, in no specific order, here are some of the observations and thoughts I’ve had over the past week.

1. Seeing giant slabs of pork in the window of every café serving gyros (which is most of them), as well as a skinned lamb roasting on a spit, has reawakened some of my visceral revulsion at the idea of eating meat. That said, stuffed vine leaves filled with rice and ground beef are quite delicious (quasi-vegetarian exception #1—travel).

2. Europe always impresses me with the sheer number of languages that coexist within it. Case in point: in the main square of Santorini, there’s a shop that has issues of Cosmopolitan in English, French and German.

3. English is the lingua franca of the world. (My theory is that you learn your native language first, then the official language of your country (eg. if you’re Mayan and grow up speaking Quiche, you learn Spanish second), and then you learn English. If you’re American, this means you only need to learn one language to communicate with much of the world.) I’m torn, because I feel like I’m experiencing less authentic culture than if I spoke Greek. However, I know it’s unrealistic to learn every language in the world, or even of places I travel to, and given that, it’s nice to be able to ask for directions and order food in a restaurant.

4. Related to the last point, every time I go to Europe (I’ve been to France/Spain in 2003 and the UK in 2007), I always rekindle my desire to learn French, and more languages in general. Because my parents exposed me to French at such a young age, I can still understand basic conversations well, and I’m pretty sure I could pick it up fluently after a few months of living in a French speaking country. I also realized that my Spanish enables me to understand Italian tours well enough to grasp the main points of sentences. Conversely, I have an incredibly hard time understanding Spaniards because their accents are so completely different from Latin American Spanish. My language goals are, in order of priority: fluency in Spanish, conversationality in Twi (Ghana’s lingua franca, though English is the official language), and competency in French.

5. Every time I come home from school and interact with my parents, I go through a transition process. This is the process where the radical leftist/anarchist/ecoterrorist ideas I’ve been filled with at Whitman are filtered through my dad’s fervent belief that regulated markets are the best way to address most of the world’s problems, via a process of discussion and (mostly) debate. Based on my latest round of this transition, which has been a particularly harsh one, I’ve come up with an economic theory. I think capitalism might make more sense for Africa, and I think socialism/communism might make more sense for Latin America. I can’t back this theory up with any evidence, but thinking about my interactions with Ghanaians, Guatemalans, Mexicans and Costa Ricas, plus the readings I’ve done about history and politics, it makes sense in my head. I realize this is a gross generalization, and I’m going to think about it a lot more when I’m in Ghana and Ecuador. Stay tuned.

6. If you take a herd of donkeys and make them carry tourists up over a thousand feet of switchbacking stairs in direct sun all day, two things will happen. One: they will poop everywhere on the stairs, and the poop will not get cleaned up, and it will ferment in the sun and create fumes that are almost enough to induce fainting. And, more importantly: the donkeys will be extremely unhappy and, in some cases, unwell. And tourists will apparently not care, because they’re unique and part of Santorini’s historic culture (every shop on Santorini sells donkey-related paraphernalia). So the donkeys will continue to be exploited by capitalism (as will the people who own them, probably), and they will keep looking sad. And donkeys can look damn sad when they try, let me tell you.

7. There are stray dogs and cats all over Greece (or at least the places we went). Apparently, the strays in Athens are due to an animal welfare group exposing the conditions at a pound, where animals were being abused. The resulting scandal forced the mayor of the town to resign, and other towns took note and ordered shelters and pounds closed, because they were afraid of meeting the same fate. Consequently, there are roaming hordes of strays all over the city (and on Santorini and Mykonos).

8. I don’t like traveling to non-English speaking countries. I always feel like language barriers and cultural differences prevent me from connecting with locals in the short time I’m there, and without connections, I feel exploitative and obnoxious, especially when I speak English to locals. I love foreign countries, and I love learning and meeting people, but I’ve realized that to really do that, I probably just need to live abroad for a while. However, I might feel differently if I was doing a low-budget, youth hostel trip in the Spanish-speaking world, or going somewhere completely random where obnoxious Western tourists aren’t a huge problem.

9. Most produce in Greece is grown in Spain. I’m not sure how the food miles there compare to your typical tomato in an American supermarket, but I’m always impressed by our economy’s ability to move everything everywhere any time of year. Also, produce is cheaper than in the US, at least in both supermarkets we went to. Olive oil is also dirt-cheap. However, most stuff costs about the same in euros as the US equivalent would in dollars, which is unfortunate for us, given that 1 euro=$1.43ish right now.

10. It’s weird being in a country knowing that their economy has collapsed and that there’s been massive social unrest recently. The graffiti in Athens seemed like a whisper of young people gathering in protest and revolt, and the desperation of some of the people selling trinkets on the street hints at less-than-good times. But you wouldn’t know any of this hanging out at a beach club on Mykonos or watching the sun set off of Santorini. I wonder how bad it is for the people we saw and interacted with. I wonder if there are always young children selling flowers on the street and getting shooed out of restaurants by the waiters. I wonder how much more of this I would know if I spoke Greek or paid attention.

Awkwardness and beach parties

Growing up, I always told myself that someday, I’d be less awkward. In middle and high school, I never quite figured out how to do many of the things my peers were into. I went to dances in middle school knowing that I’d spend the afternoon sitting with friends outside absorbed in some boy-related drama. This was partially because seventh-grade me was a complete drama magnet, but also because I was terrified to venture onto the dance floor, lest I be compared to the popular kids who seemed to know what they were doing. I could never figure out clothes—my uniform by high school was pretty much jeans and a t-shirt, and I was baffled by the idea of dressing up and trying to coordinate shoes with an outfit. My hair didn’t go into a ponytail easily, and even when up, it never looked as effortlessly pulled together as so many other girls’ cross country practice hairstyles.

I’d always assumed that by a certain age, I’d figure this all out. Not that I’d be popular or trendy, but that I would be able to dress myself and make my hair look decent on a regular basis. To a certain extent, I’ve been able to do this. I’m proud to report that less than half of my wardrobe is made of t-shirts with writing on them, and I have enough pairs of shoes and boots that I can usually scrape together a respectable outfit. I can drink, something high school me thought I’d never be able to say. I feel ok in most social situations.

I thought about this all while we were en route to Greece. We’re staying on Mykonos and Santorini—two incredibly touristy Greek Islands. On Mykonos, our guidebook informs us, the bar scene picks up around 4am, and bars don’t close until 9am. I realized that I’m finally old enough to go out drinking and dancing (Greece has no drinking age, and the purchase age is sixteen).

We went to a bunch of beaches on Mykonos yesterday. All of them had bars and were mostly populated by twenty-somethings , and one (called Super Paradise) was particularly lively, with eardrum-shattering techno playing. It looked like what I’ve always imagined Cancun to be over spring break. And I realized that probably the last thing on earth I wanted to do was hang out and drink on the beach. Granted, this probably would have been different if I’d had friends with me. But I spent most of the day reading (Collapse, by Jared Diamond), and I had a great day.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I’ve always been like this. Last spring break, I took a road trip with Clive, and we ended up in Las Vegas for a few nights because we were climbing at Red Rocks. We drove around the strip, got out and walked it for a bit and contemplated going into casinos and checking out some of the famous Vegas attractions. But we were a little creeped out by all the neon and got bored, so we ended up hanging out in our youth hostel eating Mexican sweet bread and watching Spy Kids 2. As a kid, I spent hours and hours reading whenever I had free time, oblivious to or not caring about the fact that friends were swimming or hanging out in the sun. In high school, I read McSweeneys Lists and played Scattergories with friends on Friday nights. I’ve done the nerdy, random thing for my entire life.

Hanging out on Greek beaches, I realized I’m not over all of my old insecurities. I don’t want to walk around in a bikini in Europe, because everyone here is tan and skinny and has a tummy that isn’t covered in weird red bumps. I don’t want to go out drinking, because I’m pretty sure I’d end up by myself in the corner, half-nodding my head along with the techno. But that’s ok. I don’t have to be the kind of person aspiring to someday be cool enough to go to beach parties. I don’t have to do what everyone else appears to be doing to have fun. In the four days I’ve been in Greece, I’ve read three books, re-learned the alphabet and eaten some damn good food. I know I could go out dancing or drinking with friends, but I also know I don’t have to. Mostly, I know it’s ok to feel awkward (particularly in the face of European genetic superiority). And anyway, all those attractive, bronzed young people can suck it, because they probably don’t have a wildly successful blog.