The Earth, Water, Fire, and Air of Greece

"Like all great travelers, I have seen more than I remember, and remember more than I have seen"

        Question: What is the best way to escape a police demonstration taking place in the middle of our neighborhood (even though it just looked like they were standing around, eating, and playing rock music)? Answer: Escape to the house of our program’s president for an elaborate, formal reception dinner.

       Think posh Garden Party, with olive trees lit by lanterns, a fluffy pet Golden Retriever, and the host and his wife dressed in crisp white chic ensembles.  As a beautiful end to a busy and whirlwind of an orientation, the president graciously invited everyone to his home for the gala. The house was set in an affluent Athenian neighborhood in the hills, with a view of the majestic sunset while we drank white wine (always the preferred choice in summer), ate souvlaki (roasted meat on a skewer), and delighted in a rich chocolate ice-cream treat at the end. It was a relaxed evening full of laughter and excitement for those of us departing early the next morning on our first field trip to the serene island of Andros.

       How early? 6:45am early. With barely a minute to spare, we hopped on the bus, only to board a ferry to the island. Thus we sat on the deck and watched the Mediterranean Sea go by – just another day in Greece. Andros is a small island off the coast of the southern Greek region of Attica, with a population of only 10,000. We were a group of 28, and we had opted to leave the city of Athens for the first weekend. It was definitely worth it, every single moment of it.

       After stopping at a delicious bakery where I finally learned and committed to memory the words for ‘whole wheat’ and ‘whole grain bread’ in Greek, we visited the ancient archaeological site of Hypsili atop a deserted hill. The winds are so strong on this island that I was blown away more times than the professor mentioned the word ‘ruins’, which was more times than I would have liked. It was breathtaking to stand in the houses of people who had lived centuries ago, and to stare at water that is an unbelievable shade of electric blue, all the while bracing against winds that whip hair around your face to make you look like a mad person. According to history, the ancient civilizations in the region practiced extensive terrace agriculture, and the center of the community was the household. The center of the household was the living room, of which the center was the hearth. Fire, wind, water, and earth – the elements came together in an awe-inspiring blend of life in its purest form.

Lots of wandering through the country-side and against the wind

       The Mediterranean Sea deserves its own mention. Imagine the brightest blue you can, then create two different shades of it, and then seamlessly blend them together. Then take a bite out of your favorite chocolate. That is how it should and will make you feel the first time you encounter it, and every time thereafter. Each day of our three day trip, we hiked, literally, to a secluded beach below a cliff to spend some time sun-bathing, swimming, and doing things the Greek way. This included changing on the beach as if nobody was watching, discovering a cove and a throne that we decided to christen Nikita’s cove and Nikita’s throne, and washing cuts off my knees with salt water. The cove and the throne are courtesy of my desire to always – and I mean always – remain in the safety of the shade. At one point I had on long sleeves, a hat, sunglasses, a jacket, and carried an umbrella. It was quite a sight.

       Another aspect of the Greek beach culture is the habit of never going into the water after a meal. Of course, this meant that we had a nice hearty breakfast every morning before heading off, and then staved off all food till the next meal – at 4pm every day. Some called it lunch, some called it dinner, and some even used the term Linner. No. It was The Meal. The meal most waited for, the meal most enjoyed, and the meal most remembered. Salads and falafel and meat balls, french fries and sausage quiches, ginger dessert, and of course, wine; it never ended. It was not a bad thing either. We were lucky to stay in a luxurious hotel that featured apartments for rooms, and had a beautiful view of the sun rising and setting among the hills. It was a five minute walk from the coastline and the main town center. This was when everyone pledged to start retirement accounts in order to settle down there permanently someday.

Picturesque: the face of Andros. Tradition: the heart of Andros.

        Every night we wandered the streets of Andros, befriended the owners of the local tavernas and bakeries (and the fruit sellers for me), and witnessed the typical scene of a small, sea-side Greek town.

The view that greeted us each morning as we walked into town

Our bus driver for the weekend was a hero beyond heroes. He maneuvered the twists and turns of the island’s mountains magnificently. Not unlike in the streets of India, an arm outside the window means an arm inside the adjacent vehicle or, in our case, against the mountain itself. On one of these outings, we drove and then climbed up to a monastery that housed an old Orthodox Greek Church. Ornate gold workmanship lined the interiors of both buildings, and the monastery in particular was surrounded by an intricately carved courtyard with fountains, marble art and stone rooms. And wind, lots of wind. We were given firsthand accounts of religious life and the historical significance of being a priest in the Greek Church. The past two years at a Catholic university definitely helped set the stage for a deeper appreciation of the spiritual realm of Greek life in small communities like Andros. It is incorporated in the daily practices of all things, both mundane and essential.

       One afternoon we met the mayor of the island (the professor in charge actually knew everyone on the island) and learned about the European Union’s conservation efforts towards a rare species of falcon, called the Eleanora falcon, that is unique because of its peculiar eating and mating habits. They eat about 300 birds a day, and are monogamous only during the birth of and early stages of development of their offspring. We even managed to spot one while we walked along one of the beaches; they have an enormous wing-span and majestically eyed us from up above.

       Everything kept getting better, even after it seemed like it no longer could. We spent time with a local fisherman who was probably one of the best speakers I have ever come across. So effective, that although it was right after lunch, I didn’t need to exert any effort to stay awake. Proof that miracles can happen. He captivated us all by sharing his personal story of fishing and making his own supplies, being a family-man and negotiating funding from the United Nations. Many international budgeting institutions allocate more money to large-scale industrial fishing companies in Europe, while they attempt to pay these local fishermen to destroy their small, wooden boats and abandon their livelihoods. The emotion and purpose behind his voice was tangible, as he left us with words I know I’ve heard before, but will only remember the way he presented them: “You all have no idea about poverty… there are some people who are so poor – so poor, that all they have in this world is money.”

       The best way to end the trip was at an olive oil museum. Originally an old stone oil mill, the museum lay in the region of Cyclades.  A native of the town used what money he had saved to create a regional heritage museum so people can visit and learn more about the extremely valuable history that the olive tree has had in Greek everyday life. It was and is arguably a vital part of life; from food to energy to cosmetics, the olive tree has been integral to the development of modern Greece as we know it. Besides, olives are my favorite food group, so please pardon my obvious partiality. We played with the mill equipment, which had been used in the olden days in that same mill, and we laughed at his jokes about his family’s efforts to help him make his first batch of oil during the inauguration. The more and more we interacted with locals, the more we found ourselves wishing that we too were locals.

Illustration of how it was done, oh-so-long-ago

       Part of this experience has been absorbing as much of the Greek life as possible. Though we are still far from achieving this goal, our time so far has been nothing but rewarding. The smiles we get from shop and restaurant owners as we naively struggle with the language, the local Bengali market that sells me my Indian comfort spices, the cleaning lady, Marina, in our apartments who make our beds, and the fact that no matter how big a note of money you submit, change is always returned in coins with a sly smile – it was hard to come to terms with the fact that we are here to study and gain knowledge.

       Hard indeed, but it happened with full force nevertheless. Reading and more reading, piles and piles of articles. Classes have started this week, with no respite.  Just to add to the romanticism of it all, I have recently taken to strolling up my street to the nearby café, making my friend order an orange juice (portokolada) and keeping awake enough to read about the ancient Minoan and Mycenaean civilizations. Classes have been extremely difficult, but inspiring. In one particular class titled Immigrants, Citizenship, and Nationalism, my professor is actually the editor-in-chief of the largest English newspaper in Greece. We get the inside scoop on world affairs and current events. It is a whole new learning experience, enhanced by visits to the Acropolis, the Parthenon and the neighboring Islands of Greece. I am very much enchanted with the concept of learning in the classroom what we later witness the next day outside.

       While my mind wins the war by forcing me to finish reading about the comparative practices of Jews, Christians and Muslims, I cannot wait for the upcoming weekend. On the agenda is a visit to the Temple of Poseidon and a ballet performance by the largest European Ballet Company in an outdoor theater beneath the Acropolis. All I need are some olives and a plush Pashmina scarf. Things are in full swing by now, and the adventures better be ready for us.

It had to be done: "Drink Ouzo. Forget crisis"