I’m Finally Legit!!

No, really!! I am finally a landowner in Greece! I've got a deed and everything - er, not that I can read it.

Didn’t take too long – I started in May 2010 pulling together the vast amounts of paperwork needed for the application to buy the land. And here it is December 2011 – 19 months – this would be the warp speed pace of bureaucracy in Greece.

So, the paperwork has finally cleared and I can now sink my life savings into a tiny scrap of land in a country with an economy that is circling the drain. What the hell am I thinking?

Well, I’m thinking of turquoise seas and azure skies; of lovely friends I’ve made in my little village overlooking the Cretan Sea; of the smells of Easter lamb roasting on the spit and incense burning in the church. I am thinking of my generous and friendly neighbours who think I’m a bit dotty but harmless (what a coincidence – my neighbours in Canada feel the same way).

I am thinking of sitting in a waterfront taverna staring out to sea and pondering life’s questions; of dandling the taverna owner’s child on my knee while I sip a glass of wine in the country the grape was grown in.

I am thinking of a future in a country with a fascinating past. And I am thinking that if I didn’t do this, I would regret it the rest of my life.

Now the next feat of endurance is to apply for a building permit. My engineer, Kostas, has the building plans, the elevations, seismic surveys (gulp), topographical maps, knows where to site the house on the land for the best views and is ready to submit something like a few dozen different documents to the authorities. They tell me that it takes about four months to get a building permit. But it might take two weeks. Here we go again.

In the meantime, I am dreamily leafing through plumbing supply catalogues and agonizing over what kind of knobs I want on my kitchen cupboards. I feel a bit silly looking at seed catalogues and trying to decide where I want the jasmine planted or the orange trees so they don’t block that all important view.

Maybe I need to focus more on where they will put my septic tank and how high I need to build my stone wall to keep the goats out of my flowers (no, I am not making that part up).

In February I will travel back to Crete to go look at my patch of dirt. I’ll dream about where the excavators will start to dig and I’ll imagine the sounds of workmen pouring concrete and cutting marble tiles.

I guess in a country with a past as long as Greece’s, time is relative.

Impulse shopping: Greek style

So, if you’ve been following along with this blog, you know that I have been trying to buy a little scrap of land in Greece. And you’ve patiently followed along on all the bureaucratic hoops I’ve had to jump through to foolishly spend my money.

Let’s review: a few years ago I found a tiny, but small patch of dirt on the island of Crete. Ever the impulse shopper, I took one look at the views from the land and said “SOLD!” Or the rough equivalent in my really atrocious Greek.

My sales agent, the ever helpful, endlessly patient Andreas, outlined the paperwork needed that I, as a non-EU citizen, would need to assemble to buy my patch of heaven. Mounds of it, piles of it, heaps actually. All duly stamped, notarized, authorized, certified, and stamped again. Paperwork is key – apparently actually handing over my dough is a minor detail - twiddling with more paperwork and stamps is ever so much more fun.

For the last two years I have been getting criminal record checks, arguing with the Greek Minister of Defense, whilst meekly begging for the opportunity to hand over my entire retirement savings to a country that is going bankrupt. I’ve been processed and cleared by the Greek departments of heritage, agriculture, environment, rural development and several other minor provincial offices. I still don’t have my land.

If you’ve been keeping up with the news, Greece is in a financial crisis of epic proportions. Not only is the country teetering on the abyss of bankruptcy, its profligate spending the last decade is now threatening to bring down the entire Eurozone.

I’ve been desperately trying to give Greece my money – buy some land, build a house, employ some locals to build and maintain it, and settle in. Apparently impulse shopping is not a danger in Greece as it’s now going on two years and I still have no land and no house.

I’m told that I am now mere days away from the right stamp being applied to the right piece of paper, duly notarized, authorized and certified and solemnly witnessed by everyone in the village from the mayor to the village barber. Mere days. The pace of land purchasing in Greece makes one dizzy.

I’ll keep you posted.

In the meantime, I’m going to go check on that bottle of champagne I put in the fridge to chill for the day I get my deed. I think it may have evaporated by now.

Living abroad; staying connected

I’ll admit it - I’m a news addict. I come by it naturally. My beloved dad was a broadcaster in both radio and TV for 50 years. As a teenager, he hung around the local radio station until they gave him a job. From those early days as a radio operator, he quickly grew into an on-air “personality” and eventually management. Midway in his career, he switched from private broadcasting to Canada’s public system, the CBC. Widowed early, Dad often needed to bring me along to the radio or TV studio when babysitters were hard to find. I grew up spending a lot of time sitting quietly in a broadcast booth or TV studio while dear old dad was “live on air.” The addiction was born. Radio was always on in our home and Dad taught me what made a good broadcast or how to recognize a talented announcer.

To this day, I can’t miss a newscast on radio or TV. The CBC encourages a lot of audience participation these days – their way of making the audience do the work of programming since the government has slashed their funding for production. So, I do my part by contributing to radio shows as an occasional guest commentator or by providing feedback on issues raised. I’m still good friends with a lot of the announcers my dad worked with or hired and the career I’ve had in the last few decades has had me building strong media relations.

So how do I stay connected when I’m living in Greece? Well the internet allows me to listen to or watch live broadcasts from home – with a 6 hour time difference. It’s very comforting - like having a coffee with a pal and having a good gab about local politics (thanks Terry and Stan). It’s also led to some really cool experiences.

For example, one day I was exchanging tweets with a friend back home while I was listening to the local morning show and pruning back my jasmine in the hot Greek sunshine. They announced a school closure due to a vicious winter blizzard. I knew about it before he did. We both got chills from the weirdness of me knowing that his kid had a storm day from half a world away before mum and dad even rolled out of bed.

The same local morning show maintains a live Twitter feed while broadcasting and they respond to incoming emails. So when the announcer is saying it’s minus 25 in Fredericton, I can shoot him a note and say it’s plus 30 in Chania and I’m off to the beach - sucks being meeee. They usually read it on air and get a lot of mileage out of bad weather jokes. But besides bad jokes, this past winter, it also meant that I was their closest connection to what was happening in Libya. I could relate my experience of meeting the refuges that had been evacuated to Greece directly on air to the folks at home. I could talk about how chilling it was to meet the young NATO airforce pilots one night in a taverna and then watch their jets whistle overhead on their way to bomb Libyan towns. And of course, this past autumn, I’ve had a front row seat watching an entire nation’s economy disintegrate.

Now that I am back in Canada for a few months, I read the Greek newspapers on line every day and watch the BBC broadcasts live streaming. A live web cam over the city of Chania lets me know what their day is like. Last year, in my ultimate act of geekdom, I watched Chania’s New Years Eve fireworks live on the web cam.

http://www.cretadeluxe.com/webcam/webcam_chania_en.html

I love my life in Greece; I adore my Canadian home. The amazing power of the internet keeps me connected to both worlds.

Crisis?? What Crisis??

Yes – I have heard about Greece’s financial problems.

No – it hasn’t affected my building plans in Crete.

Yes – my bank accounts there are protected and insured, just as they are here in Canada.

Yes - I did read that article in the [insert name of fear-mongering right-wing publication here] on how the entire country is galloping toward bankruptcy.


Yes – I did see those pictures of the young unemployed anarchists throwing petrol bombs at the Greek parliament building in Athens. I also saw the pictures of the Vancouver riots over a hockey game.

No – I don’t fear for my safety in Greece. The Greeks very kindly warn people well in advance where the demonstrations and strike parades will be. And Greece has a lower violent crime rate that Canada – particularly crimes against women. Their driving records, however, are the worst in Europe. I walk a lot.

No – I don’t know why the Greeks think that striking every other day and driving away their main economic life support (tourists) will make things better. I’m sure they’ve taken that into account.

No – I don’t know why Greeks don’t like to pay their taxes and yet expect all the services of a developed nation. Might have something to do with thousands of years of wars, invasions, and general mistrust of any bureaucracy.

Yes – I’ve thought about what happens if the country collapses economically. But then I’ve thought that about America too. Apparently the US has to cough up a few trillion to cover its overspending in the next 90 days.

No - I don't know that all Greeks are crooks but I'm curious to know how you formed that opinion.

Yes – I’m sure I still want to do this. And – please – keep emailing me those articles. I fancy myself a bit of a news hound and I like to stay on top of current events. It never would have occurred to me to check the [insert name of any news service here]’s website.

Yes – of course you can come and stay with me when my house in Crete is finished. Greece can use your tourist dollars and god knows I look forward to your unique take on their economy. And, besides, I can use the rent money.

It’s complicated.

Like most love affairs, my decades long relationship with Greece is complicated.

I get weak in the knees and teary eyed when my ship pulls into port in Naxos; I curse the slow plodding bureaucracy that keeps me from settling there permanently. I hotly defend Greece's wacky economic policies; I am jealous when they let illegal immigrants hang around to mooch off tourists but boot me out after 90 days. Coming around a mountain pass, my tummy does a slow lazy barrel roll at the beauty I see before me; seeing plastic water bottles and a million cigarette butts thrown on postcard-perfect beaches makes my stomach heave.


I have to remind myself that my own country probably has as many dichotomies and perhaps I just can’t see them anymore.


I have to remind myself about the centuries of wars, invasions and struggles Greece went through that perhaps has left them with customs my North American mind sees as counter productive.


It’s been a year now since I applied to the Greek government for permission to buy a tiny scrap of land in Crete. One (1) year. The bureaucrats in Athens assure my lawyer that the file is indeed being processed. Fees have been paid, papers have been notarized and stamped, my government has assured the Greek Minister of Defense that I am not a criminal and my banker has assured them that I have a few bucks so as not to burden their economy. Yet, my paperwork sits in some civil servant’s in-basket waiting…. who knows what to make me legal. One year.

Let me crass but frank: I have a bit of money – not wads, but just enough to build a reasonably nice house and maintain it respectably. I have my own gold-plated Canadian health plan. I have my own income and don’t want to take anyone’s job away in Greece. I want to settle into my adopted village in Crete and contribute by being a community volunteer (I’m partial to helping animals and the environment.) The building of my little house will employ lawyers, bankers, engineers, architects, contractors, plumbers, electricians, labourers and landscapers. I will need local people to maintain it for me when I am not there. I will pay taxes and permit fees (LOTS of permit fees). I have no immediate plans to knock over a bank or a souvlaki shop and, as near as I know, I carry no communicable diseases except the odd cold I pick up in Frankfurt airport. I behave reasonably well in public (sometimes I laugh too loud) and I have no plans to open a disco bordello on my land. I will likely keep at least one vineyard in brisk business. And yet….. one year has passed while the Minister of Defense anguishes over my application. Meanwhile the Greek economy makes daily headlines around the world about how their economy continues to tank.

Assuming the Minister of Defense holds his nose and eventually signs my permit to buy land, I then have to face the fact that the enormously stupid Schengen Treaty only allows me to visit for 90 days at a time. Oh yeah, and I have to remain OUT of the Schengen Zone for 180 days before being allowed back in. Was it something I said?

It’s complicated, this affair of the heart. Exhausting, exhilarating, frustrating, fulfilling, a test of wills and endurance and faith … complicated.






With deepest love and affection,

Nancy, gamely facing year two.

It's Easter! Let's EAT!

You spleeny north American types might want to skip this one.... this is the recipe for Kokoretsi - a traditional Greek appetizer popular this time of year.

Ingredients

* Guts of lamb. (You might need guts from more than one lamb. Ask for 2 hearts, 2 spleen, liver and 1 lungs, 2 testicles)
* Lamb intestines. At least 4 are required for a medium size kokoretsi
* oregano
* Salt
* Pepper
* Some olive oil

METHOD

Wash the guts very thoroughly and cut them in small pieces. Be careful not to cut them in too small pieces because you will no be able to skewer them. Wash the bowels very carefully and try to clean them from inside (use a thin stick). Leave them in a bowl and keep the ends of each intestine to one side in order to be able to separate them.

Prepare the souvla (skewer). Start skewering the guts onto the souvla. Pin one end of the first bowel in the one side of the souvla and wind the intestine around the skewer. If it reaches its end tie it with the end of the next piece and continue to wind until all intestines are wrapped and no guts are visible (you should only see the intestines along the souvla).

Season with salt, pepper and oregano. Prepare the fire and roast on all sides until guts are brown and crispy. Check that "kokoretsi" is ready and remove from fire. Cut the kokoretsi in cylinders of 5 cm wide in order to remove it from the souvla in pieces. Put in platter, oil the kokoretsi pieces, season with extra salt, pepper and oregano and serve.

God, I wish I was making this up. I am not... pass the peanut butter sandwiches please.

Kalo Pascha!

90 days of Sogginess

It’s a particularly Canadian trait to bitch about the weather. We can live or die by it, you see, so we are endlessly fascinated with it. Like many Canadians, I love a good dramatic storm as long as I am safe inside. And like most tourists here, I also like basking in the winter sun like an old lizard on a rock.

The Cretan travel promos rattle on about “360 days of sunshine” and, generally, this is true. Last winter when I was here, the weather was sublime – thus giving me the name for this blog. This winter – meh – not so much. In fact, in the 3 decades I have been coming to Greece, I have never seen such consistently lousy weather. Good lord, I've actually even seen snow and hail here this year!




Lucky for me, I am not pressed for time and needing to pack in a lot of sight seeing in a short schedule. I have time to NOT go to the museum, NOT go tramp around the archaeological ruins or NOT go take the tour
of the Turkish fort. It is a wonderful way to travel – I can sleep the day away or spend the afternoon cuddled under a toasty brazier in a café doing crossword puzzles and not feel one whit of guilt.
Still, as much as the wild seas, empty beaches and dark clouds make for good pictures and bad poetry, I am weary of feeling damp and chilled and am in despair of my pale skin ever announcing to the world that I’ve spent the whole bloody winter on a Greek island.

It is Holy Week here. The towns and villages are starting to fill with Greeks returning home to mama and tourists hoping for some relief from winter. The kids are off school, the tourist spots are ramping up for the season, and the lambs are looking decidedly nervous. Today, as I write this, it is a mere 15 celsius and I am wearing a sweater and wool socks. In London, on the other hand, it is 23C. Global warming? Nawwww.

For mystical meteorological reasons, it has been a rotten winter and spring through most of Europe. Vegetation is about a month behind schedule – spring flowers are just


tentatively starting to peek out when normally by now they should be in full riot. My own theory is the volcano last year in Iceland created such a cloud it screwed up the weather for a while.




On the other hand, it is tempting to blame the Greek government for my lack of tan and warmth – seems only fair for what they are making me go through to get my land buying permits.