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.

March 25 - Eleftheria!!!!

A big holiday here.... March 25th - both the day of the Annunciation and the day of Greek Independence.... freedom from the hated Ottoman Turks in 1821. It was a perfect day for a parade - a sunny crystal clear day and the streets were full of children waving flags, street vendors hawking balloons, flags, and food, and row after row of proud young marchers in school uniforms or gorgeous historic costumes.

The flag of Greece has not changed since the revolution against the Ottoman Empire in 1821. The white cross in the upper left hand corner of the flag signifies the important role of the Greek Orthodox Church in the formation of the Hellenic Nation, for during the dark time that the Turks controlled the land, the church kept Greek language, culture and customs alive. The blue and white alternating stripes represent the sea and the relentless waves of the Aegean. There are nine stripes representing each letter of the Greek word for freedom, Eleftheria. Or the meter of the phrase "Eleftheria i Thanatos" (Freedom or Death).








We knew thee of old,
Oh, divinely restored,
By the lights of thine eyes,
And the light of thy Sword,
From the graves of our slain,
Shall thy valour prevail,
As we greet thee again-
Hail, Liberty! Hail!

The Blog Slog

I’ve been unfaithful to you, dear reader. The blog this year has become a bit of a slog. Why? Well, quite honestly, I’m not doing anything terribly interesting that bears writing about. And, if we’re really being honest, I’m a bit blue and doing some really hard self-examination stuff about my purpose here in Greece and … well…. on the planet.

I arrived in Greece in mid-January prepared for another 90 days of sunshine. But in my three decades of visiting here, I’ve never seen such crummy weather! Rain almost every day – good god, we even had snow! What’s next - the Leafs winning the Stanley Cup?

So, Ok. The point of these winter odysseys was to just live a regular life here and not as a tourist guest. - crummy weather and all. My days have been a boring routine of going to the market, making meals for one, walking along the ramparts of the city when the weather slackened off to a mere gale and mundane chores like laundry and cleaning. I am still working, cranking out grant proposals to keep starving musicians employed and that’s actually been a pleasant distraction. My new friends here pitch in every now and then and trot me out for coffee or dinner and even for a St. Patrick’s Day dance in the village. And of course, I’ve been coming closer, ever closer to finalizing the deal on my house building project.

Ahhh, the building project. And how is that coming along? Slowy, slowly, as the Greeks say. Let’s review: first I had to prove to the Greek Minister of Defense that I am neither a crook nor a money launderer. Apparently, this is giving him some pause, as he has had my paperwork now for about six months. All normal, my Greek friends tell me. In fact, by Greek bureaucratic standards, this qualifies as clipping right along briskly.

In the meantime, I’ve been driving around the island with the ever patient Andreas looking at architectural styles and features to get some vague idea of what I want in a house. I’m a blank canvas – all I know is that I want a really cool house that has some style and elegance and will be comfortable as I get older and creakier. I count on Andreas, who is more of a visionary than I (and frankly has better taste) to steer me in the right direction. “The blue shutters? Really? No, I don’t THINK so,” he tuts.

All I know is that I don’t want an ultra modern concrete cube, like some of the characterless holiday homes I see piled on top of each other here. And I don’t want a traditional white village house that reeks of cute. Chic, I aren’t and quaint, I ain’t. Other than that, I am wide open to ideas. You can imagine how frustrating this will be for my architect.

Today I meet with a project engineer to start sketching out some plans so we can be ready to jump, er, saunter – when the approval from Athens comes through. Then we can apply for building permits – which take several more months. I won’t see ground broken til late fall I’m told… a full 15 months after starting the process. In the meantime, I will use the time here to pick out marble tiles, the perfect bathroom fixtures, and select windows and flooring.

Next week, I am moving from the lovely city of Chania to the resort village of Almyrida to be closer to new friends and to the village where I am building. With a car, I can putter around the back roads and get to know my new neighbourhood better. I promise to get back on track with funny stories, great recipes (Easter lamb – Yum!), endearing cultural quirks and a minimal amount of whining about my life. Promise.

The next 90 days: Perspectives

Hello again faithful readers - I'm back by popular demand! Well, maybe not - I am back chasing my own brand of hedonism. I am once again searching for my 90 days of sunshine this winter in Crete. I landed back in Greece the end of January and will be here until mid-May. This time, I will be focused on my building project and getting to know my new neighbourhood and seeing if I can fit into the community.
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There's lots I want to share with you over the next few months - my quirky insights into packing for 3 months, the joys of transiting through multiple airports in this post 9/11 time, the exquisite flavour of lamb kleftiko cooked the way the gods intended, the exuberant joy of snagging a fat orange off a neighbour's tree in January, or the vibe in Athens when the tourists aren't there.... and more, of course, on the bureaucracy of a foreigner (me) buying land on a Greek island.

But tonight, as I write this, the Mediterranean basin is in turmoil, with governments toppling from Tunisia to Egypt. Crete is just a stone's throw across the Libyan sea. In fact we are closer to Libya here than mainland Europe. Perspective is important. My friends back in Canada are bitching about yet another winter storm; my friends here in Greece are bitching about the economic measure designed to pull them out of the shitter. But tonight.... tonight I shared a taverna table with 8 bewildered Chinese engineers who had just escaped from Libya. The Greeks sent over their big friendly ferry boats to bring them to Crete. 4,500 Chinese nationals landed in Heraklion yesterday. The young people I was sitting with were still reeling from their experiences and waiting for their countrymen to send planes to bring them home. Suddenly the fact that I had to endure a few days of rain when I got here, or my Greek friends had to endure skyrocketing petrol prices seemed pretty insignificant. Tonight it was my job to listen to their stories and act as a buffer between Chinese needs and Greek custom.

Perspective is important to keep - well, in perspective. Tonight these young Chinese engineers weren't fighting for democracy in their homeland - they were escaping a war zone. They weren't poorly paid migrant field workers, rather they were educated professionals working in high level jobs away from home. But, once they get safely home, I wonder what questions they will chew over after their experience of seeing simple peasants fighting for democracy with little more than hunting rifles and kitchen knives.