From Spring into Summer with Greek Produce, Problems, and Glimmers of Hope

The Abundance of Crete in Spring, Summer, and Holidays

I scrambled up a rocky hillside at the end of May, following a goat path between sharp little shrubs. A sleek lizard streaked across the dried mud in front of me. I didn’t dare pluck any of the lavender-colored thyme flowers for fear the bees intent on the blossoms would punish me for my intrusion. That hardy wild thyme was thriving then, with beautifully rounded bushes full of their tiny blossoms.
 
April had been remarkable for the amount of produce and homemade food and drink we received as gifts from neighbors, friends, and acquaintances. I visited my favorite loquat tree at the edge of a generally untouched olive grove in an uninhabited lot for some of the sweetest fruits I’ve ever eaten, picking them before the insects and birds could finish them off and noticing that some were nearly as sweet as the syrupy Greek desserts I can’t eat (although others enjoy them).
 
Neighbors’ trees overflowed with lemons that our strong island winds blew to the ground or into the street, so bags of the bright yellow fruit appeared at our door before we’d exhausted our supply. Fortunately, I’ve adopted the Greek habit of squeezing fresh lemon juice on such foods as fish, chicken, meat, and cabbage/carrot salad, as well as in water and a chamomile/baking soda gargle. Some of the very ripe lemons are so sweet that it’s easy to eat the pulp.
 

And there were fresh, sweet Cretan oranges through spring and even into summer. An American friend of a Dutch neighbor welcomed me and my kids to her orange grove one sunny, windy day. It was a glorious time to wander among trees and pluck the cheerful orange fruit from their branches, and to climb a tall tree to enjoy a view of surrounding hills full of olive groves. I couldn’t tear my kids away from those trees, where they gleefully climbed after the hard-to-reach fruits, before we ended up with a large file box full of them, plus two huge bags to wedge into our fridge—so we had plenty to share with the neighbors who’d given us lemons, loquats, kaltsounia, Easter cookies, olive oil, and wine!
 

Such treats also played a part in the magnificent Easter feast friends shared with us on Orthodox Easter, when I contributed American desserts (carrot cake with cream cheese icing and chocolate chip cookies), since those are the only foods I can make better than anyone else I know around here. (At least I used Cretan olive oil in the cake, for a slight variation on my mother’s recipe.)
 
On Easter Monday, we were invited to lunch in a village square, where tables of lamb, salad, bread, kokoretsi (which includes lamb or goat intestines), and kaltsounia (little Cretan cheese and herb pies) were set up under towering plane trees, next to one of the village churches and a small, shaded stream, in the midst of the olive groves of the Kolymvari region. Greeks may crowd together, but they always find seats for everyone at the table. No one eats with a plate on their lap in Greece. And Greek dancing may well begin after a feast ends, as it did that day in the village square.  
 

On the way back from our Easter Monday lunch, we made two detours to show the kids the monumental olive tree of Ano Vouves, which locals believe to be the oldest olive tree in the world, and to see the German World War II cemetery at Maleme. Strong winds whipped up the silver green sides of olive leaves, and branches moved in a frenzied dance in the olive groves that filled hills, valleys, and roadsides. The winds gathered and scattered a mixture of clouds that ranged from dark grey and threatening to puffy and white in patches of light blue sky.
 

Now a hot, rather humid summer is following a too-dry, too-warm winter and spring in Crete, with the sweet scent of green and purple figs growing in the intense sun and the even sweeter perfume of white jasmine and plumeria flowers, the sound of cicadas overtaking dogs’ barking, birds’ chirping, and doves’ cooing. Some American friends arrived in June, in time to see brilliant walls of fuschia bougainvillea and pink and white oleander in full bloom near tiny grapes and little olives. Family came from the USA and Canada in July, as the unwatered oleander passed its prime, and the olives, grapes, and figs grew. We visited beaches, olive mills, Ancient Aptera, Sunset Restaurant in Horafakia, the Old Port of Chania, the Botanical Park of Crete—some of our favorite places.

 

Life in Greece Is Still No Vacation

 

 Although many are enjoying their holidays, there is too much bad news for others to enjoy anything. Very few of the refugees that European countries were supposed to take in have left Greece, Italy, or migrant camps. Greece continues to struggle with more than 57,000 refugees and migrants within its borders, searching for adequate, humane housing, food, healthcare, and registration and asylum procedures. We hear of Syrian refugees so exhausted and hopeless that they pay smugglers to return them to Turkey so they can resettle in a homeland still torn by a dangerous civil war. Even before a short-lived coup attempt led to a government crackdown on perceived enemies, Turkey threatened to pull out of its agreement to try to prevent or take back migrants and refugees arriving in Greece by sea from Turkey. Terrorists have struck too many times, places, and human beings to keep track of—for those of us not directly related to those people and places.
 

Taxes are going up more in Greece, pensions are going down again, nearly a quarter of Greeks remain unemployed, many storefronts stand empty, families have less disposable income, and still Greece’s creditors are not satisfied by the insane amount of “austerity” the Greek people have been enduring for six years now. A dilapidated Neoclassical mansion in Chania with its doors and windows gone and roof caving in is just one sad symbol of much sadder human stories about lives in disarray so European banks could be repaid—not so the Greek economy could rebound and the country could rebuild, as continued excessive austerity makes that extremely difficult.
 
Like many, I’ve gone through phases of disappointment that each new Greek government and each new “bailout” plan have failed to solve the country’s problems, disgust that Greece’s creditors don’t seem to make logical demands, astonishment at the failed political games of both Greeks and other European leaders, anger and rage about the human suffering as increasing numbers of people here lose access to adequate health care and nutritious food, and the suicide rate rises—engulfing a family I know well--and despair when it just doesn’t look like anyone will offer reasonable solutions to pressing problems.
 
I have jumped into intense discussions, mostly in Greek but partly in English as I run out of Greek but my rage continues, about how little many Greek grade school teachers appear to care about students or their parents. I have found no one who disagrees with me—not even the kindergarten teacher I spoke with. The latest proof to set me off was our elementary school teachers’ decision, for the second year in a row, to schedule the end of the year celebration that used to occur on a lovely late spring evening in the late morning, when working parents need to be at work—since morning is the teachers’ work time, and a couple dozen teachers have more rights than several hundred parents.
 
No matter if that was the same time our older children were taking some of the useless two-hour exams that occupy occasional hours of their last month of school, in place of lessons. This leads to my more serious educational complaint: apparently some secondary school teachers prefer to take a four-month summer vacation, instead of a mere three months, subjecting children as young as 12 to exams based on intense memorization of facts they will forget soon after each exam, for which they are expected to prepare at home, alone, not in review sessions at school.
 
There will be no educational benefit, since the exams will not be returned to the students or discussed after they are taken. So 12 through 18 year olds, not their teachers, are held responsible for their last month of learning each academic year. Of course, I should not imply that this is the fault of each individual teacher. But surely a general teachers’ revolt could change this terribly faulty system, which also pushes senior high school students to give up their childhood and work harder than anyone else in the country to gain a place at a free university where they will be too burned out to attend the classes that should prepare them for careers.
 

Reviving Hope: If It Doesn’t Exist, Create It

Sometimes I lose hope for Greece. But it was revived one Friday in early June. First, at the state health insurance office, I was dismayed to see a notice indicating that the person who could give me the papers I needed did not work with the public on Fridays. However, since she was helping someone else, I waited and found that she was willing to help me as well. She discovered a problem with my registration in the system: some of my information was in Greek letters, and some in Latin letters. It had to be consistent. So she took my ID and health book and fixed it, then went to another office, and came back with stamped papers. Unfortunately, I saw that she’d misspelled my mother’s name (in a way that made perfect sense in Greek). When I pointed this out, she calmly redid all the papers. Patient, efficient, willing to help: such civil servants still exist in Greece!
 

Stopping to copy my papers at the local toy and book store, Trenaki (which means “little train”), I was astonished to find it a totally different place than the previous week! I thought it had undergone major renovation to make it roomier, brighter, and better organized, with appealing, shoulder-high train ends on the bookshelves to match the store name. When I wished the owner good health—as Greeks do for all new clothes, new purchases, and new beginnings—Sophia surprised me by saying that her store contained all the same furniture and goods as before. 
 
Amazing. Sophia and her assistants had reconsidered the organization with great care and figured out how to overcome the crowding and darkness that plagued the useful, popular little store; they’d come up with a great solution. Now if they can do that, and the state health system has elements that work better than advertised, there does seem to be hope here in Greece. One step at a time, one person at a time.  

Thinking about what a friend could do if she and her friends don’t want to keep driving an hour a day to play on the only beach volley team in our area, I realized that my unconscious, unspoken motto in recent years may have become “if it doesn’t exist, create it.” Perhaps inspired by our elementary school’s wonderfully proactive, creative, and energetic parents’ association, which organized an affordable after-school and weekend activities program out of nothing during the economic crisis, or by the grassroots group in Chania that founded a soup kitchen (Κοινωνική Κουζίνα) that continues to serve hundreds of Greeks, migrants, and refugees, I started taking some modest action myself, foreigner though I am.

When I missed my far-off family and friends and got tired of explaining why life in Greece is no vacation (although a vacation in Greece is splendid!), I started this blog. When I lamented the lack of variety in kids’ summer programs in Chania, I attempted to convince some mothers and professors to help develop a summer science camp at the Technical University of Crete (TUC). My first spring efforts seemed to come to nothing, but they may have put the idea into circulation, because the following year a summer program seemed to materialize at TUC out of thin air.

When I saw that the refugees stranded in Chania for months and then years were receiving too little attention and assistance, I asked families at my children’s school to donate food and clothing and received an impressively generous response—several times. I never approached the accomplishments of many grassroots volunteer groups and heroic individuals, I did not set up a soup kitchen or help thousands of refugees as many have, but at least I got something done.

I have lived in Crete for almost 14 years. During that time, I have born two children, given up trying to keep up with their Greek, and tried to reconcile my dissatisfaction with the Greek educational system with my realization that some excellent teachers here are giving my children a solid grounding of knowledge. I have learned from Greeks, migrants, and refugees from various parts of the world about the problems in their countries, including the Syrian war and the Greek economic crisis.

I have learned to not only ignore, but fail to see, junked cars,

unfinished buildings, and scattered garbage along the roads. I have given in to the need to help feed some of the wandering cats around us and the necessity of a pillow over my head to sleep through the night-time barking of dozens of stray and under-attended neighborhood dogs. I have learned to distinguish the perfume of jasmine flowers from the scent of fallen, crushed figs. And in the past year and a half, I have been captivated by the beauty of Greek olive trees and become an advocate for the unique flavor and incredible health benefits of Greek extra virgin olive oil, which deserves a more prominent position on the worlds’ specialty store, grocery store, and kitchen shelves.

When I began writing about the Greek olive oil world for Olive Oil Times in the spring of 2015, I was surprised to discover that there was no source of consistent, reliable, in-depth information on my subject in English. So I started from scratch, educating myself with the generous assistance of Greek olive oil producers, consumers, marketers, and exporters, as well as online and print sources in Greek and English. I’ve shared what I learned in dozens of articles, but the source I was looking for did not materialize. Well, if it doesn’t exist, create it. So I did: Greek Liquid Gold: Authentic Extra Virgin Olive Oil—first, a Facebook page, now, a website. It’s all about Greek olive oils: gorgeous photos, delicious recipes, astounding health benefits, and the latest news.

See greekliquidgold.com for photos, recipes, news, and info about olive oil.

Negotiation, Taxation, Crisis, and Grimbo; Holidays, Flowers, and Hope

Nothing is Certain Except Death and Taxes

Our dressers and beds have been buried under piles of summer and winter clothes lately. Greek closets are divided vertically, so one must shift all the winter and summer clothes up and down as seasons change, and—for kids’ clothes—check what fits and what doesn’t. Meanwhile, laundry never ends, with much of it hung out to dry since many clothes sold here are not designed to go in dryers, and many families don’t have them. Wall to wall carpeting is a rarity, possibly because of all the blowing dust. So Greeks use large area rugs in the winter and then wash, air dry, roll up, bag, and store them in the summer. Lots of fun, generally for women. Of course, as an Albanian woman correctly pointed out to me, such endless housekeeping projects are proofs of prosperity. Many of her relatives have just two outfits, one to wear and one to wash, with so little electricity in many villages that they have no washing machines, no refrigerators, no irons, and hence less housework. Their challenge is to find enough clothes, shoes, and food for their children.

Since I have been spared that challenge, I feel obligated to read the news. Most of us here in Greece are sick of hearing it, especially since so many articles sound nearly the same. (If you don’t want to hear another word about it, go ahead and skip to the next section; if you don’t live here, you don’t need to know what I do.) Here is a one-paragraph summary of the news about Greece over the past several months: the Greek finance minister and Prime Minister are optimistic that Greece and its creditors will agree on reforms leading to a final disbursement of bailout funding soon; the friendlier elements in the EU say everyone is working hard to reach a good solution; the German finance minister and those who agree with him assert that the Greeks must agree to more reforms and cooperate more and faster; sympathetic commentators in the U. S. and elsewhere point out the mistakes of the IMF, European leaders, and bankers and say Greece needs leeway to reduce its humanitarian crisis and enable its economy to grow; Greeks blame creditors for unreasonable demands, the lenders blame the Greeks for failing to reach an agreement, different members of Greece’s governing coalition make incompatible claims, and the IMF and the EU seek different changes from Greece; Greece is struggling to pay its next debt installment as well as public sector salaries and pensions; without another loan disbursement, the government will run out of money in one or two weeks or months; Greeks who still have savings remove more money from their bank accounts; Greece will or will not default on its debt and will or will not remain in the Eurozone. Nothing is certain except death and taxes, but ordinary people go about their business as well as they can, feeling powerless to determine the course of their country’s future.

As Pantelis Boukalas wrote, Greeks find it irrational “that they are being forced to continue, with little change, a course of treatment that has already been proved to be responsible for sky-high unemployment, frozen growth, the cancer of business closures and a rise in suicides, acknowledged by international organizations” (The Good, the Bad and the Ugly). A disturbing New York Times article describes the tragic circumstances facing many Greeks. For example, at the nation’s largest (125,000 student) public university, three quarters of the budget has been slashed since the crisis started. In Athens suburbs, the wealthy are paying the police for protection. And at least one surgeon worked 20-hour days for a month until his exhaustion endangered his patients. His hospital’s director, Theodoros Giannaros, works similarly long hours for 1,200 euros a month rather than the 7,400 he used to receive, with a hospital budget cut from 20 million euros to only 6 million and 200 doctors treating twice as many patients as 250 did in the past. Greek public hospitals got just 43 million euros from the government in the first four months of 2015, as opposed to 650 million during the same period a year ago. The cheap surgical gloves used at one hospital sometimes break during surgery. “Greece has been forced by its creditors to cut spending by €28 billion — quite a sum in a €179 billion economy,” equivalent to $2.6 trillion in the U. S. economy. As Mr. Giannaros says, “Maybe the crisis makes us better people — but these better people will die if the crisis continues”—like his son, who committed suicide recently (With Money Drying Up, Greece Is All but Bankrupt). Enough is enough. This austerity is literally killing people. I do not want to hear any more talk about the “sacrifices” of the Greek people; human sacrifice belongs to ancient times, not the present. 

I am often reminded that Greeks are so right to emphasize the importance of good health in their daily lives and their most common greetings: they say “ya,” or “γεια,” which also means “health,” for hello, hi, goodbye, and bless you (after a sneeze). They tend to say “may you be well” instead of “you’re welcome” in response to thanks, they constantly ask if you’re well, and they often end discussions of how things are with “let us have [good] health,” clearly emphasizing that that’s what’s most important. When I talk with a neighbor whose struggle with her aging husband’s emphysema-related infirmity and complete dependence on her ended recently in his death, or with an elderly woman who doesn’t know whether her legs will support her when she needs to stand up and walk to the bathroom, or if she’ll fall down, and when I read of thousands killed in Nepal earthquakes and “Five billion people [who] 'have no access to safe surgery,'” I see how much the Greek emphasis on health makes sense. Of course, since the current economic crisis has reduced many Greeks’ access to adequate healthcare and medicine, the importance of good health becomes even clearer: let us be well, να είμαστε καλά, because if we’re not, we may be in serious trouble here.

In “Suffering Being a Greek Taxpayer,” Thanos Tsiros provides downright shocking statistics about the high taxes and social insurance contributions required of Greeks, starting with the highest contribution among OECD countries for a worker of modest income (earning 1,440 euros gross per month) with two children, who is taxed at a rate of 43.4%, and leading up to the taxes on gasoline (62.66%) and cigarettes (up to 90%). (The article is in Greek; use Google translate if you like.) With businesses facing a sales tax (called VAT here) of 23% on their products, plus an income tax of 26%, they end up losing about half of their “income” to taxes. The OECD calculates that a worker with two children who smokes, drives, and is supposedly earning 40,000 euros per year actually returns 61% of that to the government, once we add in taxes on property, car, gasoline, and cigarettes, on top of the general sales tax. These taxes, some of the highest in the world according to experts’ studies, provide tremendous incentive for both extensive smuggling and the world-famous tax evasion in Greece—which is actually not that high, comparatively speaking, as I wrote last month. Yet Greece’s creditors want the Greek government to raise taxes even more! Are they really looking at the numbers they claim to want to see? For most of us here, both statistics and true stories about human beings continue to confirm that Greeks need more relief and hope rather than more or higher taxes. 

On April 9, also known as Holy Thursday, I was astonished by two things: a brief, very rare hailstorm here in Crete, and a report that “the IMF has made €2.5 billion of profit out of its loans to Greece since 2010. If Greece does repay the IMF in full this will rise to €4.3 billion by 2024” (IMF has made €2.5 billion profit out of Greece loans)! Was that the goal? To impose misery on Greek people in order to build up International Monetary Fund cash reserves? I’d never thought of the IMF as a for-profit organization. The other week, Greece used IMF money to pay the IMF, and the government has been trying for months to get the last installment of the bailout funds so it can pay back a few more installments of a debt worth about 180% of its GDP. This is ridiculous. Greece needs debt forgiveness, since its debt is way beyond sustainable.

So far, life in Crete, a relatively prosperous island far from Athens, has continued  almost as usual for those of us who still have adequate income—but not for the new beggars outside the supermarkets, those who have closed their businesses or lost their jobs, or the refugees waiting here in limbo. However, life may change for all of us, since the Greek government seems more likely to run out of money, default on its debts, and leave the Eurozone than it ever has before. We really don’t know, though. Last month, an economist who doesn’t have to live through whatever may happen in Greece came up with another catchy little term: Grimbo. That’s what we seem to be in, since the Grexit forecast in 2012 and the Grexident or Graccident discussed in recent months still haven’t materialized (Grexit is so 2012. Citigroup introduces 'Grimbo' to crisis lexicon). I am not amused.

Most Greeks are not amused, either. A gynecologist says the government is making a mess of the healthcare and education systems, for example by forbidding gynecologists to prescribe breast ultrasounds and mammograms under the national insurance plan, although they are expected to examine the results. She’d like to leave Greece for the sake of her teenage children, but her husband is too attached to his land to go. A gas station attendant suggests that it might have been worth Greece leaving the euro in 2010, but now it would do no good, and no one in Greece wants to do it, so (he says) it won’t happen. He argues that we’re much better off in Crete, where jobs as farm laborers are available for those who really want them, than people are in Athens, where there just aren’t enough jobs. A widowed grandmother believes the current government doesn’t know enough about what needs to be done, so its leaders say one thing but do something else. She is exasperated by the latest public transport strikes. We had a few months’ break from strikes after this coalition government was elected, but now the strikes are back.

They’re back partly because the government’s popularity has finally begun to decrease after months of unsuccessful negotiations with the European Commission, the European Central Bank, and the IMF, formerly known as the troika, then the institutions, creditors, or (with the addition of the European Stability Mechanism) the Brussels Group. The government’s falling popularity was apparent in the ferry workers’ and railway workers’ strike on the major travel date of Labor Day (the first of May here) and in mayors’ angry reactions to the federal government’s demands that local cash reserves be transferred to the central bank to pay salaries, pensions, and debts. It was clear in the elementary school teachers’ union’s anger that the government did not consult it about educational reforms, and of course it was evident in polls.

In February, 72% of those surveyed approved of Prime Minister Alexis Tsipras and finance minister Yanis Varoufakis’s negotiating strategy; in late April, only 45.5% approved, and that had decreased to 35% by mid May, according to one source (Labor minister sees deal within coming days). However, a different “poll conducted in May by Public Issue for the pro-government newspaper Avgi, shows 54 percent backing the SYRIZA-led government's handling of the negotiations” (Greeks back government's red lines, but want to keep euro), and far more would vote for SYRIZA than for the conservative centrist New Democracy, the second most popular political party. Since a majority of Greeks still wants to remain in the Eurozone, even if that means compromising with lenders and continuing or even adding to the austerity measures and high taxation SYRIZA had vowed to end, what will happen here is uncertain—aside from death and taxes, both of which are constantly on the minds of my generation as we lose our income, our parents, and the grandparents in our neighborhoods.

Holidays and Hopes, Flowers and Fruits, a Local Shepherd, and Everyday Heroes 

Most Greeks do still celebrate holidays, however. So we enjoyed a traditional Easter feast with friends on a lovely sunny day after a very cold, windy Holy Week kept some away from church services they would generally attend. Once again this Easter, I was struck by the way this holiday is like an American Christmas in several ways: in terms of its importance, the two-week vacation, the ever-present holiday wishes, and—even now--the commercialism. Here, there is more fasting (although it varies from nothing to everything) and more emphasis on the religious reason for the holiday. For example, after Easter, outside a café in Chania I saw a chalk board with a beer company’s logo displaying the typical Easter and post-Easter greeting among friends and family: ΧΡΙΣΤΌΣ ΑΝΈΣΤΗ, or CHRIST IS RISEN! (That was followed by ΧΡΟΝΙΑ ΠΟΛΛΑ ΜΕ ΥΓΕΙΑ, or MANY YEARS WITH HEALTH—also very typical wishes at any Greek holiday.)

However, there is also so much shopping for so many gifts, just like an American Christmas: Easter cookies and breads, wine, chocolate eggs or bunnies, clothes and shoes for children. Godparents always give kids outrageously expensive Easter candles called lambadas, which they light at church. These lambadas are either lavishly decorated with ribbons or attached to additional gifts, such as watches, bracelets, little dolls, small musical instruments, or even—in an elaborate set of boxes—Hotwheels cars and toys! I liked our local soup kitchen’s idea of selling some beribboned candles for 8 euros to raise money for food for the hungry, but the elaborate attachments and far more excessive prices of the candles sold in stores do not appeal to me. Since they are not part of a tradition I grew up with, they just appear wasteful in my eyes--unlike household Christmas decorations. I know such an unfair judgment involves acculturation vs. prejudice against what I’m not used to. Better to condemn the wastefulness of Christmas decorations, too—as I did when I heard about the millions of dollars spent on them by New York companies—but I’m too attached to my own old, modest ones, which represent a strong link to the childhood, family, and first home about which I’m very nostalgic. As Tevye sang in Fiddler on the Roof, “Tradition, tradition! Tradition!”

Looking over photos of our Greek Easter gathering, including some of gorgeous eggs dyed with onion skins alongside the traditional red eggs, I found dozens of pictures of my son playing with the snails we found in the three heads of lettuce a neighbor gave us from her garden after I took her a few outgrown clothes for her sons (in yet another instance of the exchange economy we live in today and/or the generosity of Greeks). We had almost enough for a snail meal to go with our salad, but my son was more interested in playing with and feeding the snails than in eating them. He built them a wall of lettuce, but that was too easy for them to scale, so he had to take them outside--especially after I discovered that one had escaped to the top of the pepper shaker above the microwave.

Redbuds and daisies were flourishing at Easter. By the end of April, the former had lost their blossoms, and the latter were starting to fade in the increasingly hot sun that better suits the tall grasses and lavender thistles that now predominate outside the sweet-smelling gardens of roses, honeysuckle, geraniums, and jasmine. Several weeks ago, the olive trees were blooming, their little clusters of tiny yellow-white flowers dropping pollen on me. Crepe-paper like pink Cretan rock rose (or cistus) blossoms too delicate to pick thrived on their hardy bushes all over the wild hills. When I walked to my mailbox to pick up mail, I smelled the chamomile I crushed underfoot. Clumps of daisies created wild gardens like carefully planted hedges in empty lots and by the roadsides. Twice, a neighbor invited me to climb her ladder and pick her loquats, and the first time I took almost as many photos as loquats. Interesting view up there, closer to the sky, next to a bee on a citrus flower, with loquat and citrus tree branches intermingling.

May Day is a real holiday here: no school, stores closed, workers’ marches. I celebrated in a traditional Greek way by gathering heaps of flowers and making May wreaths and bouquets. If we determined its date botanically, May Day would have to come to Crete in March or April, because by May 1 many of the wild orchids and all the anemones had long since disappeared, the crown daisies were beginning to dry up, and the field gladiolas were becoming rarer in the hot sun. The shrub verbena that grows wild in empty lots here was beginning to flourish, but its tiny clusters of multi-colored blossoms drop off the stems very easily. So I had to turn to the huge geranium bushes outside untenanted yards, take a few roses from homes used only in August, and beg a few fragrant blossoms from trees and gardens (including some lilacs, which I rarely see here). That provided plenty for a wreath for our family, plus one for our disabled, housebound elderly neighbor and his devoted wife, who spent nearly every minute caring for him. I am so glad I took the spring flowers into their house twice a week this year, since it turned out to be the last spring he would live through, and a smile lit up his face when he saw the flowers. 

I had no clue how to make a May wreath when I first tried years ago, but now I take pride in managing with all-natural ingredients, including long-stemmed wild carrots and other flowers with flexible stems, plus a few honeysuckle vines, wrapped around and around and tucked in for the base of the wreath. I know I need enough of the bright flowers that last a while if I want a wreath worth looking at for more than an hour. (Since my amateur floristry won’t last much longer than that, I take a lot of photos as soon as I’m done.) I spent many hours with flowers on May Day, with my kids and my mother in law helping part of the time. I was quite tired afterwards, especially once I’d also climbed a ladder and wall to remove the last loquats from my neighbor’s tree, but I was also proud of the floral creation I now feel compelled to produce yearly. That is one labor-intensive Greek custom I don’t mind adopting.

Walking along a dirt road between olive groves and uncultivated areas, a friend and I spoke with an older shepherd who seems to know the name and use of all the wild plants. He told us about one that can cause severe diarrhea when brewed as a tea (useful for pranks among young men when mixed with wine, he said), others that can be dried and used as seasonings (both thyme and a related herb called throombi here), more with different medicinal qualities he couldn’t quite remember, several plants whose roots or stems are edible, the spiny acanthus that lasts nicely in a dried bouquet but poked us when we tried to cut and carry it, and a scary looking thorny plant he broke off to show how its sap looked like blood on the skin. (According to local tradition, that one was used for Jesus Christ’s crown of thorns.) The shepherd also told us that the area where we were walking used to be the village of Tholaria, before pirates came and killed all the villagers. The shepherd told us about caves where the villagers kept their goats, and we realized that we’ve seen remnants of the village reservoirs in olive groves where we search for wildflowers. He said there are also grinding stones where the villagers crushed olives to make a cup or two of oil. My friend and I think the shepherd could survive on the land with his sheep and goats, if necessary, given the extent of his knowledge. With or without the euro, he’ll make it.

There is still hope for Greece. It comes from both supposedly ordinary people like the shepherd and from some better-known, extraordinarily talented people. Greeks can be proud of the talented athletes who almost won the European basketball championship, as well as artists such as director Yorgos Lanthimos, whose movie The Lobster won the Jury Prize at the Cannes Film Festival this month, and the famous filmmaker Costa-Gavras, who was also honored in Cannes after winning major prizes there in the past. The world should be equally impressed by the “regular” people who are behaving like heroes in the face of potential disaster, such as the neighbor who cared so well for her husband through a long and difficult illness, the Greeks who rescued migrants after their boat fell apart on the rocky coast of Rhodes on April 20 (Migrant boat crisis: the story of the Greek hero on the beach), and the doctors who work unpaid overtime, trying to restore health and save lives.

On April 21, Dr. Dimitris Makreas spoke with 150 or 200 members of the small community where he works in the government-sponsored free clinic. What began as a talk about healthcare soon turned into an outpouring of gratitude and respect for this doctor, who was brutally beaten by people believed to be racist thugs in March, after he was seen standing next to a migrant who had been harassed. Audience members spoke of Dr. Makreas frequently working hours of unpaid overtime in order to accommodate all the patients who needed care. One older woman said his mother should be proud; another called him the best of men. It is nearly incomprehensible that anyone would want to attack this good doctor, unless the attack was prompted by professional jealousy or feelings of inadequacy in the face of so much goodness. During Greece’s current political and economic crisis, after that cruel attack, the community formed an oasis of love as audience members expressed their support, reminding one woman of old times in Greece when ties of gratitude and respect were more important than monetary payment for professional services. Ready to put the attack behind him, Dr. Makreas enjoys a wealth of devotion. I see more hope for Greece in the “ordinary,” caring human beings who reach out to people in their community, wherever they may come from, than in the national and international political and economic negotiations that appear to lack adequately skilled humanitarian diplomacy.

Sun and Showers, Thorns and Flowers: The Everyday, the Holiday, “Vacation,” and Escape

That’s Life (In Greece)

Ups and downs, naturally. Two weeks of Easter vacation for all Greek students are great for the kids, but not for the moms who are expected to do a considerable amount of holiday prep work on top of the extra childcare—unless grandmothers are available for that--whether or not they have paying jobs. Driving up to the supermarket to stock up on tissues and paper towels while they’re 40% cheaper than usual, I came up behind a pickup truck full of sheep that was following two other pickup trucks full of sheep—perhaps part of the same flock that blocked the road into our neighborhood as they were herded through the streets one evening. Heading back down the hill to build tissue and paper towel towers in my bedroom, I trailed a small, slow motorbike whose two passengers seemed to be engaged in an animated discussion or argument, judging by the expansive gestures that could be confused with frequent left and right turn signals and the way the helmeted driver kept turning his head back to look at his un-helmeted passenger. That’s driving in Greece for you.

On the “down” side: a light fixture hasn’t been working in one room; our new-ish dishwasher was broken for about two weeks, even after being “repaired” twice; a cat sprayed one balcony shutter and French door one day; ants invaded the kitchen floor another day; a cat climbed way up to a high kitchen window to spray right through that screen; a new army of ants attacked some juice spilled on the kitchen counter. “That’s life,” commented a Greek friend. Maybe too much “life” all at once. And then a week later our telephone land line stopped working, along with all the land lines on the whole Akrotiri Peninsula, if rumors can be believed. Although the early-morning problem wasn’t resolved until mid-afternoon, no one I asked knew what had caused it or when it might be fixed. That’s typical: generally, I can find no one in the neighborhood, and only a select few at the relevant offices, who know what's going on during water, electricity, internet, or phone outages, since almost no one else bothers to try to look into the problem or report it! D usually just feels too annoyed and busy to call about it, figuring it’ll be discovered and fixed eventually in any case, but he sometimes calls at my urging. If I'm desperate to make plans about when I’ll actually have electricity or internet again to prepare a meal or finish some work, I try calling myself, but I don't usually understand most of the response, which always comes in swiftly-spoken advanced Greek. 


On the “up” side: new flowers and fruits increase the rewards of foraging in the neighborhood. Since some fruit seemed to be dropping from my neighbor’s tree and spoiling, I asked if I might pick a few of her loquats, which are called DESpoless here and known elsewhere in Greece as MOOZmoola—a word I enjoy almost as much as karPOOzee, or watermelon. The yellowish or light orange loquats range from cherry to plum size, pear to plum shape, with a taste that combines apricot, peach, plum, and grape—a taste I’d never experienced before moving here. Kyria K responded to my request by inviting me into her yard, getting out her ladder, and encouraging me to pick all the fruit on the tree and give her just a little of it. So instead of a few minutes and a few loquats, I ended up with an hour’s activity and two large bags of fruit, one for us and one for her! I’ve also harvested even sweeter, larger loquats from a very productive tree in an unoccupied lot which doesn’t seem to interest anyone else. This is a fruit that is both expensive and much better when eaten fresh off the tree; then it can hold the sweet taste of the Cretan spring--and of Greek generosity.

 

Showers of Blossoms, Meadows of Thorns, Winds of Change

Multitudes of tiny olive blossoms fall on me in little showers of white if I bump a branch, landing on the ground like a light snowfall. It’s no longer so easy to search the field next to an olive grove for the wildflowers to which I'm addicted, since it’s more a matter of wading through tall, dry seeded grasses and cautiously picking my way between sharp and thorny plants than walking blithely through the shorter, greener grasses of our winter and early spring in search of a bouquet. Anyhow, there aren’t too many flowers left there aside from the treacherous purple thistle, now that a farmer has mown the grass, weeds, and flowers--even my favorite bright pink field gladiolas--that would otherwise draw nutrients away from the olive trees or prove a fire hazard in the dry summer. But while the ubiquitous color of abundant early spring is already being replaced by hardier, less friendly plants now that the sun has become stronger, some fragrant, brilliantly orange and yellow nasturtiums escaped from gardens, and the large lantana (or shrub verbena) bushes full of tiny pink, yellow, orange and white blossom clusters are flourishing now, along with the geraniums that bloom here year-round, adding color to the drama of partly cloudy skies on windy days. I still occasionally discover new species of wildflowers, as well, including strange flowers such as a dragon arum and another arum plant I can’t identify, which looks like an elongated candle flame protected by a large white, pointed hood edged with dark purple and shaded by huge leaves.

Strong island winds (22-34 mph, or more, at times) have kept us allergy sufferers inside a lot lately as olive branches wave wildly, and dust and pollens scatter. At least recent days have featured more westerly winds rather than the southerly gusts that bring African sand and an eerie semi-cloudiness that limits visibility and coats everything in light films of dirt. On one windy walk around the Old Port of Chania, we were treated to impressive shows of sea spray as waves crashed against rocks to the west of the port. With such strong winds, the weather can change suddenly. Just a little rain blew in to replace the earlier sun today (unlike

the serious spring showers of another week) before the clouds blew away to reveal the sun again—and then returned to hide it. During Holy Week, we had two or three days in the 80s, but as soon as I washed the winter coats my kids had barely worn since January, intending to retire them for the season, they were needed for a chilly Good Friday evening service. 

Greek Orthodox Easter Traditions  

Easter is by far the biggest holiday of the year in this predominantly Greek Orthodox country, considerably more important than Christmas, with at least as long a school vacation (2 weeks, just finished). A minority of Greeks fast during the entire 40 days of Lent (not eating animal products, including fish and dairy, with limits on oil and wine); most do not fast, or do so for shorter periods, such as one or two days before communion during Holy Week. Highlights of the holidays include Good Friday’s candle-lit processions around neighborhoods following a flower-covered bier that holds an icon depicting the preparation of Christ for burial and represents the tomb of Christ (epitaphios); the midnight celebration of the resurrection with its singing of “Christos anesti” (Christ is risen) and spreading of the symbolic eternal flame from candle to candle through the darkness, followed by dangerous fireworks and gunshots into the air outside some churches, and the burning of an effigy of Judas (clothes filled with dried grasses) near others. On Easter, it’s the custom to hit a red boiled egg against another’s egg, to see whose cracks last; lamb (or sometimes goat) is roasted on a spit as part of the Easter feast with friends and family. Greeks don’t just say “Happy Easter” or even “Hronia Polla,” their universal holiday wish for many years (of good health, presumably); on and after Easter, they first greet each other not by saying Kalimera (good morning, good day), but with “Christos anesti,” Christ is risen, and they respond to that with “Alithos anesti,” He is truly risen. It’s not all about chocolate bunnies and Easter eggs here; they’re part of the celebration, but less important than the fancily decorated candle (the lampada) that children receive from godparents and light during or after the celebration of the resurrection, and of course far less important than the resurrection itself.

After an Easter feast at the home of good friends, we left with another dozen or so fresh eggs from their hens to top off our collection of colorful boiled eggs. Last year, fed up with eating the questionable ingredients in commercial egg dyes that always stained egg whites, I vowed to try vegetable dyes this year. So I spent a whole afternoon experimenting with beets and purple cabbage (the biggest success, for a reddish color, and blue), red wine with balsamic vinegar (an interesting deep mottled rust color after a night dying in the fridge), spinach with green tea, and cumin (a waste of time). Although most Greeks still dye all their eggs (which are often brown, to begin with) the traditional bright red (reminiscent of the cloak of Christ when he was crucified, or a miraculous color transformation of some of Mary Magdalene’s eggs to convince a doubter that Christ had risen from the dead), some now use a variety of colors, as I always have. I think I’ll use the beets, purple cabbage, and something orange next year, since I couldn’t seem to make brown eggs turn green, let alone yellow. No green eggs OR ham here—red eggs and goat or lamb instead.

 

Rebirth from the Ashes, Escape from Care: The Botanical Park & Gardens of Crete

This is my favorite place to go to escape worries about the financial crisis, decreasing health insurance benefits, the health of my aging mother in law, the dumping of the remains of chemical weapons in the sea where we swim (which is strongly opposed on posters and in rallies), and my children’s education (given questionable policies, teaching methods, strikes, and occupations). I have not seen or heard of any evidence around here to support the government’s claim that the economy is improving. But at the Botanical Park, I can escape thoughts about the 27% of the population that’s still unemployed, the people without health insurance or any regular income, the immigrants facing increasing ethnocentrism and poverty, and even worse problems and deeper pain in such places as Syria, Korea, Washington state, and perhaps now parts of Ukraine. I keep reminding myself how fortunate I am to have the means, location, and ability to escape such worries, instead of being overcome and imprisoned by the grim reality that defines so many people’s lives.


About a half hour from Chania, driving toward Mt. Omalos through unremarkable villages until we reach expansive orange groves and approach the foothills of the mountains, we find the Botanical Park and Gardens of Crete. The park was conceived about a decade ago, after a wildfire destroyed all the olive groves and orange orchards in the area. Since then, acres of fire-ravaged hillside have been wonderfully transformed by a hard-working, knowledgeable, dedicated team of four brothers who decided to create an organic paradise of various microclimates below a hilltop restaurant that features windows and patios overlooking the foothills and gardens. As I’ve watched the fruit trees, orange groves, and grapevines grow during repeated visits over the years, I’ve found that the restaurant has also produced increasingly sophisticated and tasty dishes using organic produce from the gardens and orchards. Two dishes I’ve eaten there--one plate of pork tenderloin with figs and Metaxa brandy sauce and another of chicken with citrus sauce--were so strikingly ornamented (one with tzatziki and tropical fruits, another with rose petals and orange slices) that I couldn’t begin eating until I had photographed them.


But I really love to go there for the walk: starting with a view of hills and valleys dotted with neatly spaced olive trees, down the terraced hillsides with tropical fruit trees and exotic flowers, into the cool shade of chestnut and cherry trees, up again through fragrant herb gardens, around and down past the tadpole pond, the Japanese maples and calla lilies, the giant papyrus, the dogwood, and the only bamboo I’ve seen in Greece (flourishing, like almost everything else in those gardens!), down into the valley’s lush green of nut and plane trees, through the orange and tangerine groves to the large pond, around the pond and past the roaming peacocks to visit the Cretan goats (kri kri), the deer, and the donkey, then up the terraces on the far side of the hill, through nectarine and apricot orchards and a vineyard, walking on paths edged with colorful geraniums and magnificent rose bushes, meeting more surprises on the way.
 
Alongside common Greek herbs and flowers, we encounter exotic trees and unusual, showy blossoms, such as the striking bird of paradise and others I’d never seen anywhere. Every year, I notice that the four brothers have made improvements: added more informative signs (with one in Russian this year!), distributed more picturesque vessels, sculptures, tools, tables, rustic wooden seating, or antique farm equipment alongside the path, and this year expanded the parking lot, provided a canvas sun cover for the small amphitheater, and planted a terraced vegetable garden just below the restaurant. It’s still early in the season, so the restaurant wasn’t too busy when we ate there, but it gets very full some Sundays at midday, both in winter and summer. The adult admission price of 6 euros for the walk is worth paying, and so well used. Someone there—maybe Kostas, who studied organic agriculture, but says he’s still learning from experience—thinks of everything from the informative and philosophical (on signs scattered alongside the trail) to the amusing (a tree hung with gardening implements in an orchard). We often linger for two hours on a walk that could take half the time (with great discipline and far less curiosity and interest in flowers and photography). While our children may need reminders that we can feed the ducks and geese we often see near the pond, or rewards and incentives of dried fruits and chocolates on the long climb back up the hill, there is so much to observe that I don’t even notice that I’m walking until I reach the uphill switchback return through orchards and a vineyard spotted with daisies, geraniums, artichokes, and other flowers. I emerge from the path tired but rejuvenated: that’s an invigorating place to spend a spring (or fall) day.