A Happy or Unhappy New Year in Greece? Celebration, Decoration, and Deprivation

Springtime in a Cretan December

Around our neighborhood in early December, days would go by when I observed the same fuchsia bougainvillea hanging on at the end of the season, the same palms, eucalyptus, and bright lemons or bitter oranges. (Another ho-hum day in a botanist’s paradise.) Then suddenly I’d notice something different—flowering thyme, the earliest anemones, new lavender like tiny, pale green pine trees. One day I followed goat tracks up a hill full of hardy wild shrubs to discover dozens of brilliant little purple and white saffron crocuses with their golden stamens and crimson stigmata. The delicate blooms darkened in the shadow of massive clouds that filled the sky almost up to where it met the sea, but the blossoms lit up when the sun emerged.

In the warmest year on earth, as our planet heats up and El Niño returns, this Cretan December felt even more like spring than fall usually does here. Warm temperatures complemented the crocuses, daisies, early anemones, and undulating green and yellow carpets of sorrel beneath the olive trees. Tufts of new grass sprang up after the rain in muddy farmers’ lanes. The White Mountain peaks first saw snow in the middle of last month, missing their typical November appointment.

Holiday Bustle, Hope, and Charity

Before the Christmas holidays, middle and upper class Greeks who still had jobs dashed from work to school to pick up children, return home for a late lunch, and shuttle the kids to their activities. Parents stopped at stores decorated with garlands, tiny lights, paper snowflakes, and various sizes, styles, and colors of Christmas trees for gifts and holiday treats. They whirled from one party to another--parties organized by schools’ parents’ associations, sports groups, music teachers, and the many Greeks celebrating their saints’ name days last month.

Even so, Greeks could not help remembering that many here cannot buy their children all the shoes, coats, and clothes some classmates have, let alone pay for parties or gifts, because they have no job or too little income, cannot pay their rent and bills, and may even be homeless. Unemployment continues to hover around 25% after years of economic crisis and political and social upheaval. All the supermarkets in our part of Crete long ago placed dishwasher sized bins for donations of non-perishable items for the needy near the checkout counters. Both of my children’s schools collected food for impoverished people before the holidays. Women, children, and men wished us happy holidays and a long life as they sought donations on city sidewalks and outside suburban grocery stores. In Chania, Doctors of the World organized a Christmas bazaar near the farmers’ market and set up a food drive in front of downtown tourist shops, with a four-foot pile of condensed milk and other canned goods attracting attention in front of tables with brochures and a donation box.

Perhaps Greeks, who are closer to financial disaster than many Americans, need fewer reminders that scientific studies have linked “financial generosity … to lower blood pressure,” so that for those who have extra, “spending money on others may improve physical health.” Even for those who do not have enough, “helping others may act as a buffer against the stresses of daily life,” since “simply writing a supportive note to a friend can protect people from the surge in blood pressure that typically occurs in the face of a stressful event,” as the New York Times recently reported (in Give, if You Know What’s Good for You).

Many have been impressed by the generosity of ordinary Greeks toward desperate refugees, even in the face of Greeks’ own economic struggles. One empathetic, unemployed Greek PhD I know commented that “one thing poverty does to you is to prevent you from helping others, and this is devastating more than when you cannot help yourself.” Yet she and a friend managed to make some winter hats for refugees—only to emphasize that she is one of hundreds involved in grassroots efforts to knit or crochet winter hats for those who need them: “I do not do anything special.”

Other efforts to help also stand out. The Press Project in Greece selected Matina Katsivelis as their Person of the Year for 2015 for her selfless, caring work to provide shelter for refugees landing on the island of Leros, as well as necessities for those who end up on Farmakonisi. She was recognized for her refusal to give up in the face of difficulty and for remaining “in the line of action exactly where it counts most; where the refugees arrive in their hundreds and thousands in rafts from Turkey…. Keeping hope alive, and responding to plain necessity, she kept trying to drain the sea of human suffering.” A moving interview with English subtitles follows the article.

Another noteworthy Greek venture led the Council of Europe to award the 2016 Raoul Wallenberg Prize to Agalia, “a Greek NGO operating on the island of Lesvos, for ‘outstanding achievements in providing frontline assistance to thousands of refugees irrespective of their origin and religion.’” In Greek, “agalia” means “hug”--something many refugees appreciate, as many volunteers’ experience shows. Grassroots endeavors to compensate for the inadequacy of both Greek and international governmental actions inspired a petition to award the Nobel Prize to residents of Greek islands for their contribution to the refugee crisis. I signed it today, adding to more than 110,845 signatures since November 16.

Christmas Time in Athens

Outside the metro station in Monastiraki’s main square, several bunches of Dora, Spongebob, princess, and Santa balloons rise above the crowds. Beyond the carts offering bread rings, coconut, and chestnuts for sale, a young man plays with fire that burns at the points of a four-foot wide star in the center of a wide circle of onlookers. The tourist shops and souvlaki restaurants are all open on the streets branching off from the square, although winter hats and gloves have replaced summerwear, and icicle-type white Christmas lights hang above the pedestrian crowds between the shops. Walking away from the square, we can glimpse the Acropolis between the buildings.

On bustling Ermou Street en route to Syntagma (Constitution) Square, street performers play instruments, sing, and present puppet shows as others sell roasted chestnuts and corn on the cob outside chic stores. The biggest audience is drawn to four young musicians who play acoustic guitar and violin and sing familiar Greek songs as listeners clap, sing along, or—in the case of one white-haired woman--come forward with arms raised for a short, impromptu dance. On another street, Attica department store’s famous window displays mix Santa with black-clad mannikins in puffy white hair.

Next to the Parliament building at Syntagma Square, cars zoom beneath strings of white star lights. This year’s Syntagma display features a giant artificial tree, plus strings of white lights, blue stars, and white balls haphazardly strung all over the real trees, in a possibly halfhearted attempt at festivity. In the center of the square, crowds mill around by a fountain lit, like the Grande Bretagne Hotel, by lights of changing colors. Santas gather with Micky Mouse for photos with children, and tired migrants sell balloon swords and hearts for whatever we wish to pay. A full moon rises above Parliament. Athens does not look as festive this year as it has in recent years, even during the crisis: there are fewer Christmas lights and outdoor children’s events. 

On Christmas day, a migrant drummer and clarinetist on a suburban street play Greek carols as an associate seeks contributions. One of the musicians agrees to a photo, but the other keeps his back to me. Young migrant men sell roses and balloons in downtown Athens, and older women sell evergreen and holly branches all around the capital. A sidewalk sale offers a gorgeous selection of pink and red cyclamen and hearty red poinsettias that grow into trees here if planted in the ground. Bakeries display neat pyramids of kourambiedes covered in snowy powdered sugar beside heaps of spicy brown melomakarona that have been saturated with honey. Rows of New Year’s cakes or vasilopites line shelves next to a variety of breads. A father and daughter go caroling in matching Santa (or Agios Vasilis) costumes. But it’s not the most wonderful time of year for everyone, whatever the TV song may say. Fireworks exploding over the Acropolis for the New Year create a striking picture but last for a very short time.


It’s Not All Merry and Bright


On sidewalks and trains all around Athens, women, children, and men appeal for money to stave off their hunger. The cold snap that reduced temperatures to around freezing just before New Year’s sent them in search of the warmth that makeshift cardboard shelters rigged up on park benches could hardly provide in a sharp northerly wind. If only I could have remembered where the government had opened warm shelters, I would have told the homeless men I saw, but I’d just read about that in the comfort of a warm, dry house and forgotten the details.

I am not sure whether one taxi driver in Athens really has two master’s degrees and don’t know if he speaks six languages, as he claims, but that could be true. It is quite possible that another man has a university degree in finance but can now find work only as a taxi driver, as a friend who used to work in a bank must now drive a city bus. And I do know what three other Greek friends have been reduced to doing, in spite of many years of training and experience. They gave me permission to share their stories, using pseudonyms to protect their privacy.

Vasilis earned a degree as a ship mechanic at a technical college in Piraeus and worked on ships full time for 15 years. Last year he worked just 43 days. He would have worked even less if he hadn’t been a friend of the head engineer who arranges for contract work on ships. People like Vasilis have been able to earn very little in recent years, since Greek shipyards started closing down after the government agreed to reduce ship construction to let Germany and Italy’s industries develop back in the 1990s, and ship owners have sought cheaper labor abroad during the economic downturn. This has left many families lacking even one wage earner, and increasing numbers malnourished and dependent on the free clinics of Doctors of the World for their healthcare. Since 2004, Vasilis has worked when and where he could, with only one job lasting as long as 18 months.

Generally, Vasilis explained, Greeks must work at least 50 days a year in order to be eligible for IKA, the government-sponsored health insurance. Some years, exceptions were made due to the lack of jobs; other years, there was no exception. To get unemployment benefits for one year, Vasilis told me, one must have worked at least 250 days the previous year. After one year of benefits, the unemployed must wait two years and work at least 250 days in a year for another year of benefits. This is difficult since unemployment still stands around 25% nationwide, and there are almost no jobs for shipyard workers. In Perama, which has been largely dependent on shipyards, there was 60% unemployment--95% among shipyard workers--in 2014, since shipbuilding “is now being outsourced to shipyards in China, Korea and Turkey, where labor costs are much lower and minimally regulated,” according to the International Business Times.

Vasilis last received unemployment benefits in 2011. Now only his youngest son is able to work full time in an effort to support their family of four. A college graduate, this son works six days a week for 500 euros a month, or about 2.60 euros an hour. Compare that with the $15 minimum wage discussed in the U.S. Yes, some things cost less here in Greece, but others—including taxes—cost more. And so many families are supported by just one job or pension, however much--or little--that may bring in.

My friend Eleni is struggling with underpaid underemployment that creates serious financial difficulties. Her husband’s pension has been cut like everyone else’s, her own income reduced to just 250 euros a month for teaching two college classes and writing 200 pages of notes for her students every six months (a book’s worth). So they need to say “next year” to their young son, who wants to rent toy cars, go on rides, and buy ice cream during a holiday outing focused on a playground and a stroll by the sea, since those are still free. A professor with a PhD and 25 years of experience, Eleni feels like she has lost her professional identity. She wonders if she can call herself a professor—or what?

Eleni is afraid she will lose her apartment since she cannot make her mortgage payments. She blames the world’s major powers for bombarding some countries and destroying others—such as Greece--economically. Feeling like “a refugee in my own country,” she acknowledges, “certainly it is worse to bomb your country, but it's also bad not to have a future,” not to have one’s choices respected, not to have dignity, as the increased numbers of suicides in Greece during the crisis seem to emphasize. “It’s like a war,” Eleni says. Like many, she believes the major powers are using austerity measures and the third memorandum of agreement to turn people against the leftist government so it will fall. (Others argue that powerful nations approve of this government now that it follows their directions.) Yet Eleni realizes that “there are worse cases” than hers and adds, “Maybe I should not complain, after all.”

Another friend, Katerina, has a PhD and two other postgraduate degrees, fluency in four languages aside from Greek, plus multiple publications and talents, but after 197 applications for jobs, postdoctoral research positions, and fellowships in various countries, still no luck! She has given up on Greek universities and institutes, which are not hiring for permanent positions or paying part-timers on time, if they hire at all. Katerina points out that “it is one thing to become an expatriate because of better career prospects abroad, and another thing to become a migrant (or refugee) because you cannot live in your own country. This is the situation for many Greek people. I am still lucky because with a good education I have some chances for a good job in a sector I like abroad, if I ever find it. Other people do not have even those chances.” Fully aware of the plight of non-Greek refugees and other unemployed Greeks, she feels grateful to have managed to travel, do interesting research, and continue some of the artistic activities she enjoys in recent years, due to “the class privilege that I had by birth, which still gives returns.” She considers herself “privileged in comparison to other people,” such as women without a university degree who must “try to cope with the situation with even less means and perhaps less hope.” 

Katerina has joined many well-educated offspring of middle-class families in applying for jobs for which she is vastly overqualified, for example at translation agencies and a cruise ship company—and still has found no long-term work. Without a steadily paying job for many years, she feels that she is “currently in such a dire situation that you cannot imagine,” struggling to cover basic expenses and lacking access to the public healthcare system for six years. Katerina feels fortunate that she still has electricity and running water, enough blankets and clothes, and “some food.” But after spells of poverty during the last 15 years, she knows very well that with very low and unsteady income, however wisely one manages money, it may not be possible to avoid a worse situation. As Katerina and Eleni remind me, many of the women and men now standing in line at soup kitchens, sleeping in the streets, and seeking clothing from churches and other groups in Greece are well-educated people who once felt securely rooted in a middle class life like mine. But as Eleni points out, they “lost their house, their job, their dignity.”

It is Epiphany today. The schools and stores in Greece are all closed as hardy swimmers “dive into the sea to retrieve a wooden crucifix” and Greek President Prokopis Pavlopoulos calls for “the light to smash the darkness of poverty” (Epiphany celebrations in Athens). Hear, hear. May the New Year bring new hope and opportunities to all who need them.

Acknowledgements:

Many thanks to the friends who agreed to share their stories with me in order to help others better understand the situation in Greece. Thanks also to Doctors of the World and all the other volunteers who have done so much to help impoverished Greeks and needy refugees.

Greek Crisis, Summer 2015, Part 1: An American Immigrant in Greece

The News in a (Large) Nutshell

It is both ironic and unsurprising that I have not found time to post blog entries in the two most anxiety-provoking months of Greece’s recent political and economic crisis. I have enough material for a book (including 357 pages of news clippings this month), but time is another story. I’ve spent many days nearly overwhelmed by the dizzying array of disturbing news. I’ve spent other days caught up in the daily lives of my family, my community, and my new Syrian refugee friends.

For more details about the tumultuous Greek political and economic news (and its effect on the olive oil industry), see my Olive Oil Times articles (more are linked on the right side of the page); or if you already know the Greek news, skip to the next section. Here’s the news in a nutshell: On June 27, Greek Prime Minister Alexis Tsipras broke off negotiations with creditors and announced a referendum on whether Greece should accept creditors’ terms for more loans. Then the European Central Bank (ECB) stopped providing emergency liquidity assistance to Greek banks, the banks were closed, capital controls were imposed, and the economy sank deeper into depression. A majority of voters rejected creditors’ terms on July 5, but the prime minister accepted a similar agreement with creditors in order to save Greece from a sudden, chaotic exit from the Eurozone—which most Greeks do not want to leave.

Banks were running out of money because anxious depositors had been withdrawing their savings, fearing losses in a bail-in or a change to a devalued drachma. On June 29, with banks closed, ATMs began dispensing only 60 euros per account per day; after three weeks, an equivalent weekly limit replaced the daily one. Still in effect even with banks open again, capital controls have made life difficult for anyone trying to make major purchases, pay rent or bills, or run a farm or business, deepening Greece’s depression.

After Greece edged very close to a Grexit, the Greek parliament approved one austerity agreement after another, albeit unwillingly, with the support of Euro-friendly centrist opposition parties but without the support of about a quarter of the members of parliament from Prime Minister Tsipras’s leftist party, SYRIZA. Creditors required this approval in order to begin negotiations on another loan package and other financial assistance. After the parliamentary approval, Greece received a bridge loan to allow it to catch up on debt repayments, and the ECB resumed limited emergency liquidity assistance to Greek banks. Work on a third bailout agreement is beginning as the prime minister tries to calm dissenters in his party who are opposed to the additional austerity measures it is expected to require. The future of the SYRIZA-ANEL radical leftist/right-wing nationalist governing coalition is uncertain. Another round of national elections is likely this fall.

Many agree that reforms are desperately needed in Greece, but increasing numbers admit that additional austerity measures and still more tax increases—such as the sales tax increase already passed by Parliament—are unlikely to allow the Greek economy to recover, let alone grow, in the midst of a depression. (See, for example, this excellent article on why pensions should not be be cut more than they already have been, and taxes should not have been raised more than they already were: Pensions in Greece Feel the Pinch of Debt Negotiations.) It seems clear that Greece requires some form of debt relief, since debt at 177% of the GDP is unsustainable. Yet German leaders and their allies want to wait until fall to discuss that.

Insecurity and Frustration: Responses to Uncertainty and Limitations

Even before Tsipras called for a referendum, people were nervous. For example, my mother in law said there was havoc at a bank in Piraeus on Friday morning, June 19, when the bank ran out of money and closed early, and customers shouted that their money was being stolen from them. Even then, some were unsure if banks would open the following Monday, and they naturally wanted access to their own money in these hard times—wouldn’t you?

Recent news has been more nerve wracking than at any other time during the Greek economic crisis. With the dreaded capital controls, bank closings, and default on part of the enormous Greek debt no longer a threat, but a reality, we also approached the brink of a Grexit from the Eurozone, and many claim a Grexit could still occur, although probably not this year. More and more people have been talking about a return to the drachma, but I am relieved that it was avoided, at least for now, because I believe it would lead to shortages of imported items such as fuel and—most importantly—medicines. I do not think we would ever starve in Crete, where agricultural products literally fall off the trees in my neighborhood. (I have been collecting unwanted lemons, grapes, and figs lately, and a neighbor has given me tomatoes from her garden.) But I am concerned about Athens and other areas of less abundance, and about those whose lives depend on imported medications.

It rained the last Saturday morning in June (very unusual for that time, in Crete), shortly after the prime minister announced the referendum. A Greek neighbor said a supermarket employee commented, “so the Germans have taken our sun from us, too.” Many consider the Germans’ and their allies’ hard line on austerity at least partly responsible for Greece’s continuing depression. Others blame the Greek government. I don’t understand the logic of any of them.

I was bewildered by Tsipras’s decision to hold a referendum, since that decision led the ECB to cut off liquidity assistance and hence resulted in capital controls that have cost the country a great deal in lost business. But I was even more astonished when the prime minister urged parliament to support an agreement most consider worse than the one voters rejected. Many Greeks were furious as well as disappointed that all the hardship created by the bank closures and capital controls accompanying the referendum decision was not followed by a better deal for Greece, but (according to many) a worse one—in spite of the still-delayed possibility of debt relief, which could have been discussed in any case. The political developments of recent months have been unbelievable, but the social and economic effects have been far too real.

Many people are struggling to keep going. With salaries and pensions already cut, taxes already increased, and many just getting by before all that, how are they to manage now? Between July 1 and July 24, Doctors of the World had 275 visitors to their free medical and social services clinic in Chania, mostly unemployed Greeks. The doctors and social workers there do crucial work, helping far more people than they did before the crisis, but they cannot perform surgery there or provide endless supplies of medicine, let alone jobs. Soup kitchens are super busy, charities are underfunded, and refugees have set up camp in an Athens park; too many people need help.

The cicadas are prospering; there are so many this year that they often fly into me when I walk under the trees here in semi-rural Crete. Greek people, however, have had trouble sleeping after middle-of-the-night announcements and parliamentary debates. I’ve seen dozens of people waiting in line at ATMs in Chania since the Saturday of the referendum announcement. The roads were full of traffic that Saturday, as everyone scrambled to supermarkets to stock up on necessities and formed lines at gas stations that still had gas. Clothing and cosmetic stores were largely deserted as people focused on the necessities. However, aside from a few days of limited amounts of gasoline until payments to gas suppliers could be arranged, I have seen no shortages in supermarkets or pharmacies here at all, nor have I spoken to anyone in Greece who has seen them.

On the other hand, businesspeople lacking funds to restock their stores are struggling. NPR reported recently that the Athens Chamber of Tradesmen claims 15% of businesses could close by September if capital controls continue, on top of the 250,000 already closed during the last five years, since Greece imports 70% of the non-food items sold here, and imports are at a standstill with money transfers abroad still restricted (Struggling Greek Businesses Choked By Money Controls.) Other ordinary people are also running into problems: people like the retired priest without a bank card who lives in a village where there was no bank open for three weeks to provide the pension always claimed in cash; the educated dietician who is working three jobs, including one as a store clerk, to earn 800 euros a month, believing things can’t get any worse; the dentist unsure how she’d pay for attendance, food, and lodging at a professional conference in Europe since her credit and debit cards wouldn’t work outside Greece. And these are the lucky ones who still have jobs (probably with reduced wages and benefits), not the more than 25% of Greeks (or over half of young people) who are unemployed. I’ve heard of some who get around a lack of cash by exchanging eggs from their hens or tomatoes or greens from their gardens for a cooked meal.

Many Greeks feel insecure about their future in this time of crisis. Many are tired of discussing all the problems, and the way the “solutions” offered are not working, since more and more austerity (including too many tax increases) with too little reform just doesn’t stimulate a depressed economy—or a depressed population. Yet life goes on here—especially for the children, who do not yet realize they will inherit whatever debt their parents’ generation of Europeans does not forgive.

Remember the Children of Greece

Children finishing sixth grade face a different sort of insecurity and a different kind of change, reminding their parents that insecurity and change can be a normal part of life, not only an aspect of crisis management. With my daughter saying goodbye to her elementary school this year, the end of the academic year featured even more gatherings than usual. Aside from the annual kung fu demonstration and the yearly song and dance show featuring all the elementary school classes, families participated in an evening of games in the schoolyard, watched a Greek sixth graders’ version of Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream, and gathered for a night-time beach party.   

This may seem to confirm the myth that Greeks party too much to have real problems, but I want to emphasize that the events I’m discussing all cost very little, taking place outdoors or in public buildings, with no more money spent on contributions than one would spend on a family meal, very basic costuming assembled at home (plus one ten euro skirt), and virtually no scenery for the performances. These events are not evidence that Greeks are lazy or extravagant, but rather that they try hard to carry on as well as possible in the face of severe economic difficulty—wages down by an average of about 21% in the last five years, family incomes reduced by a third. (For some statistics, see e.g. Greeks Worry About Bailout’s Push for an Economic Overhaul). Rather than giving in to despair, most parents think a lot about   their children, and these events showed them making the most of creativity, volunteerism, imagination, determination, and community spirit for the sake of the kids.

When the elementary school parents’ association organized a big party outside our school, association members and their friends planned and refereed the games, families brought scraps of cloth, old buttons, and leftover art supplies, and money left over from families’ annual 10-euro contribution to a school fund covered souvlaki and drinks. Greeting various parents and grandparents as I hurried from one game to another to photograph both of my kids with their classmates, I felt satisfied to be part of that cheerful, close-knit community. I so often hear Greeks say “let the children be well,” “let the children have fun.” They did.

When I was in sixth grade in Pennsylvania, we managed to stage a musical version of Alice in Wonderland in the school cafeteria/gym, but that was a modest effort compared to my daughter’s class’s Greek version of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The Shakespeare did strike me as a surprising and over-ambitious choice for eleven year olds, especially given insufficient rehearsal time in their final venue. Even so, the combination of gracefully dancing sprites, a comically cavorting group of boyish players, and poised leads remembering many lines provided outlets for various types of talent and beauty, entertaining a good crowd of family and friends in the theater of a local community college.

This year’s annual end of school performance by all the elementary school children occurred too early in the day for working parents, shade, or comfortable temperatures, unlike the usual evening gatherings. However, “Around the World in 80 Minutes” featured joyful and sometimes impressive performances by the children, with attempts at a variety of ethnic costumes and some striking songs and dances. The show offered not only the expected stereotypical costumes and mannerisms, but also a welcome exposure to songs sung in different languages, including Chinese, Spanish, and Kannada (from India). It invited the children—almost (but not quite) all of them 100% Greek--to imagine themselves belonging to different cultures. 

The sixth graders’ night-time beach party was a modest family affair, except that children who knew nothing about campfires attempted to feed and leap over them until they were extinguished. I admired the silhouettes of children reveling in their first evening at the beach, splashing and playing in front of the setting sun, bathed in a sea of glowing reflections of the joys of childhood play. Those kids did not really doubt that their lives would go on much as they have, even in a different school with different classmates, instead of the ones they cry to think of leaving after six years together.

Gazing up at the dark starry sky during a lull in the party, when the fires had been put out and I considered my kids fairly safe, I couldn’t remember it being such a big deal to finish sixth grade, although I was scared of starting middle school. On the other hand, I have been surprised by brief scents and tastes of my childhood in the rare Greek raspberries that appeared in organic stores twice this summer, and the campfires at the beach party—minus the marshmallows we used to roast. I have a completely different life here than I did in the USA, and I am not sure what will happen to that life in this time of crisis, but I felt a sense of security as a member of a community of interwoven families at the school parties and performances

With Refugees at the Anti-Racist Festival and Tourists Enjoying the Greek Summer

The refugees from Syria who are still in Chania after 15 months do not feel the same way. Separated from parts of their families as well as their homeland, where their homes and belongings have been destroyed, waiting to reunite with husbands, wives, fathers, or mothers in another strange land, they probably feel far more insecurity than sixth graders, settled American immigrants, or even many of the Greeks who are facing an economic crisis. Attending Chania’s Anti-Racist Festival with some of the Syrian women and children I’ve met this year gave me a very different perspective than I had at last year’s festival. Sitting behind a table filled with their handmade strawberry and bergamot preserves, date-filled Syrian cookies, and Arabic calligraphy saying “My country is in my heart” and “No to racism” in what looked more like beautiful paintings than writing to ignorant me, I used my broken Greek to translate their somewhat limited English as they sold what they had made, when our German friend wasn’t there with her more fluent Greek.

It only occurred to me the next day that sitting behind a table next to Syrian Muslim women who were covered in long coats and headscarves and walking around the park with them and their children might have had more significance than simply spending time outside with new friends, looking around, and stretching our legs. After the attacks in Tunisia, France, and Kuwait at the end of last month, I realized that literally standing by Muslim women and children, joking with them, sharing food after sunset during Ramadan, tickling a little one’s feet to cheer her up after an allergic reaction to insect bites, meant more than I’d thought at the time. I just felt like I was relaxing with my new friends, helping them get out of the small hotel rooms where they spend most of their time, into a large park with anti-racist folks milling around, chatting, sharing their ideas and literature, giving lectures, playing music, selling food and drink, helping children with art projects, or reading fairytales with an egalitarian twist. And of course I was doing all of that, too.

Shortly after the Anti-Racist Festival, some American friends visited us in Greece on their way to Ukraine, where one of them has family and business partners. I wondered if they’d been asked if they would visit Syria this summer, too. Of course, their trip was planned long before anyone knew that Greek banks would be closed and cash would become scarce, and they were heading for western Ukraine rather than the trouble spots. Especially since my friends were coming with plenty of cash, I encouraged them to continue their trip here as planned. And like all the tourists I’ve heard of, they had a wonderful time here, with no problems aside from luggage delayed by a non-Greek airline. The sea is still a lovely clear aquamarine, the sky a brilliant blue. The mountains, gorges, caves, monuments, museums, and beaches are still here. The Greeks my friends met at their hotel, in Chania’s Old Port, at the Botanical Park of Crete, and at various restaurants were friendly and helpful. My American friends were able to do what they wished, and they would recommend Greece to anyone who can manage to come. They hope to come back to see more of the island, since one week is certainly not enough for a visit to Crete. Tourists, take note: Greece is a challenging place to live, but still a truly wonderful place to visit.

Summer came upon us suddenly about a week early this June, with temperatures up in the 90s, the fuschia brilliance of bougainvillea climbing out of gardens, pink and white oleander blowing in the wind by the roadsides, apricots, cherries, and honeydew ripening, cicadas’ buzzing drone occasionally replacing birdsong, multiple end of school performances and parties, and our closest brush yet with a Grexit. At the farmers’ market, I heard one vendor calling out, “peponia san baklavadakia,” or honeydew as sweet as baklava, and Crete does offer incredible fresh produce. The weather moderated into comfortable temperatures here until the end of this month, when the heat hit us again, but it is often relieved by sea breezes. Now I smell the oleander and ripening figs baking sweetly in the hot sun, reminding me repeatedly of the abundance around me on this fruitful island, where every walk gives me a view of the endless blue of the sea.

May the creditors allow Greece to take advantage of its talented people, its beautiful islands, its historical heritage, its lovely beaches, its abundant olives and other produce. May the Greeks find a way to use the great potential of the people and the land for an economic comeback. Tourists, consumers, writers, you can help too. Come to Greece, buy Greek olive oil, wine, olives, feta, and other Greek products. Write to politicians and editors in support of the Greek people. So many prominent economists blame non-Greek bankers and politicians at least as much as Greeks for the situation here that I have lost track of them. But whatever you think about the adults, Greek children are certainly not to blame for the mess the country is in. They deserve your support.