The Bright Side of Summer: Greek Celebrations and Gatherings

A BIG, LATE GREEK WEDDING

Awaiting the Belated Bride, in Confusion

Have you ever given a wedding present to the wrong couple?  We have. It happened like this.  D's stress level was climbing as we passed our planned departure time for a wedding about 40 minutes' drive west of Chania last weekend.  I wasn't worried.  Although I'm the American and he's the Greek, I felt more confident that a Greek wedding would begin late.  We arrived at the designated Greek Orthodox church just before the appointed hour of 8:00 p.m. and joined the crowd of well dressed people waiting outside.  Not recognizing anyone, D was concerned and puzzled.  We did notice a glass cylinder full of white envelopes, the typical Greek "fakelakia" that might hold bribes for officials or doctors one wishes to please before surgery, or the monetary wedding presents preferred in Crete.  So we dropped our envelope in, with its signed card and cash (since Greeks seldom use checks), and our kids pounced on some of the sugared almond favors (boubounieres), although it struck me as strange that people were already holding favors that were generally distributed after a wedding.

Actually, those favors had been provided after a wedding:  it was a case of mistaken wedding party identity and overlapping weddings, which we'd actually seen at another popular church another summer in Greece.  Although it was time for "our" wedding to begin, we were among the first--rather than the last--in our party to appear.  While we waited another thirty or forty minutes for the bride's appearance and talked with friends, it was our eight-year-old daughter who suddenly realized what we had not:  we'd provided a wedding present for strangers!  And they'd left with it--their glass cylinder of envelopes was gone!  Shocked, D hurried off to find another envelope and card so we could give his friends a gift.  And I realized I had exhausted the batteries in my camera with snapshots of an unknown wedding party, so that I had no way of photographing the spectacle that had not yet begun.  An expensive spectacle, in many ways.

The Bride Arrives; the Ceremony Begins

Finally, we turned toward the source of music and spotted the bride among an entourage preceded by a small band.  Professional photographers with immense cameras imposed themselves between the bride and the guests (and even in the middle of dances at the reception later), as they recorded every minute of an evening that was to last until after 1:30 a.m.  The bride didn't seem to mind; she glowed in her full-length lacy white, with her long veil descending backwards from a headpiece that held her abundant dark hair, into the hands of two small girls who were dressed like miniature brides.  They continued on toward the church, but did not enter.  Like many a Greek wedding and baptism, this ceremony was conducted entirely in front of the church that wouldn't hold a fraction of the guests, and would have been stifling hot.  I pushed through the throngs of people with my small children, since little ones are allowed to gather round the altar to watch--which only a few people can actually do, since guests stand shoulder to shoulder.  The photographer's powerful lights, set up on either side of the church door, illuminated the flowery embroidery of the young priest's robe, the blue and white crosses on the older priest's robe, the simple button-down shirt and ordinary pants of the cantor (or chanter), the gold cover of the holy books on the outdoor altar, the bride's endlessly bright smile, and the crowding friends and relatives who jostled with me and the children for a spot with a view of the bride and groom. 

A regular hum of conversation competed with the priests and cantor throughout the service, with only one person protesting that completely normal behavior for a Greek wedding (or baptism, speech, or children's school performance) with "ssss" (since most Greeks have trouble with the "sh" sound, which doesn't exist in their language).  A small rat ran down the dirt bank behind the wedding party, where a hill had been cut away to make space for the church yard.  The best man had trouble reaching high enough to move the twisted wire crowns that were joined with a ribbon between the heads of the tall bride and groom, and back, and back again, to symbolize the union of their souls and their "reign" over the "kingdom" of their own new household.  Led by the priests, who held Bibles to show how the couple would follow the word of God, the bride and groom, best man, and maid of honor circled the altar three times, through a shower of the rice that is thrown at that point rather than after the ceremony, leaving white grains stuck to the groom's sweaty neck and the priest's balding head.  The groom shook some of the rice from his hair onto the amused children near him.  (For more on the religious symbolism of the Greek Orthodox wedding ceremony, you might take a look at Greek Orthodox Wedding Ceremony Wedding Traditions--to list just one site that comes up in a search.)

After the Ceremony

Once the religious ceremony concluded, the older priest put aside his holy book and ecclesiastical language (which is far beyond my understanding) and spoke informally and kindly to the newlyweds.  I didn't follow everything he said, and I'm sure D didn't hear any of it, since he was at the back of the throng talking with a friend or colleague, like most of the guests.  But the priest did offer his good wishes, promising the support of the wedding guests and advising the newlyweds not to listen to their mothers-in-law (laughter).  Even before he concluded his wishes, the audience had begun shifting position in anticipation of a disorderly push toward a reception line.  I grabbed my children's hands and worked our way toward D, since the couple wouldn't know who we were without him.  Then we struggled to stake our claim to a spot in the stampede, er, reception line, a packed mob of people competing for the fastest route to the newlyweds.  A few polite guests would wait an hour or so in that crowd, but that was not an option for us:  the kids were tired, hungry, grouchy, and demanding, since it was 9:30, their bedtime, and they'd had no supper.  We congratulated the newlyweds and picked up our rightfully earned wedding favors, an odd number of sugar-coated almonds wrapped in large squares of tulle and purple lace tied with satiny ribbon (several square feet of wasted material to hold about 9 nuts--but that waste was nothing to what would come later). 

The Reception

At the immense, semi-open-aired reception hall across the street, with its retractable roof, the well-organized staff directed us to the children's table, where our daughter was content to remain with the little bride-like girls, and then to our table on the far side of the football field--I mean reception hall--where our son insisted on accompanying us.  The children didn't seem to be attended by anyone other than the waitstaff that was busy with the entire function, but eventually they ended up with the perfect Greek children's party fare:  toasted cheese sandwich, hamburger, and pizza.  Then they were off to one of those inflatable rubber bouncing contraptions that show up at children's play places, so the kids could defy adults' rules for digestion.  When our small son found out about that, he lost his shyness, and only returned to our table occasionally for some more food.  Two young women--possibly someone's nannies--watched all the children jump; a young mother wheeled her baby carriage about.  I'd been a silly enough American to think that an 8:00 wedding might end at 9:00, so that by 11:30 or so we might be finished with dinner and justified in taking our children home to bed, but I've lived in Greece almost ten years and should have known better.  It was near 10:00 when we started with our salad and first appetizers, cheeses, melon, and prosciutto, plus wine, beer, tsikoudia, and soft drinks.  We'd eaten through several more appetizer courses--an eggplant dish, small herb pies, crepes with ground meat, and zucchini patties--as well as the first meat dish, incredibly tender pork with bell peppers and feta--before the bride and groom showed up, around 11:30.  Oops--not yet time to take the kids home to bed!

No one could miss the newlyweds' dramatic arrival, a spectacle announced by the band and strobe lights as they strode up to the large circular central stage for their first dance together.  The Cretan band included (we think) a lute, a Cretan lyre, a violin, a drum, and a mandolin, one played by the lead singer.  Its repertoire seemed to be mostly Cretan, with many long, repetitive songs that bored my Scottish friend and didn't generally encourage me to join the dancing.  The bride and maid of honor demonstrated boundless energy, as did many dancers ranging from their teens to their 70s, while the groom and some older men showed a talent for the impressive fast jumping, leg lifting, kicking, and slapping of the more exciting, acrobatic traditional Cretan dances.  I finally joined one of the simpler dances, which I'd learned before, but I lack Greeks' ability to enjoy circle dances in an overcrowded space, so mostly I watched the rainbow of shiny viscose dresses moving around the circle, fuschia, green, ochre, turquoise, yellow, slow, quick, quick, slow, quick, quick, or step, kick, step, kick.... 

I also checked on the kids, discussed the event with my Scottish friend, and spoke with the American woman who'd lived in Crete with her Greek husband and children, but recently moved to Minnesota with the whole family.  Eventually, a group of unmarried women and girls assembled on the stage with the maid of honor--a slim, statuesque woman of classical Greek beauty with long, sleek, elegantly gathered black hair who reminded me of the actresses portraying ancient rituals on TV.  Our daughter joined the little girls dressed in bridal white in the scramble for the bride's bouquet, which initially landed on the floor near the little ones.  After the bride tried again, and succeeded in throwing the bouquet backwards over her shoulder to the maid of honor, our daughter retrieved one lost rosebud to bring home.  Meanwhile, those who still had an appetite ate boiled goat, rice cooked in goat broth, yogurt, potatoes, and a mixture of tasty grilled meat, vegetables, and sausages.  But since most of us had been nearly full for some time, we ended up with enough leftovers at our table to provide an excellent meal for a family of twelve.  And I counted thirty-seven tables of similar size.  There must have been more than 400 guests (in a room that had space for many more), but there was food for about twice as many--not due to error, but because of a tradition of excess at Cretan wedding and baptism receptions, where three meat dishes are expected!  And apparently it was all going to be thrown away, although in Athens there is better organization, and some of it might have been saved for the needy.  Never mind how many people wait at soup kitchens in Greece these days for vastly inferior food. Yes, there are still wealthy people in Greece, especially on our olive-rich island of Crete, and they show off that wealth at weddings.  Their guests appreciate the receptions and reduce the actual expense with their monetary gifts, but they never eat all that meat.

The children didn't feel tired, because they were having fun.  They didn't want to leave at 12:30, when I thought we'd had enough, but insisted on waiting for the dessert, which arrived after 1:00 a.m.:  Greek donut balls covered with honeyed syrup (loukoumades), oddly flavored masticha ice cream with chocolate sauce, and tourta, which is thin layers of cake between thick layers of something like mousse mixed with icing.  The cake ran out before it got to us--impressively, the only error from the kitchen all night--but our children were consoled by the other desserts.  We managed to say good night and escape before the fresh fruit was served.  The children complained that we were leaving first, which we weren't, but it's true that there were still children running around, and the hall was only starting to thin out.  So the kids were in bed around 3:00.  I couldn't sleep until almost 5:00.  I don't think I've done that since my high school prom.  For some Greeks, it's a common occurrence.  They manage to bounce back and go to work on Monday, but I was still struggling through midweek!

A GREEK NEIGHBORHOOD'S OUTDOOR POTLUCK PARTY

Of course, it didn't help that there was another party the next night.  However, this did enable a study in contrasts:  instead of expensively dressed women in dangerously high heels and an excessive array of food in an enormous reception hall, around seventy casually dressed neighbors met at the basketball court near our house, with our balcony chairs, food and drink to share, and children in tow.  No one spent more than the cost of a few drinks or ingredients, and the children and I enjoyed ourselves just as much.  One family owned, and brought, one of those inflatable slides kids climb up and slither down, and the kids especially loved that. 

Our Neighborhood Association, Its Accomplishments and Concerns

Our gathering was organized by mothers in the neighborhood association that also coordinated a children's torch relay through the neighborhood streets last year to help raise awareness of the importance of donating blood (part of a Greek national effort).  The group also prodded the relevant authorities to finish widening the bridge at one of two entrances to our neighborhood; the previously single-lane bridge was closed for many months, then lacked railings for the sidewalk next to the gorge.  In addition, our organization convinced a number of merchants in our town to offer discounts to its members.  And they've installed a fence to keep roaming dogs out of the playground (once generously adorned with dog dirt), removed a dangerous piece of equipment that was falling apart, and painted the play equipment.  Now our organization is concerned about whether the Silk Oil holding tank area near us--and very close to the closest beach--will be expanded, rather than closing as we'd heard before (when it was called Shell).  So, thanks to the most active neighborhood association officers we've had here since our arrival, there was some serious talk among friends. 

That included my discussion of unemployment in Greece with a friend who's a social worker at the Greek government's employment agency, now working with longer hours, less vacation, and half the pay she used to receive, when she had less work.  She doesn't complain too much, since she's not among the 22% of Greeks who are unemployed.  Many of the immigrants who now comprise around 10% of the people in Greece also seek help, but there's nothing to offer anyone.  I asked her what her office could do for unemployed individuals who seek help, and she said, "Nothing.  There are no jobs."  Sometimes she gives someone a euro or two from her own purse for the bus fare the person can't afford.  I read that unemployment benefits are scheduled to run out for many people here next month.  (However, there's no conclusive news to report just yet on our politico-economic situation; we await additional talks with the troika.)

Fun for the Kids, Food for All

But most of last Sunday evening, we didn't think about such problems any more than most of the wedding guests did.  D discussed soccer and scenic places to visit in eastern Crete.  Babies relaxed in strollers, toddlers toddled perilously underfoot, older kids rode bicycles, and parents and grandparents chased them, chatted with neighbors, or sat in balcony chairs to watch.  The kids ran relay races:  one in snorkeling flippers, another involving cookies they fished out of powdered sugar with their mouths, and a third in which each had to find her own shoe in a huge box of shoes and put it on before running back.  After it got dark, they race "shaved" shaving foam off the men and older boys with plastic forks.  There was plenty to eat and drink, with half-circular cheese pies most abundant, plus an array of rice, Greek salad, schnitzel, pizza, cookies, cakes, cupcakes, popcorn, juice, raki, wine, and rakomelo--a mixture of strong Cretan raki with honey.  Some brought homemade food, others bought things, and there was so much that anyone who wished could take home extra cheese pies--but no food was wasted.  A sound system and a flood light were turned on, so people were still eating, drinking, smoking, talking, and playing when we left at 10:15.  It did quiet down--we could tell from our apartment across the vacant lot--by 11:00.  It was the kind of cool Greek summer night--such a contrast to the heat of the searing sun by day--that brings out previously hidden crowds.  But these were mostly working parents and tired grandparents whose Sunday nights should end in time to get ready for the work week ahead.

Living in Greece Today

Living in Crete with my Family

Here I am now, an American mom in Greece today.  I never expected to be here.  When I was growing up in a semi-rural neighborhood in southeastern Pennsylvania, my family's trips across Canada and the U. S. seemed to strike many of my friends as impressively wide-ranging adventures.  These days, I'm living in a typical box-shaped, two-floor, two-family concrete dwelling generously surrounded by balconies, in a more densely populated middle-class residential neighborhood outside the city of Chania on the island of Crete.  Living high up on a hill above a small marina and beach, with occasional views of mountains and the Mediterranean sea, I expect that my preoccupations are vastly different from those of my former schoolmates and neighbors.  For example, I worry about what this Sunday's Greek national elections will mean for me, my two bicultural, bilingual children, my Greek husband ("D"), our friends and family, and Greece.  Even before the recession and political turmoil hit Greece, leaving the country without the political majority or even an adequately unified coalition of political parties necessary to "form a government," as they say here, it was hard enough for this particular American to adjust (more or less) to living in a southern European country.  When asked how I like it here, over the last ten years, I have diplomatically--and truthfully--replied that life in Greece has both advantages and disadvantages.  Some of the advantages are obvious to most people, since they can envision dream vacations on sunny beaches next to the clear turquoise waters of the Mediterranean, with ancient temples standing guard in the distance.  But the glories of ancient Greece have now been overshadowed by the prosaic struggles of modern Greeks, and life in Greece today is no vacation.

Strikes, Outages, Dangerous Driving, Strays,  Littering, and Waiting for Doctors

Many times during the last ten years, strikes have disrupted school days, pharmacy and doctors' services, garbage pickup, public transport, gasoline deliveries, and more.  I support workers' rights to strike and collectively bargain, but striking is taken to such frequent extremes here that it seems more destructive of ordinary people's lives (never mind the tourism-based economy!) than productive of fruitful change.  In addition, outages in electricity, telephone, internet, and water have occurred more times than I can count, the first often due to efforts to complete work during peak hours of daytime electricity usage.  I see the problem there as not only an inadequate infrastructure in a rapidly developing area, but also a prioritization of the rights of the few--electricity company workers--to work at desirable hours, over the rights of the many--thousands of electricity consumers--to conduct their daily affairs using the utility they pay for and (foolishly, in Greece!) depend on.  Basically, it has seemed that people have many rights when viewed as workers, but few when treated as consumers, a puzzle since most of us are both, at least in some sense.  And we all face additional frustrations:  crazy, dangerous drivers pass us anywhere and park their cars wherever they please, even if it means blocking a lane of traffic on a two-way city street.  Stray cats and dogs add to road and sidewalk hazards, mess, and sadness, spreading garbage outside bins and leaving feces where they please, often suffering from eye diseases or getting hit by cars as they rest on the road.  Littering and inappropriate dumping lead to impromptu roadside garbage dumps and shockingly dirty seas and beaches when the wind blows the wrong way, especially in the summer.  Inconvenience abounds, as checks are seldom used, parking lots are relatively rare, and a visit to the nearest post office requires a time investment of nearly one hour, round trip.  Few doctors keep records of patients' medical histories, or trouble themselves to understand patients as whole people, and many don't bother with appointments, so it's first come, first served, and the rest wait around with a room full of sick people for up to two or three hours.  And the whole world has now heard about the rampant corruption and tax evasion in Greece.

Medical Benefits, Past and Present

All of that was true in the good old days (up to a few years ago), when public university professors such as my husband, D, as well as their families, still enjoyed rather impressive health insurance coverage:  although we lacked dental coverage, we seldom paid for doctor visits to most physicians in our area (unlike in Athens, where copays were required) and owed only a 25% copay for most of the prescription medications we needed, and even less for many lab tests.  Some would argue that such generous benefits were part of Greece's problem, but I considered them one of Greece's (former) attractions.  Since January, however, there have been so few physicians in the new public insurance program--the one that insures most Greeks--that sick people must pay to see a doctor while they're still sick (if they don't prefer to wait until the following month for a visit covered by insurance).  Admittedly, we don't pay as much as we would in the U. S.--only 20 to 50 euros around here, away from major cities, as far as I've heard.  But it gets worse:  recently, pharmacists stopped accepting our insurance, demanding full payment for medications, since the federal government is millions of euros behind on payments owed to pharmacists for medicines covered by public insurance.  There has already been a shortage of cancer medications, and I hear that there may be additional medicine shortages, since pharmacists hesitate to pay for (and stock) expensive medications that no one can afford.  Depending on what happens with this week's elections, there could be shortages of much more than medicines in Greece, and some of us are stocking up on various food and grocery items.   

We aren't sure whether my mother in law's public health insurance will actually pay for the knee replacement surgery she just endured, which could certainly be a problem on top of all the (no longer covered) medications she regularly takes for various health problems. She is the person I know who suffers most from all the strikes, as well: when public transit workers strike, she must fight for a taxi to take her to her doctors' appointments in the Athens area; when pharmacists and doctors strike, she struggles to keep her prescriptions up to date.  A friend's mother was declared fit to leave her hospital, but there is no ambulance to take her home, and she is not allowed to go in a car.  So she is stuck in the hospital, but no longer provided with her medications since she was officially discharged!  Meanwhile, gasoline, water, and heating costs rise (with our water rates suddenly doubling, gas something like $7 a gallon).  To make things worse, the Greek government--pressured into "austerity measures" by the "Troika" of the IMF, the European Central Bank, and the European Commission--reduces pensions, raises taxes, and imposes new ones.  These days, it's innocent people like my mother in law and my friend's mother who are punished far more than the wealthy politicians and major tax evaders who contributed most to Greece's current economic and political crisis. 

 

Closed Businesses, Poverty, Unemployment, and Migration Out of Greece:  That's Austerity

So we see the empty shells of businesses that were forced to close and wonder about the missing beggars who may have left for more promising lands.  An immigrant mother desperate for work leaves her 3 1/2 year old in the northern Greek city of Thessaloniki with her unemployed husband and moves all the way south to Crete for a job, but is forced to return home, jobless, when her young daughter's tantrums become too excruciating.  Unemployment has reached nearly 22% for the general population, and more than double that for young people.  This is just part of what "austerity" means, as salary cuts and layoffs in the huge public sector have a domino effect in all other sectors of the economy. Those who can are leaving Greece:  many immigrants who frequented a local soup kitchen have disappeared, apparently fleeing to Italy; our hairdresser is taking her sons to join her husband, a  mechanic, in France; our dentist is updating his CV and considering England.  One of D's colleagues suggests moving our families to a remote Pacific island to live on fish.  Some may ask, isn't Crete an equally Edenic spot for fishing?

 

Natural Beauty, Fresh Produce, Generosity, and Hospitality: That's Greece

To some extent, yes:  this is a lovely place to vacation.  I encourage all my friends and family members to come visit--if the upcoming elections don't lead from us from mess to chaos.  Those who paint a completely bleak picture of Greece and Greeks don't do them justice.  The spectacular mountains, gorges, caves, sea, beaches, forests, and flowers combine for an amazing beauty that struck me every day for the first year or so of living here (after which I partly failed my conscious fight against taking it for granted).  Before my first trip to Greece, I had no idea how mountainous it is; now, in June, I still marvel at traces of snow atop the White Mountains of Crete.  Many Greeks demonstrate a strong appreciation for nature, with even senior citizens walking considerable distances, whether for exercise or pleasure, or out of necessity (since most of the older Greek women I know do not drive).  Perhaps this contributes to the good health so often linked to the Mediterranean diet. 

Certainly, the Cretans I know seem to value both flowers and fresh fruit and vegetables, which many grow in their yards, where Americans would have the grass plots that are too difficult and expensive to maintain in the hot, dry summers of Greece.  These garden plots and fruit trees are becoming increasingly important as economic uncertainty worsens.  And given the extent of Greek hospitality and generosity, this benefits people who can't grow their own produce, as well the growers:  several neighbors recently gave  us bags of apricots from their trees; we've received hundreds of lemons over the years; our favorite family restaurant owner gave us a large bag of freshly-dug potatoes; and after I gave away an old, chipped coffee table, I received spinach, lemons, and oranges, with the promise of summer produce from "the village" when it's ready.  While Greeks can sometimes be quite rude to strangers, for example while competing, er, I mean waiting, in line, the opposite is also true.  Once, walking in another neighborhood where I knew no one, an old woman--a perfect stranger--invited me to pick the best oranges from her crates, and to come back for more another time!  Somewhere in the mountains, years ago, D and I came across a man with a donkey loaded down with avocadoes, and he presented us with several.  After photographing an elderly woman in central Greece, we were invited into her house to eat some sweets and visit her disabled son, who was seated among colorful woven blankets and pillows on a mattress on the floor.  So I wasn't completely surprised last week when a doctor I've consulted dozens of times didn't charge me for my visit. 

While life in Greece today is no vacation, I try to pretend it is whenever the opportunity arises, and the famous natural beauty, generosity, and laid-back attitude do provide some chances.  During a recent meal at our favorite family restaurant, Kyria (Mrs.) Maria's Sunset Restaurant in Horafakia, our space was invaded by twenty senior citizens, some of them polluting our air with the ever-present cigarette smoke.  However, invasion soon transformed into wonderful free entertainment as the smokers, politely asked, moved farther away from us, and the group began singing melodic Greek songs from the 1950s, '60s, and '70s to the accompaniment of a spirited guitarist. Some of them were talented singers, and their sweet songs brought back memories of good times for D, in a brief escape from the worries and pressures of life in Greece today.  Our children roamed around outside the restaurant and hotel, safe to play and wander without rebuke, as children generally are in rural Greece.  On the way home, my gaze was transfixed by the shining sea views.  And last week we enjoyed a relaxing afternoon with some visitors from the UK, savoring the clear, cool waters at Stavros beach for our first swim of the year.