I think I was a bit delusional when we flew into Athens. I thought every city in Greece was like a scene in Mama Mia with dancing in the street and a donkey ride up to a white washed village followed by a visit to a club called the Parthenon. Okay that last part was a dig on Shaq, but I really didn’t know what to expect especially given the recent economic unrest of Greece.
My husband, mother-in-law and I stayed with my husband’s family in Athens that consisted of a seventy-two year old man named Apostolos who spoke better German than English, a middle-aged woman named Despina who reminded me of Blanche Devereaux from the Golden Girls and her quiet older sister named Corelia. They lived on different floors of an apartment building near Agios Eleftherios metro stop.
Every evening we would listen to the news on the small television set in the living room which was in Greek. I asked my husband’s great uncle Apostolos, “what are they saying?” He answered very matter of factly, “they are talking about the economic situation in Greece.”
Later I would understand that new amounts of aid were given to Greece to avoid default but with that came more austerity measures including higher taxes, cutting pensions, laying off workers which lead to more strikes. Constant images of Greek’s Minister of Finance Evangelos Venizelos flashed across the tv screen and he reminded me of John Candy and a sexier version of Jabba the Hut.
Meanwhile we stuffed our faces full of stuffed grape leaves, moussaka, pastitsio, and played the tourist. We spent an afternoon in the hot sun walking along the ruins of the Parthenon while hearing stories of Greek mythology. We visited an ancient olive tree with roots twisted around itself, saw marble bust after marble bust of Athena, visited the new Acropolis museum and saw a glorious sunset in Oia.
In other parts of the city, a white haired shop owner installed an alarm since his store was broken into, air traffic controllers went on strike leaving passengers stranded, an older woman looked in a trash can for her stolen purse and medical tests, and thousands of protestors burned tax bills on the parliament steps.
On our last day in Athens, Pete’s family took us out to their neighborhood café and crowded twelve chairs around three small tables. As we poured cloudy glasses of Ouzo and shared jokes in English amid a soccer game playing in the background, for a moment it was as though there was no political and economic turmoil. We simply reveled in each other’s company, sharing a drink from across the Mediterranean sea.
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