Saturday, January 3, 2015

A Different Time



Three weeks from tomorrow Greece votes for a new Parliament in an election already overrun with pronouncements, predictions, predilections, prognostications, and prevarications.  In other words, it’s politics as usual—politicians and the press p’ing all over the public.

Enough already.

I have my own sort of P for thee.  It’s an assortment of photographs culled from the archives of my friend Dimitris Koustoukas capturing Mykonos—his birthplace and my heartspace—a couple of generations back.  


Times were different then.  And no doubt will be so again.  Whether times are better or not I suspect shall always be debated, for that is the Greek way…

















Jeff––Saturday

8 comments:

  1. Thanks Jeff, as they say- every picture tells a story!
    My fav is the young man in the stripey top, walking with a somewhat unsteady gait...

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  2. Funny you should choose that photo, Caro. The young man standing the foreground, Christo, is legend for his style of dance: He stumbles through his steps as if drunk, though always in total control of his movements. Perhaps it was his friend Lolos' gait that inspired him!

    Speaking of inspiration, what led me to post just photos was my overwhelming exasperation with this Alice's Tea Party known as Greek politics. I hoped to put it all out of my mind by browsing through photos of old times.

    BUT in the two days since I did all that, three things have happened that simply boggle my mind over where all this is headed:

    1/ An escaped, convicted, terrorist of the notorious, murderous November 17 group was captured a year after his escape, just as new national elections were underway---coincidentally giving the governing party something to brag about;

    2/ The front running political party (SYRIZA) sort of announced its program for dealing with the financial crisis suffocating the country: If SYRIZA wins and the EU refuses to grant debt forgiveness, the new government will default on its debts and rather than going to the markets for new money (a tough sell under the circumstances) and "borrow" 10% of every Greek bank depositor's assets until the country is back on its feet...just think about that one; and

    3/ The man who was Prime Minister and abandoned his post and party when the ship of state was sinking, has announced he's returning to form a new party to save the country...I don't want to think about that one.

    There aren't enough seats for everyone at this party. Stay tuned for the dancing marmots.

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  3. Ah, visions of our youth when all things were good and possible!

    As for the pissant politicians who think they're puissant, they're the positively prime reason why old people become grouchy, grumpy, cynical, and pessimistic. The older you get, the more experience you've had with the same old shit.

    Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.

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    1. I remember as a child my grandfather saying the older you get the more you realize all politicians are alike. I guess I'm now his age. EvKa.

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  4. One of the drawbacks - I thought at the time - of 'our stone house on the hill' was the lack of 'connection'. No television, no telephone, and as it turns out limited Wi-Fi thanks to the local tavern letting us tap into it. So I've read the International New York Times once in the last three weeks and just last night saw the terrorist on television at the taverna where we were dining. Also saw the old Prime Minister . . .but because it was in Greek we were limited to the explanations given by the taverna owner: "a very bad guy was caught' and 'who knows' on the elections. I do want to assure you though that the Klamath olive harvest is underway, the presses are running as they have been for decades. As we sat watching the process - eating minutes old oil on fresh baked bread - I was again happy that the house came unplugged. I can enjoy my Fairy Tale just a bit longer. . .(but am keeping my fingers crossed that common sense prevails soon).

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    1. Oh, just live your fairy tale, J&J, and forget all about Greek politics. No need to think about it as it will never impinge on your life in the Mani or, for that matter, any tourist's Greek experience.

      Fresh pressed olive oil on fresh baked bread--in the heart of Kalamata olive country...priceless, as the Mastercard folk would say.

      By the way, life amid the olive groves plays a significant tonal role in my just finished (yay) book, albeit up in the area of Delphi.

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  5. That is Kalamata olives - auto spell check is having a heyday with my writing here!

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    1. Oh, I thought you meant Kalamazoo olives.:)

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