Hard to capture the difference between Greece and the other European countries I had visited. It’s like Greece decided to go the way of the US and then got stuck part-way there—and then resents not making it all the way. Not to say that traditions from Greece’s history and culture haven’t survived, they have—and of course have percolated through the Romans and the entire history of the western world. But it feels like the people there aren’t that happy with their traditions (given their serious economic, etc. problems)—the way people mostly do seem to be in Italy (notwithstanding their own serious econ problems), Spain, Portugal, and France—and yes, Wales. Or maybe it’s tourists they resent—but all these countries are major tourist destinations. A dear (LA, CA) Greek friend tells me the country now is a thorough disaster—and he is staunchly Greek.
So it’s got that edge to it—kind of a cultural identity crisis. Anyway it was certainly someplace I wanted to go, duh—and may again.
I spent several wonderful days in Athens, going as deep as I could into the part of town near the Acropolis—the historic parks!!
And then lived a month on Leros, a beautiful and fascinating island. I had planned to go to Corfu where my Wales hostess has a house, but then businesses closed down there during infrastructure (airport) repair (& tail-end of Covid). So I booked a rental on Leros, which fell through due to flooding, but then the agent substituted another, spectacular spot. I was near the top of a very steep hill (cliff, really—with trails down on two sides of my corner) plunging down into one of those exquisite Greek island bays.
I had made a friend when I first arrived, in a travel saga worth sharing. The plane from Athens to Leros couldn’t land on Leros that first day, because of the wind. I hadn’t understood the pilots’ announcements, but I figured it out soon enough. We landed on an adjacent island, and were herded into a waiting room and left to fend for ourselves. Most of the people were clearly used to this, and did I don’t know what, but a group of like four men needed to get to Leros, plus me there with my luggage and equipment. One gentleman spoke English, and kindly asked if I also needed to get to Leros. He included me in their group, whew! So they booked a small boat to come from Leros & get us, which it did eventually, with some jockeying and taxiing on our part. I was worried about my heavy bag & soundcase, but that skipper just stowed it all underneath somehow, & off we went. He dropped us at the south end of the island, where my friend called a cab, taking me with him to the north end of the island, to his car parked near the airport, & then drove me to my new place.
We had gotten along well, and I thought I would see him again, but meanwhile had caught a cold, and did my surviving and exploring on my own. I was content in such a beautiful spot, and learned what I could about the island. Leros’s ancient history as the island of Artemis was mostly gone, except for one ancient temple spot. The Knights of St. John settled in the 1300s, then the Ottomans, yielding various exquisite medieval chapels. This incredible chapel built into the rocks on the water and featuring Our Lady of the Crabs~ is called Panagia Kavouradaina.
Near the end of the war the Germans held out there until the British prevailed in a fierce local battle. Leros only became Greek in 1948. More recently, a notorious mental hospital caused a national scandal for its appalling conditions—that haunting building remains but its whole area is military and off limits. They house immigrants there who land from Africa and everywhere, strictly controlled—but you see them out and about with their social-services supervisors in excursions around the island (& see ferry pic below).
So it’s a real mix! For my music: I had made some good contacts & could well have performed there—& enjoyed it!—but it was too cold for outside. After almost three weeks, my initial friend called me one evening wanting to have dinner, but too late for me. Oddly, then, that weekend on subsequent days we ate at the same restaurants (both small, by the water, and fabulous!)—and the second day, he invited me to join him with his brother, sister-in-law, and little nephew in their meal.
And this was a real Greek experience. The owner just kept bringing food (and drink!) for hours! And it was delicious—plenty of seafood for my tastes, the drink was too strong but if one eats & sits & talks long enough. . . basically from lunch through dinner! It was enough time for me to sense their family dynamics—which were troubled. The wife of the brother was exhausted, the brother was struggling financially & clearly resentful of my friend’s obvious success, & paid Zero attention to his own son. So I adapted by playing with the little boy much of the afternoon. After that extended feast, they invited me to join them at a classy bar in the village for more drinking, yikes. By then obviously I was feeling it—and was ever more sympathetic for the poor woman, who could barely shepherd her kid and looked miserable, while the men talked (sometimes including me, sometimes not). And then I made a faux pas that alienated the men—although her eyes were shining.
I think I asked her what she really loves to do—herself, apart from family, which of course comes first. The couple weren’t getting on all that well, it was obvious (falling in love not being at all the same thing as marriage, what support it requires, and a 2-year-old son). Both her husband (my friend’s brother) and my friend looked askance at my engaging her this way—and my friend was angry. I was disappointed, but not really surprised nor resentful. She couldn’t really answer me. See what I mean about identity crises there? This picture is from before I got into trouble. My friend did make sure I drove home safely that night—but we were done.
High winter in Berlin, rain & snow, but the city is well prepared for it. I lucked out again with a wonderful flat in the Prenzlauer area—lively bustling neighborhoods, lots of families, services & restaurants, a straight shot by bus (& rail) to the center. It felt like I’d come back into modernity with a vengeance: because in contrast to my idylls in the other Euro countries—frolicking in nature & centuries of culture & history—here I faced head-on two horrible and vicious eras of our time: Nazi Germany, and the Berlin Wall; the Gestapo and the Stasi. The holocaust museum is profound; the deeper you go the more you get it. Berlin has wonderful ancient and modern museums—I delved into as many as possible during my short stay. I met a formerly American friend of my girlfriend Marina who lives there, Ernie, and we had one delightful day out & about in the rain—before he caught Covid. Fortunately I did not. I even connected with family I hadn’t met, my aunt’s (German) husband’s nephew & family, who live across the river in Potsdam, so beautiful, and Christian & I had an elegant dinner back in the city.
So, Berlin is rather a weird ending for my kind-of European Tour tales—no outside performances in such weather, and sobering reality closing in again in spades (little did I know how prescient and parallel it would prove). But Berlin, for all its morbid background, is a lively, creative, culturally vibrant, diverse & happening city. I had never been before~
But whether you have or haven’t been to these places I’ve written about, I hope you’ve enjoyed reading about them—and hearing my Prodigal Tomboy music, about to be complete—you'll see!~ And I hope my narratives inspire others to relish more deeply the similarities among peoples in these and other places, as well as all the richly stimulating & engaging differences among cultures & lives.
This trip was now over two years ago, and things here have changed drastically since. On my trip I took to saying I was from California, since everyday folks in Europe and the UK had been so turned off by Trump’s first term that they were cynical towards and alienated from people in the US. It’s not like it is here, where we have virtually no specific information about the rest of the world; folks abroad regularly follow what’s going on in the States. Clearly people’s feelings towards us have severely worsened now again.
So that’s my advice to you. Just say you’re from California, and see their faces lift & open, & their eyes and mouth soften. They do understand knowledgeably and well that everyone over here is not like that.
