INTRODUCTION

The ancient Romans believed the world held only two civilized peoples: Themselves, and the Greeks.

The Greeks, however, believed there was only one civilized people. And who might that special race be?

Here’s a hint: It wasn’t the Romans.

That sense of superiority hasn’t dissipated much over the years. But would you expect otherwise from a people descended from mighty gods who lived in the clouds, could inspire tidal waves with the flick of a wrist, and slept with their sisters with impunity?

There are defining moments that encapsulate the essence of any country for the visitor. For instance, mine came not long after my arrival in Greece.

A Greek woman, an attorney, upon learning that I was from the United States, casually remarked to me: “I always thought of Americans as stupid.”

Drinking ouzo and smoking cigarettes are national obsessions in Greece. Tact and humility are not.

But just as, when in Rome, one must do as the Romanians do, so in Greece one must learn to do as, well, the Greeks do. And to that worthy end this little book is dedicated.

Closely follow its precepts, as crazed motor bikers might cling to your back bumper going down a narrow street, absorb fully its lessons, just as cold, fried kalamari blots up oil off the plate, and you, too, can learn to be a descendant of the Gods – a Greek!

I. FOOD FOR THE GODS (OR TELLING THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN SOUVLAKI AND BOUZOUKI)

The first and foremost thing to learn about becoming a Greek is the paramount role food plays in the Greek diet. In fact, in the entire Greek lifestyle.

Greeks often will view their life experiences, not to mention regions of the country, in terms of food.

“Oh, you went to Pelion? They have very good olives there.”

“I went to Mount Athos for a week. The meat is very good there.”

“After the christening, we went to a taverna (ταβέρνα) where they have very good seafood.”

Even if they cannot possibly eat it all, Greeks will want to be sure the table is covered with plates bearing every ilk of fishy thing, vegetable, meat, and bread. And when inviting out, the proud Greek will insist on paying for the whole meal for everyone.

The many smaller plates that normally arrive early in a meal – but depending on your Greek waiter and whims of the Kitchen Gods could arrive in time for what you might consider dessert – are called Mezedes (μεζέδες) (not to be confused with Mercedes).

Your first task in becoming a Greek will be to learn the names of as many Mezedes as possible and be able to order them in a convincing accent. And remember: Saganaki (σαγανάκι) is NOT a Japanese city, any more than Tiramisu is a Japanese oil tanker.

Some people, like my sister, think Greece got its name based on the quality of the food. This is clearly not true, and comes from a poor command of spelling. Besides, in Greek the name of the country is Elladha (Ελλαδα), which has nothing to do with “grease.”

One can always feel relatively safe ordering the ubiquitous “Greek” or “village” salad, horiatiki salata (χωριάτικη σαλάτα).

Many people, however, with tastes bred in Greek restaurants abroad, are tempted to order well-known dishes like moussaká (μουσακά) (notice the accent is on the LAST syllable). But as every Greek will quickly tell you, moussaká is not really Greek, but Turkish, and often scarcer in Greece than in, say, Tampa or London.

The following are considered “bad form” and should be avoided:

● Asking for a non-smoking section in a bar or restaurant.

● Complaining that the food is cold or, at best, lukewarm. It is supposed to be room temperature.

● Addressing your waiter as “Zorba.”

● Expecting that a restaurant might actually serve coffee (you are a radical, aren’t you?)

● Asking for separate checks.

● Seeking non-coed rest rooms. Or toilet paper.

● Expecting to get the correct change on your bill.

● Leaving an extravagant tip. Or perhaps any tip.

One other very important distinction is knowing the difference between souvlaki (σουβλάκι) and bouzouki (μπουζούκι).

Souvlaki is grilled meat, and very popular. It can be beef, pork, chicken, or something else, and is often served on little sticks that, when you go to slide off the meat, cause it to go flying into your partner’s lap.

Bouzouki, on the other hand, is a form of distinctly Greek entertainment, combining largely off-key stringed music, drunken women dancing on tables, and men working up to their first cardiacs doing dips and dives on the floor while sweating profusely and acting inordinately friendly to other sweaty men.

Finally, if after reading this chapter you still have any difficulties understanding the meaning of Greek dishes listed on a menu (katalogos [κατάλογος]), by all means ask your waiter to explain them. He will be pleased to do so (assuming you have not called him “Zorba”), spieling off long multi-syllabic words all of which will sound to the uneducated ear like the names of former Greek political leaders.

Then just let him bring what he wants.

II. GREEK TELEVISION (AND OTHER TRAIN WRECKS)

It was winter, and I was supposed to drive to Albania to see my friend Laura at a very difficult time. But every time I turned on the television weather reports, all I saw were mounds of snow, cars and trucks and buses wedged into snow drifts, snow plows stuck in the howling white stuff, snow-bound motorists telling their tales of winter-weather terror.

I kept putting off the trip, which takes me over those same mountains on TV, and putting off the trip.

Finally, I could delay my departure no longer, and I set out for the west, not at all sure if I would make it or would be forced to return home. Or worse.

But a funny thing happened. The further I drove into the snow country, the higher up I climbed, I could find no evidence of all this snow. Oh, here and there a little patch on the roadside. But nothing like the winter wonderland I saw on the TV weather reports.

A week later, when I returned back (through a real, but totally unannounced, snow storm), I mentioned this odd occurrence to a Greek friend.

“Oh,” she said, “Those were probably re-runs you saw on TV.”

“Excuse me? Re-runs? Of the weather?!?”

“Oh, yes. They sometimes play them for weeks.”

Well, I don’t watch much television, but in retrospect I realized I should have known that.

Most days are slow news days in Greece (especially when the stations don’t feel compelled to pay much attention to events beyond Greek borders, there’s not much to cover in a country of 11 million people, many of whom mind sheep for a living).

So they can air re-runs of the weather (snow storms and floods, complete with screaming people wearing black, are popular, as are earthquakes). And re-runs of “hot” news stories are also big hits (some of the criminals shown being taken into custody for one offense or another are probably out on parole by the time video images of their arrests leave the airwaves).

There was one particularly popular singer who died last year, but do you think the TV will let this poor guy rest in peace? Hardly a week goes by that he is not back on the tube evoking tears from his fans.

And as if the high dramas being portrayed in news stories are not impactful enough, the producers feel compelled to include sound tracks replete with emotion-evoking Baroque music. Very angsty stuff.

Greek television, however, is a good place for Greeks to learn English, since it airs many American movies from the ‘70s that were too bad to make it in America, but are cheap and so gain new life here.

And if you are an English speaker, you can read the Greek sub-titles, scratch your head, and wait for re-runs of the weather to come on.