Saturday, January 30, 2016

A Solution to Greece's Problems

Greece has her problems but the biggest, in my opinion, is not her economy or unpredictable political climate. It's something that has existed throughout history and I have to admit, I often long for it.

Her problem is . . . air. Yes, that stuff that the Greeks inhale. If somehow they could've just stopped breathing it in, before they got into their latest crisis, I believe they'd have been more inclined to see through the insanity of borrowing money, decreasing their workload, and then spending said-borrowed money.

But that air! They were defenseless against it. It's just so subtle as it sweeps along on warm breezes, oh so sweet and anesthetizing. And in the summer months it picks up the sounds of cicadas--their songs carrying everywhere like the rhythmic rocking of a sailboat, slowly back and forth, until eyelids grow heavy and thoughts turn to mush.

Like white carbohydrates and refined sugar, my body longs for it in these work-day months as I recall its effect and reminisce of those lazy Greek summer days.

Well-rested from a good night's sleep, and ready to start the day, I've often left the front door of our Margariti house with a strong conviction to get something done and a rock-solid plan. But the minute that warm air pats the top of my head, my gait slows to a saunter and then the sunlight blinds my ambition.

That Greek air turns my limbs into iron girders, so naturally I have to rest from the weight of them. A cup of coffee might help because back in New York as I sip caffeine all day long like the drip of a life-saving intravenous, the work-gears continue to grind.

And yet, that same elixir--coffee--brewed with its turbo blast of caffeine there in Margariti, energizes me to the degree of which my only thoughts are in deciding under which tree I should position my chair so as to get the perfect mix of sun and shade.

So what are the Greeks supposed to do? Who could blame them for this new Greek mess? It's the creditors' fault. Had they spent only a few hours on the Greek countryside before doling out the money, they'd have seen the futility of it all.

This older generation was hopelessly weak from lack of food, years of poverty and terrible suffering, thus helpless against such an adversary. They sucked up that oxygen without a second thought and now it's up to the younger people to be strong -- to stop breathing that Greek air.

I wish them strength and I wish them luck!


  1. How right you are! Most writers rave about the Greek light. This is far more subtle.
    Hope to see you in the Summer. That mountain air is especially good. Jim. We should start bottling it for export to Northern Europe.

    1. Yes! . . . to everything you said. And you have to come to Margariti this time.

  2. Hi, I just accidentally found your blog and I'm happy I did. I really enjoy reading your writing. I also got married and lived in a village but in Macedonia where life is much different than in a major city in Canada. My grandmother always told me stories about growing up in her village they called buff at the time, and I always dreamed about it but never actually knew what it was like until I moved to one.
    Take care,

    1. Hi Helen, I'm glad to meet you! Yes, village life is certainly different, isn't it? I'm so glad to hear you enjoy my writing. My mother is from a little town not far from the Canadian Border. It's called, Malone. Her mother was from Owl's Head, a very small village nearby. It was an area, that had a mix of Canadian and American flavor. So we're practically related! : )