'Tis not a good time to be Greek. We've been poor before, although certainly not in my life time, but this is different. There had always been some dignity in our misfortunes before. Now we are the laughing stock of Europe. I've even heard of Greek doctors who work abroad receiving racist comments from their patients.
And today I read the synopsis of a Channel 4 programme that nearly gave me a stroke. I felt humiliated, deeply offended and angry.
We have failed. I feel we're in a sinking ship. We all know it but pretend there is still hope. Or perhaps we're all tired of the constant influx of bad news. Perhaps, in a way, we've given up trying to keep up with the never ending developments. I doubt any of us understands what's going on any more. I, for one, have no idea what is happening and I don't care that much, either. If something really important happens, I trust someone will tell me. Whether our Prime Minister resigns, or which European leader bullied us today is insignificant. We have put ourselves in a situation we will never be able to get out of.
Despite it all, it was a sunny day yesterday. A day for holding hands, for a walk in Monastiraki, for buying old books for 50 cents each. People seemed eager to enjoy the sunshine. A father who sold second hand clothing on the street was burying his giggling son under piles of jackets. He then pulled him by the leg to lift him up and the kid burst out laughing.
I know things will get even worse. Because poverty in such urban environments breeds a very ugly kind of despair. Maybe Sunday was the calm before the storm. (Does a part of me yearn for that storm?) In any case, it was a perfect day for holding hands. At least that is something they can never take away from us.
And today I read the synopsis of a Channel 4 programme that nearly gave me a stroke. I felt humiliated, deeply offended and angry.
We have failed. I feel we're in a sinking ship. We all know it but pretend there is still hope. Or perhaps we're all tired of the constant influx of bad news. Perhaps, in a way, we've given up trying to keep up with the never ending developments. I doubt any of us understands what's going on any more. I, for one, have no idea what is happening and I don't care that much, either. If something really important happens, I trust someone will tell me. Whether our Prime Minister resigns, or which European leader bullied us today is insignificant. We have put ourselves in a situation we will never be able to get out of.
Despite it all, it was a sunny day yesterday. A day for holding hands, for a walk in Monastiraki, for buying old books for 50 cents each. People seemed eager to enjoy the sunshine. A father who sold second hand clothing on the street was burying his giggling son under piles of jackets. He then pulled him by the leg to lift him up and the kid burst out laughing.
I know things will get even worse. Because poverty in such urban environments breeds a very ugly kind of despair. Maybe Sunday was the calm before the storm. (Does a part of me yearn for that storm?) In any case, it was a perfect day for holding hands. At least that is something they can never take away from us.
