This weekend's Oscars were swept away by Slumdog Millionaire, a movie by a British director set in an Indian slum. It won a total of eight Oscars and the director flew the cast, some of whom are not professional actors but simply children living in the slums, to Hollywood for the ceremony.
It's an amazing achievement and a movie that has received nothing but rave reviews for shining a light on the lives of India's poor. It has shot the cast to worldwide fame and acclaim and given them a chance to attend school and secure their futures in a way they would never have imagined in their wildest dreams.
And only one cinema in all of Athens is showing it. Slumdog Millionaire cleaned the board last night with its wins, but if you live in Athens you will have to really go out of your way to enjoy this Oscar winning sensation. That annoys me more than I can say. It must be one of the very few Oscar winning movies that got totally ignored by the cinema board of Greece. What a pity and what an insult.
Slumdog Millioanire
Daily at 7.30 pm
Apollon Filmcentre
Stadiou 19/Klauthmonos square
Athens city centre
ph: 210 3236811
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Monday, February 23, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
Make it a Sell Out!!!!!
As EllasDevil pointed out and as Mr Zeus had recently informed me, a newspaper is giving away three Bollywood movies this Sunday.
Thanks to ED I know now that that newspaper is Sunday's Kyriakatiki Eleftherotypia. I spent two days scanning the airwaves waiting for the ad to come up to identify the publication and the harder I looked the more I couldn't find it. Eventually I began talking about a racist conspiracy to make sure people didn't watch Bollywood in Greece (which is only because I kept missing the ad).
Finally this morning, there it was. Three whole Bollywood movies. Oh. My. GOD!!! The best of the lot if Dil to Pagal Hai (The Heart is Crazy), a love triangle dance film which I have watched a few dozen times with my cousins, copying dialogues and dance routines. Silly fluff, exactly what's needed with all this talk of doom and gloom.
What's going on these days? Is it the Barack Obama effect that's leading to us ethnic minorities popping up more on Greek TV? Just last week my all time favourite Bollywood movie was shown on TV, but it was at 2 am so I missed it.
Anyway, who am I to complain. Mr Zeus is under strict order to buy me the newspaper this Sunday because I won't be around. All of you join in too, let's make this issue a sell out and show the press that Greece *hearts* Bollywood!!!
Ps: Don't miss this pivotal scene in Dil to Pagal Hai. It may look kinda lame now, but it went down as one of the hottest scenes in Bollywood ever. It's referred to as the "Bangle Scene" and left teenage girls across the subcontinent dreaming of being breathlessly told.. aur paas... aur paas... aur paas. *Swoon*
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Αχ!! Καίγομαι
In the Home Country, we use chillies the way the Greeks use lemon. It goes on everything. When someone's not feeling well, we tell them to put extra chilli in their food. The fruit stall at the market would prepare jugs of orange juice for us finished with a flourish of salt and pepper. Even fruit salad was served with chilli powder, and nothing tastes yummier than oranges and guavas dipped in salt and chilli powder. Even yoghurt, which is meant to accompany meals as a coolant for anything too spicy, usually glowed pink from chilli powder.
When I am having a bad time, I make the hottest food I can consume and eat it in a haze of sweat and pain, which always leads to a sense of euphoria when it's all over. When I'm ill with a cold, I do exactly the same until the fire of the chilli bombs its way through my blocked synuses. That's not to say I'm a champion chilli eater. I've met my match enough times, especially the scotch bonnet chilli which actually left me in crippling pain. I also couldn't face off with a chinese friend at university who used to make lunches consisting of boiled rice and fried green chillis in soy sauce.
There is a lot of goodness packed in chillis and since moving to a country where they are almost not consumed at all, I've come to love them in a whole new way. I adore them, I adore the two varieties I grow in my garden and how faithfully they deliver when I want to add a little kick to something. I adore the smell of them and how my mouth waters in anticipation when they're lying on the chopping board.
Chillis have been proven to create a sense of eurphoria, release endorphins, reduce pain, prevent stomach ulcers and are packed with Vitamin C.
My own personal belief is that a curry is like love and is supposed to hurt a little. But let's be honest, the physical effects of eating a chilli are quite suggestive. You skin flushes, your breath becomes shallow, pupils dilate, lips grow red, you sweat, you face tenses as your tongue fluctuates between the pain of the burn and the pleasure of it. And afterwards, a sense of bliss and heightened awareness of colours, scents and sounds.
Mmmmm chillies... the next best thing to an orgasm. So let me just say that serving nachos in the cinemas of Greece without the jalapeno peppers is like sex without the orgasm. It's an insult, and there's no point even going there if you're not going to do it right!!!
By the way, this post intends to serve as my Valentine's Day post. This Saturday, go downtown to the main vegetable market of Athens and buy a bag of chillies. Cook something with them for your lover. Don't be scared of the chillies. I use them intact but you can reduce some of the heat by taking out the seeds and white veins.
Just be sure to wash your hands thoroughly so that you don't end up feeling the burn where you don't want to later that night.
Image: http://farm1.static.flickr.com/175/390173312_51733d3663.jpg?v=0
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Loops Lips and Shimmy Hips
I woke up today while it was still dark out to the sound of the dog retching, and started this beautiful day with the pale yellow moon sinking in the sky as I cleaned dog vomit.
Since I have jack all to blog about, I'll blog about nothing.
Last Wednesday all us hippie chicks at bellydancing stayed behind after class at the studio/teacher's house and had an impromptu party. As I've said before, I love the company of my friends from bellydancing, maybe because it takes a certain type of person to be interested in that form of dancing, someone a little bit alternative and oriental. Add to this that bellydance is practically the only thing that encourages me out from under my rock these days and these friends are unfortunately the only ones I see at any sort of regular interval, much to my own disgrace and the chagrin of all the friendly names gathering dust in my mobile.
Usually it's just girls and we'll have a drink, maybe play some tumberleki which I turned out to be surprisingly good at despite only picking one up for the first time a month ago. "You must have taken drum classes" said the teacher. No, I replied, I just have a lot of pent up stress and smacking down on this tumberleki is the only thing stopping my nearest and dearest from having to press domestic abuse charges.
Strange things happen when in the company of a bunch of women and the wine is flowing. Normally it's just us ladies chattering away, safe in the female bubble to talk about whatever the hell we want. This time however we had the novelty of a token man in our company, a sweet chap who entered the dark circle about a week ago through friends. Conversation rotated between people as it usually does in a gathering. At one point three of us girls were discussing my resident spots, which led onto other beauty talk, namely hair removal and the Indian technique of threading.
"It's the best for killer eyebrows, gives you extremely straight and clean lines." I said. "I'm not so much bothered about that, it's this" said R, drawing a line across her upper lip. "Oh, that, I just wax my moustache" I said. All of a sudden thunderous laughter goes up from across the table, where Token Man has, unbeknownst to me, been eavesdropping. How embarrassing. I had totally forgotten that there even was a man in the gang. The glass of red wine in my veins helped to numb the cringe factor and I just lamely said "Ooooh there's a man here tonight, and I forgot he was here! Ho ho!"
And now all of cyberspace knows what I do with my moustache too. But somehow it's much more embarrassing when it's said in front of a man you don't know. I felt like I'd announced my bra size to the room.
So anyway, we decided to go out on Friday night to a restaurant and stayed there till the wee hours eating and smoking nargile. I am in the middle of a month from hell, from the absolute bowels of spreadsheet-number-crunching-you-wanted-to-be-a-journalist-but-ended-up-in-a-deskjob-you-hate-and-are-working-back-to-back-and-work-weekends-too-to-stay-on-top-hell. So I grabbed at the thin little sliver of fun that would sustain me for another week under my rock with the computer, and stayed out till 3.30 am all on my ownsies with my girls.
Token Man turned up too. I don't think he's realised yet what a bunch of raving banshees we are because he keeps coming back for more.
There was one of those photographers there, the ones that take pics of you having fun and accost you with EUR 5 a piece prints at the end of the night when you're too tipsy to realise what a bad deal that is. "You should be a model!" he said. Oh, thanks Mr Photographer Flatterer Man, if I had a euro for every time someone told me that, why, I'd have a euro!
Well, I've got to crawl back under the rock with the spreadsheets now. It was nice talking to you all again.
Last Wednesday all us hippie chicks at bellydancing stayed behind after class at the studio/teacher's house and had an impromptu party. As I've said before, I love the company of my friends from bellydancing, maybe because it takes a certain type of person to be interested in that form of dancing, someone a little bit alternative and oriental. Add to this that bellydance is practically the only thing that encourages me out from under my rock these days and these friends are unfortunately the only ones I see at any sort of regular interval, much to my own disgrace and the chagrin of all the friendly names gathering dust in my mobile.
Usually it's just girls and we'll have a drink, maybe play some tumberleki which I turned out to be surprisingly good at despite only picking one up for the first time a month ago. "You must have taken drum classes" said the teacher. No, I replied, I just have a lot of pent up stress and smacking down on this tumberleki is the only thing stopping my nearest and dearest from having to press domestic abuse charges.
Strange things happen when in the company of a bunch of women and the wine is flowing. Normally it's just us ladies chattering away, safe in the female bubble to talk about whatever the hell we want. This time however we had the novelty of a token man in our company, a sweet chap who entered the dark circle about a week ago through friends. Conversation rotated between people as it usually does in a gathering. At one point three of us girls were discussing my resident spots, which led onto other beauty talk, namely hair removal and the Indian technique of threading.
"It's the best for killer eyebrows, gives you extremely straight and clean lines." I said. "I'm not so much bothered about that, it's this" said R, drawing a line across her upper lip. "Oh, that, I just wax my moustache" I said. All of a sudden thunderous laughter goes up from across the table, where Token Man has, unbeknownst to me, been eavesdropping. How embarrassing. I had totally forgotten that there even was a man in the gang. The glass of red wine in my veins helped to numb the cringe factor and I just lamely said "Ooooh there's a man here tonight, and I forgot he was here! Ho ho!"
And now all of cyberspace knows what I do with my moustache too. But somehow it's much more embarrassing when it's said in front of a man you don't know. I felt like I'd announced my bra size to the room.
So anyway, we decided to go out on Friday night to a restaurant and stayed there till the wee hours eating and smoking nargile. I am in the middle of a month from hell, from the absolute bowels of spreadsheet-number-crunching-you-wanted-to-be-a-journalist-but-ended-up-in-a-deskjob-you-hate-and-are-working-back-to-back-and-work-weekends-too-to-stay-on-top-hell. So I grabbed at the thin little sliver of fun that would sustain me for another week under my rock with the computer, and stayed out till 3.30 am all on my ownsies with my girls.
Token Man turned up too. I don't think he's realised yet what a bunch of raving banshees we are because he keeps coming back for more.
There was one of those photographers there, the ones that take pics of you having fun and accost you with EUR 5 a piece prints at the end of the night when you're too tipsy to realise what a bad deal that is. "You should be a model!" he said. Oh, thanks Mr Photographer Flatterer Man, if I had a euro for every time someone told me that, why, I'd have a euro!
Well, I've got to crawl back under the rock with the spreadsheets now. It was nice talking to you all again.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Mmm, this toast tastes Divine!
I was at the bakery yesterday picking up a delicious loaf of country style bread with sesame to munch on with my lunch (those crusts are to DIE for!!!) when I noticed that on the shelf above the loaves were some rather pretty looking round loaves stamped with a nifty little design.
"What's that?" I asked the lady in the shop. "It's jksdyfdifypsomo" she replied. Some sort of bread is what I gathered, the actual name of which went right over my head. Anyway, it looked nice so I thought I'd have me one of those too and I bought a loaf. It smelt so nice and it was lovely and spongey feeling too. This was good bread, I thought, congratulating myself on my sure-to-be-delicious discovery.
When Mr Zeus came home I told him I'd found something really cool at the bakery today, some really snazzy looking bread which I'd never seen before and whipped the loaf out of its paper bag.
He looked at me and burst out laughing. "Do you realise what you've bought? That's prosphoro, they use it for holy communion in the Greek Orthodox church."
*Slaps forehead* damnation! It turns out this pretty bread is actually a quite holy offering to the Greek church. Those who bake it are meant to keep a candle lit nearby and say the Lord's prayer which they press the design-making stamp onto the loaf. The loaves are baked one on top of the other to represent Christ's human and divine nature. Sometimes holy water is used in the preparation.
During the divine liturgy, a square is cut from the bread to represent the Eucharist and the rest is cut into smaller pieces for holy communion. That pretty design I so admired in the bakery actually says IC XC NIKA - Jesus Christ conquers. And with that went my lunch plans.
Should I have suspected since the bakery was next door to a church and soon the Greek Orthodox calendar will start gearing up for Easter? Should the lady in the bakery have let me take the bread knowing full well I am a foreigner? Maybe she thought "Ahh bless her, she must have converted to Orthodoxy and is totally taking her new found religion seriously. Bless you!"
What am I supposed to do with the loaf now? I can't very well make toast out of it! How could I have not known about the holy bread!
Image: http://www.bjerkoe.com/Institute/Isaiah/Christ/thumbnails/s11.jpg
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Cooking with Granny
Every winter Mr Zeus's mother travels North and hauls their 95+ granny back to Athens, kicking and screaming, claiming she's too old to do the winters on her own. Naturally, Yiayia manages perfectly fine all year round in her little house, cooking and cleaning for herself and receiving visitors, despite barely being able to see and having two fake hips.
Since I'm also a fellow captive due to working from home, our winters are spent with her visiting me, gathering my laundry off the line and complaining about how bored she is. "I have nothing to do here, Maro, except move from chair to chair." She calls me Maria, nickname Maro.
She's an incredible woman. Not only does she manage perfectly fine on her own despite her age, but her mind is still 100% sharp as a pin. She claims she can't see any more but always notices when I left the bed unmade or dishes undone. At 14 she began training as a midwife under a doctor who fled Istanbul with the clothes he wore and a thermometer in his pocket. During the war, she wrestled her husband back from the Germans as they were about to execute him. All in all, not someone who can tolerate her winters cooped up and not allowed to lift a finger.
So I decided to put her to good use and learn Greek recipes from her, and I'm proud to say when anyone else asks her a recipe, she says "Oh I don't remember any more." but she quite happily gives me tutorials. Our latest project was laxanodolmades, parcels of meat and rice wrapped in cabbage leaves.
Ingredients:
1 cabbage, roughly 2 kilos
1/2 kilo minced meat
1 cup of short grain rice. It's called glasse here, but I don't know what else it might be called
2 medium onions
2 tablespoons chopped parsley
Olive oil
2 eggs
3 lemons
Salt and peper
Method:
Cut a cross into the bottom of the cabbage and boil whole until soft. Leave to cool. When cool enough to handle, begin separating the leaves and lay them one on top of the other for use. Don't throw away small pieces, hard cores or broken leaves. These can all be used.
While the leaves cool, grate the two onions. Fry in olive oil. Add the mince and parsley, salt and pepper. Stir until cooked. Wash the rice and add into the mince. Add a glass of water to help the rice absorb juices. Cook on a medium heat until most of the juice has evaporated. Add the juice of one lemon. Check for salt and add extra if necessary, as the rice and cabbage leaves will all drink up the salt. But you can always add more later. Leave to cool.
Get a big pot and at the bottom add some oil and lay down a blanket of hard cabbage cores and some broken leaves. Once the meat mixture is cool, begin putting about a teaspoon of the mix in the middle of each cabbage leaf and fold up like a parcel. To make this easier, remove the stiff part of the cabbage leaf (the vein) and use only the floppy part. Keep the removed veins to one side. Pack the parcels close together as tight as you can into the pan, adding layers as you go.
Once you have made all your parcels, use the remaining cabbage veins and broken leaves to pack in between any gaps in the pan. Everything should be nice and tight so that the parcels don't open as they cook. If you have left over mix, remove the insides of a tomato and stuff it with the mix. You can bake this with some cheese on top or squash it into the pan with the laxanodolmades.
Press a plate down over the top of the laxanodolmades to keep them in place while they cook. Yiayia told me that they used to go fetch a big stone and put it on top of the plate to make sure it didn't float off and spoil the laxanodolmades cooking, but since we didn't have access to big stones, we used a small marble mortar instead.
Pour in enough water to just cover the laxanodolmades. Cover the pot and bring to a gentle boil. Leave to cook on a low heat for about an hour and a half, taste the juice and add salt if necessary.
Finally, make the avgolemono mix (eggs and lemon). Remove about 3 cups of liquid from the cooking pot and let it cool a bit.
Separate the two eggs and beat the whites until frothy. Yiayia amazed me by taking a shaking fork to the bowl and whipping up the whites in less time than it takes me to do it with an electric mixer. I popped next door for some corn flour and when I came back, poof! Frothy eggs. Add the yolks into the whites and keep beating. Juice the two lemons.
Take a cup of cooking liquid and dissolve two teaspoons of corn flour in it. Add to the eggs. Slowly start pouring the lemon juice into the eggs, stirring as you go. Pour all the cooking liquid into the eggs and lemons in a slow stream. Once incorporated, add this mix to the main cooking pot and give it a good shake. Set on a low heat until the juice thickens.
And there you have it! Not as hard as I thought it would be, and nothing went to waste. Just make sure you have friendly neighbours because to make this, a small cabbage won't do, it has to be a big one, so you will have plenty to give to friends and family.
As we cooked, Yiayia told me stories of her own newly married cooking disasters, and shared her various pearls of wisdom. "A woman should always have work, Maro, you should always have your own money. Make sure you pay attention to your job. I call you Maro, ha ha ha, it's not that far from your name, isn't it!"
"There's nothing to it, you'll learn. You're a smart girl. Women are smarter than men you know, men are stupid! They'll never admit it, but they are. They don't know anything."
Hey the woman made it through two wars, she must know something!!
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Let's Not Be so SERIOUS
Time for a laugh. Little Bollybutton used to stand on top of a foot stool and give performances of this song to friends and family. Damn, 80s music videos of the Home Country... they really knew what they were doing.
Yesterday's News
I was trawling through my work yesterday when I looked at the time and realised that soon America would inaugrate it's first black president. So I switched on CNN.
If I'm honest I lost pretty much all respect for the country during the last eight years. I also know that promises can be made and broken, and that my first ever vote in my life was for Tony Blair on a wave of optimism that soon bit the dust. But even so, yesterday I felt hopeful. Barack Obama's speech was a step away from the usual self congratulating and trumpeting. I think it was an incredible speech to begin with the truth and say that basically our country is a stinking mess right now and it's not going to be easy to fix it, and to still end with people in tears of joy shouting his name.
Mr Zeus has had a tough life and this has made him cynical. I know he is going to be extremely critical of the president, and wasn't at all impressed by the magnitude of yesterday's events, saying that since African Americans have managed to reach such high positions in government, president is not that much of a big deal. But to me it's a huge deal, a gigantic deal. Maybe I am naive to say this, but one of the reasons I don't think it touched him the way it touched me is that he is not an ethnic minority.
Looking at Barack Obama, I wondered all the times in his life he had heard the word "nigger" and now that same man who people scornfully spat such a hateful word at is going to be "Mr. President". That to me is incredible.
Unless you are an ethnic minority, it really is hard to imagine how difficult his road was. Unless you yourself have turned up to job interviews and watched the door mentally close as soon as your ethnicity is registered, you don't know what that feels like, or been asked ridiculous and irrelevant questions like is there a chance you might be married soon, because, you know, that's what you do in your culture and we're really looking for someone long-term. Or spoken to IN V-E-R-Y SLOW AND LOUD ENG-LISH BECAUSE YOU LOOK LIKE IT MAY NOT BE YOUR FIRST L-A-N-G-U-A-G-E, the answer to which should always be F-U-C-K Y-O-U but sadly is usually an embarrassed "Um, I speak English as a first language."
Whatever may happen next, at least it can be said that Barack Obama earned his place. He worked for it from the ground up, unlike George W Bush who treated the presidency like some family dry cleaning business and took over because Daddy was the last boss.
How did Earth manage to get through eight years of that guy? There will always be bad presidents, but he was the first completely incompetent and stupid president, which made him lethal. Watching the guy you'd think he believed he was Tom Cruise in Top Gun. Oh how good it feels to be talking about him in the past tense. People, we made it. It's over. Dubya is gone. He may have shat all over the world before he left, but he's gone.
Poke your heads out of the steaming piles of bullshit and observe, and hope.
We got a puppy two months ago and the puppy decided to make Scooby Snacks out of our printer cable. So I went to Plasio to see if they sell replacements. I was instructed up to the third floor where I muddled about for a while trying to catch a sales assistant's eye. Finally a girl spun around and asked me what I needed. And then it happened. The words crashed into each other in my head and some unidentifiable nonsense poured out of my mouth. Her face screwed up in a look of disgust and she said "Ti????"
My face flushed and I began to sweat. Defeated, I shakily held out the chewed printer cable. Feeling like a graduate of the School of Morons, I watched as she waved her hands about and said in pidgen Greek so that I, the dumb Greekless foreigner would understand YOU MUST CALL HP, NOT HERE, WE NO HAVE HERE, CALL THE COMPANY ON THE TELEPHONE (make exaggerated phone gesture) T-E-L-E-P-H-O-N-O, NOT HERE, to which I should have said FUCK YOU, but asked meekly if I could get HP's telephone from the internet, only I kept saying Apa to internet and when I tried to correct myself I got caught in a loop like some malfunctioning robot Apa..Apo...Apa..Apo.
Why why whyyyyy?!?!?!
If I'm honest I lost pretty much all respect for the country during the last eight years. I also know that promises can be made and broken, and that my first ever vote in my life was for Tony Blair on a wave of optimism that soon bit the dust. But even so, yesterday I felt hopeful. Barack Obama's speech was a step away from the usual self congratulating and trumpeting. I think it was an incredible speech to begin with the truth and say that basically our country is a stinking mess right now and it's not going to be easy to fix it, and to still end with people in tears of joy shouting his name.
Mr Zeus has had a tough life and this has made him cynical. I know he is going to be extremely critical of the president, and wasn't at all impressed by the magnitude of yesterday's events, saying that since African Americans have managed to reach such high positions in government, president is not that much of a big deal. But to me it's a huge deal, a gigantic deal. Maybe I am naive to say this, but one of the reasons I don't think it touched him the way it touched me is that he is not an ethnic minority.
Looking at Barack Obama, I wondered all the times in his life he had heard the word "nigger" and now that same man who people scornfully spat such a hateful word at is going to be "Mr. President". That to me is incredible.
Unless you are an ethnic minority, it really is hard to imagine how difficult his road was. Unless you yourself have turned up to job interviews and watched the door mentally close as soon as your ethnicity is registered, you don't know what that feels like, or been asked ridiculous and irrelevant questions like is there a chance you might be married soon, because, you know, that's what you do in your culture and we're really looking for someone long-term. Or spoken to IN V-E-R-Y SLOW AND LOUD ENG-LISH BECAUSE YOU LOOK LIKE IT MAY NOT BE YOUR FIRST L-A-N-G-U-A-G-E, the answer to which should always be F-U-C-K Y-O-U but sadly is usually an embarrassed "Um, I speak English as a first language."
Whatever may happen next, at least it can be said that Barack Obama earned his place. He worked for it from the ground up, unlike George W Bush who treated the presidency like some family dry cleaning business and took over because Daddy was the last boss.
How did Earth manage to get through eight years of that guy? There will always be bad presidents, but he was the first completely incompetent and stupid president, which made him lethal. Watching the guy you'd think he believed he was Tom Cruise in Top Gun. Oh how good it feels to be talking about him in the past tense. People, we made it. It's over. Dubya is gone. He may have shat all over the world before he left, but he's gone.
Poke your heads out of the steaming piles of bullshit and observe, and hope.
***
On another theme yesterday was a crappy day for me as you can judge from my previous post. Just last week I was about to write a post about how great it feels to have my Greek up to a level where I can give directions to lost Greeks and make jokes. Then a day like yesterday comes around.
We got a puppy two months ago and the puppy decided to make Scooby Snacks out of our printer cable. So I went to Plasio to see if they sell replacements. I was instructed up to the third floor where I muddled about for a while trying to catch a sales assistant's eye. Finally a girl spun around and asked me what I needed. And then it happened. The words crashed into each other in my head and some unidentifiable nonsense poured out of my mouth. Her face screwed up in a look of disgust and she said "Ti????"
My face flushed and I began to sweat. Defeated, I shakily held out the chewed printer cable. Feeling like a graduate of the School of Morons, I watched as she waved her hands about and said in pidgen Greek so that I, the dumb Greekless foreigner would understand YOU MUST CALL HP, NOT HERE, WE NO HAVE HERE, CALL THE COMPANY ON THE TELEPHONE (make exaggerated phone gesture) T-E-L-E-P-H-O-N-O, NOT HERE, to which I should have said FUCK YOU, but asked meekly if I could get HP's telephone from the internet, only I kept saying Apa to internet and when I tried to correct myself I got caught in a loop like some malfunctioning robot Apa..Apo...Apa..Apo.
Why why whyyyyy?!?!?!
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Ok, I need help
There was a big wedding expo in Athens this weekend which I missed because I was out of town, but anyway I doubt it would have been much use to me since none of the businesses there were likely to just let me have their venue and nothing else in the package, no catering, no decorations, no DJ, since I can get all that done through friends for nothing.
On top of this all three of my sisters won't be able to come if the wedding is in September, and we can't move it to August because then none of Mr Zeus's pals will even be in Athens. As those who live in Athens know, the city empties in August as everybody heads to the islands.
So that leaves me with the end of July, and even less time than I had planned. Most of my friends live overseas in non-EU countries and the pressure is mounting to find a venue and give them a date so that they can secure their visas and tickets in time.
I'm getting desperate! I currently don't have enough free time to go coasting along the beach hunting for somewhere to host a party for cheaps. Also, I'd probably get properly robbed with my rickety Greek. So I need your help, my dear little buttercups! Help me find a venue that is simple, no strings, has a bathroom and a roof and some space for dancing, and is either on the beach or has a nice view wherever it is. Just send me suggestions, maybe you have an aunty or uncle who runs a beach taverna in Athens in the area between the centre and Glyfada.
I'll pay you your weight in chicken curry!
On top of this all three of my sisters won't be able to come if the wedding is in September, and we can't move it to August because then none of Mr Zeus's pals will even be in Athens. As those who live in Athens know, the city empties in August as everybody heads to the islands.
So that leaves me with the end of July, and even less time than I had planned. Most of my friends live overseas in non-EU countries and the pressure is mounting to find a venue and give them a date so that they can secure their visas and tickets in time.
I'm getting desperate! I currently don't have enough free time to go coasting along the beach hunting for somewhere to host a party for cheaps. Also, I'd probably get properly robbed with my rickety Greek. So I need your help, my dear little buttercups! Help me find a venue that is simple, no strings, has a bathroom and a roof and some space for dancing, and is either on the beach or has a nice view wherever it is. Just send me suggestions, maybe you have an aunty or uncle who runs a beach taverna in Athens in the area between the centre and Glyfada.
I'll pay you your weight in chicken curry!
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Look Up
túrána hott kurdís by hasta la otra méxico! from Till Credner on Vimeo.
I don't have much time to blog at the moment so I will leave you for a while to ponder this video which is nice, because it reminds you that in the end, you're just a little dot.
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Something to Smile About
With a war in Gaza, economic misery and unrest in Athens, good news seems in very short supply. So here is a sweet little story from yesterday's Guardian that put a smile on my face:
German lovers – aged six and five – try to elope to Africa
Mika and his girlfriend Anna-Bell found on way to airport with lilo, swimming trunks and a witness for the wedding in tow
Mika and his girlfriend Anna-Bell found on way to airport with lilo, swimming trunks and a witness for the wedding in tow
It is a dream that has been shared by lovers across the centuries – the chance to elope to exotic lands. But few would have been as bold and spontaneous as six-year-old Mika and his five-year-old sweetheart Anna-Bell who, after mulling over their options in secret, packed their suitcases on New Year's Eve and set off from the German city of Hanover to tie the knot under the heat of the African sun.
The children left their homes at dawn while their unwitting parents were apparently sleeping, and took along Mika's seven-year-old sister, Anna-Lena, as a witness to the wedding.
Donning sunglasses, swimming armbands and dragging a pink blow-up lilo and suitcases on wheels packed with summer clothes, cuddly toys and a few provisions, they walked a kilometre up the road, boarded a tram to Hanover train station and got as far as the express train that would take them to the airport before a suspicious station guard alerted police.
"What struck us was that the little ones were completely on their own and that they had lots of swimming gear with them," said Holger Jureczko, a police spokesman. He described Mika and Anna-Bell as "sweethearts" who had "decided to get married in Africa where it is warm, taking with them as a witness Mika's sister".
Anna-Bell told the German television station RTL: "We wanted to get married and so we just thought: 'Let's go there.' "
Mika said: "We wanted to take the train to the airport, then we wanted to get on a plane and when we arrived we wanted to unpack the summer things and then we wanted to go for a bit of a stroll in the sun."
Mika and Anna-Lena's mother, who was not identified, said she had known nothing of her children's plan. "I'm still in a state of shock. I thought 'I'm playing a part in a bad movie.' When we realised the kids were missing we went looking for them." But only when the police called did they realise what had happened.
Asked why they failed to let their parents know, the children said they thought they would not be gone for long.
Mika told police he instigated the plan having been inspired by a winter holiday with his family in Italy. "Based on this the children began to make plans for the future," Jureczko said.
To allay their disappointment at being caught, Hanover police gave them a tour of the police headquarters. Jureczko said: "They'll have the chance to put their plan into action at a later date".
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Back on the Other Side
Well my sheepish silence probably tells you I never did make it to Exarcheia, because at the last minute family from England decided to spend Christmas with me and everything passed in a blur of shopping and eating.
But I'm still thinking about the Episodes, as they're referred to. What have I observed on repeat visits to the city centre, Omonia and Athinas street? Total normality, people just going about their day to day business. All of this makes me feel that the media have hyped things up to hysterical proportions, thus scaring the local population into staying away from the city centre and resulting in businesses losing money because of the media, not because of actual events.
Coverage has died off somewhat only to be rekindled by the shooting of a policeman a few days back who is now in hospital recovering. Where events will go from here is anyone's guess.
As I come into this fresh new year, my third year in Athens, there is a lot to reflect upon and a lot to be hopeful for. My aims for this year are to learn how to play the lyra and take up the tango. These aside, things I have to do are study for and get a financial qualification that would make my job less of a confusing blur and try not to get fired, both of with will require every ounce of my will power.
I also have to find a beachside venue (bar/scrap of beach/beach house) to book for a late August, early September beach wedding party. Anyone know anybody who lives on the beach and would let me rent their house for a night or two?
I'm not worried about Athens. This is a spontaneous city and whatever happens, we'll take it in our stride. What I don't want to see is the momentum of the protests fade away and have all been for nothing.
But I'm still thinking about the Episodes, as they're referred to. What have I observed on repeat visits to the city centre, Omonia and Athinas street? Total normality, people just going about their day to day business. All of this makes me feel that the media have hyped things up to hysterical proportions, thus scaring the local population into staying away from the city centre and resulting in businesses losing money because of the media, not because of actual events.
Coverage has died off somewhat only to be rekindled by the shooting of a policeman a few days back who is now in hospital recovering. Where events will go from here is anyone's guess.
As I come into this fresh new year, my third year in Athens, there is a lot to reflect upon and a lot to be hopeful for. My aims for this year are to learn how to play the lyra and take up the tango. These aside, things I have to do are study for and get a financial qualification that would make my job less of a confusing blur and try not to get fired, both of with will require every ounce of my will power.
I also have to find a beachside venue (bar/scrap of beach/beach house) to book for a late August, early September beach wedding party. Anyone know anybody who lives on the beach and would let me rent their house for a night or two?
I'm not worried about Athens. This is a spontaneous city and whatever happens, we'll take it in our stride. What I don't want to see is the momentum of the protests fade away and have all been for nothing.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Sights and Sounds of Athens
It may be one week too late, but yesterday I decided to go down into central Athens and Panepistimio to see for myself what exactly has been happening to my city for the last week. I took a bus that should have taken me all the way to Omonia square, but was stopped at the last set of traffic lights before entering central Athens.
"These f*cking police, they didn't even tell us they'd be closing the road." muttered the bus driver as he let his passengers spill into the road and reach their destinations on foot.
I joined a scattering of people heading towards Syntagma and felt my heart start to pound the closer we got. I wanted to see Athens, but I wasn’t sure if I’d be prepared for what I would see. In the end, it seems to me Athens bounced back better than anyone could have predicted.
It was eerily quite on the walk to Syntagma Square. Athens looked as it does on any other day, until closer looks revealed broken glass on shop fronts and graffiti everywhere; "ALEXI, THIS NIGHT IS FOR YOU" screamed a red sentence from a marble wall. Near the parliament, I saw the battered marble slabs that a protestor had been caught smashing on camera earlier in the week to throw at riot police.
At the square itself, a few hundred people had gathered to observe a peaceful sit in the memory of Alexandros to mark one week since his death. The crowd was very varied; small children, old hippies, smartly dressed middle aged women and of course high spirited teenagers.
There was a lot of broken glass, but not that many burnt out shops, but then again the worst of the incidents hadn’t taken place in Syntagma.
Athens is a schizophrenic city. I have never seen Syntagma square so quiet, despite the people gathered there, and yet one road away, on Ermou street, business was brisk as Christmas shoppers darted in and out of shops that were either unaffected by the riots or have been quickly fixed to make it seem so.
If you looked down Ermou street, it could have been any other Saturday afternoon – shoppers, well dressed women clutching gigantic Attica Stores bags, street performers. If you turned and looked towards Syntagma, you realised that something was amiss. The square was cordoned off, and the burnt out Christmas tree already dismantled. A few curious guests had gathered on the balconies of the Great Britain hotel to observe the goings on below.
The people who were doing the best business of all were the illegal street vendours who for once in their lives were looking relaxed as they lined Ermou from top to bottom with blankets displaying their wares. After all, for the time being the attentions of the police lie elsewhere.
I continued on towards Panepistimio and it was the same story there, except here almost everything was shuttered and closed. Once again, lots of broken glass and scars of where Molotov bombs had hit the ground, and the evidence that things had been bad around here was that despite the fire damage not being very visible, the whole area had a lingering smell of burnt petrol.
Akadimia was not much different. A young woman holding her Christmas shopping approached me, “Do you know when the bus will come? We’ve been waiting here for so long.” I told her it was best to try the metro as the police had closed off roads without letting public transport know. She thanked me and walked away.
I contemplated going on to Exarchia, but didn’t see what good it would do. I had come armed with nothing except a notebook – no candles or flowers. What good would it do to go just go and see the spot where Alexandros was killed, like some sort of misery tourist?
It was nearly 4, so I decided to head back to Syntagma square and join in with the protest for a while – after all I’d spent a week watching the protests from the comfort of my sofa, so it was the very least I could do.
Nearing the square, I passed a brigade of riot police. “Do you remember that time when we were at the Athens Albania football match? Hey man, I said do you remember that time when…” traffic swallowed up their words as I walked away, wondering what was so memorable about the time when they were at the Athens Albania match.
At the Square I mingled with the crowd and looked at all these young people who had come out in the cold weather. A few were handing out leaflets. Others sat in groups here and there. A group of girls with multicoloured hair began to sing “Always look on the Bright side of life.” A young couple kissed. There were flowers everywhere: clutched in hands, poking out of backpacks, braided into hair.
A group of men had gathered in a small circle and one of them was giving out stickers that read PLEASE KILL ME, which the gang was gleefully sticking all over their clothes. A teenage boy walked past, talking on a mobile phone in English “Well, there’s a lot of things we want to change…”
Some teenagers sitting in the middle of the road produced a guitar and began to pass it round and sing songs. Black candles were produced and carefully lit in the center of the gathering. The teenagers draped themselves over each other in that casual way that teenagers do. They looked so full of life, so hopeful and so determined. The atmosphere was quiet and peaceful, and I hoped for their sake that it would remain that way.
As I began to walk away and head towards Syntagma metro, I overhead a very telling conversation. A cameraman with his colleagues dug his hands into his pockets and said “Come on guys, let’s pack up. Everyone else is starting to leave too.” His colleagues said it was better to stay a while. “What’s the point? Nothing’s happening. The station doesn’t want this. They won’t run it unless something happens.”
Such a sad fact that riots with Molotovs and burnt cars make better news than a sit in with flowers and candles.
"These f*cking police, they didn't even tell us they'd be closing the road." muttered the bus driver as he let his passengers spill into the road and reach their destinations on foot.
I joined a scattering of people heading towards Syntagma and felt my heart start to pound the closer we got. I wanted to see Athens, but I wasn’t sure if I’d be prepared for what I would see. In the end, it seems to me Athens bounced back better than anyone could have predicted.
It was eerily quite on the walk to Syntagma Square. Athens looked as it does on any other day, until closer looks revealed broken glass on shop fronts and graffiti everywhere; "ALEXI, THIS NIGHT IS FOR YOU" screamed a red sentence from a marble wall. Near the parliament, I saw the battered marble slabs that a protestor had been caught smashing on camera earlier in the week to throw at riot police.
At the square itself, a few hundred people had gathered to observe a peaceful sit in the memory of Alexandros to mark one week since his death. The crowd was very varied; small children, old hippies, smartly dressed middle aged women and of course high spirited teenagers.
There was a lot of broken glass, but not that many burnt out shops, but then again the worst of the incidents hadn’t taken place in Syntagma.
Athens is a schizophrenic city. I have never seen Syntagma square so quiet, despite the people gathered there, and yet one road away, on Ermou street, business was brisk as Christmas shoppers darted in and out of shops that were either unaffected by the riots or have been quickly fixed to make it seem so.
If you looked down Ermou street, it could have been any other Saturday afternoon – shoppers, well dressed women clutching gigantic Attica Stores bags, street performers. If you turned and looked towards Syntagma, you realised that something was amiss. The square was cordoned off, and the burnt out Christmas tree already dismantled. A few curious guests had gathered on the balconies of the Great Britain hotel to observe the goings on below.
The people who were doing the best business of all were the illegal street vendours who for once in their lives were looking relaxed as they lined Ermou from top to bottom with blankets displaying their wares. After all, for the time being the attentions of the police lie elsewhere.
I continued on towards Panepistimio and it was the same story there, except here almost everything was shuttered and closed. Once again, lots of broken glass and scars of where Molotov bombs had hit the ground, and the evidence that things had been bad around here was that despite the fire damage not being very visible, the whole area had a lingering smell of burnt petrol.
Akadimia was not much different. A young woman holding her Christmas shopping approached me, “Do you know when the bus will come? We’ve been waiting here for so long.” I told her it was best to try the metro as the police had closed off roads without letting public transport know. She thanked me and walked away.
I contemplated going on to Exarchia, but didn’t see what good it would do. I had come armed with nothing except a notebook – no candles or flowers. What good would it do to go just go and see the spot where Alexandros was killed, like some sort of misery tourist?
It was nearly 4, so I decided to head back to Syntagma square and join in with the protest for a while – after all I’d spent a week watching the protests from the comfort of my sofa, so it was the very least I could do.
Nearing the square, I passed a brigade of riot police. “Do you remember that time when we were at the Athens Albania football match? Hey man, I said do you remember that time when…” traffic swallowed up their words as I walked away, wondering what was so memorable about the time when they were at the Athens Albania match.
At the Square I mingled with the crowd and looked at all these young people who had come out in the cold weather. A few were handing out leaflets. Others sat in groups here and there. A group of girls with multicoloured hair began to sing “Always look on the Bright side of life.” A young couple kissed. There were flowers everywhere: clutched in hands, poking out of backpacks, braided into hair.
A group of men had gathered in a small circle and one of them was giving out stickers that read PLEASE KILL ME, which the gang was gleefully sticking all over their clothes. A teenage boy walked past, talking on a mobile phone in English “Well, there’s a lot of things we want to change…”
Some teenagers sitting in the middle of the road produced a guitar and began to pass it round and sing songs. Black candles were produced and carefully lit in the center of the gathering. The teenagers draped themselves over each other in that casual way that teenagers do. They looked so full of life, so hopeful and so determined. The atmosphere was quiet and peaceful, and I hoped for their sake that it would remain that way.
As I began to walk away and head towards Syntagma metro, I overhead a very telling conversation. A cameraman with his colleagues dug his hands into his pockets and said “Come on guys, let’s pack up. Everyone else is starting to leave too.” His colleagues said it was better to stay a while. “What’s the point? Nothing’s happening. The station doesn’t want this. They won’t run it unless something happens.”
Such a sad fact that riots with Molotovs and burnt cars make better news than a sit in with flowers and candles.
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
The Dam Breaks
A shockingly small white coffin emerges in a sea of young people dressed in black, and applause goes up to say a last goodbye to Alexandros-Andreas Grigoropoulos, the 15 year old who was shot dead at point blank range on Saturday night by police in Exarcheio.
Staggering behind the coffin were the parents, crippled by grief, and his mother who could barely stay on her feet. Her son had called her to tell her he had reached the centre safely, where he was celebrating the birthday of a friend. A mere ten minutes later, she was told to rush to the hospital where his life ebbed away for absolutely no reason.
And Greece erupted. The generation of Alexandros, tired of a government that has refused to ease their frustration, fed up of working their fingers to the bone and still being the first generation to be worse off than the one that preceeded it, dispairing at living in a country where it's not what you know but who you know and hopeless at watching their parents dig deep into debt to provide them with degrees that turn out to be meaningless, has finally boiled over in anger.
If anyone hoped that the three days of riots would let up soon, the images from the funeral of the teenager are likely to set things off all over again.
Despite throwing my hands up in frustration at the hot headedness of the Greeks who like nothing better than having a strike or a riot, this time I am completely backing the young people who have taken to the streets in anger.
No one has listened to their voices, and now they are lashing out in the one way they know will finally get everyone's attention.
Whatever really did happen on Saturday night, one thing is clear from the eye witness accounts (unfortunateley for the police, there are several and they all concur). Alexandros and his friends got into an argument with two police officers in the bohemian district of Exarcheio. There was no baying mob as the police claimed. Shots were fired, supposedly in the air, and an unarmed teenager lay dying on the road as the two officers calmly walked away.
I've been to Exarcheio, it's one of my favourite parts of Athens. It's a part of town that goes against the grain, where young people are able to find expression, and maybe it's this that terrifies the authorities so much, especially the police who really ought to have something better to do.
Every single time I go to Menandrou street, the police are there. But are they cleaning up the drug users and prostitutes operating in clear view? No! Of course not. They're too busy breaking up groups of immigrants who gather on the weekend in the only part of town that they can really claim as theirs. When they're not busy beating up immigrants, they're stopping cars driven by women to flirt with them and issuing tickets if the ladies get irritated. And when they're not doing that, they're shooting dead unarmed teenagers.
The Greek media has thrown impartiality out of the window and turned on the police. Kudos to them, because all though this police killing is getting unprecedented levels of coverage, the news debates have made sure to mention police killings in the past, not only Greeks but immigrants and the Roma too.
Meanwhile the riots have divided society down the middle. I am in full favour of them, believing that it's healthy for a government to be scared of its people when it really fucks up. And this time the government deserves everything it gets.
Greece has been a member of the EU since 1981, but is plagued by corrupt and self-interested politicians, crippling bureaucracy, cronyism and an increasingly disillusioned public.
The left wing government of the PASOK party was voted out in favour of the centre right New Democracy party in 2004 in a move to affect change in the country. But the change that the Greek public had hoped for was not to come and the government’s failure to listen to their voice came to fruition on Saturday night.
The crowds that have taken to the streets in anger at the unprovoked murder of a teenager represent all spectrums of Greek society, but mainly members of what is referred to in Greece as Generation 700 Euro, in reference to an entire generation of young people who despite enjoying an unprecedented level of further education are not able to find jobs that pay them more than EUR 700 a month, a sum that is barely able to cover a modest lifestyle.
The cost of daily living in Greece has rocketed while pay rates have remained the same after the Euro replaced the inflation-ridden Drachma in 2002, resulting in one in five Greeks living below the poverty line and young people being unable to afford to move out of the parental household or start families.
Greek youngsters face some of the toughest school systems and university entrance standards in Europe through a poorly funded educational system and are then subject to government entry quotas for universities that fall well below the actual demand. The result is families putting themselves under huge financial pressure to educate their children overseas.
Despite all this, Greece has one of the highest rates of unemployment in the EU for under 25s and of the original 15 EU states, it is the only one where higher education does nothing to improve a candidate’s job prospects.
Simple day to day tasks like the installation of a phone line or the paying of taxes are in Greece an exercise in negotiation skills and bribe paying.
Add to this a government that seems embarrassingly incapable of dealing with 21st century problems like the processing of illegal immigrants, a bullying police force that acts with impunity and now a global financial crisis impacting the country’s faltering economy, and it’s easy to see so many young people are so angry.
In my opinion only a small section of the crowds are trouble makers. The rest are just plain angry and are venting this anger through violence. And really, when you consider all the facts, why the hell should they not be angry? As so many news commentators have said, this is a generation without hope. The youngsters waiting outside at Alexandros's funeral were crying not only for the waste of a life, but also for themselves and their wasted lives in a country where the government is not the least bit bothered about their futures. They were tears of anger, sadness and frustration.
If this government has any brains at all, they will take a serious look at cracking down on the grievances of the young people who see no future instead of the rioters themselves.
Glass can be fixed, shops are insured. If they wipe out the hope of an entire generation, they are sowing the seeds for their own demise and if that's the road they want to go down, we haven't seen anything yet.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Mamma Mia becomes UK's Fastest Ever Selling DVD
And why shouldn't it be? Mamma Mia has become the fastest selling DVD ever in the UK, beating Titanic, the success of which I never really got anyway.
On my flight back from the UK with Aegean Airlines, they played Mamma Mia and I watched it feeling so happy with my life in Greece. I may not live on a Greek island, but I'm doing pretty well. And just imagine, so many people sitting under grey skies and eating cheese and onion crisps with the heating on in June must watch that movie, sigh and think "How I wish I was living in Greece, spending carefree summers frolicking on beaches."
And that's my life! Isn't it great? Sometimes we watch a movie and try to console ourselves that movies tend to exaggerate things - life in Greece can't be all that sublime.
Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but it is. I may not be rich or extremely successful in my profession, and I don't live in a big house. I have a pile of bills on my desk that adds up to more than our combined monthly incomes.
But I'm still happy with my simple little life in a place that taught me to put that childhood skip back into my step.
My God, how much I want it to be summer right now!
On my flight back from the UK with Aegean Airlines, they played Mamma Mia and I watched it feeling so happy with my life in Greece. I may not live on a Greek island, but I'm doing pretty well. And just imagine, so many people sitting under grey skies and eating cheese and onion crisps with the heating on in June must watch that movie, sigh and think "How I wish I was living in Greece, spending carefree summers frolicking on beaches."
And that's my life! Isn't it great? Sometimes we watch a movie and try to console ourselves that movies tend to exaggerate things - life in Greece can't be all that sublime.
Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but it is. I may not be rich or extremely successful in my profession, and I don't live in a big house. I have a pile of bills on my desk that adds up to more than our combined monthly incomes.
But I'm still happy with my simple little life in a place that taught me to put that childhood skip back into my step.
My God, how much I want it to be summer right now!
Thursday, November 27, 2008
What Kind of Magic Spell to Use?
Yesterday I found Labyrinth on Youtube and went ballistic, watching the movie and replaying the songs and dancing to them. I was incredibly pleased with myself, and sure that Mr Zeus would share my enthusiasm at finding this classic childhood movie. So when he came home from work to find me dancing around he asked me what I was watching and I excitedly told him, "Labyrinth! You remember Labyrinth, don't you?"
And he didn't. Because while I was a five year old, watching Labyrinth with my sisters and friends, my imagination running wild with goblins and fairy creatures, Mr Zeus was already well into his dating life. Of course he wouldn't know what Labyrinth was! Sometimes I forget about our age difference.
I love this movie. It had such an influence on me that I was still wearing costume jewellery well into my early 20s for the sole purpose of using it as currency if I ever needed to bribe a goblin.
It's always a little sad watching movies from your childhood, especially fantasy movies, that you absolutely believed were real. I always thought that I would get to visit the Labyrinth one day. I watched it more as a documentary rather than a movie. So sad that we all must lose that blissful innocence.
Enjoy it here.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Meandering Post
Well it's been a long time since my last post and that's mostly because I've been doing nothing much but monitoring the activities of spots on my face. But now I have a puppy which means a lot less time to sit around doing nothing. The only downside is that since he's still so young, I can't leave the house when there's no one else to mind him.
What am I going to do when I go to the UK for a week tomorrow?
With so much sitting at home I've had time to check out the new MTV Greece channel. It's not bad. I've never watched My Super Sweet Sixteen before and I find it pretty revolting. If you've not watched it before either, don't. Basically all it is cameras following ultra rich and ultra spoilt girls as they plan and execute their 16th birthday parties. It's car crash TV if I'm honest - the one I watched was about a vicious little brat called Cindy who buys a wedding dress and blows a huge amount of money on a Cinderella style party.
She was tiny and she was God awful as a person. I wished I could grab her and flush her down the toilet like the little turd she is.
I am also avidly following Greece's first X Factor. I don't have favourites to win or lose, except to say that Kokkina Xalia are really very good and Eirini Papadpoulou has disappointed me greatly by ditching her curly hair as soon as she got through, and with it went her talent.
But I think ladies, we can all agree that the real star of the show is Sakis *smooch*. No seriously, he's a nice guy too. My cousin (via marriage) was in hospital for some very very serious surgery and he called her to wish her good luck. Now that's star quality! He also left the hospital after the birth of his child wearing this which should really catch on in Athens where only tourists are stupid enough to try to take to the streets with a stroller and nearly get their offspring killed.
What am I going to do when I go to the UK for a week tomorrow?
With so much sitting at home I've had time to check out the new MTV Greece channel. It's not bad. I've never watched My Super Sweet Sixteen before and I find it pretty revolting. If you've not watched it before either, don't. Basically all it is cameras following ultra rich and ultra spoilt girls as they plan and execute their 16th birthday parties. It's car crash TV if I'm honest - the one I watched was about a vicious little brat called Cindy who buys a wedding dress and blows a huge amount of money on a Cinderella style party.
She was tiny and she was God awful as a person. I wished I could grab her and flush her down the toilet like the little turd she is.
I am also avidly following Greece's first X Factor. I don't have favourites to win or lose, except to say that Kokkina Xalia are really very good and Eirini Papadpoulou has disappointed me greatly by ditching her curly hair as soon as she got through, and with it went her talent.
But I think ladies, we can all agree that the real star of the show is Sakis *smooch*. No seriously, he's a nice guy too. My cousin (via marriage) was in hospital for some very very serious surgery and he called her to wish her good luck. Now that's star quality! He also left the hospital after the birth of his child wearing this which should really catch on in Athens where only tourists are stupid enough to try to take to the streets with a stroller and nearly get their offspring killed.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
A Miracle
How many times have we watched Hollywood movies where the president is portrayed by a black man and snorted "Yeah right!" And now in a case of life imitating art, here he is, Barack Obama, America's very first African American president. Thank you God!
You know, for all my complaining about America, I must say kudos to them. As Obama said rightly, America is the only place where this could happen even though to the rest of us, we doubted.
For an ethnic minority, especially the bad sort of ethnic minority who has darker skin than the population, to win an election in Greece would never happen. It would never happen in the Home Country and for all its "We're more racially equal than the Americans" it has yet to happen in the UK and I somehow doubt it will. We'll be stuck with fuddy duddy, hoity toity upper class old white men for a long time to come. It didn't happen in India, the world's supposed largest democracy when Sonia Ghandi had to abscond her leadership because she was Italian born.
So congratulations to Obama and all he had to overcome to get to where he did. Sadly, he is right. It's a victory almost unfathomable anywhere else in the world. Three words of advice though: bullet proof glass.
Now excuse me while I bake a cake to celebrate!
Image: http://tiny.cc/7zhn0
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
The World Looks On
Today is an important day for the whole world as we wait to see who the Americans vote for their next president. Hands up those of you who are worried Joe the Yokle isn't qualified enough to take part in such an important world decision?
Needless to say, I've been backing Obama since the Democrats announced him as their official candidate. Previously I was torn between him and Clinton - do I back a potential woman president or do I back a potential ethnic minority president? I wonder if I'll ever see an ethnic minority female president in my life time! But as Sarah Palin shows, as a woman you shouldn't back a candidate just because she's female. *Shudder*
Needless to say, I've been backing Obama since the Democrats announced him as their official candidate. Previously I was torn between him and Clinton - do I back a potential woman president or do I back a potential ethnic minority president? I wonder if I'll ever see an ethnic minority female president in my life time! But as Sarah Palin shows, as a woman you shouldn't back a candidate just because she's female. *Shudder*
The stupidity of this woman is astounding. Here I was fretting that I was underqualified for my job when I could have been aiming to be Prime Minister, dayyam! And another thing; how can someone so "pro life" be so anti animal life? Surely the two don't match? Oh well, it's the US of A and after 2000 and 2004, I believe most of us resigned ourselves to not trying to understand the mysteries of how the Americans think.
I want Obama to win so badly, as does most of the Home Country because quite frankly, we're starting to get a bit pissed off with American bombs just accidentally finding their way across our borders and killing our people. Currently we're enjoying all the trimmings of warfare - suicide bombings, economic meltdown, no food, no power, no jobs, enemy bombs raining overhead - without actually officially being at war with anyone. Lightly put, it kinda sucks.
So go Obama, go! I'll be staying up to watch the results come in on Skai.
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