my biggest skill, adapting to the environment

So hi ho, hi ho off to Greece we go, with a few stops before our final destination to meet friends and family mom and dad had not seen since they’d moved to Canada. These stops not only included Athens but also Korinthos, Mesologi, Pirgos and small villages around these areas, before our arrival to where our new home was gonna be for the next few years. And by small I do mean small and don’t forget, mid ’80s.

Up to that point in our lives our routines included but were not limited to the following:

• Fresh milk & juice from a carton => Canned NOYNOY evaporated & condensed orange juice, just add water!
• Smurfs & Sesame Street & The Flintstones on weekend & holiday mornings (on a huge for it’s time TV) => EPT1, EPT2, that’s it
• Monthly McDonalds or KFC treats (after the monthly grocery stock up) => Souvlakia & “Laiki” agora once a week
• Coke, ice-lollies, Heinz Ketchup, streaky bacon, pancakes with maple syrup => HA! HA! & HA! We were very gracefully and politely offered vanilla submarines (a spoonful of vanilla infused glucose sort of thing in a cold glass of water) and we had no clue what everyone was talking about at the “kafeneio”
• Wall to wall carpeting, central heating, hot water on tap => Totally unknown to the area where houses still had roaring fireplaces in the kitchens
• School playgrounds, school nurse, ice skating & playing in the snow, bbqs in the park => Classes that shared a teacher for half a day each, the “epistatis” (school caretaker/handyman), school parades twice a year and school church going, Sunday school

My Greek was sort of ok tho heavily accented, but I could barely read and write out the greek alphabet and I was of school going age, the equivalent of second grade. You can imagine how much of change and culture shock one went through. I would hear the word Canada or get post from there and I would cry for days! Still in the end I adapted and although I can’t always say I feel Greece as “home”, I am and feel 100% Greek regardless.

13 years later I decided to do the whole thing again, only this time on my own. In the mid 90s I relocated to the UK, staying for the first year in Birmingham, in an area with practically no Greek community at all!

The very first night when I finally got to Birmingham after a 26h coach – taxi – plane – coach – train – taxi(x) journey, sorted out a whole load of misunderstandings about accommodation (lodging was a last minute solution) I finally went to my room, sat down, thought of my mom and cried for an hour. Not in a lady like fashion. Like a little girl, sobs, snot and all!

Another huge cycle of changes and me having to adapt again. I was asking for chips (expecting to get crisps) and I was getting french fries (“chips”). I was being asked if i had a “fag” and I was thinking “why the fuck would i have a gay man?!” I was being called “Love” by total strangers!

This time round OFC the adaptations were much easier. I was lodging with a fantastic family in Sutton Coldfield (not the roughest of areas you must admit), was enjoying my course, had computers and free internet everywhere.

Yet still those first few weeks every time I got a letter from Greece (yes we still did letters back then) I would still get really excited and when I spoke to my mom I still cried.

15 years down the line I have worked and played in many different places in the UK and I often find myself being in Greece on vacation and thinking of “going back home” meaning Hull. As somebody once told me “Hull is like a big old sofa, you don’t particularly like it but once you settle in you find it hard to get out!”

I sometimes think of going back to Greece and get scared of the reality shift I’d have to undergo this time practically middle aged :P On the other hand I know first hand that it’s the culture shocks that don’t kill us that make us stronger!

(NB: this post kicked off in my head after a conversation I was having with someone earlier)

Comments

I fond this post very interesting and informative