The things you over hear…

One of the things about living in a small community is you think you get to know everything very quickly. Having just read Anne Zouroudi’s novel ‘The Messenger of Athens” (and thoroughly enjoyed it, I highly recommend it,) I realised what I always knew – that I don’t know half of what goes on in my community.

But then I don’t pretend to, as some people do. I love it when I hear gossip and know for a fact that it’s wrong and I love it even more when I overhear people talking and they clearly have no idea what they are talking about. I'm not being snobbish here as I do it too, we all do it, but these days I always cover myself when imparting news by saying something like ‘apparently’, ‘allegedly’ or by simply blaming someone else for the news in case I am wrong. So…

Tourists (or visitors as we call them these days, or ‘residentially challenged’ as we will probably have to call them under some EU ruling one day soon…) are a great source of many things. Most importantly to the island they are a source of income; most importantly to me they are a source of ridicule… I didn’t mean that, they are a source of… well just a source really. For a writer to be able to sit and observe and listen to some of the bores we get around here, well – let me tell you, you hardly need any imagination to dream up characters. Someone once suggested a soap opera set on Symi, I say come and sit in the square and listen/watch – particularly later in the season when the old faithfuls come back for their annual visit to ‘their little piece of paradise’.

For example I had to laugh at some show off yesterday in the square as I sat reading:

“Of course this is my fourteenth visit you know, oh yes, I’m virtually a local now, Lefteris is my best friend I always greet him with Kalamari and he always smiles back at me.”

(That’s ‘cos you’re wishing him ‘squid’ first thing in the morning…)

“Is this only your second time did you say? Is it? Oh dear, well you'll soon get the hang of it. You know when you've been coming as long as we have… Oh look! There’s that dear little man who always has his trousers undone… yoo-hoo!”

(He has no idea who she is and I've never seen him with his trousers undone. – I’m not sure whether I should be smirking behind my book but I am.)

“…Do you know [name of a rep]…? No? never mind but she has a lawn, I think there is a sports field too with grass but that’s it for the island, they have no water you know… oh look at that poor boy with no shoes… I love this island you know but I do feel sorry for the children with nothing to do…”

(This one happens to have two bikes, a play station, DVD and computer to my knowledge and probably many other distraction besides – and plenty of shoes. I'm starting to get annoyed now…)

“That’s why there are so many motorbikes you see, when we first came there were none, well hardly any and no road, you couldn’t even buy mushrooms could you dear?”

(Husband appears quite catatonic and the people she’s bombarding are glazing over. I'm losing the will to live…)

“And since they put those street lights in, well the view has simply gone, they’ve ruined it!”

(And saved several nasty accidents from happening.)

“Now where are you staying… oh, you’re with [name of a quite satisfactory holiday company said with a sneer] are you? We always used to come with [name of a holiday company said with reverence] but now we have to make our own arrangements. Terribly tiresome but after fifteen years we know how to get from the airport to Mandrooki harbour so it’s really quite simple. And where are you staying? I see, so no view then. We always stay at Villa what’s-its-name and the neighbours are like family. She had a child recently and we sent a card. Would you like a drink… Lefteris mou!”

(Lefteris looks across at me and slightly raises one eyebrow. The gesture says it all.)

“Ena potori grassy… white – he knows what I mean, he’s been serving me for sixteen years – K enas beer k… - for you? Are you sure? Very well… - k enas nirio parakalo.”

Now then, I’m not the expert on speaking Greek but even I know that was completely arse about face. Well, some words were in the right order but not the right ones. And they weren’t pronounced correctly – and yet I understood them and, more importantly so did Lefteris. As he went back into the kafeneion he raised the other eyebrow at me.

She went on about Anne’s book – my ears pricked up.

“Have you read it? Oh it’s just perfect. If you know Symi like we do then you will recognise it completely and apparently there are people in the book who are based on characters here.”

(I assume she meant that the other way round and, if she wasn’t so busy talking out of her pompous bottom she’d realise that one of them was sitting a few feet away from her. I was laughing again now.)

“Are, here’s your drink. Ef-karist-too Lefteris. And yamas – that’s cheers to you. I do hope you enjoy your stay here, of course it has changed so over the last seventeen years what with cars, they should stop them having cars you know. They don’t need them really…”

(I’m sorry?)

“… and it would be so much more realistic if there were only donkeys and carts like there were when we first came here eighteen years ago…”

(What!?)

“They don’t seem to know how to deal with tourism but then I know for a fact that many people don’t go to school…”

I gave up at this point and went inside to do the washing up, (under a picture of Dimitris taken just after he got his university degree in advanced electronic communications.) Honestly! And you wonder why I sound cynical sometimes, but in the end you have to laugh.

Ah well. I must stop now and get dressed. Today I am going to wear baggy breeches and a floppy cap, grow a moustache and wear an embroidered waistcoat. Then I am going to walk to the harbour, barefooted, to see if I can find any scraps on the streets to feed myself with before walking back up the steps (in the dark) with my donkey on my back and just so that I can be pleasing to the eye of an ignorant, English, tourist.

Grr.