August 23rd

A recurrent theme today was “don’t think American in Greece.” It came up both in the school and in the search for a house, though in fairly different ways.

This morning began with our first foray to the European grocery store chain Carrefour with the intention of actually buying something. Now, this may sound a little silly, but when only a handful of the products or signs are even in the Roman alphabet, buying yogurt is suddenly an adventure. We wandered around the bottom floor of Carrefour for a few minutes taking in the sounds and smells. There’s something much more enticingly aromatic about European and South American markets than the antiseptic smell of US markets. There were pallets of ice with mirror-eyed fish of every hue staring at us as they waited their turn to be shoved belly down in the display. I didn’t have the faintest clue as to what kind of fish they were, but they looked delicious despite their sad looks.

The vegetables and fruits were interesting to touch and smell. I assume that most of Europe’s fruits come from Central America and Mexico, so the products have to be picked well before they’re ready, and my chalky apple supports my assumption. First, though, to buy two apples and two bananas. Like good tourists, we watched closely as a few people picked out fruit and took it to a man standing by some scales who weighed the bags and slapped a price sticker on them. After a few minutes of this, we wandered over with our two bags and said, “Kalimera,” or “good morning.” He replied and set the bags on the scales. Then he rattled off something in Greek and motioned toward the distance. We froze. After what seemed an eternity, I mumbled, “I don’t understand Greek, I’m sorry (not sure how to write it in Greek).” He smirked and waved his hand in the international “forget it” way.

When we made it upstairs to pay, I did something really stupid. Humiliating. The total came to 1.54 Euros, and I handed the lady 2.60. Why? Focusing so intently on not messing up one aspect of an experience has a way of messing up all other aspects of it.

ACS of Athens (American Community School of Athens) is outside of Athens proper in the highly regarded neighborhood of Halandri. We took a bus there and were greeted by the HR director, director, principals, and a couple other people whose titles got lost in the shuffle. It’s a very nice campus which I won’t begin to describe now (check it out at www.acs.gr) because there’s too much. It was a great morning for me because I found out what I’ll be teaching beginning in less than two weeks! I get to explore teaching middle school. For those of who know me well will appreciate the cosmically cruel irony of this.

I love the aura of the school and its people. US schools seem to be stifled by so many bureaucratic blankets which purportedly are for the benefit of students (NCLB, standardized testing, IEPs) but which ultimately turn teachers into secretaries. That doesn’t seem to be the case here, and I hope my first impression and the idealistic things they said to us today are more than simply platitudes meant to calm our fears. The "don't think American in Greece" came up not in the academic aspect or the school's culture as a whole but in the culture of dealing individually with students and especially with parents.

The afternoon was devoted to hunting for houses. We weren’t sure how this would be done, but there was little mystery or finesse to it: twelve of us piled into a stiflingly hot van with two Greek Remax agents, the HR director, and a bored driver. In all, we drove to fifteen different apartments and walked through them. I cannot begin to tell you how tedious this was. Worse than the tedium, though, were the financial “surprises” that kept coming up. Some of the highlights:

• In Athens, “unfurnished” also means no fridge or stove or washer or light fixtures.
• To rent an apartment, you are required to pay the first month’s rent
• And then another month’s rent as a deposit
• And then another month’s rent as additional deposit
• And then another month’s rent to the real estate agent
• To furnish a house is about 1000 Euros.
• Typical rent was 600 Euros.
• Total: 3400 Euros.
• We’re given a 2641 Euro relocation allowance.

When we got back from this incredibly depressing excursion which yielded only three apartments which anyone liked (and we need about 8), we decided to head down to the Plaka on the metro. The Plaka is the oldest part of the city which surrounds the Agora and the Acropolis. I think. I’m still figuring this out. We shared a lovely meal with some other people under the beautifully lit Agora, and we were intently watched by several cats who perched on the fence two feet from me. Disconcerting.

I was complimented by four different people on my Greek accent today, and one of them asked if I was familiar with Greek. I’ll take that as a good sign.

Kaleenekhta (good night).