Greeks can be gruff. This is my studied opinion after spending a week in the myth-infused homeland of the gods, with its gruesome stories of bickering deities vying for power and favour.
My Airbnb hostess in Athens was the first to freak out at me. “Why are you late? You should have called! I have a baby! I’ve been waiting for you in this apartment for eight hours now!” For the record, I was not eight hours late, my hostess lived a mere 15 minutes away from the apartment, and I communicated with her the instant my plane landed, so now that I think about it, I’m kind of sorrynotsorry…
Then came the old couple on the ferry. The ones who freaked out when I took one of six empty seats around a table, because they had, in absentia, appropriated all six seats for themselves – only to abandon them after I meekly relocated. I sat at the next table and gave them the evil eye for the rest of the trip. Yeah, mister. You’d better get out your worry beads. Continue reading
