Greece on Paper (part 2)

The delights of the economic crisis continue: public schools in Greece started this month with no books. Nope, not a single textbook for anyone. But have no fear. Amid the finger pointing in parliament (of which I have only the slightest, word on the street and occasional English-news article knowledge), solutions abound -- we will give the kids cd-roms of the material they need to study.

What's that, you say? What about kids who don't have computers? Oh, have no fear, we'll give them photocopies! (And now is when you ask what good a photocopy of a cd-rom is.)

Maybe they can look to their ancestors here. After all, this is the culture that brought us those great masters of the oral tradition -- Socrates, Plato, Aristotle. They will simply draw upon the ancients and forgo the modern amenity that is paper.

Papyrus, perhaps?

Greece on Paper (part 1)

Today we had the trifecta of strikes: metro, buses, and taxis. The government told millions of citizens in the little hamlet of Athens to lace up their sneaks and ... walk.  (We had an adventure today made possible by the free market: a private company that runs a shuttle bus to and from the Zoo.)

However, a trip to Greece wouldn't be complete without my FAVORITE kind of strike -- the garbage strike.

For those keeping score at home, here are some numbers: trips to Greece: six. Garbage strikes experienced: you guessed it, six. Yup, they bat a thousand on stinking piles of garbage. This current strike lasted about four days, which is worrisome. Usually they last a day or two; the garbagemen catch up on sleep, get drunk, and generally do whatever people with a few extra unexpected vacation days do. Then, they promptly get back to work. (I am presuming this. I have yet to meet an Athenian garbageman or woman, though I'd welcome the opportunity, if only to find out what they do while on strike.)

My very first trip to Athens was in December of 2001, and that particular garbage strike was epic. There were streets that were impassable (that's saying a lot with these drivers) due to the giant piles of trash. About four days after Christmas (presumably upon sobering up?) the garbagemen got back to work, and the garbage disappeared.

The smell is a nasal assault. Imagine -- the climate here is hot, blindingly sunny, and humid, and there are overflowing dumpsters about every 20 feet. That may be gross enough, but the part that gets me is the health risk. For the uninitiated, hold on to your Scottissue:  this is a country that does not flush toilet paper in the toilet; it goes into the garbage. Yup, I wrote that correctly. Every bathroom has a (hopefully small) garbage can with a lid that you put your toilet paper into.

Yes, yes, I understand that there are places on this planet where you still dig a hole to poop and then cover it up with dirt (from lack of plumbing, not because of hippie ideals). However, this outpost of the EU is supposed to be a first world country (albeit one in crisis). This is the culture that invented democracy, drama, and probably helped Al Gore with the Internet, uncredited. And yet, in 2011, their plumbing system is (literally) Byzantine. So, as you walk past the mountains of trash, you may see a different kind of movement. I swear you can see the e. Coli  colonizing, mobilizing, and planning an attack that would make the Ottoman Turks weak in the knees.

Really, this plumbing situation is just plain nasty. Please,  dig out of this crisis, and get some 21st century plumbing. Please.

Three Strikes and Yer Out: Paging Guiliani

Athens with the kids. We are having fun, seeing family, friends, and the sights. However, there is a lot of frustration here, and it's tough to get around -- both literally and figuratively. Trying to get from one place to another is a challenge. In one month, we have seen strikes aplenty: a garbage strike, two separate taxi strikes, a few metro strikes.

The metro strike: imagine if every subway train in New York shut down for 24 hours. Inconceivable without a natural (or sadly, un-natural) disaster. However, a fact of life here is that every day you have to check the news to see which mode of transport will be unavailable. For an economy that thrives on (or right now barely survives on) tourism, this is mind-boggling.

So, if you can't take the metro and you can't get a taxi, how about renting a car? Ahh, driving in Athens. It should be an Olympic sport (you lose, you die). However, there's a new element to driving this time around -- the squeegee guys are here!

My first thought, clouded by jet-lag and newly-acclimated to the hell that is humidity, when we arrived here was that this is a city that desperately needs Rudy Guiliani. You see, Athens reminds me of (my memories of) 1980's New York City. It may be the neon clothes, asymmetrical hair, or the music (ahhhhh, the Europop 80's music is back!), but what really reminds me of the 80s is the squeegee guys.

Back in the 80's, we would drive from Pennsylvania for a Yankee game and arrive in New York through a tunnel. As soon we emerged, the squeegee guys would descend, like so many pigeons to a potato chip.  Flash forward to Athens in 2011. The squeegee guys are everywhere here. Every street corner holds the possibility of a greasy windshield for pocket change. These guys are less aggressive than my memories of the New York variety, but they are ubiquitous, nonetheless.

Say what you will about Rudy Guiliani, but he got rid of the squeegee guys. In real estate terms, he spiffed up the curb appeal of a city. The next thing you know, Disney bought Times Square, and tourists began to feel safe, and descended upon the city to buy wickedly overpriced Broadway tickets and I heart NY tchotchkes. Maybe, just maybe, Guiliani could come here, get rid of the squeegee guys, and the the dominoes will start falling away from default.

So...how about it Rudy? Wanna come to Greece and arrest a few squeegee guys?