The ancient Greek philosopher Thales suggested that we should “love thy neighbor,” but how can we love our neighbors when we don’t even know them? We know the names of celebrities but we don’t know the names of our neighbors. It takes effort to know our neighbors and for them to know us.
“We are all One,” espoused Heraclitus, but nowadays we often look and act separately from one another. We say we don’t feel part of a community because we aren’t. We are more mobile these days, leading nomadic lives, moving often, working long hours, commuting, and staying indoors watching television or distracted by the internet, downloading movies instead of going out. And in times of crisis, we tend to draw inward to try and isolate ourselves from outside forces, attempting to create a sense of security. But we found that even during times of financial and social crisis in Greece, there is still a strong need to reach out and connect meaningfully with others, to strengthen the sense of belonging.
Do You Know Aunt Toula?
In many Greek villages and even towns, there are no numbers on the houses because everyone knows where everyone else lives. When arriving in the village, you simply describe who you are looking for and a kind villager will either provide directions to where you must go or stop whatever he or she is doing and take you there in person. While in Crete, we wanted to visit one of our many aunts, Aunt Toula, but we weren’t sure which house in the village was hers. So we showed a photo of her to some local villagers and they brought us to her house. We wondered if someone had shown us a photo of one of our neighbors or coworkers, would we have known where to find that person?
—EPICURUS
Food!
Some say everything happens around food in Greece! It may be more accurate to say everything happens around food, coffee, wine, and ouzo (or raki, the regional drink of Crete) but, in any case, it is while eating and drinking that Greeks connect. Again, it’s not all about the food—it’s about the people you eat with and the conversation and bonding that being together brings with it. Who you eat with is just as important as what you eat!
Food is the central focus of the family home, with most Greek mothers providing both food and nurturing to a home full of family and friends. No matter what time of day you arrive, there will always be food available. “Eat something. I’ll make you something special” are words we hear often. After years of being occupied by foreign powers and being deprived of basic necessities, the Greeks know very well that food is the basis of living and that people will always connect over food. Again, during the current crisis, we see the focus returning to food as the primary basic need, as well as the way for people to connect meaningfully with one another. Financial resources may be strained, luxury goods may remain on the store shelves, but food is the one thing that unites the village.
“Fifteen pounds of flour?” we asked, thinking it was a lot (almost 7 kg of flour) and that Alex’s mother had made a mistake in her recipe. “Yes, fifteen pounds,” she confirmed and continued listing the rest of the ingredients we would need to make the traditional koulourakia or Easter cookies. Oh yes, it was we who had forgotten—when baking, always make enough for the village; always make enough to share. Baking for the holidays is usually a group effort when the ladies in the village get together to socialize and make hundreds of cookies for the upcoming feast. Each person usually has her own family recipe, which was handed down to her through the ages, so it’s always an interesting affair to hear the debate: “Add more sugar.” “No, don’t add any more sugar.” “We use more cinnamon.” In the democracy that is Greece, indeed, everyone has their say.
One might say the Easter feast is the largest celebration of the year, but that is only if one hasn’t been to a local wedding that year, especially on the island of Crete where wedding parties in the city can grow to over a thousand well-wishers. It’s not uncommon to have large wedding parties with more than sixteen people in the bridal party because, after all, everyone is a cousin! It’s not unusual to go to the taverna and invite everyone in the whole village to the wedding and to put an open announcement in the local newspaper. It is the community that celebrates the wedding. There will be enough bread and cheese for everyone. There will be lamb on the spit and enough food to feed the army of wedding guests. Yes, food from many homes will be emptied onto platters and passed down the long tables set up in the village square or plateia. When, thousands of years ago, Cleobulus advised that moderation is best, he certainly wasn’t referring to the food at a Greek wedding!
“Food brings us together around the table,” explained Stavros as we shared the community table with him in a local taverna in the hillsides of Crete. “We never eat alone and we never eat in silence; well, except for the monks at Mount Athos,” he continued with a twinkle in his eye. As we looked around the rustic taverna we saw tables occupied by people of all ages—young children with their great grandparents and workmen in their overalls, covered with evidence of a hard day’s work, sharing the table with people whose attire signaled a more leisurely life.
On the community tables were a variety of large platters of appetizers (mezes or mezedes) and salads next to baskets brimming with freshly baked whole-grain breads and bottles of local olive oil. Everyone appeared to be savoring the food—sharing from common platters, not individual plates and portions. Everyone appeared to be savoring the conversations. The food and laughter were plentiful, symbolizing the simple pleasure of sharing a meal with friends in the presence of community.
The tradition of kerasmata, the buying of drinks for others, also united the taverna. The two men sitting off to the side, tossing their komboloi (worry beads) and watching a game on the television, stopped to share in a drink of ouzo or raki offered by some men at another table.
“Yamas (to our health),” said the pair as they raised their glasses. Giving a nod to the other men, they drank and resumed watching their game. Twenty minutes later, it was their turn to order a round of drinks for themselves and the other table, and the yamas exercise continued.
Interdependence
During our most recent travels throughout Greece, we observed a positive and meaningful albeit unintended result of Greece’s economic crisis: the rediscovery of the importance of the village! We’ve talked at length with both young people and older adults who not only are spending more time in their family’s village (horio), but also are investing considerable energies and resources to renovate structures and community infrastructure in the village. Besides seeking a reprieve from the chaos associated with living in highly populated areas, which are most negatively influenced by the current economic situation, these returning villagers are focusing more on the things that truly matter to them by essentially returning to their “roots.”
We asked many Greeks: “Why do you seem so resilient during this economic crisis?” More often than not, their responses centered on the beliefs that they could always go back to their villages, and that their grandparents (especially their grandmothers!) and extended families would care for them, and that they, in turn, would do the same. They knew that, at the very least, there would be food in the villages for all so that they all could survive.
Most of the food is grown or raised locally. Eggs, milk, cheese, fruit, vegetables, wine, olives, olive oil, and meat (sheep or rabbit) are all items traded amongst the families in the village. As our cousin Elsa told us, “We never bought eggs, there was always someone who had eggs to share.” For other items, they rely on traders who travel between villages in the area with large cars filled with bread, fish, and household items.
Relying on others is a shared value of the village. A woman we visited in Elounda, Crete, told us that she was going to Athens for a month. “But what about your child?” we asked. Her reply was telling, “There are many people in my village to look after my child while I am away,” she said with confidence.