Why not in Greek?

If I were asked three years ago, I would say that a blog in greek would be too parochial in scope.

Although to a certain degree I still believe that, I have come to appreciate blogging in greek. The spontaneous imagery and clarity of meaning evoked when writing in one's mother tongue cannot be achieved with any other language, no matter how good a command of it one has. In addition to that, the greek blogging community has shown excellent signs of maturity, style, wit and emotion. I can now officially admit that I enjoy reading many greek blogs (just because they are greek however? Or is it because they are written in greek? Would I enjoy a greek blog about Germany written by a German philhellene? )

Despite this, however, I cannot but sympathise with the frustration of a foreigner who sees an interesting picture, quote or anything that transcends linguistic barriers, but cannot understand a word of the context within which it is set.

I have always believed in the fundamental greatness of a very popular comment by Wittgenstein : "The limits of my language mean the limits of my world".

Since our language is off limits for the world of most people, I find it easier to bring our world within the limits of their language.

But then why submit to the cultural imperialism of English? And where does it stop? Does it mean that for the sake of international entente we should all speak English or die?

Answers to come soon, in a blog near you...

Solen skiner i Karlstad

(photo by kaisla @ pbase)

The Swedes have an expression: "Hon skiner som solen i Karlstad", "she shines like the sun in Karlstad", to describe someone whose face radiates joy. Karlstad and the greater Värmland area has breathtaking vistas of majestic forests and calm lakes, so when the sun shines there on a crisp day it is the paragon of pastoral beauty.

The sun over Karlstad was the first thing that came to my mind upon awakening today, the second day of winter. The skies were clear, the air was crisp and it was the perfect opportunity for a walk, a haphazard wandering about my neighbourhood that would eventually bring me to the Syggros Estate (with the slight risk of my becoming roadkill on Kifissias Ave.).

I am fortunate enough to live in an area of Maroussi that is residential and not metropolitan in character. As it is, one can still find traces of the old days, when people would consider going for a picnic by the streams at Maroussi or Kifissia as a weekend getaway. (Ακόμα και τώρα γελάω με την "Κάλπικη Λίρα", όταν ο Λογοθετίδης λέει ότι το Ψυχικό είναι "ερημιές" ή "στου διαόλου τη μάνα" - δεν θυμάμαι ακριβώς...)








(για πόσο ακόμα θα αντιστεκεται η περιοχή; Σε πόσο καιρό η Κυψέλη θα φτάσει στην Ανθούσα;)

And then, there is the Syggrou Estate, left in a hazy status since the death of Ifigenia Syggrou, the heiress of Andreas Syggros, a Greek mogul of the late 19th century. Several acres of prime real estate open to the public, openly coveted by each and every major construction corporation in Greece, are a real oasis of calm next to one of the busiest streets in Europe


















(pics taken this morning)




The Estate sports two very interesting buildings : Syggros' villa and the chapel of St. Andrew, one of the very few, if not the only, chapels in Greece built in a gothic-neogothic style.
























A few paces later however the vision was shattered... looming at the skyline above the trees... the eyesore that is the Microsoft Kifissias building . It takes only one second for the calm to vanish. Another pitiful corporate office building, like all those other corporation buildings that rise along that congested and laughable wanna-be imitation of downtown Manhattan that is Kifissias Ave today...



Deplorable.
We have more sunshine than Sweden. We have clearer skies, at least as far as precipitation is concerned. Does the sun however shine upon us like in Karlstad?
Don't ask me. I know where I'm going for my month-long vacations each summer. Ask those who spend the hot July days in their ridiculous cubicles poring over data sheets, management reports, sales assessments, network traffic and so on.
Ask all those pitiful corporate slaves that jam Kifissias with their cars, when was the last time they had a vacation without having to hang by the cellphone, ready to be recalled at any minute. Ask them if they remember when was the last time they relaxed by the cliffs over the sea, listening to church bells tolling to hail a passing liner.

Ask them when was their last time they stretched their legs,after a day of rowing and fishing, by Iso Lohijärvi.
Go ahead. Ask them...
Pathetic creatures....

Verbum Caro factum est - The Word became Flesh

"A beginning is the time for taking the most delicate care that the balances are correct"

'Manual of Muad'Dib' by the Princess Irulan (from Frank Herbert's SF masterpiece "Dune")

Let us then dispense with the formalities.

My name is George, I am 27 years old and I am Greek.
I live in Maroussi, a suburb of Athens, the capital of Greece.
I am a doctor and (in the rather distant, I'm afraid) future I will be specialized in Neurology.

There, the forms have been obeyed.
Yet another blog has been created to contribute to the incessant drivel about failed romances, unrequited passions, power, corruption, hope, laughter, planets and species in danger and generally all the things that constitute that all-powerful force that herds the masses of humanity onward: the Banality of our Everyday Lives.

My blog will not be different. Why bother then?

Generally speaking, the decision to start a blog is not something to be taken lightly. Especially now, that even here in technologically underdeveloped Greece, blogs are all the rage, having attracted much attention lately.

However, the temptation was simply irresistible.

You see, even though several people who know me would gladly testify that I am a kind-hearted and compassionate person, deep inside I harbour the instincts of a malevolent éminence grise, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the opportunity to point the skeletal finger of accusation to anyone who at any time disagreed with My views, and say.... "I warned you...but now it's too late..." and smile with malevolent glee.

So here it begins. An outlet for my bitterness, an opportunity to vent my spleen against the steady grinding of our lives into a colourless routine, without passion and without compassion.

Before I commit this first post to digital posterity, let me state My first commitment:

I will not go down that easily...