Jessica the Greek

Anonymous Today was a fantastic day. Up early, after breakfast we headed down to the wharf where we boarded a small ferry that would take us to the island of Symi. It was about an hour's ride and though we had been warned about the rolly sea, for most of us the boat rocked like a cradle and put us into a restful sleep. Upon our arrival on the island, refreshed and ready for coffee, we stopped at a café just in time for a massive downpour. Sitting cozily under an awning with our cappuccinos and medium Greek coffees, next to a nice, warm stove, we waited out the squall. Soon enough, the skies cleared and we headed out in several groups toward whatever adventure awaited. A day full of wandering quaint, impossibly narrow and twisted streets, peering around corners and running into dead ends, discovering impressive vistas and eating satisfying souvlaki, ended sitting peacefully by the water, listening to the waves splashing on the rocks, watching the clouds move and change, and waiting for the boat (that we were not to miss under any circumstances) to arrive (late). All in all, it was a beautiful day, and one of the kind I imagine most of us dream about having in that idyllic place called "Greece." But the day was not over yet.
After our ride back to Rhodes, a walk to the hotel, dry socks and dinner, we watched a movie. That movie was "Zorba the Greek," a classic, as I understand it, depicting the struggle of a foreigner to understand the Cretan community. It was, I think, a masterful movie, and thought-provoking, to say the least. It was also, to use the alliteration currently popular (at least amongst me and Ivory), a bit of a "Debbie downer." You know, people getting stoned for controlling their sexuality... that kind of thing. You see, there is more than one "Greece." The communal nature of Greek culture, that we so often praise in this blog, often comes hand in hand with this thing called honor and shame. And let me just say, honor and shame sucks. So does patriarchy... which isn't necessarily connected to the whole collectivistic society thing, but tends to tag along for the ride.
There is no perfect identity. Whether you are discussing a national identity, a cultural identity, a gender identity, a collective identity, or an individual identity... they all have flaws. I haven't met anyone who's perfect, and I suppose the identities we construct can't be either. To say "Zorba the Greek," or "Jessica the Greek," is to refer to a national and a cultural identity. In all of the cultures I have encountered, I can pick out both good and bad... things I would like to adapt, and things I oppose. It isn't always visible at first glance, but cultures, like individuals, are neither entirely light, nor entirely dark... they have bright spots and shadows alike.
My day today is a reminder of this. The friendly people who gestured to us the right direction in the labyrinth streets, the cars that drove carefully past us sitting by the water, the social nature of cafés and gathering places, all colored by the beauty of the scenery, and the peacefulness of the visit, paint an idyllic picture of all the best that Greece has to offer. A reflection on the economic crisis, the role of honor in community interaction, the judgement that falls on foreigner and local in different situations and for different reasons, however, gives pause. It is a very different thing to visit somewhere, and to live there. It is a very different thing to be a foreigner/guest, and to be embedded in the honor of the group. It is a very different thing to measure a people by their beaches and hotels, and by their social norms and conditions. For me, today embodied two extremes, neither one of which probably reflects the everyday existence of the modern Greek, but both of which have a place within a comprehensive picture of what it means to be "so-and-so, the Greek."