Intimate Encounter on a Bus and the Metamorphosis of Shimosh

I love public transportation. I dream of a society in which personal automobiles are obsolete and everyone commutes via train, bus, or plane. That being said, mass transit certainly has a few downsides. In downtown Thessaloniki, the main pitfall of the bus system is overcrowding. If you plan to ride the bus anytime before 22:00 (10:00pm), expect some significant physical contact with strangers. It would be wasteful to use a heating system in the buses because body heat provides all the warmth a passenger could ever need and then some.

Last week, I took a bus downtown to sort out some passport issues. On my way home, I entered a standing-room-only bus; it was tightly packed but breathable. As we made our way through the city, more riders entered and the already limited personal space was rapidly disappearing. As fate would have it, I happened to be standing next to a Greek nun. As the bus became more and more crowded, she and I got closer and closer until we were chest to forehead (she was about 5'1'') with nowhere to go. I am still unsure who felt more violated as we bumped along the bus route, but I feel certain that she has never had such intimate experience with a man, she might be pregnant, and I like to think that my impact has inspired her to leave the nunnery to pursue more carnal encounters with men folk.

___________________________________________

Those of you who have consistently read the blog will remember Shimosh, the undersized Sifnosian laundry fiend. Since I last spoke of Shimosh, he has undergone a transformation of sorts. One Friday, I saw Shimosh lugging a suitcase away from the dormitory. My world was turned upside down. Shimosh had never left school for the weekend, even when we had a five-day vacation. As far as I know, he had never set foot off campus since the beginning of the school year. I inquired about his plans, and he explained that he was going to spend the weekend with his roommate’s family. Fighting back tears, I wished him well on his trip. I didn’t know how to react. A weekend at AFS without Shimosh was unfathomable. Out of habit, I found myself wandering down to the laundry room even though nobody requested for the door to be unlocked.

On Monday morning, I saw Shimosh strolling across campus…I must emphasize that he was strolling, not shuffling in his usual manner. Also, his look was totally different. Instead of sporting his usual conservative jacket and tight slacks, he was confidently rocking the full Canadian tuxedo: a jean jacket and blue jeans. The most extreme aspect of his new look was his hairstyle; my beloved Shimosh was parading around campus with a painstakingly-sculped mohawk. Something happened on that weekend trip that I will probably never comprehend, but when Shimosh returned he was no longer the pesky, adolescent Greek Islander—he was Mr. Cool. Since then, he has been spending time in the weight room, his mohawk has grown spikier, and I even saw him talking to a girl. I’ve even heard that his voice has evolved from its squeaky, wavering frequency into a deep bellow that would put Barry White to shame. I can neither confirm nor deny these claims because Shimosh is now too cool to talk to me, the lowly International Teaching Fellow. I miss the old Shimosh, but I am glad that he has found confidence. When I grow up, I hope to be just like him.

Thermal Springs Excursion

If there’s one thing that Greeks love, it’s yelling for no reason. Even a cordial discussion can be mistaken for a spiteful argument. If there are two things that Greeks love, they are yelling and feta cheese (but I’ve talked enough about feta). If there are three things that Greeks love, they are yelling, feta, and national holidays. Tuesday was yet another national holiday. November 17^th commemorates the day in 1973 when student protesters in Athens staged a lock-in protest, which led to the overthrow of the military dictatorship.

In honor of the national holiday, classes were cancelled and Klearchos, the student life director at the college, planned a trip to the thermal springs near Pellas, the hometown of Alexander the Great. Approximately 40 of the college students and I boarded a charter bus after lunch for the two-hour ride to the springs. Before departing, Klearchos got on the bus microphone to take attendance and make a few announcements. Klearchos is the man. He works extremely hard and does an excellent job, however patience isn’t his finest attribute. Once he started roll call, it wasn’t long before a handful of jesters got under his skin. It went something like this:

Klearchos: “Arthur?”

Arthur: “Here.”

Klearchos: “Please speak up so I can hear you. Olsy?”

Olsy: “Etho.” (Greek for ‘here’.)

Klearchos: “Shpendi?”

[Inaudible response from the back of the bus.]

At this point, Klearchos raises his voice beyond his usual yell.

Klearchos: “Where is Shpendi?!”

Ivan: “He’s here but his throat is busy.”

Laughter erupts around the bus, Ivan high fives his neighbors, Shpendi punches Ivan in the arm, and Klearchos blows a gasket.

Klearchos: “Do you want to go to the springs or not?!?!

Stella: “You don’t need to scream, Klearchos.”

Klearchos: “I scream?”

Everybody: “Ice cream!!!!”

Klearchos: "Ice cream?"

More laughter. This time even Klearchos acknowledges the humor, submits to the jokers, and completes roll call amidst a barrage of puns in broken English.

The bus ride was smooth and we arrived at the thermal springs with about two hours of daylight remaining. The natural amenities are amazing. The springs are located in a valley between two picturesque mountains and the autumn colors were in full effect. A large creek with numerous waterfalls runs between the mountains and the water is a pale greenish-white. I explored a few mountain trails and was blown away by the views.

After climbing a few hundred meters, I found myself alone on a steep precipice. In front of me was a mountain featuring trees with intense yellow, red and green leaves. Behind me was a steep mountain face with dozens of large caves. Below me was the creek. It was unreal, but before I could get swept away in a spiritual moment, a pack of eight wild goats appeared about five meters* to my right. They were ascending the steep mountain but halted when they spotted me. I was frozen in place and at their disposal. If they charged, I could attempt to run down the jagged rock path that they navigate daily but probably wouldn’t make it too far. After a thirty-second staring contest with the lead goat, he decided to mosey along and the rest of the pack followed. I decided to breathe again then headed back down the mountain to rejoin the others.

The manmade facilities at the springs include naturally heated pools, hotel rooms, and a few tavernas. We swam and relaxed in the warm outdoor pool for a few hours. It was a brisk night, so the pool felt amazing. I dominated an Albanian guy and a Romanian bird in a who-can-hold-their-breath-the-longest competition then went to check out the thermal waterfall; it was ‘the nice nice’**. Mother Nature is mystifying. Somehow there is a warm waterfall directly next to a cold waterfall, so the custom is to stand in the cold one for 5-10 seconds then rush over to the hot chute. The experience is phenomenal. The temperature change was shocking, and the water pressure felt like the world’s greatest 10-handed, untiring masseuse going to work on my entire body; I have never felt so clean and relaxed. When I win the lottery, my first purchase will be a pair of waterfalls: one hot, one cold. Does anybody know a good waterfall dealer?

So the trip was awesome and I hope to go back. If any of you schlubs*** or floozies**** ever visit me, we can definitely hit up the thermal springs.

For those of you (if anyone actually reads this other than my mommy) who are in desperate need of a Shimosh update, fear not. I promise to deliver exactly that in my next post.

Kisses,

Jacques

* 5 meters = 5.468 yards

**the nice nice : adj, informal. superlative of NICE, most pleasant, agreeable, or satisfactory, better than just nice but one notch below the ‘nice nice nice’

***schlub : noun, informal. a talentless, unattractive or boorish person.

****floozy : noun (pl. –zies) informal. a girl or woman who has a reputation for promiscuity.

Pics

The Pig Roast
The Big Blue Van
AFS Halloween
Perrotis College Costume Party

Random Events and Observations

Nothing groundbreaking has occurred in the past few weeks, so I'll just mention a few events and observations from my first 2+ months in Greece that have failed to make the blog thus far:

Event # 1

AFS hosted a pig roast for 400 donors and friends of the school. For the guests the pig roast meant a copious feast featuring several types of meat (roasted pig being the feature dish of course) plus a smorgasbord of traditional Greek side dishes and desserts. Gluttony was the theme of the party and everyone did their fair share of damage to the buffet. For me the pig roast meant approximately 12 hours of manual labor setting up and breaking down the tables and place settings. My official duty was driver of the big blue van, a circa 1975 Volkswagen Vanagon. It was a blast. The steering wheel was the size of a hoola hoop. I assumed the role of driver by passing the "Greek driver's test". The procedure went as follows:

Pig Roast Set Up Director: "Do you have an international driver's license?"

Me: "No."

PRSUD: "Do you know how to drive a manual transmission?"

Me: "I drove a stick shift in high school but it's been a while."

PRSUD: "Perfect ."

With that, I was handed the keys and started shuttling tables and chairs to the site of the pig roast with student volunteers bumping along for the ride. The van lacked A/C, radio, a functional horn, and pretty much any other amenity you can imagine, so the students entertained themselves by singing and teaching me everything there is to know about Greek profanity. It was remarkable to see how fluent they all already were in English profanity - even the students who barely know any English are fluent in American cuss words.

Event # 2

Halloween doesn't exist in Greece, so Emily and I enlightened the students about the holiday and led a trick-or-treating outing. We warned all of the faculty and staff who live on campus to expect a slew of hooligans on Saturday night, and they agreed to purchase some candy. Pressed for time and without a costume store, we were forced to be creative with our attire. Most of the 20 students who participated opted for face painting or homemade masks. Trick-or-treating turned into how-loud-can-we-all-yell-at-the-same-time/who-can-snatch-the-most-candy-from-the-bowl, but a good time was had by all.

The college hosted a costume party in honor of Halloween featuring the limbo and musical chairs; the fiesta was a lot of fun and makes me wonder why the limbo and musical chairs disappear from American parties after middle school.

Observation # 1

Greek floozies physically resemble the Jewish American Princesses that overpopulate the Northeastern United States and Emory University. The only difference is that the Greek ladies are yet to discover eating disorders.

Observation # 2

Greek bureaucracy is an absolute joke. Instead of handling the usual "red tape", Greek processes equate more to struggling through duct tape. After many hours of paperwork preparation/hospital trips/and photocopying, yesterday I went to the agency which supervises residency permits to submit the forms, photos, moneys, etc. necessary to extend my stay in Greece past the original 90 days. It was a large office building with dozens of employees, however the only person on staff "capable" of handling residency permits was sick at home. Therefore, the residency visa section of the office was closed. Apparently the other employees were too busy chain-smoking and playing solitaire on their computers to stamp a few sheets and process the visa for their ill colleague.

That's all for now. I'm looking forward to a trip to Athens in December for a Champions League match between Arsenal and Olympiakos, the Greek Champions.

Mt. Olympus Pics

Limbering up for the hike in Litohoro.

I spy two humans.

The peaks of Mount Olympus.

The tempestuous floodwater.

Stranded at the restaurant known as Prionia, Greece.

Cruisin' through Olympus National Park.