Greek people are very angry. They bark; they wave their hands about in flustered motions; they have a look that says: Why-do-I-have-to-work-when-by-right-I-should-be-lazing-on-a-deckchair.

Obviously, over the past three years, they had a lot to be angry about, given their country’s economic situation, but I don’t think that that’s the root of their anger really. I was last there 10 years ago and they were already angry.

I am not sure what causes this ire, but I suppose when you live in a land where all you see around you are sculptures of naked men with perfect abs, sculptures of women with curvy bodies and amazing buildings that are the world’s architectural envy, it is not easy to be cheerful.

First of there is the tiny matter of having to look in the mirror and realising that, well, modern-day abs are not quite what they were in the classical era.

And then you look out of your Athens window and you stare at the chunks of concrete blocks ridden with graffiti and you realise that modern-day architecture is not exactly a mood boost.

In short, Zeus raised the bar and ruined it for his descendants.

Oh, and let’s not forget that they have Plato and Socrates to live up to. Can you imagine the pressure of having the two founders of philosophy as your ancestral fathers? You cannot be Greek and spurt out absurdities, can you?

Argh, the pressure of having to dish out wise cracks all the time. It’s all a psychological build up – no wonder they’re constantly waving their fists.

But that is exactly why I like Greece – because it is a land with identity issues, and I find in it a certain comfort that I don’t find in, say, splendid Switzerland or foolproof Finland.

We have forgotten that society is the home we share because we build it together. And maybe that’s why they’re angry, and why we too are becoming so

Having said that, we chose Greece as the summer break destination because it was the only country the family agreed on: the teenagers wanted to go there because Mykonos and Santorini are all the rage on social media (we reached a compromise: yes to Greece, no to Ibiza-like islands, but – wahey – we’ll rent quads to drive around) and the daughter wanted to go there because she is fascinated by Greek mythology.

But Greek myths are the last thing on people’s mind. They go about their lives by rote; their passion only stirred when you ask them what they think of the Tsipras government.

“We are worse than worse,” one taxi driver told us. He said he earns €200 a day, out of which he has to give €180 to the government in taxes. “How can I live on €20 a day? Is that fair? Tell me, eh? What do you think?”

Certainly not. But err, that day he pocketed more than €20 because he did not give us a receipt for our trip.

Then we crossed by ferry to a very minor island – not unlike Gozo 30 years ago. Most of the inhabitants there were fishermen but they cannot afford to eat fish. “We can only afford cheap meat because the government takes all the money,” said a waiter.

However, none of the restaurants we went to handed out receipts – I doubt they had a cash register.

Fooling the government has become a way of life. The system is clearly crumbling. We are paying out their bailout but are they helping themselves?

The fact that this was happening on the very land where democracy – the concept of citizens pulling the same rope for the benefit of society – was born, makes it even more mind boggling.

Coincidentally my holiday read was The Home we Build Together by the British rabbi Jonathan Sacks. There’s an apt anecdote in the book when a passenger on a boat begins to drill a hole under his seat. The other passengers protest.

He replies: “What business is it of yours? I am drilling a hole under my seat, not yours.” The others reply: “But the water will rise and flood the boat for all of us.”

Of course, we cannot just point fingers at the Greeks – it is happening in our very own country: the concept of collective belonging has gone with the wind.

Something happened since the days of the classical era: we have forgotten that society is the home we share because we build it together. And maybe that’s why they’re angry, and why we too are becoming so.

Notes from an even smaller Greek island:

• Almost everyone rides a motorbike on Greek islands; there is no traffic whatsoever.

• There are no high-rise buildings and very few cranes, and definitely none on cliffs.

• Houses are built with very simple layouts, maximising the effect of light – no windows leading to a poky shafts.

• There are no fish farm leaks.

• A family of five can eat very well with €100; is that remotely possible in Malta?

• The sea is like exactly like the Blue Lagoon, but without it feeling like you’re swimming in a Chinese overcrowded pool, and without the deckchairs perched on the cliff ways.

I plan to visit again in 30 years’ time. I’ll be 70 then and here’s wishing that the islands wouldn’t have become like Malta is today.

And hopefully the anger would have subsided.

krischetcuti@gmail.com
Twitter: @KrisChetcuti

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