Gossip

On the surface, Athens is a large, urban city.

We don’t have skyscrapers like New York or the abundance of people of London or the ferocious vitality of Hong Kong. But, all in all, we’re a city.

Except, if you dig a little deeper, you will notice that Athens is just a very large village.

There is always someone who knows someone who knows someone who happens to be the person sitting next to you on the bus. The doctor you just met could be from your mother’s actual village and when they were children his brother’s best friend had a huge crush on your mother’s sister. Your new boss knows your best friend’s husband’s cousin’s wife and well, you get the picture.

A village masquerading in city clothing.

As for the villagers?

They DO love their gossip. So much so that anywhere you go you will always have this sense that you are being watched. When I first moved here, I thought I was being paranoid. I was not.There is this great iconic figure that some of you may have seen portrayed in any film that has ever been shot in Greece. The grandmother dressed all in black sitting on a rackety stool watching the world go by with beady eyes and a scowl on her face. You know the one I am talking about, right?

I’ll tell you a secret. That’s just a quaint stereotype we’ve dug out for the tourists. Because the grandmother is actually a woman in her late twenties with the Longchamp handbag, or the fourty year old hairdresser who looks gay but really isn’t. Or the ten year old child playing happily in his concrete haven.

Everyone is in on it.

Much credit is given to Greece about inventing democracy and stuff, but really I believe we haven’t been acknowledged at all for the role our little country and its ancestors have played in this centuries most important, most defining aspect.

THE TABLOID MAGAZINE.

I am just saying that I am certain that if someone were to dig deep under the ancient ruins of the Parthenon they are sure to find some stone with etchings of Plato leaving the Symposium heading to the Gymnasium (Hey! That’s a Greek word!) with a pair of Nike’s on his feet and his gym bag. Well, not really. Because in those days they exercised naked and thus he would not need to change his robes.

He would just need to take them off.

***

Last week, I went over to a friend who is renting a flat in a house in an affluent area. My mother came to pick me up with some of her friends and when I got into the car one of them asked me,

“Whose house is that?”

“Erm…I don’t know.” I answered.

“What’s your friend’s last name?”

“No, she’s just renting. It’s not her house.”

“Well, what is the name of her landlord then?’

“Erm…I really don’t know.”

“Do they have a pool? How many bedrooms is it? How long have they lived here?”

See what I’m saying.

Each and every time a person stops in front of our shop window to look at the display, my trainee asks me the same question,

“Who is that?”

And each and every time I answer,

“A potential customer.”

And she asks,

“Do you know them? Why do you think they’re talking on their phone? She’s fat. Her skirts too tight.”

See?

Totally, insane, inappropriate gossips.

That reminds me, I haven’t checked out Perez today.