Have been reading “Blue Skies and Black Olives” by John and Christopher Humphrys and thoroughly enjoying it, not because it is a great piece of literature but because it is so humorous and so often parallels exactly what we have experienced living in Greece though we have never had a peacock named Henry. That chapter had me laughing out loud all the way through. I could see it all as a film. Unfortunately what I can’t see is Henry taking directions.
What is it that makes living in Crete such a joy even having to cope with rules and regulations that seem to change constantly and all the bureaucracy that goes with it? The way Greeks never tell lies but will tell you what they think you want to hear; the way things work or do not work and tend to take you by surprise? For example, water. In the twelve years of living here a water bill has been delivered to the door once. The water board offices have changed three times the last few years being a room in the town hall where one goes to pay – but who knows when? There was one year when the bills were left in the local pandopoleon (ie., the shop that sells everything; now usually called a mini-market) but that didn’t last long because the shopkeeper decided it wasn’t worth his while, probably because it wasn’t bringing in any extra custom so why should he bother? So last year when we thought, ‘Hey, haven’t had a water bill for an awful long time, better go and see what’s what,’ we were fined for being late in paying! Only a very small fine but a fine nevertheless and no arguing. On the other hand electricity bills can be left dangling for a while as the amount owed mounts up. It takes a goodly while for the threat of being cut off to come into force and here there is no fine for paying late. Pay by a set date and you can do it at your local post office. After that it’s a trip into Xania to pay at head office. The electricity bill includes rates, police, television, street lighting, refuse collection, so one never has to bother about a separate rates bill and television licence and the system works as follows: there are three bands, let’s call them small, medium and excessive and your total bill depends on how much electricity you use. Stay in the small band and you’re quids in, move to medium, still not too bad but go to the top rate and you are definitely paying which is why there are jokes like the Cretan peasant who drove his truck without headlights in case he had to pay for the electricity.
But I haven’t mentioned the really good things, apart from sun, sea, and retsina; being able to walk outside your kitchen door and pick oranges, lemons and mandarins and make your own really fresh juice, which makes me wonder why cafes charge so much for a glass of orange juice when the trees are so laden with fruit that much of it lies rotting on the ground, like an abundance of olive oil that would cost a fortune in the UK, like dates other than at Christmas time and halva bought by the pound instead of the ounce, like neighbours who are genuinely concerned about you and show it if needs be, the hospitality and generosity of the people. Of course there are shits, that’s life, so let’s not look at it entirely through those old rose coloured spectacles, but I don’t recall ever seeing anyone legless from drink or ever had a sense of possible aggro, not even in Athens with its terrorist organisations, bombs, and rioting. Strikes can be a disruptive nuisance but that is the purpose of strikes anyway, the banks are continuously going on strike and when that happens people simply support each other in any way they can. ‘Pay me when you can,’ is usually what is said, and talking of banks, here I come to a really good reason for living in Crete: at our bank the girls have been avid for news of Douglas all the time he has been away in England having his cancer treatment so when he and Chris walked into the bank a couple of days ago they were greeted with tears of joy and a round of applause. Can you imagine that happening in an English bank? I don’t think so.
To be continued … Maybe.