And here we go again; back into the almost forgotten but familiar struggle to find a supermarket, a grocer, a laundry, friends, a language, a culture, a life. Except this time we cannot read. Καλώς ορίσατε στην Ελλάδα. Welcome to Greece.
We left the city by the bay gleaming with tech where people are jacked into cyberspace to a Byzantine era city where the modern world often clashes with its ancient legacy (The city’s metro project was delayed by the findings of archaeologically significant ruins).
In Thessaloniki, we are deluged by newness. Alpha, Veeta, Gama, the alphabets render me useless on the streets, in a supermarket. Did I just buy milk? What is salt in Greek? Latin roots fail me when confronted by words from ancient Greek, such as wine “κρασί” (krasi), water “νερό” (nero), oil “λάδι” (λάδι). Thankfully, most people speak English or gamely try to work with me in the international sign language.
The Greeks seem to be friendly, garrulous, happy. Like the Italians, they are delighted if you say “Good Morning” in Greek “Καλημέρα” (Calimera). Our Airbnb hosts calls us after a windy night concerned that we would not have slept well. A fellow passenger on the same flight to Thessaloniki spends an entire morning helping us get a local phone, showing us the best bakery, sweet shop, cafe, grocery stores. Hospitality here is at an entirely different level.
On Monday, we start Greek lessons. Slowly, we will be able to read, communicate, converse. Maybe even assimilate a little bit into the local life. We will see that people everywhere have the same quotidian concerns, the same pragmatic conversations. Meanwhile, we are still absorbing with wide eyed wonder this small, age old place where the residents speak a mysterious, magical language, whose secrets remain enticingly out of reach.