Athens is simple. There are no hidden messages. Athens is more direct than Amsterdam, where people do not hesitate to ask you how much money you make, but shrink from showing their true emotions. With a Dutchman, it is hard to tell if he likes you, let alone respects you, with a Greek man, there is no doubt about it. He will have no problem yelling at you, if he is angry. And if he likes you, he will go out of his way to help you with whatever it is that would make you happy.
Within one hour of arriving on Greek soil, I had my neighbour from the plane delivering me at the right luggage band before finding his brother. And then, in the subway, a family of four taking the lift, just because the old man wanted to help me carry my suitcases out of the metro station. The lift was best, he said, no discussion. It is why Athens feels like a warm bath, even in winter. People light up when they see an opportunity to help you.
That said, it does help if you are blonde, well-dressed and smile. You will get away with anything. No malákas for you–motorbikes will happily stop to let you cross the street. Window cleaners will not whistle, just wave and smile. And then, of course, things may be taken to the next level of kamáki, the little harpoon to catch fish and women alike.
Kamáki usually starts with a lot of sunglasses, looking, or maybe not looking. Sunglasses are the game changer of kamáki. But in winter, a man takes the art directly to phase two, complimenting on your smile, a little note on your sense of style, resting his hand on your arm for a little bit, trying to wrest your phone number for a drink. And if you turn out to be a little more resistant to his advances, he will give you his business card – everyone carries some with them – and insist you to call him. You may meet some that are very sweet indeed, so that you feel elevated by their attention. Others may be an outright nuisance, allowing you to get your assertiveness back into shape. In a way, they are very okay with you telling them to just fuck off–they have heard it before, and probably a lot worse too. It made me feel respected.
I have never been harassed, not even by Greek mothers who have quite a reputation for spoiling you, overfeeding you and never letting you go. No, I can only express my gratitude for the warmth and generosity I have been welcomed with into people’s homes. It is one thing to give, but to give without expecting, to share with so much gratitude that you make the recipient feel he does not owe you in any way, this is an art. It is one of the arts I came to admire here.
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