Agios Giorgis, originally uploaded by Magnis Libris.

Hey there folks. I’ve finally posted some photos to Flickr.

For future reference, I’ve added a link to the sidebar under IKARIA (My Photos from Ikaria) as well as a feed to my photostream from Flickr. Enjoy!

Well, dear readers, I have just completed the third week of my Greek studies. Only one more week left before dear Eleni and Mihalis shove this little birdie out of the nest. Recent test flights suggest trouble ahead.

On Thursday night, we visited a very old monastary up in the mountains. It’s a very interesting place–built under a large boulder. Very tiny and old, with spectacular views of the sea. The site also has a lovely Byzantine chapel with beautiful frescos. The influence of nearby Turkey can be seen in the colors; they are much brighter with blues and yellows in addition to the browns and reds typical of Byzantine art. I visited this monastary two weeks ago, but wanted to go again not only for the beautiful sights, but also for the special treat that the monastary warden makes. The Greeks call them loukoumathes. Imagine a plateful of golf-ball sized freshly fried dough drizzled with local honey. Yummy.

Mihalis’s mother, Anna joined us on this expedition specifically for the loukoumathes. I gamely attempted conversation with her in Greek. Basic stuff: How are you? Where are you from? Isn’t it beautiful? Would you like some lice? What? Did I say “lice”? I’m sorry, I meant to say would you like some penis? WHAT? I am SO sorry. I wanted to say would you like some bread?Yes, friends, the Greek words for “lice” and “penis” are periously similar to “bread.” Who knew the dinner table could be such a minefield? Undeterred, I plowed ahead. Asking more questions: Do you have a meow, meow? (Answer: yes, two cats and two kittens). Do you have other children? (Answer: yes, one in Athens).

I told her what I could of myself: “I like the naa-naa-naa’s <goat noise> on Ikaria.” “Greece is very beautiful.” “I study much.” “I know nothing.” It was grand. Then Anna tried to teach me to pronounce her last name–”Kouvouriari,” which means “crab.” She smiled warmly as my first attempt generated the word for “caviar.” My second and third pronouncements yielded ”one who enjoys sex.” Did I ever get it right? I don’t know. The kindness of Anna cannot be understated. Consider the fact that at the end of an evening peppered with accidental insults, she invited me to coffee at her home to meet the kittens and engage in more “Greek lessons.”

Judging from my experience today at the bakery when I attempted to buy a cheese pie, Anna’s private lessons can’t hurt. After asking very politely for a cheese pie, I couldn’t figure out why the baker just looked at me blankly. I repeated myself, thinking maybe I had mis-pronounced the word for cheese pie. Still a look of utter confusion. Then my fellow classmate from Germany jumped in and I immediately realized my mistake. I had used the word for “to be” instead of “to have.” Hence, I had asked the lady if maybe she was a cheese pie.

Several years ago when I first began thinking of traveling to Greece, a dear mentor of mine who is very familiar with the country supported the idea enthusiastically. ”You’ll love Greece. It’s a marvelous place,” he said. “But don’t attempt to learn the language. It’s very difficult and most everyone speaks English there.”

“Very difficult” is probably an adequate description for someone who can converse fluently in several languages–say French, German, Italian and English (not an uncommon combination for my fellow students thus far). But for someone who speaks only English, learning Greek is better described as “ridiculously difficult.”

It all starts with the alphabet. It’s very, very tricksy. The Greek “p” is pronounced as the English “r.” The Greek “u” is pronounced “ee”, and while we’re on the subject, there are no fewer than five different letters or letter combinations that produce this sound, including “n”. (Go figure.) Then there are the symbols that don’t exist in the English alphabet at all. Add to this the fact that Greek words are long. Incrediblyunbelievablyfantasticallylong. (Really!) And sometimes they begin with truly bedeviling sounds — “ht” or “ks” or “ps” or the dreaded gamma whose sound I best produce when coughing, hiccuping and uttering the letter ”g” at the same time. Needless to say, I read Greek aloud with great deliberation, many halts and much butchery.

The foreigness of the Greek alphabet and pronunciation raises an additional challenge: how to remember and recognize words that look and sound like nothing familiar? Only with brute force, divine intervention and patient repetion by my instructors. Somehow a glass of ouzo each night also seems to help. I probably know 250 Greek words now, but the fact is that I can only absorb so many words each day. 

As a result, my ability to comprehend conversations is on par with Lassie (and she probably has an edge). An approximation: “Good morning. Yadda yadda yadda yadda yadda yadda our house yadda yadda yadda yadda. Yadda yadda yadda yadda the cat <or did she say milk?> yadda yadda yadda here yadda yadda yadda. <Laughing–must be something funny> I am yadda yadda yadda yadda. Yadda yadda yadda yadda yadda ice cream? Okay.”

All this said, I am having a fantastic time both at the Ikarian Center and on the island at large. Learning Greek here, though challenging and full of linguistic hijinx and hilarity, is very rewarding. Because I am the only rank beginner (all of my fellow students have studied Greek for at least two years), I’ve been working solo with Mihalis and Eleni (they alternate days); they have been incredibly patient, kind and helpful. 

I have two lessons per day, each running two hours. In the morning session, we review the previous day’s lesson, cover new grammar and vocabulary, and practice reading aloud and spelling. In the afternoon session, I work on my audio comprehension by listening to a recorded dialogue and answering questions about the content. When the weather is nice, we all go to the beach either between or after the lessons. I usually bring my books and use the time to review vocabulary and grammar. In the evenings, we usually head to a Taverna for dinner where we talk in a mix of Greek and (mercifully) English.

The first session just ended. Yesterday, Elizabeth left for Athens and then Vienna. Today, Davide departed for Rome. Marie Claire takes the ferry to Athens on Monday and then will fly back home to Paris. In their wake, a new crew of students has arrived–two Christines, one from Cologne and the other from Luxemborg, and another Davide, this one from Belgium. Classes will start again on Monday, but I’ll be boning up on adjectives and numbers tomorrow.

Ikarian House, originally uploaded by Magnis Libris.
Ikaria (ee-kar-EE-ya) is a very rugged island with a steep mountain range that runs along the spine of the island. On either side of this range are the two coasts–north and south. Ikaria is has no natural harbor and this detail is important to its history.

In ancient times, there was a wealthy town along the north coast (not far from where I am staying) called Oinoe, which means wine. As you can imagine, it was a big wine producing town and legend has it that Oinoe introduced the rest of Greece to wine. Sadly, it is difficult to find good wine on the island now even though almost all the locals make their own. Mihalis says this is because they use plastic casks instead of wood or steel ones and I seem to recall the folks at the Ferry Building Wine Market in San Francisco saying the same thing about Greek winemakers in general. But I digress.

In the middle ages, the prince of the Oinoe and his army abandoned Ikaria in search of bigger fortunes. This left the island people vulnerable to pirates and rather than raising an army, the locals opted to seek protection from the topography of the island itself. Their basic approach was to hide in the hills and live rather primatively so that if they were found, there would be nothing of value to take.

Thus, there are no old towns on Ikaria like you see on many of the other Greek islands. Instead, the Ikarians scattered their houses of stone across the mountainside. They were so well camoflagued that even now, it is difficult to make them out on the mountainside. The houses were quite small, just one room perhaps 30′ x 20′. All shelving was built into the walls of the houses and all the furniture was made of stone (tables, chairs, etc.).

Early on, these houses lacked a chimney because the residents did not want to advertise their presence to passing ships. The inhabitants would simply remove a piece of slate from the roof to let the smoke out, and in fact the houses were quite smokey. Apparantly, many of the Ikarians from this time went blind from living in these small, dark, smoky houses. Stores of food were secreted away in hidden ”cellars” some distance from the house.  All in all it was a very isolated existence. The Ikarians subsisted entirely on what they could produce on the island without drawing the attention of outsiders.

For centuries, the Ikarians were left alone; they lived a very simple and isolated life. This in no small part explains why the island remains so rugged and relatively undeveloped. The Ikarians today are a fiercely independent people with strong community bonds. Through the centuries, Ikarians have relied heavily on each other and you can see this in the fact that the majority of Ikarians are communists today. Greece’s elections will be held tomorrow and signs for the communist party are posted all over the island. When we went to the port of Evdilos one night earlier this week, many locals seated at the local taverna listening to speeches from the local politicans. 

I have not had much occassion to talk to the Ikarians because I do not yet speak enough Greek for even a simple conversation and likewise the locals speak no English. I smile and say “ya sas” (hello) or ef-har-is-to (thank you) or sig-no-me, then-kat-a-la-veno (I’m sorry, I don’t understand).

View from Ikarian Center, originally uploaded by Magnis Libris.

I left Athens on Saturday afternoon. Upon telling the proprietor of my hotel that I was headed to Ikaria, he gave a small laugh and said that I would not see more than 10 people on the island. He knew of what he spoke.

A fellow student, a charming Italian named Davide, was on the same flight to Ikaria and kindly offered me a ride to the school as he had rented a car. The airport is on the south west tip of the island; the school is mid-way up the coast on the north side. As the crow flies, it’s not far–perhaps 50 miles. However, it took us nearly two hours to traverse the narrow road full of corkscrew turns. Thankfully, we were driving in daylight and encountered few cars.

We had difficulty finding the school–missing the turn off, seeking help from a Taverna owner who only spoke Greek, knocking on the wrong door and awakening a neighbor from her afternoon siesta. We finally found the school along a dirt road, perched high above the coast and about three miles from a small village. Mihalis, the director of the school, and Eleni, our teacher from Lefkada, welcomed us warmly and served us supper and ouzo on the porch while we took in the spectacular views. Neither words nor photos can capture the beauty of this place. You have the sweeping views of the Aegean, which is a color of blue I’ve never seen before–deep and rich and clear–as well as the mountain dotted with houses and churches. But also, there is the remoteness of the place. All you hear are bees, goats, birds and a lone rooster. It is paradise.

On Sunday, Davide and I explored the island’s beaches, driving along the north coast until the paved road ended at Nas. There we found a rocky cove with a small beach and the ruins of a temple to Artemis. The water was incredibly clear and blue and warm. Only a handful of people were there. After an hour, we back tracked to the village of Armenistis to another beach. This one was sandy and wide and full of the local villagers. There was much jovial socializing among the mostly elderly bathers who were chattering away in Greek. We settled in here.That night, Elizabeth, an Austrian economist, arrived on the ferry from Samos. She studied at the school several years ago and is back for a bit of a “learning” vacation before the academic year begins at her University in Vienna. On Monday, Marie Claire, a retired school teacher from Paris, arrived as did Rita, an Italian retiree from Milan who isn’t staying at the school. She knows quite a lot of Greek and is taking private lessons for two hours a day. Add to this Mihalis and Eleni and it’s a fascinating group.