today

"...Κι’ όμως δεν χαίρεται γι’ αυτήν την νίκη.
Το βλέμμα του μελαγχολία γεμάτο
την Σφίγγα δεν κυττάζει, βλέπει πέρα
τον δρόμο τον στενό που πάει στας Θήβας,
και που στον Κολωνό θ’ αποτελειώση.
Και καθαρά προαισθάνεται η ψυχή του
που η Σφιγξ εκεί θα τον μιλήση πάλι
με δυσκολώτερα και πιο μεγάλα
αινίγματα που απάντησι δεν έχουν..."

K. Π. Καβάφης
Οιδίπους

today

"...Puse la frente entre las olas profundas, descendi como gota entre la paz sulfurica y, como un ciego, regrese al jazmin de la gastada primavera humana..."

Pablo Neruda
Alturas de Macchu Picchu

today

"...porque fuiste siempre un espejo terrible, una espantosa maquina de repeticiones, y lo que llamabamos amarnos fue quiza que yo estaba de pie delante de vos con una flor amarilla en la mano, y vos sostenias dos velas verdes y el tiempo soplaba contra nuestras caras una lenta lluvia de renuncias y despedidas y tickets de metro..."

Julio Cortazar
Rayuela

Vaixell de Grecia

Once more a greek-catalan connection, coming from a Lluis Llach song. Despite of my being discouraged of listening to catalan songs by readers of this blog I keep catching up with the discography of this very interesting guy (the first citizen ever to take a prime minister to court for not keeping his promises...). At the same time I get very interested into his lyrics, especially when I see that quite a few of them are full of references to Greece.

Over the last days, basketball, football and (thirdly) work have not left me enough time to appreciate some really nice verses of some even better songs, but with the long weekend coming up and a local holiday approaching, I spared me a moment to do some research on my one and came up with an obscure philellene named Loukianos Trochiforos which has actually translated one of Llach's songs into Greek. The name of the song is "Vaixell de Grecia" (meaning Greek boat) and Trochiforos' translation is relatively free, (judging from my poor catalan). In any case I post it here with apologees to non-greek readers.

"Αργοναυτες"

Κατω απο τ'αστρα, που λεν στους ναυτικούς
για συμπληγαδες και τοπους μυστικους
διχως πυξιδα κι οι φαροι μακρια
ορθοι στην πλωρη, μα πουθενα στερια

Αλλου οι γοργονες, τα κατασπρα νησια
και των γονιων τους τα περγιάλια τα κρυφα
Τουτοι εχουν ροτα για του κοσμου την κορφη
και τα ονειρα τους, του Πρωτεα τη μορφη

Κι αν πεταλιδες τρυπουν τα στεγανα
κι αν η αλμυρα σαπιζει τα κουπια
μ'ενα τραγουδι φουσκωνουν τα πανια
κι ας περιμενουν φουρτουνες στα Στενα.

My small country...

"My country is so small
that when the sun goes to sleep
nobody can be sure of having seen him
The wise old ladies say
that this is why he keeps coming back
My country is small
that from the top of one steeple
you can always see the next one
They say that the villages are afraid
of being alone
and of being too big
My country is so small
that she can fit in my heart
if life takes me away from her
and until they invent
detectors for the heart's secrets
we shall all be smugglers
of our small country"

The lyrics come from Lluis Llach, a great Catalan singer and composer (what the Spanish wisely call author/creator of songs). I listened to them today for the first time and I could not think of better words for my mood.

These last days I have thought about Greece more than the usual. Yesterday I witnessed the devotion, strength of character and constancy of the Greek national basketball team, probably a role model for all Greeks for its combination of talent, comradeship and confidence. Over my life I have passed from being an utterly fanatic hooligan to a normal, sane sports fun that simply does not miss a game. But in this team, European Champions two years ago, World Cup runners-up last year, who yesterday battled against World Champions and hosts, Spain until the last minute I see a lot more than a great team, mostly because they combine a lot of Greek virtues while perpetually defying all the flaws of our race. They never give up, they do not whine about their misfortunes, they never look for excuses. They take pride in victory and assume responsibility in defeat. They are confident in themselves but have no problem in recognizing the superiority of the opponent. I have seen teams maybe more talented than this one. But to date I have not come across a group of such character and dignity.

I have written, perhaps more than once, that I hate mixing politics with sports. Nonetheless I keep doing it, probably because it cannot be done otherwise. With the Greek elections taking place today, I just hope that a lot of my compatriots think a bit more before casting their vote. And that they think a bit more about this team and how nice it would be if we could create its political counterpart and send it to the Parliament.

Twenty meters too far

Under the starry sky the sea was calm, the water, still and dark beneath the raft. Then a sudden noise of wood against stone, the small boat slightly bounced against the rock and stopped. For its tired passengers, legal dreamers, illegal travelers, the journey seemed to have reached the end. From the coast of Morocco to the Canary islands it must have been a long way. Now, as many before them and a lot more to come, they have made it to Europe.

Only they did not know. They did not know that Europe was still twenty meters farther, that the coast was there at their reach but their raft was stuck on a "u"-shaped reef. So close, yet so far. In the darkness of the night, obscured by exhaustion and anticipation they fell into the dark waters and sank, the burden of hope too heavy for them to bear.

They have traveled as stowaways, guided by false lighthouses, monitored by evil satellites. They would have arrived as castaways and would have lived as outlaws, feeding on hope while sending money back to their families.

These ten just did not make it. They drowned tragically last night, near Risco Verde in the Gran Canaria. They were not the first, nor will be the last.

Cell-phone Nation

I 'll start by using the favourite line of a very good friend.

"Maybe it's just me being weird"

Yes maybe it is just me but then maybe I am not and it's just (part of) the rest of the world going nuts. Here is the story that triggered all this questioning.

Yesterday I was watching the news on Spanish TV. Pavarotti's death was -of course- among the first. The "Maestro" was the one who put opera back into the radio station play-lists, exposed younger audiences to "serious" music and -alongside Carreras and Domingo- liberated football funs from being characterized as un-cultured idiots, through the famous 3 Tenors concerts at the World Cups of 1990, 1994 and 1998.

But it was not the news, or the covering of the story. It was the behaviour of the people themselves, the so-called funs of Pavarotti, or simply his fellow citizens of Modena, standing outside his house, waiting for the car to go out carrying him to his last residence. Then finally the car appeared out of the garage and started its slow process through the stone-paved streets of Modena. A moment supposed to be dedicated to grief and respect to the "Maestro". But instead of the (appropriate?) silence or the last applause, all the people could think of was to take out their cellphones, lift them up high enough above the crowd's protruding heads and try to take the best shot/video of the event. It really shocked me. These people were supposedly there to say the last goodbye (or the next to last, since they can also attend the funeral) and instead of that they were taking cell-phone photos of what? The black limo carrying Pavarotti's casket?

It looks that all this technology, cell-phones, e-mails, voice-mails, video-mails and "mails from the other side" in general, has changed not only our lives but also the way we think about a lot of stuff. And the new way is NOT thinking about a lot of stuff. We have come to admiring sunny beaches through digital cameras, whispering to our lovers through skype and listening to music through ringtones. We miss half of the concerts to take photos and videotape the funeral of a legend.

Perhaps it's just me being weird, but the day may be close when news will be only RSS feeds, friends will be only met on facebook and all we 'll be reading will be our stupid blogs.

Earth, wind and fire...

this summer was supposed to be something different from what it turned out to be.

I hoped for cool waters and summer breeze and I saw too much of dry earth and burning wood. I was longing for the smell of the salty sea but got dust and ashes instead. I was hoping for fun and laughter but got blue mood and grey faces.

Life is like this. It does not always give us the expected. And the four weeks I spent in Greece were at a large part a sad reminder. Not that there were no nice moments. During my stay I witnessed the wedding of a very good friend, (and maybe danced too badly while celebrating it, so badly that people had to throw water on me to make me stop). I had the chance to visit the south of Crete for the second time in my life (to be once more reassured of the special beauty of the place and the kindness of its people) and did not miss the opportunity to revisit familiar, favourite places in Sifnos, meet with old friends and make some new ones. I had the chance to spend some time with someone I love, verify what keeps us together, realize what stands between us and stick to the first.

But the good moments end there...

At that point this weird August, filled with flames, hot winds and bad news, started its charge. As the phone kept ringing with an absurd frequency bringing news of sickness and loss, the screens started their own bombardment of televised catastrophes, villages in flames, people perishing and ...finally Ancient Olympia caught in the midst of this burning hell.

It was then that we all find it hard not to crack. Because one may handle the destruction of objects and the decline of moral, one can even suffer lightly the human loss, but he cannot stand the destruction of the symbols, the decay of the living memory and the loss of his identity.

They say general Makriyannis, one of Greece's heroes of independence once stopped some local chieftain trying to sell antiquities to the British in exchange for guns. And when the chieftain told him that the guns were needed to keep up the fight for a free country, Makriyannis told him that these same antiquities were what they were fighting for, these ancient pieces of marble, that cannot be reborn or sprang out of the earth, were the free Greece they were dreaming of. And that without them there was no need for struggle or fighting.

The marbles of Olympia were saved, although only at the last moment. Thus there is still reason for battle and struggle.

A day like today, Makriyannis forced the King of the young, independent Greece to grant constitution to its people. The brave, stubborn general kept fighting until the end for a better place for his children. Let us follow his example.