The Present Moment

 

Kandouni beach

Sunset from Akritohori

 

“There never seems to be enough time

to do the things you want to do

once you find them.”  —Jim Croce

 

 

A Ticking Clock

 

In a few days I’ll begin the process of saying my goodbyes, closing up the house, and then setting off on the long road to Athens. That amorphous thing called “time” keeps going forward—one present moment into the next.

 

Small is beautiful

Already I’m scheming for next year’s visit, hopefully the longest one to date—arriving in late April—in time to run the Finikounda 10K—and staying until mid-July, joined by Ann in mid-June for our first-ever extended residence here together.

 

A trial run, I hope, for longer stays once semi-retirement comes for both of us.

 

 

The two-and-half world country

 

It would be an unforgiveable slight to label Greece a “third-world” country. But I am prepared to offer this nation something of a compromise in the name-calling arena: it is a “two-and-a-half world” country. Maybe somewhere between Mexico and Belgium, leaning closer to the former.

 

View toward Koroni from the top of the pass

Make lemonade

Loutsa

Anemomilos beach

As my friend T. has articulated, Greece suffers from four primary problems: solid waste, human waste, water, and electricity. It is clearly deficient in all three areas of infrastructure and always has been. I would hasten to add a fifth area in which this wonderful land falls egregiously short: secondary roads—that is, any road that is outside of the largest cities (Athens, Thessalonika, Patras) and isn’t the National Highway, which in some ways makes up for the other deficiencies and makes the US highway system look…well, third world.

 

Yesterday morning I traveled to Pylos, a regional town about 20 kilometers west of Akritohori, in order to accomplish a small basket of tasks. I was stymied in all three (ATM, telecommunications office, super market…and the gyro shop—perhaps prioritized in reverse).

 

A power outage darkended all of Pylos and surrounding towns. Some blamed Costa Navarino, the elegant resort just west of Pylos, which sucks up most of the power in this region and where rooms start at 6,000 euros per night for the jet-set crowd. The resort has the region by “τα αρχίδια,” a colorful anatomical explanation for a present reality.

 

So I turned around and headed back to the beach, counting my blessings that the sand, wind, and waves remained unaffected.

 

The bank and the wedding

 

I returned to Pylos this morning for my “rendezvous” with the branch manager. This is an every-other-year affair, incumbent on all foreign residents, requiring boatloads of documentation in order to prove that the account holder is (a) not involved in money laundering; (b) not running a prostitution ring; (c) not selling arms or dealing in narcotics.

 

It was a high bar to pass, but I satisfied all of the government’s requirements and now I am good to go. For another 24 months.

 

Meanwhile, the NBA star Giannis Atetekoumbou—a much beloved Greek-Nigerian superstar—will be married at Costa Navarino next month, just down the road, and is said to be planning the big party. Rooms at the Mandarin (a satellite hotel) start at 2,300 euros per night—with the most expensive suite, with private balcony pool, at 28,000 euros per night—and his guests includes many NBA luminaries as well as Beyoncé and other American performers.

 

I hope for the price their rooms are well air-conditioned. Today’s temperature reached (on my shaded thermometer) 112 F. Ouch!!