I am in Greece for a long weekend which will culminate with the wedding of two friends who I happened to introduce to each other some years ago. I figured I ought to witness the outcome of my random act!
But before the wedding I am spending the days by the sea near Nafpaktos on the Messolonghi strait which Lord Byron famously tried to swim across.
I'm here to relax and get some much needed rest and I cannot think of anywhere better in the world to do it. I'm staying with old friends George & Nadia in their summer houses - built from stone and set up on a little ridge overlooking the sea.
The weather is hot by Greek standards but pleasant by Gulf measures and I am thoroughly enjoying the pace of life that rural Greece offers. I confess to missing Greece - I lived here for nearly seven years and am a fluent Greek speaker - and most of all the pace and approach to life.
Over some cold beer in a small square and later on over home made wine in a family run taverna in a village I discussed this "Greek-ness" with my dear friend George.
He thinks it's a matter of maybe 15-20 years before rural Greece with its chicken pens, goat herds, crowded churches and summer festivals - part Bachanalian part Christian - disappear in favour of industrialisation, urbanisation and in the name of progress. If this is true it will be a huge shame.
The gentle pace of life, the quiet celebration of simple things like breaking bread with friends and family and the occasional impassioned argument or outburst on a political or philosophical matter of little general importance are hugely appealing for someone who lives on a hamsters wheel in the commercial & material rat race that is Dubai or indeed any major global metropolis, East or West.
The Greek emphasis on hospitality, social integrity, community spirit and the family seem somehow "retro" in a world obsessed with credit, cashflow, consumerism and crisis. But not here.
Not that these things don't exist in Greece - they do. But they are not as important to people as they are elsewhere because there are still other things that matter. The same exact condition can be found in Turkey which is another reason I enjoy that country so much. I feel at home there just as I do in Greece...
This is still a nation where discussion - and sometimes argument - is commonplace among both friends and strangers. One of my greatest pleasures is talking and debating with friends at the dinner table and long into the night, fuelled by wine and intellectual curiosity. Philosophical positions are argued with rhetoric, dissected with hypothesis and analysis and synthesis - all Greek words and concepts - and may involve laughter, tears, joy and sadness the course of the evening. But you know you are alive. You know that your heart and your mind are both functioning. This vitality is enormously refreshing and healthy - and it gives soul to life.
After concluding our meal in the taverna and chatting with the former bank manager in the town and his wife (relatives of Nadia - but everyone knows everyone here anyway) we headed to the house. Nadia watered the plants and trees around the property while George and I sat outside under the clear sky with stars lit brightly above and faced the sea. We've been friends for more than 10 years and were business partners for 6 years so we don't need to talk much to enjoy each other's company.
George drank bourbon - Makers Mark - and smoked a Cuban cigar while I drank wine from Montenegro. We listened to country music starting with Willie Nelson and moving through Lucinda Williams to the Gospel sounds of The Blind Boys Of Alabama - finally concluding with some of my own recent songs. We exchanged perhaps 20 words in two hours as we quietly contemplated the day, what the next day held, life, music, love and death. (At least that's what I contemplated, George may have been thinking about hedge trimming and golf...).
The night ended listening to the incredibly beautiful and haunting voice of my friend and fellow musician NK. Her songs filled the silence of the night and her voice and soul covered our hillside ridge like a sheet across a bed.
The last drop of wine was drained and a fine and deep sleep was enjoyed.
