Chock Full O' Whatever

Some of you are aware that B and I have been going to “Greek school” for the past year. Class meets once a week in the basement of St. George’s Greek Orthodox Church (there are two Greek churches in the Cities).

We learn our alpha, beta (vee-ta not bay-da), gammas, the kids learn Greek dancing (B even participated in the the Festival of Nations as, possibly, the only red-haired, freckled Greek ever) and we celebrate holidays you’ve never heard of like Oxi Day, which translates as “No” Day. It’s to mark the beginning of Greece’s participation in World War II, or more specifically, when the Greek Prime Minister Ioannis Metaxas said “no” to the Germans.

What have I learned about Greek culture? Many things, some quite random. I’ve learned that the island of Patmos, described as the "Jerusalem of the Aegean,” is believed to be where St. John was inspired to write the Book of Revelations. I’ve learned that Easter is a far bigger deal than Christmas festivities-wise (and that eggs are dyed red). I’ve learned that halia (accent on the first alpha) is what you say when something is low-class or just distasteful in some way like a really trashy outfit. I’ve learned to make Greek coffee and B has become an avid backgammon player thanks to the tutelage of the master (Yorgos).

Of course, we have yet to visit Greece, but as my teacher Anna (a truly amazing polyglot and proprietor of an outstanding Greek restaurant) says, being Greek is a state of mind. Opa!