For the past five days I’ve been involved in the university’s internationalisation agenda. Translated from higher-education-speak into ordinary English, this means that I’ve taken the students abroad.
This year we chose Athens. Enough history to fill all their waking hours, and a reminder that “abroad” is not all-exclusive and surrounded by a high fence. In the real world they must learn a few foreign words, follow a map, and get up before midday.
And in the world of student budgets, they learn that breakfast is not an eat-all-you-like buffet by the pool, but a dry bread roll and a Lipton’s teabag.
Given the economic woes of the last few years, you might imagine that the Greek capital would be somehow different. But, of course, Greece has been through plenty of turbulence before, and always come through on the other side. This is a place where democracy and tyranny, independence and occupation, have always been interchangeable.
While we were in residence, there was a small riot one afternoon, down in Constitution Square, but only one traffic cone was thrown. It was far too hot to overthrow the system.
Perhaps the restaurant owners are a little more persistent than they once were. And the tales of “specially cooked meals” and “extra special prices just for you” have become more demanding. It’s not that you’re refusing him, you see, it’s that you’re condemning his elderly mother in the kitchen to the workhouse.
The biggest change comes at the end of the meal. One of the reasons Greece is in the mess it is is that people are disinclined to pay any tax; cash changes hands and the till (along with the government) sees nothing of it. Perhaps they are harking back to the glory days of Ancient Athens, when citizens never had to pay any. Indeed, even at the airport, you see signs that declare: “You are not obliged to pay unless an authorisation to pay has been issued.”
Thus the disappointment of the restaurant owner when you go to the cafe next door is matched by equal dissatisfaction when the word “receipt” is mentioned.
So if you’re heading to the Aegean this summer, learn the word “paralave”. You might upset your host, but you’ll be keeping Angela Merkel very happy.
* Dr Chris Upton is back at his desk at Newman University Birmingham
