Staring: Achilleas-Jessica, Erasmia-Andreas, Alexandros-Claudia, Alexia and the little Filippos
Strange as it sounds you can find home in places you have never visited before. The cold surroundings and fairy-tale architecture of German-speaking Switzerland definitely do not warn you of such a possibility. The expectations do not exceed the stereotypes: Challenging ski slopes, breathtaking mountain views, cheese fondue (of course you get punished if you lose your piece of bread!) and the gentle aroma of cow waste all over the countryside. As expected… none of these living stereotypes matches my memories of home. Not to mention the Zurich extravagance and stylistic explosion based on insurance industry money. Far from my salary-forced academic modesty…
Chocolate-biscuit house, like those I used to marvel at my school’s German Christmas market, this is how I would best describe the Switzerland I saw. Nonetheless, what took place in that biscuit house, is a whole different story. Oh yes… once again one of those Wherever-I-look-Greece-hurts-me-stories. But also one of friendship and of family-you-choose and of dreams and happiness. I met with my best school friends and their respective (German) partners, all –by coincidence - hunting their future in Switzerland. Doctors, architects, business consultants, you know… “real people”, unlike academics in the fish bowl.
Knowing them from the age of 12, aware of all their faults of character and all that they are capable of, even if recent life details are missing… it is always interesting to glimpse in their homes just to see which IKEA series they have picked. Just to check your knowledge on their tastes. Friendship trivia.
Shared anger: “Greece is collapsing”, shared fears: “My parents are getting older”, shared hopes: “Better job prospects”, shared plans: “Let’s all move to Berlin!”
The curious thing this bunch of self-exiled Greeks has in common is their unconventional education in a German school located in Greece, giving them a good glimpse into a very different culture to their own. I still have not decided if this was a gift or a torture. As the other shared characteristic of the bunch is the constant theme of their conversations: their love for Greece, their pride for what Greece should be, and above all their pain and anger for what Greece has become.
How did I manage to turn this travel chronicle into a “Greece hurts me” entry…
Back to Switzerland…
All of us able users of Hochdeutch with small variations in dialects, possibly except only the “Schwabe”, had a good laugh at Schwitzer-Dutsh (Swiss-German, click here for sample) but were deeply concerned that our friend’s toddle growing up there started showing signs of thicker “ch” and suspicious use of Swiss words. We put all our efforts to convert him back to orthodox German. We were more frightened of the possibility of Swiss accent than by the fact that the kid would not utter a word in Greek. Priorities…
Saying goodbye to Switzerland was easy. Fairy-tale places are beautiful but do not capture my bohemian soul. Saying goodbye to my friends was interesting. Every time we meet in a different scene, so we paint our visit with different colours, but the essence remains always the same. All of us strive for the creation of a new imaginary homeland, we need these meetings to populate it.
