Truth:
Greece has always been a nightmare for drivers. Fast driving, no respect for signs, double parking, driving the wrong direction on two way streets.
Apparently lately the government is really trying to change this. However there is a long established mentality in the heads of my fellow citizens that is making that extremely diffucult. A simple example, instead of obaying the law of drink-driving, the smart greek drivers drink and then the drive through the areas that they know the police never tests for "alco-tests". That might mean that they add an extra hour on the original journey time, just to feel free to have as much drink as they feel like. Now that is the essence of freedom!
Not long ago, a friend of mine was stopped by the traffic police at 2am on a Saturday night in a Thessaloniki main road for the traditional test. SHe was found clean. She only had drunk fizzy drinks. The officer in charge, instead of just letting her go, or thnking her and letting her go, he had a go at her.... Why shuch a young girl is not having fun on a Saturday night? It's wrong for her not to drink at all!!!!
Dare:
Obviously the approach of greek policemen has changed since then. They do not care about the citizens social life. On the contrary, they are trying to enforce the law even it means that they will disrrupt the citicents eating habbits. In this case the incident involved double-parking. The driver was just about to get coffee and breakfast but there was no parking space in sight. Hunger is not illigal yet by the greek traffic law. However, an out-of-duty policement (who says that in Greece people are lazy and do not work over time?) told the driver to forget about the cheese pies and the coffee and to take his car, as he was blocking the traffic. Of course the driver agreed, he only asked for some time to go and get his breakfast. He wasn't planning to stay there the whole day anyway.... There are so many nice things to do in Greece on a Sunday. The impatient policement judged that this man who prioritizes cheesepies and coffee before the well functioning of the traffic on that specific greek road was public danger... so he shot him.
Have you ever seen more dedicated policemen than the greek ones?
For reference:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/europe/6720099.stm
So I believe that Greece has become a paradise for drivers. All the evil habbits of the past are now being erradicated... Only when you go beware. Do not buy cheese pies whenever you feel like it.
Try double parking in Greece... if you dare!
Wednesday, 6 June 2007
Tuesday, 23 January 2007
Being 25
Just one more entry before I pass the threshold of 25.
It took me about three years to adjust to this age. First my mind was set on 22. Even when the years passed and I was 23 and 24.. when asked I was always 22. Then of course I had to count and the result always caught me by surprise.
The past year I was happy. I had finally reached the mental age of 25. I was happy with this significant number. And now I have to change it again. I am afraid I will refuse... it will take me some years to upgrade to the better model. So I suppose I have to worn you. In case you ask me how old I am and I still say 25 it is not because I am trying to lie... it is because I am stuck on this age.
I suppose the reason is that time now passes faster than when we were younger. The maturing proccess is slower than it used to be and thus we do not feel that a year has passed when it actually has. Now time counts in bigger chuncks. Important achivements and big changes.
Maybe the next step will be 28.. who knows.
But for one more day I can say I am 25 and be right. Just one more day.
It took me about three years to adjust to this age. First my mind was set on 22. Even when the years passed and I was 23 and 24.. when asked I was always 22. Then of course I had to count and the result always caught me by surprise.
The past year I was happy. I had finally reached the mental age of 25. I was happy with this significant number. And now I have to change it again. I am afraid I will refuse... it will take me some years to upgrade to the better model. So I suppose I have to worn you. In case you ask me how old I am and I still say 25 it is not because I am trying to lie... it is because I am stuck on this age.
I suppose the reason is that time now passes faster than when we were younger. The maturing proccess is slower than it used to be and thus we do not feel that a year has passed when it actually has. Now time counts in bigger chuncks. Important achivements and big changes.
Maybe the next step will be 28.. who knows.
But for one more day I can say I am 25 and be right. Just one more day.
Monday, 15 January 2007
Alexia = Ugly
A Mathematic statement that appeared as a girl's nick name in MSN.
Point to keep in Mind No1: MSN is public.
Point to keep in Mind No2: Mathematic statements can be falsified.
Background Story: I do not know this girl. I have never met her and most likely I never will. This girl was interested in Alexia's boyfriend. But apparently the choice of the part tense is wrong.
Alternative History: If Alexia was Queen Alexia of the Big Glorious Empire, in Medival times this girl would be proclaimed a witch and would be burned alive to purify her soul.
Damn the enlightment and the modern times....
Leaving aside the backgroud stories and the evil reactions a mathematic statement such as this can be treated as a hypothesis and thus can be tested. So me being a behavioural political scientist (aka number cruncher) I will attempt to test this hypothesis against all the available evidence and finally accept or rejected.
Unfortunatelly the ethical reward of all these is non-existing as I am an advocate of freedom of speech... and against capital punishment. (How very hippie of me!)
Hypothesis: Alexia = Ugly
Evidence: Alexia's boyfriend is not blind
Discussion: Although that could be a good proof against the hypothesis then we have to find evidence to support that Charlie's (Alexia's boyfriend) taste is objectively good. That might be the case as he likes classical music, Lord of the Rings and great nana's good old cheese biscuits, which are a proof enough of good taste. But of course we might end up in the deadend that objectively good taste does not exist... So we better look for different evidence.
Evidence: When People meet her they do not look away disgusted but they smile instead
Discussion: Assuming that someone is extraordinarily ugly then people would try to avoid them This is not the case for Alexia. However that just might mean that she is not extreamely ugly but just ugly... or a little ugly. Unfortunatelly the degree of uglyness is not defined in the hypothesis.
Evidence: Laurence says Alexia does not have a big ass
Discussion: That would be of any help if only ugly people had big asses. Sorry Laurence... you are not helpful here.
Evidence: When Alexia was little the other kids at school teased her that she had a small nose
Discussion: That only proves that Alexia has a small nose. That can also be measured.
Just about here my imagination and creativity stopped. The hypothessis cannot be proven. Sorry, tough luck. It is this kind of mathematical statements that fall into the personal judgement category. Some people will agree and some people will get pissed off that it was even expressed.
Each one of you can have there own opinion on the statement. After all it is a free world.
The only question is.. how far should we go with that freedom. Should we be allowed to post every little opinion we have as offensive as it might be to a public place?
The only closing I could think for this entry is Voltaire's quote: I disagree with everything you say but I will defend with my own life your right to say it.
On the other hand.. witch burning was not all that bad.
PS. I urge all the reader to have an opinion on the hypothesis. Let's put it on a public vote! What more democratic than that :P
Point to keep in Mind No1: MSN is public.
Point to keep in Mind No2: Mathematic statements can be falsified.
Background Story: I do not know this girl. I have never met her and most likely I never will. This girl was interested in Alexia's boyfriend. But apparently the choice of the part tense is wrong.
Alternative History: If Alexia was Queen Alexia of the Big Glorious Empire, in Medival times this girl would be proclaimed a witch and would be burned alive to purify her soul.
Damn the enlightment and the modern times....
Leaving aside the backgroud stories and the evil reactions a mathematic statement such as this can be treated as a hypothesis and thus can be tested. So me being a behavioural political scientist (aka number cruncher) I will attempt to test this hypothesis against all the available evidence and finally accept or rejected.
Unfortunatelly the ethical reward of all these is non-existing as I am an advocate of freedom of speech... and against capital punishment. (How very hippie of me!)
Hypothesis: Alexia = Ugly
Evidence: Alexia's boyfriend is not blind
Discussion: Although that could be a good proof against the hypothesis then we have to find evidence to support that Charlie's (Alexia's boyfriend) taste is objectively good. That might be the case as he likes classical music, Lord of the Rings and great nana's good old cheese biscuits, which are a proof enough of good taste. But of course we might end up in the deadend that objectively good taste does not exist... So we better look for different evidence.
Evidence: When People meet her they do not look away disgusted but they smile instead
Discussion: Assuming that someone is extraordinarily ugly then people would try to avoid them This is not the case for Alexia. However that just might mean that she is not extreamely ugly but just ugly... or a little ugly. Unfortunatelly the degree of uglyness is not defined in the hypothesis.
Evidence: Laurence says Alexia does not have a big ass
Discussion: That would be of any help if only ugly people had big asses. Sorry Laurence... you are not helpful here.
Evidence: When Alexia was little the other kids at school teased her that she had a small nose
Discussion: That only proves that Alexia has a small nose. That can also be measured.
Just about here my imagination and creativity stopped. The hypothessis cannot be proven. Sorry, tough luck. It is this kind of mathematical statements that fall into the personal judgement category. Some people will agree and some people will get pissed off that it was even expressed.
Each one of you can have there own opinion on the statement. After all it is a free world.
The only question is.. how far should we go with that freedom. Should we be allowed to post every little opinion we have as offensive as it might be to a public place?
The only closing I could think for this entry is Voltaire's quote: I disagree with everything you say but I will defend with my own life your right to say it.
On the other hand.. witch burning was not all that bad.
PS. I urge all the reader to have an opinion on the hypothesis. Let's put it on a public vote! What more democratic than that :P
Monday, 1 January 2007
2+2007=27+007
And finally after many many years I had a good new years eve with people I love singing silly songs!
I hope 2007 stays like that! Full of silly songs!
Yet another year that symbolises expansion, so for better or worse the EU "family" has grown bigger and fatter. Welcome to Bulgaria and Romania... and good luck to all of us.
As 2007 has brought us 2 making us 27, and we have a new 007 that fulfills our desteny and that of the numbers 0, 2 and 7.
Happy New Year to us all... and let the numbers rock on.
I hope 2007 stays like that! Full of silly songs!
Yet another year that symbolises expansion, so for better or worse the EU "family" has grown bigger and fatter. Welcome to Bulgaria and Romania... and good luck to all of us.
As 2007 has brought us 2 making us 27, and we have a new 007 that fulfills our desteny and that of the numbers 0, 2 and 7.
Happy New Year to us all... and let the numbers rock on.
Thursday, 14 December 2006
Nothing new in the Western Front
Every Monday morning I regret having a job.
The violent noise of the alarm clock demanding attention, my cold nose feeling the temperature of the world outside my douvet, the thought of another eight hours in front of the computer screen checking data somebody else collected... really do not give me reasons to be happy.
This Monday though was even worse. First thing I did was to check the news with the sole purpose to postpone checking this weeks data. And I realized that this Monday was one of the most sad Mondays I have ever experienced.
Pinochet died.
Many people were happy with his death. They went on the street celebrating that a person who caused so much pain to the people of his country finally died.
Many people were sad. People who believed in what he did. His supporters who thought that he build up a good future for his country.
I was sad. Not sad... furious. Yes... Why?
Because yet another bastard, another evil dictator who killed people's bodies souls and spirits had the priviledge to die peacefully in his bed without ever being judged and punished for what he did, for the pain he caused.
For he not only injured people. He injured ideas and people's hopes for a better future and freedom.
And here all faithfull people on earth would say that he will be punished by God.
But this is just a compensation for the weak, who cannot face the cruelty of our world.
I suppose after all there is not better job than being a dictator. And be good friends with the USA, come to that. Where can I send my CV?
The violent noise of the alarm clock demanding attention, my cold nose feeling the temperature of the world outside my douvet, the thought of another eight hours in front of the computer screen checking data somebody else collected... really do not give me reasons to be happy.
This Monday though was even worse. First thing I did was to check the news with the sole purpose to postpone checking this weeks data. And I realized that this Monday was one of the most sad Mondays I have ever experienced.
Pinochet died.
Many people were happy with his death. They went on the street celebrating that a person who caused so much pain to the people of his country finally died.
Many people were sad. People who believed in what he did. His supporters who thought that he build up a good future for his country.
I was sad. Not sad... furious. Yes... Why?
Because yet another bastard, another evil dictator who killed people's bodies souls and spirits had the priviledge to die peacefully in his bed without ever being judged and punished for what he did, for the pain he caused.
For he not only injured people. He injured ideas and people's hopes for a better future and freedom.
And here all faithfull people on earth would say that he will be punished by God.
But this is just a compensation for the weak, who cannot face the cruelty of our world.
I suppose after all there is not better job than being a dictator. And be good friends with the USA, come to that. Where can I send my CV?
Thursday, 26 October 2006
Why mounteneering is out of this world
Climbing up walls and soon real rocks and mountains is my new thing. I have always admired these strong people who are able to control their body and physical strength and coming closer to nature. So now here I am, learning all about harnesses, climbing shoes, ropes and knots. My initial reason for starting this sport, if one could call it so, was to appreciate nature and travel to remote places I wouldn’t go otherwise. However before coming closer to caring Mother Nature I ended up confronting my suspicious human nature. Sweat fear and panic attacks. In order to climb any higher than three meters I have to tie myself on another person who is responsible for me not breaking my neck and dying a quick but unfortunate death. So what I really learn in mountaineering practice is not making knots and climbing up rocks but trust.
In this particular case trust means to feel comfortable hanging from a long rope controlled by a person who I have never seen before and in most cases I do not even know his name. For some reason all the others seem to feel very comfortable losing hands and feet from the wall and just hang like a pendulum choosing their next root up to the sealing. And by “others” I mean also the newcomers just like me, not only the ones who started climbing after leaving their mothers belly.
For some reason I feel I am the only one who has the normal reservations of our uncanny society that teach us not to trust anybody unless he is proven worthy of our trust and even then not to get too surprised if he/she sleeps with your long beloved partner or if he hijacks and airplane and crushes it on a New York skyscraper. So in a world full of potential man-eaters, terrorists and all shorts of shadowy human like creatures up to every kind of mischief I do not see how I can trust a random person holding the rope that gives him the power of life and death over me. So I sweat and tremble every time I feel that my own strength might not be enough to keep me up.
I just wonder how all these climbers all over the world trust so easily. Did they have a different kind of training in their childhood that did not include “do not talk to strangers” and “do not take sweets from people on the street”? Or am I just the weirdo that took this advice at face value and now has an adrenaline explosion covered in sweat every time I feel I might lose my grip on the climbing wall. And all that just because I am once again the control freak that hates depending on a rope whose end is in the hands of Mike. Or was his name Eric after all?
In this particular case trust means to feel comfortable hanging from a long rope controlled by a person who I have never seen before and in most cases I do not even know his name. For some reason all the others seem to feel very comfortable losing hands and feet from the wall and just hang like a pendulum choosing their next root up to the sealing. And by “others” I mean also the newcomers just like me, not only the ones who started climbing after leaving their mothers belly.
For some reason I feel I am the only one who has the normal reservations of our uncanny society that teach us not to trust anybody unless he is proven worthy of our trust and even then not to get too surprised if he/she sleeps with your long beloved partner or if he hijacks and airplane and crushes it on a New York skyscraper. So in a world full of potential man-eaters, terrorists and all shorts of shadowy human like creatures up to every kind of mischief I do not see how I can trust a random person holding the rope that gives him the power of life and death over me. So I sweat and tremble every time I feel that my own strength might not be enough to keep me up.
I just wonder how all these climbers all over the world trust so easily. Did they have a different kind of training in their childhood that did not include “do not talk to strangers” and “do not take sweets from people on the street”? Or am I just the weirdo that took this advice at face value and now has an adrenaline explosion covered in sweat every time I feel I might lose my grip on the climbing wall. And all that just because I am once again the control freak that hates depending on a rope whose end is in the hands of Mike. Or was his name Eric after all?
Monday, 25 September 2006
Mal du Depart
The sickness of traveling. Or the passion for it.
This poem is written by a sailor and has been my companion through out my teenage years and has shaped my personal space in the back of my head, the one I always go back to when I get hurt. This place is full of escape feelings, full of sea, exploration and freedom. It is always there to remind me that if I do not follow my what I believe is right for me, if I do not listen to myself and just try to satisfy anyone else, no matter how dear this person is to me, in the end I will have to face the harshest judges of all. Myself.
For some reason when that happens I always feel like taking a long journey. Journeys involve travelling in real and imaginary space. One step in a new land is one step closer to the core of my being. The wilder the land the closer to my inner truth.
Imagine.. now I am dreaming of the scottish highlands. Who knows what truth I am going to find up there.
PS. For non greek speakers, scroll down. If you are full of unsatisfied passions and there is one small part of you that likes escaping you will benefit from it.
MAL DU DEPART
Θα μείνω πάντα ιδανικός κι ανάξιος εραστής
των μακρυσμένων ταξιδιών και των γαλάζιων πόντων,
και θα πεθάνω μια βραδιά, σαν όλες τις βραδιές,
χωρίς να σχίσω τη θολή γραμμή των οριζόντων.
Για το Μαδράς, τη Σιγγαπούρ, τ' Αλγέρι και το Σφαξ
θ' αναχωρούν σαν πάντοτε περήφανα τα πλοία,
κι εγώ, σκυφτός σ' ένα γραφείο με χάρτες ναυτικούς,
θα κάνω αθροίσεις σε χοντρά λογιστικά βιβλία.
Θα πάψω πια για μακρινά ταξίδια να μιλώ
οι φίλοι θα νομίζουνε πως τα' χω πια ξεχάσει,
κι η μάνα μου χαρούμενη θα λέει σ' όποιον ρωτά:
"Ήταν μια λόξα νεανική, μα τώρα έχει περάσει..."
Μα ο εαυτός μου μια βραδιά εμπρός μου θα υψωθεί
και λόγο, ως ένας δικαστής στυγνός, θα μου ζητήσει,
κι αυτό τ' ανάξιο χέρι μου που τρέμει θα οπλιστεί,
θα σημαδέψει κι άφοβα τον φταίχτη θα χτυπήσει.
Κι εγώ που τόσο πόθησα μια μέρα να ταφώ
σε κάποια θάλασσα βαθιά στις μακρινές Ινδίες,
θα 'χω ένα θάνατο κοινό και θλιβερό πολύ
και μια κηδεία σαν των πολλών ανθρώπων τις κηδείες.
And in English, not as beautiful unfortunatelly
Always the perfect, unworthy lover
of the endless voyage and azure ocean,
I shall die one evening, like any other,
without having crossed the dim horizon.
For Madras, Singapore, Algeria, Sfax,
the proud ships will still be setting sail,
but I shall bend over a chart-covered deskand
look in the ledger, and make out a bill.
I'll give up talking about long journeys,
My friends will think I've forgotten at last;
my mother will be delighted: she'll say
"A young man's fancy, but now it's passed."
But one night my soul will rise up before me,
and ask, like some grim executioner, "Why?"
This unworthy trembling hand will take arms
and fearlessly strike where the blame must lie.
And I, who longed to be buried one day
in some deep sea of the distant Indies
shall come to a dull and common death;
shall go to a grave like the graves of so many.
This poem is written by a sailor and has been my companion through out my teenage years and has shaped my personal space in the back of my head, the one I always go back to when I get hurt. This place is full of escape feelings, full of sea, exploration and freedom. It is always there to remind me that if I do not follow my what I believe is right for me, if I do not listen to myself and just try to satisfy anyone else, no matter how dear this person is to me, in the end I will have to face the harshest judges of all. Myself.
For some reason when that happens I always feel like taking a long journey. Journeys involve travelling in real and imaginary space. One step in a new land is one step closer to the core of my being. The wilder the land the closer to my inner truth.
Imagine.. now I am dreaming of the scottish highlands. Who knows what truth I am going to find up there.
PS. For non greek speakers, scroll down. If you are full of unsatisfied passions and there is one small part of you that likes escaping you will benefit from it.
MAL DU DEPART
Θα μείνω πάντα ιδανικός κι ανάξιος εραστής
των μακρυσμένων ταξιδιών και των γαλάζιων πόντων,
και θα πεθάνω μια βραδιά, σαν όλες τις βραδιές,
χωρίς να σχίσω τη θολή γραμμή των οριζόντων.
Για το Μαδράς, τη Σιγγαπούρ, τ' Αλγέρι και το Σφαξ
θ' αναχωρούν σαν πάντοτε περήφανα τα πλοία,
κι εγώ, σκυφτός σ' ένα γραφείο με χάρτες ναυτικούς,
θα κάνω αθροίσεις σε χοντρά λογιστικά βιβλία.
Θα πάψω πια για μακρινά ταξίδια να μιλώ
οι φίλοι θα νομίζουνε πως τα' χω πια ξεχάσει,
κι η μάνα μου χαρούμενη θα λέει σ' όποιον ρωτά:
"Ήταν μια λόξα νεανική, μα τώρα έχει περάσει..."
Μα ο εαυτός μου μια βραδιά εμπρός μου θα υψωθεί
και λόγο, ως ένας δικαστής στυγνός, θα μου ζητήσει,
κι αυτό τ' ανάξιο χέρι μου που τρέμει θα οπλιστεί,
θα σημαδέψει κι άφοβα τον φταίχτη θα χτυπήσει.
Κι εγώ που τόσο πόθησα μια μέρα να ταφώ
σε κάποια θάλασσα βαθιά στις μακρινές Ινδίες,
θα 'χω ένα θάνατο κοινό και θλιβερό πολύ
και μια κηδεία σαν των πολλών ανθρώπων τις κηδείες.
And in English, not as beautiful unfortunatelly
Always the perfect, unworthy lover
of the endless voyage and azure ocean,
I shall die one evening, like any other,
without having crossed the dim horizon.
For Madras, Singapore, Algeria, Sfax,
the proud ships will still be setting sail,
but I shall bend over a chart-covered deskand
look in the ledger, and make out a bill.
I'll give up talking about long journeys,
My friends will think I've forgotten at last;
my mother will be delighted: she'll say
"A young man's fancy, but now it's passed."
But one night my soul will rise up before me,
and ask, like some grim executioner, "Why?"
This unworthy trembling hand will take arms
and fearlessly strike where the blame must lie.
And I, who longed to be buried one day
in some deep sea of the distant Indies
shall come to a dull and common death;
shall go to a grave like the graves of so many.
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