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Thank you, Greece, for a wonderful Games
- By Dave Barry
Athens: I’m leaving the Olympics and heading home, assuming the plane can lift me. This is a concern because I’ve gained many kilometres of mass from eating Greek food, especially "baklava," which is the Greek word for "carbohydrates". But before I leave, I have something to say to Greece:
Dear Greece, I owe you an apology. Every negative thought I had about you before I got here — every worry, every concern — turned out to be wrong. When I got to Greece, I thought you wouldn’t be ready for the Olympics. But you were, more ready than my country was in 1996 when the Olympics came to Atlanta.
Your facilities were finished, or at least finished enough; the buses ran on time; the phones worked; and an army of ever-cheerful volunteers stood by to deal with what few glitches there were. The Games went beautifully. I still don’t understand rhythmic gymnastics, but that’s not your fault.
When I got to Greece, I was worried about terrorism. But my only moments of terror involved public toilets last cleaned by the Goths, and of course the Athens taxis, which are a menace to all humanity everywhere. (If we keep sending robots to Mars, sooner or later one of them will be run over by an Athens taxi.)
But the Games themselves, and your country, always felt safe. The security, even though there was a lot of it, never felt oppressive. I wish I felt as safe in my own country as I did in yours. When I got to Greece, I was worried about pickpockets.
My company sent me to a scary security-training session that left me convinced that I’d wind up lying in some Athens alley, stripped of money, clothes and key bodily organs. But nobody took anything from me. Instead, people kept giving me things: pins, maps, guidebooks, smiles and — most precious of all — directions.
Whenever I looked lost — which was often — people would stop and ask me, in English, if I needed help. Often they’d walk with me, going out of their way, making sure I was on the right path, sometimes even handing me off to another helpful Greek, passing me across Athens like a human baton in the Clueless American Relay.
When I got to Greece, I was worried about bringing my four-year-old daughter, Sophie. But you opened your arms to her, as you do to all children.
We couldn’t get on a bus without somebody offering Sophie a seat; we couldn’t walk around our neighbourhood without somebody shouting "Sophie!" and running over to say hi to her. At home, I’m a newspaper columnist; in Greece, I’m the guy who accompanies Sophie.
When I got to Greece. I was worried about not understanding the language. But it turned out that the only Greek word I really needed to know was "efharisto," which means (I hope), "Thank you." I said it a hundred times a day.
So, Greece, I apologise. You took on a huge task, and you did it well, and your competence was matched by your warmth. You treated my family like your family; we’ve already decided we’re coming back (after all, Sophie will want to see her friends).
Until then, Greece, from my heart: Efharisto.
By arrangement with the Miami Herald
____________________________________
Θα πρότεινα να το κάνετε forward σε όλους τους φίλους σας - ΙΔΙΑΙΤΕΡΑ τους ΞΕΝΟΥΣ...
- By Dave Barry
Athens: I’m leaving the Olympics and heading home, assuming the plane can lift me. This is a concern because I’ve gained many kilometres of mass from eating Greek food, especially "baklava," which is the Greek word for "carbohydrates". But before I leave, I have something to say to Greece:
Dear Greece, I owe you an apology. Every negative thought I had about you before I got here — every worry, every concern — turned out to be wrong. When I got to Greece, I thought you wouldn’t be ready for the Olympics. But you were, more ready than my country was in 1996 when the Olympics came to Atlanta.
Your facilities were finished, or at least finished enough; the buses ran on time; the phones worked; and an army of ever-cheerful volunteers stood by to deal with what few glitches there were. The Games went beautifully. I still don’t understand rhythmic gymnastics, but that’s not your fault.
When I got to Greece, I was worried about terrorism. But my only moments of terror involved public toilets last cleaned by the Goths, and of course the Athens taxis, which are a menace to all humanity everywhere. (If we keep sending robots to Mars, sooner or later one of them will be run over by an Athens taxi.)
But the Games themselves, and your country, always felt safe. The security, even though there was a lot of it, never felt oppressive. I wish I felt as safe in my own country as I did in yours. When I got to Greece, I was worried about pickpockets.
My company sent me to a scary security-training session that left me convinced that I’d wind up lying in some Athens alley, stripped of money, clothes and key bodily organs. But nobody took anything from me. Instead, people kept giving me things: pins, maps, guidebooks, smiles and — most precious of all — directions.
Whenever I looked lost — which was often — people would stop and ask me, in English, if I needed help. Often they’d walk with me, going out of their way, making sure I was on the right path, sometimes even handing me off to another helpful Greek, passing me across Athens like a human baton in the Clueless American Relay.
When I got to Greece, I was worried about bringing my four-year-old daughter, Sophie. But you opened your arms to her, as you do to all children.
We couldn’t get on a bus without somebody offering Sophie a seat; we couldn’t walk around our neighbourhood without somebody shouting "Sophie!" and running over to say hi to her. At home, I’m a newspaper columnist; in Greece, I’m the guy who accompanies Sophie.
When I got to Greece. I was worried about not understanding the language. But it turned out that the only Greek word I really needed to know was "efharisto," which means (I hope), "Thank you." I said it a hundred times a day.
So, Greece, I apologise. You took on a huge task, and you did it well, and your competence was matched by your warmth. You treated my family like your family; we’ve already decided we’re coming back (after all, Sophie will want to see her friends).
Until then, Greece, from my heart: Efharisto.
By arrangement with the Miami Herald
____________________________________
Θα πρότεινα να το κάνετε forward σε όλους τους φίλους σας - ΙΔΙΑΙΤΕΡΑ τους ΞΕΝΟΥΣ...
