Friday, 20 September 2013
Tuesday, 17 September 2013
It's still quite tiring living away from home
You may know that we're hoping to get a place for Ruth in pre-school so she can begin to spread her wings (she's keen on this) and get going in Greek (she's not so keen on this). Registration for said place is turning out rather trickier than we'd imagined.
The other three kids got their places with a bit of paperwork: birth certificates, UK medical records, proof of parental employment etc. Turns out that bureaucratic levels have been stepped up. We can no longer use proof of employment from outside of Greece (stamp from a Greek agency needed). We can no longer use Ruth's standard issue Nottingham birth certificate (non-Greek ones need an official seal before they can be officially translated). UK medical preparation wasn't enough (various jabs that aren't standard there are standard here).
All this is mostly fair enough - we've no huge complaint about that, as the authorities are entitled to request whatever they feel is necessary to run the education system. But what has struck me this week after trying yet again to get Ruth through the necessary hoops is that, despite having been here over six years, it is still difficult encountering all these obstacles. Greek families have to do the same, but they're in the system already so much of it is more easily obtainable, and the normality of it being home culture for them would mean the frustration is perhaps far more lightly borne.
It was the way in which it made me feel so tired and frustrated that struck me.
There was a moment in the translation office having been told - politely, fairly and firmly - that the standard certificate was not enough when I just stood in the middle of the Greek/English section of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs not quite knowing where to go or what to do. I think I may have wandered around in a couple of small circles, thinking through our various options and suddenly feeling very, very tired.
I'm not writing this to describe any level of suffering or hardship, but rather to get into black and white where we're at regarding culture stress and adjustment. Despite all the progress made, there are some things that will perhaps always feel thoroughly alien and frustrating.
The other three kids got their places with a bit of paperwork: birth certificates, UK medical records, proof of parental employment etc. Turns out that bureaucratic levels have been stepped up. We can no longer use proof of employment from outside of Greece (stamp from a Greek agency needed). We can no longer use Ruth's standard issue Nottingham birth certificate (non-Greek ones need an official seal before they can be officially translated). UK medical preparation wasn't enough (various jabs that aren't standard there are standard here).
All this is mostly fair enough - we've no huge complaint about that, as the authorities are entitled to request whatever they feel is necessary to run the education system. But what has struck me this week after trying yet again to get Ruth through the necessary hoops is that, despite having been here over six years, it is still difficult encountering all these obstacles. Greek families have to do the same, but they're in the system already so much of it is more easily obtainable, and the normality of it being home culture for them would mean the frustration is perhaps far more lightly borne.
It was the way in which it made me feel so tired and frustrated that struck me.
There was a moment in the translation office having been told - politely, fairly and firmly - that the standard certificate was not enough when I just stood in the middle of the Greek/English section of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs not quite knowing where to go or what to do. I think I may have wandered around in a couple of small circles, thinking through our various options and suddenly feeling very, very tired.
I'm not writing this to describe any level of suffering or hardship, but rather to get into black and white where we're at regarding culture stress and adjustment. Despite all the progress made, there are some things that will perhaps always feel thoroughly alien and frustrating.
Thursday, 12 September 2013
Welcome back to Athens
It's good to be back in Athens, which is both home and not a horrible place to live! Feeling at home is not the same thing as being entirely at ease however, and some things will probably never cease to cause us to realise how different by character, culture and temperament we are. They're usually quite trivial, such as the following incident, which I've put down here to illustrate a little of the cultural gap we try and bridge whenever we leave the house (and often in the house too).
On the way back from school with Hannah I popped into the local supermarket (been there way over 100 times) for onions and bread: goods worth €1.40. €5 paid, €3.60 due in change (I didn't get an E in A-level maths for nothing).
Taking the change from the lady, it briefly crossed my mind that it looked a little light, but pocketed it and then took it out again about 5 seconds later to check. I definitely had the €1.40 rather than the €3.60.
I caught up with the rapidly retreating assistant and explained what had happened.
Me: 'Excuse me, I think you've not given me the correct change.'
Shop assistant: '[Slightly irritably] Why did you do that?'
'Ummm...well you've given me the wrong part of the fiver'
'Surely you've made a mistake?'
'Er, no, I've got the 1.40 here.'
'You've probably got the rest in another pocket?'
'[Remaining very calm] No, just this and my keys.'
'Pfff...well I'll have to get the key for the till then won't I...'
'Thanks very much'.
'...'
'OK, bye!'
'...'
Note how in the entire course of this conversation I managed not to say 'sorry' (which non-English readers should know is how we feel whenever someone else is remotely put out on our account, even if we're not at fault...probably because we're aware of how much wrong we've done in the world. Sorry.).
The joke goes that when the verb 'to be at fault' is taught to primary school kids, it goes like this:
Δεν φταίω (It's not my fault)
Φταις (It's your fault)
Φταί (It's his/her fault)
Δεν φταίμε (It's not our fault)
Φταίτε (It's your fault)
Φταίνε (It's their fault)
Repent and believe the good news, Jesus says. Repentance requires the humility to stop saying 'it's your fault' and accept that actually it's very much mine.
On the way back from school with Hannah I popped into the local supermarket (been there way over 100 times) for onions and bread: goods worth €1.40. €5 paid, €3.60 due in change (I didn't get an E in A-level maths for nothing).
Taking the change from the lady, it briefly crossed my mind that it looked a little light, but pocketed it and then took it out again about 5 seconds later to check. I definitely had the €1.40 rather than the €3.60.
I caught up with the rapidly retreating assistant and explained what had happened.
Me: 'Excuse me, I think you've not given me the correct change.'
Shop assistant: '[Slightly irritably] Why did you do that?'
'Ummm...well you've given me the wrong part of the fiver'
'Surely you've made a mistake?'
'Er, no, I've got the 1.40 here.'
'You've probably got the rest in another pocket?'
'[Remaining very calm] No, just this and my keys.'
'Pfff...well I'll have to get the key for the till then won't I...'
'Thanks very much'.
'...'
'OK, bye!'
'...'
Note how in the entire course of this conversation I managed not to say 'sorry' (which non-English readers should know is how we feel whenever someone else is remotely put out on our account, even if we're not at fault...probably because we're aware of how much wrong we've done in the world. Sorry.).
The joke goes that when the verb 'to be at fault' is taught to primary school kids, it goes like this:
Δεν φταίω (It's not my fault)
Φταις (It's your fault)
Φταί (It's his/her fault)
Δεν φταίμε (It's not our fault)
Φταίτε (It's your fault)
Φταίνε (It's their fault)
Repent and believe the good news, Jesus says. Repentance requires the humility to stop saying 'it's your fault' and accept that actually it's very much mine.
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