A proud yet failing state?

Yesterday was one of the two great Greek national holidays, celebrating the resounding 'NO!' (OHI!) given to the Italians early on in WW2 when they demanded Greece's surrender to their perceived superior power. The refusal and subsequent drubbing of the Italian forces is a source of great pride to the Greek people, even if Germany eventually succeeded where their allies had failed and a harsh period of occupation ensued.

A visitor to Greece today would be impressed by the expression of national pride but will also be very unimpressed to hear not only of the ongoing economic misadventures of the country, but also - if they consult me, that is -that it appears to be in many ways a failed - or failing - state. In most places away from Athens life may appear to chug along as normal, the sun rises and sets every day, businesses open and close at their allotted time, cafes and tavernas are busy. To the untrained eye there are few obvious signs of the underlying malaise, society having absorbed most of the shocks and, in small places at least, rallied to help its own where the state has failed.

Athens is a different story to a large extent, with increased homelessness, many beggars, scores of closed or boarded up shops and dilapidated buildings. Of course the picture is distorted somewhat by the large numbers of migrants, many desperate, flocking to the big city to try and secure either a safe place to stay or transport onwards into the heart of the European Union, where they imagine a better life awaiting them. Still, desperation exists in the local population as well, with the social fabric weaker as big city dynamics mean families drift further apart and common origin becomes almost meaningless. Yet surprisingly this is still a bustling city, now with a darker underbelly; wealth exists side-by-side with poverty, as always, but the contrast appears more pronounced.

So how can a modern state like Greece be considered as failed, or even failing, when it functions on a day-to-day basis, at least to some extent? Even if it looks little different to a few years ago, people still go about their lives, eat, drink, sleep, buy and sell, have sex, even think - where's the failure?

I believe it is failing, as it is:

1.  A state where comprehensive laws exist but are largely ignored and not enforced  or enforced selectively/occasionally.
2.  A state where a limited number of wealthy and powerful people control most economic activity, run private armies of armed security personnel and refuse to be subject to the laws of the land much like medieval barons.
3.  A state where the burdens and liabilities are pushed on to the populace at large whilst most benefits are distributed to a relatively limited circle of privileged people, often connected to no.2 above, or for political gain.
4.  A state where the economy displays little productivity but mainly revolves around the government and the public sector, with most of the private sector under fire and struggling is today problematic.
5.  A state where the Labour Unions use their right to strike not to pursue and reverse unfairness but at will, to complain about life in general, or even just to hold meetings, and act as if they own the sector they work in.
6.  A state where small minorities of people can attack, assail, damage, even kill, in full public view yet are hardly ever rounded up, arrested and/or prosecuted.
7.  A state where the average citizen does not feel any obligation to respect society, others or the law in most daily activities.
8.  A state that disrespects its citizens sufficiently to apply laws differently to itself than to them even while declaring equality under the law as a cornerstone of its constitution.
9.  A state where tax evasion is rife, taxation is penal and services to said taxpayers limited.
10. A state where education, knowledge and experience are valued less than opinion. And I could go on...

This is not what any Greek wants, irrespective of political affiliation, other than perhaps the cretins who ostensibly espouse anarchy but expect their civil rights to be respected. It only takes a walk around the centre of Athens to fill one with despair as to where the country is headed and what the future holds. Magnificent buildings abound but those in the private sector are crumbling, while the public sector still somehow manages to maintain their jewels, albeit often covered in graffiti or vandalised by their very users, as is the case with some of the universities. But economic recovery, growth and a decent income only arise from people and as a result of productive human activity, very little found in Greece at the moment; external investment, often touted is reluctant to get involved in a country where the legal system doesn't work properly and the state punishes - or certainly doesn't in any way positively encourage - business activity.

This means that resounding failure could, once again, be around the corner, methinks, with all the pain that entails. And there should be little pride in that.

Opinions - are we all really entitled to have them?

You know the scenario: someone you know, let's say at a dinner party or something, comes up with an outrageous assertion such as 'the earth is flat' or 'the government is controlled by aliens, who replaced the politicians secretly some time ago'. You bristle and take them up on their statement and they come back and tell you that they are entitled to their own opinion on things, and so is everyone else.

'Everyone's entitled to their own opinion' the saying goes and it may be so, but this can only work under certain circumstances otherwise it's a little bit like 'the customer is always right', which we have seen - and, I believe clearly demonstrated -is a very stupid statement.

Let me explain: We are all entitled to hold a VALID opinion, one that we can support by facts and arguments; indeed we most certainly should all have opinions about most things happening around us. What we are most certainly not entitled to is opinions based on just our feelings, preferences or the way we would like things to be. Put bluntly, that we want things to be a certain way does not mean that they are or should be (sorry about that!), and the good folk of Greece apparently have an appropriate saying: 'if you don't know (about something) why are you talking (i.e. why are you expressing an opinion?)?

The internet has made it a lot easier for people to propagate unverified/unsupported opinions dressed up as facts for various reasons, not always well-intentioned, but repeating them over and over again does not make them true. And we as individuals owe it to ourselves and to others not to spout the first thing that comes to mind - often misrepresented and mislabeled as honesty - but to think, clearly and deeply (as much as realistically possible, anyway) before putting forward our point of view. Failure to do so results in generating lots of vapid statements - expelling hot air, in effect - and helps no-one, least of all ourselves, as we look like complete idiots.

The solution to this does not lie in not having opinions, which is often the piqued response of someone caught out talking nonsense; rather, it is to take a little bit of time to think before expounding on this that or the other - the old 'engage brain before mouth' dictum, valid more than ever today.

So do yourselves and the rest of the world a favour by ensuring all opinions you hold have some rational thought behind them. And no, this does not mean we all have to think alike and agree on everything, just that our debates must be based on reality, not fantasy.

Size isn't everything... sometimes!

Two good friends tied the knot today in a civil ceremony after many years of living together, in a move that is more about the practicalities of life than about 'cementing' their relationship. They are both in their mid-sixties and retired, so they are not about to start a family, and are not, as far as I can tell, about to go in for adoption.

For them, tying the knot was about securing their civil rights as a couple, ensuring that they could look after one another should they be hit by illness and keeping each other's pension out of the hands of the greedy state should one of them kick the bucket prematurely. Nevertheless they are in it for the long haul and their bickering is always about silly, trivial matters, never important stuff, so this was not only a practical but a happy occasion as well.

As the groom is one of my oldest friends - fifty six years and counting - I was asked to be one of the witnesses, a new experience for me and not entirely unenjoyable, especially as the lady officiating (some kind of deputy mayor, I believe) was pleasant and attractive if rather optimistic - her line about children, adopted or otherwise acquired, raised a smile from the soon-to-be newlyweds! Our small group chuckled along, then we headed downstairs to the 'garden' of the building to open our bottle of fizz, bought with no thought for cost, by yours truly.

And this is where size comes into it: despite the fact that I, as you well know dear reader, am a dedicated worshipper of Dionysos and his gifts, the newlyweds are not, so I had to find a way to mark the occasion traditionally and inject a bit of fun without wasting something yummy and precious. Then the solution presented itself  (a miniature bottle of Prosecco, the mobile phone next to it in the photograph is an old iphone 4 there for size comparison) and it was perfect - we all managed a swig each without straining ourselves in any way and yes, it was palatable - and we had a bit of a laugh at the same time. Dionysos may have been disappointed, but then again he wasn't invited.

On this occasion size didn't matter, though I am advised that this is not always the case in life.

Longevity doesn't always guarantee quality

So often we see businesses, especially restaurants, that have been around for many years and we instantly assume that, in order to last that long, they must be good at what they do. Sometimes I'm sure it's true, though you are more likely than not to be disappointed by places that once upon a time may have been good but has become simply tourist traps.

Such was my fate today when a group of hungry friends persuaded me to go to a traditional taverna in the centre of Athens, in an area that - I know, I know - is full of places aimed at the tourist trade. Nestling directly under the Acropolis is the Plaka neighbourhood with its beautiful older buildings, some impressive and imposing, others humble but picturesque. Many of these beauties are now repaired and used as houses again, but in the aftermath of WW2 and until the sixties many were neglected, abandoned or turned into commercial enterprises like bars and tavernas. With the rise of tourism in the sixties their numbers grew as well, at some point completely overrunning the area but the innocence of that era turned into the sleaziness of the seventies and the area suffered, as did its buildings.

The improving economic conditions of the late 20th century meant that people not only started appreciating beautiful older buildings but were able to afford to repair and live in them, which gave the Plaka a new lease of life. Some traditional hostelries remained, many as well-established tourist destinations where no self-respecting Athenian would be seen, others - admittedly few - stubbornly aimed at a local clientele. The place I ended up visiting today was one of the latter and for many years had remained a reliable destination for a decent traditional Greek taverna meal. I'm here to report that this is not the case today.

Platanos (plane tree) has old-world charm (having been around apparently since 1932), a pleasant-looking interior and a nice, if a bit cramped, outdoor space; it had been a haunt of the Athenian litterati in the past, but also of many ordinary folk. What we saw and all this tradition created in our group of friends expectations of a lovely Sunday afternoon's eating and drinking. Alas reality chose to intervene: the food we were served was largely indifferent and served cool, with probably the worst moussaka I have tried in recent years! Nothing was notably good, though there was a spinach pie that wasn't bad and meat dolmadhes that were about acceptable. The house wine - we tried a white and a retsina - was drinkable, sort of, but nothing more. And the multilingual menu, complete with national flags, gave the game away, as did the rather high prices.

Why has an old favourite slipped like this? Why do they choose to serve food and wine that's palatable, but barely? It's hard to know for sure without asking them, something I'm not about to do in a hurry. My theory is that it's either greed or indifference, or a combination of both, because it cannot be incompetence. If it were, how could they have gotten it right in the past?

All we can do - no, all we MUST do - as customers is to let them know of our displeasure and give them a wide berth until they improve. They MUST up their act, they MUST respect customers more! If they choose not to then they must die, at least for anyone who values quality and value for money.

P.S. : If, dear reader, you intend visiting Athens as a tourist, please do wander around the Plaka area on foot, drink in the surroundings, immerse yourself in the culture and gorge on the ancient monuments. Then go five minutes away to the centre of Athens, near Syntagma square, where there are many pleasant restaurants of all shapes and sizes that are not tourist traps. Not everyone is out there to take advantage of you, and they deserve your money more than others.

How I suffer for my art...

Many of the world's most famous artists have, famously, suffered for their art in more ways than one, losing ears and what have you in their quest for artistic perfection. Well, dear reader. I am one of those artists, prepared to go to any lengths in the pursuit of perfection for you, for my art, for the world. High and low I will search and leave no wine bottle unopened - if I can help it, that is - in the pursuit of knowledge, which will then be brought to your door fresh, unsullied and ready to be absorbed by you to sate your quest for the best this world has to offer. Or, being realistic, whatever it is I come across that I am able to taste, absorb, describe and make known to my vast readership, should I deem it appropriate.

So when my good friend YT, he of the gastronomic adventures background and wine lover, invited me to a quiet boys only evening of Jura wines and cheeses, slightly embellished with some other bits and pieces - to ensure nobody went hungry, you understand - I just had to say yes for your sake. Not a thought did I give to my pleasure; rather, I viewed this as pure hard work: a fact-finding and reporting mission for you, dear reader, a necessary sacrifice in my ceaseless battle to ensure your sound education and happiness.

'What is a Jura?' I hear you ask in a slightly irritated tone of voice and I'm away, wearing my education hat and eager to add to your boundless knowledge:

The Jura mountains give their name to an area mainly in the southeastern corner of France but also the northwestern part of Switzerland. As expected, the area is quite mountainous - but in a verdant, rolling kind of way - and because of that relatively isolated despite being in a very central position. With a more old-fashioned agricultural way of life, quiet towns and villages, almost no heavy industry and enchanting scenery, this is a wonderful area to visit. And, as the main agricultural activity involves vines for wine making, this is an area of special interest to me and, indeed, anybody whose love and curiosity about wine is above average. That individual will be rewarded greatly by discovering and exploring the wines of the Jura region, probably far more than many better known areas - do you think that the dinosaurs of the Jurassic period who lived in the area - yes, that's where the name comes from - knew a thing or two about wine?

Let me explain why this area is special: Real wine lovers are constantly tasting, learning, searching for interesting, and often unusual, wines to get to know and enjoy. The average wine drinker, however, wants something largely familiar, reliable, available and not particularly expensive; as they hugely outnumber the first category most wine on the market is geared to them. Furthermore, the topography and weather of the Jura region does not support large-scale production, mechanisation and mass market appeal. Luckily the producers have recognised this and have stuck to their smaller scale and more individual products, though this is not to say that they shun developments in viniculture. In fact their 'normal' wines are getting increasing recognition worldwide - and, alas, commanding ever-higher prices - where their flagship Vin Jaune, that individual standard-bearer for the area had proved too difficult to get to know and love.

We kicked off our evening with a selection of salamis, some with nuts and others with cheese or spices, from the region and two wines, a white and a red, from Caveau de Bacchus, a top producer of the Arbois AOC. The white was from the 2010 vintage and Savagnin grape, oxidised but not to full Vin Jaune specification, complex and spectacular as only good wines can be with a bit of age, a bit metallic and dry, with rich, herby fruit. The red, from the Trousseau grape was a 2014 and comes more under the heading of curiosity rather than sheer pleasure - the cold weather of the area means that, despite 191 days with the skins it has a light red colour and a cherry character. The white I would happily seek out and drink again and again, assuming (a) I could find it and (b) I could afford it.

With the aperitif and nibbles out of the way we moved on to a delicious thick carrot and orange soup, followed by a fresh, crispy green salad with chanterelle mushrooms; contrasting tastes and textures alternately coating the palate and cleansing it. The Cuvee l'Hopital 2015 (another Savagnin grape wine but in the modern, fresher style without any oxidation) from Peggy and Jean Pascal Buronfosse I'm afraid I rather gulped down and remember little other than sparkling fruit, exceptional length, vivacity and complexity.

The highlight of the evening was the cheese course - three different Comte cheeses of 24, 27 and 37 months from different sources, all typical of the region but so different in character with, surprisingly for me, the middle one being freshest and having the most complex flavour, though all were just yummy. The reason that the cheese course was so special was the accompanying wines, which were of the Vin Jaune style with a strong character; one was a Cotes du Jura AOC 2001with a rustic label from the Bourdy family (just learning their craft having been making wine since 1475 or something, yes, the same family...), the other a 2000 by Philippe Vandelle from the L' Etoile AOC. Both these wines are challenging biggies bursting with flavour and too complex for words, still at the peak of their powers, young and vigorous. These are not relaxed sipping wines, not easy drinking guzzlers, but wines that deserve time and respect to be understood, occasional pleasures for the dedicated friends of Dionysos. While the L'Etoile is perhaps more ethereal and the Cotes du Jura a bit more robust, they both sang faultlessly from the same hymn sheet as the cheeses, making a uniquely satisfying melody.

The Vin Jaune wines are often compared to sherry, as they are produced using a similar method of oxidation, but I find that misleading as the taste differs significantly albeit there is a similarity in style. They are most certainly not interchangeable!

The 'keeping it simple' theme continued with the dessert course, which was different bits of chocolate (dark, of course) enhanced by a charming little drop (or two?)  of Poire Williams eau-de-vie from masterful Massenez in neighbouring Alsace to finish. If you have never had a fruit eau-de-vie from Alsace you are missing one of life's great pleasures and one far more affordable and easier to come to grips with than the Vin Jaune. After that my mind kept thinking about coffee but my body was incapable of consuming another thing.

Or was possibly completely incapable, as the blurred photograph of our table after the 'orgy', complete with Jura region tablecloth and full of empty glasses shows. At least it is shaken, not stirred...

Light at the end of the tunnel

Light in its many forms has always played a huge role in human affairs, starting with the sun and its effect on our life. It is so important that it has become part of our symbolisms, a positive force that combats the negative represented by darkness - light is good, darkness is bad. Night, in fact, strangles and suffocates us when we are laden with problems, whereas the morning brings light and hope.

One of the ways we use to describe this is 'light at the end of the tunnel', where our problems take the form of a dark tunnel and the potential solution (salvation?) is the light we see as we come out of it. And this expression has been used quite a lot this past summer to describe the supposed improvement in Greece's financial situation and the exit from the direct control of the infamous 'Troika' : its EU partners and lenders, the European Central Bank and the International Monetary Fund. Should we be using such an expression in this case?

Politicians have often used analogies to manipulate public opinion, make us believe in them and their ability to manage our lives and the future; this provides them with not only a purpose but a job, power or even material rewards. They clearly have a vested interest in making us feel better about life as affected by them, and to show our gratitude by voting for them.

Sometimes reality intervenes unfortunately disrupting the lovely stories, and my fear is that this is what is soon to happen this time. This is because very little has changed fundamentally for the better either in the actual Greek economy or in the attitude of the Greek people. The government has managed to 'balance the books' - perhaps 'cook the books' may be more appropriate...) in a way that satisfied some of the requirements of the supervising team and the prevailing EU political climate, but this achievement has only been possible using over-taxation and by draining the functioning economy of liquidity - a cruel form of strangulation that has left most of the private sector in ruins.

Furthermore, the attitude of the people has gotten progressively worse during this crisis, especially as the politicians have foisted more and more hardship on ordinary citizens, with tax avoidance reaching new levels and individuals, especially the young, evading any obligation possible. This has reached the form of an epidemic, with a huge number of people (my gut feeling is over 50%) paying nothing for using public transport and many encouraging shop keepers and restaurant owners not to declare transactions and asking to share the spoils. It is astounding that not only do Greek politicians refuse to learn from the mistakes of others regarding over-taxation - perhaps they should listen to Taxman, a song by the Beatles written in the sixties - but that the people also wilfully ignore their responsibility toward the state, stooping to daily theft (as described in the previous sentence), even if they do not consider it as such. Perhaps they view the State as a rich uncle who won't notice the difference or the crime as victimless. Or perhaps they see themselves as modern-day Robin Hoods taking from the rich (the bankrupt state) and giving to the needy poor (themselves).

Nevertheless the success is trumpeted, the light at the end of the tunnel is heralded; it remains to be seen whether it is the hoped for exit from darkness or a train coming the other way to flatten those in its path.