My Ikaria by Tsintziras Spiri;

Author:Tsintziras, Spiri;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Schwartz Publishing Pty, Limited

The Ancient Greeks said, ‘Pan metron ariston.’ Everything in moderation. If you live a life of extremes, you lose balance. Everything is necessary, even problems.’

Theio Spiro and I are having a breakfast of rusks, tahini, honey and black coffee. Like many Greeks, he normally skips breakfast, but is partaking in the ritual to keep me company. As the caffeine takes effect, Theio Spiro fires up to the task of telling me what makes for a good life.

‘If you expect everything to be pleasant, it just doesn’t happen. You can’t live without problems, Spiridoula. In Greek, we have a saying: “He who is happy is in his own world.” As if he is too stupid to experience life properly. We humans like to be troubled, we’re masochists!’

I laugh. Sometimes happiness feels so elusive. The more one strives for it, the further it seems out of reach. Theio’s philosophy is much more pragmatic.

‘All you can hope to do is solve your problems so that they don’t cost you psychologically,’ he says. ‘And each day, to have some pleasant moments.’

He takes another sip of his coffee. Spreads a second rusk with honey. His wife is not here to berate him about eating too much.

‘You know, later tonight, I might have a different philosophy. This is my feeling over coffee this morning!’ he continues, laughing in a self-deprecating way, as if to commit to a definitive opinion would cost him psychologically.

After breakfast, Theio Spiro dons his reading glasses and fires up his little laptop to continue searching for specialty camera shops. He is looking for a charger to suit George’s retro-style camera. In the flurry to leave Australia, I’d forgotten to pack it.

It’s not the first time he’s helped me in the past few days. He’s found the right SIM card and best data deal, so I can use my mobile phone in Greece; solved why the wifi connection won’t allow me to video call the family; and helped me decipher online bus timetables to prepare for the next leg of my journey to the south of Greece. I think back to my early travels in Greece, when I would write letters back home, and make occasional phone calls from payphones. With the more sophisticated options available to me now, there’s no going back, but part of me hankers for the ritual of stepping out and making phone calls from the local square, for the more considered work of laying down ink on paper. Writing the words felt more meaningful than quickly typed obligatory updates on Facebook.

I watch my uncle, glasses perched on the tip of his nose, moustache quivering in concentration. This is a man who grew up in a village without a phone, now earnestly trying to master the vagaries of the internet. It makes me think about my own father, who passed away twelve years ago now. What would he make of me sitting with his brother? I think Dad would be proud that their bond, formed more than half a century ago, has stretched across the seas and over time.

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