Busy, busy, busy!

Sorry I haven't blogged anything recently. It's not so much been a case of nothing to write about as no time to write about it!

The Christmas season is well and truly upon us and the children break up from school today/tomorrow. Yes, I know that seems odd, but they go to school today, then tomorrow morning they go to church in the village before being sent home for about 10.30am. They then have a couple of weeks off until returning on 8th January.

In fairness they've done well. After the massive 3 month summer recess they've been back at school since mid September without an official break. Unlike UK schools we don't have half term holidays, so by the end of the term they've had about 3 months of 8-4pm Monday to Friday, which is quite hard going for the younger kids. Jack has had a week's unexpected break after his class was closed due to swine flu, but by the time the week was up he was itching to go back as he was fed up at home.

Conversely, Niamh has had every imaginary ailment she can think of in the last few days in order to try and get a day off - this from the child who, an hour after she returned from school on the last day before the summer hols announced that she was bored! There's no pleasing some people!

Meanwhile, I've taken another great step in understanding Greek bureaucracy and am beginning to appreciate that the fear factor is much worse than the reality! This time it was the fabled car tax which has to be paid before 1st January each year. In previous years we've had a renewal sent through in mid November, but this year nothing. Tony had started to fret about this as, if we don't pay by the end of the year the 'fine' is a doubled tax charge. Also, there had been numerous rumours going around that the new government had considerably raised the taxes on older cars. Village gossips were saying that even small cars over 10 years old were going to be stung at least 300€ in tax - ouch!

So last week I, the intrepid explorer, armed with only my ATM card and our car registration documents, headed for Corfu Town. My solicitor's secretary had told me I could pay my car tax at a National Bank of Greece branch if I didn't have my renewal documents.

I parked at the Liston, and, after getting slightly lost in the old town, found my way to the main branch in the city centre just after 9am.

The place was heaving. I noticed an illuminated number '33' over the cashiers desks and, looking round, found the ticket dispenser which would enable me to have my turn.

I took my ticket. Number 279. Ouch. This could be a long wait.

I decided to walk up to my solicitor's office just in case the renewal document had been received by them. I somehow thought I'd have enough time!

Unfortunately they hadn't seen it, so I headed back towards the bank. En route I noticed another, smaller branch of the National Bank - and deep joy, it only had 2 customers in. I tried to go in but was stopped at the door by a very ferocious looking lady in a tweed suit. She pointed at a notice on the door. Even with my limited Greek I could work out that it said closed until 12 noon for staff training.

Expletive time.

As I wandered back to the other National Bank branch I spied a Eurobank, where I have an account. Could it be that I could pay at any bank perhaps? The lovely, helpful staff (I do like Eurobank they are a breath of fresh air!) apologised but no, without my renewal document they couldn't help. If I'd had the document it wouldn't have been a problem. Just as I was about to leave the young man called me back. "You do realise, the only place you can pay if you don't have a renewal is at the tax office". I stopped. "The tax office? You mean I can't pay at the National Bank?" He confirmed my query.

More expletive time.

Deep breath and off I went to the tax office.

Now the tax office scares the living daylights out of me. Last time I went in, to pay an 11€ bill, I was shouted at in Greek and told to go away!!! (I relayed this story many moons ago in the blog). This time I went in, found the first office, and waited very patiently whilst the young lady assisted someone else. When she was free I asked in my politest voice whether she spoke any English, apologising that my Greek was very poor. "It depends" she replied, "on what you want".

"Umm... to know where to go to pay my car tax". "Ah, that's no problem" she replied with a big smile; "across the corridor, room 10".

20 minutes later I was back outside the tax office. I'd got my invoices from room 10, then back to the cashier's office to pay them, then next door to be issued with the tax discs for Tony's and my own car. Simples!

I was also delighted to realise that the village gossip had been just that, gossip. Yes, car tax has increased, but not anywhere near as steeply as we'd been led to believe - I can afford to have Christmas after all!

As I wandered back down to the Liston at about 10.45am I passed the National Bank of Greece. I peered in over the milling through and looked at the serving number - 91. Ouch!

Find a friend!

We found a young dog wandering in the village last week. Others have mentioned that she's been around for a while now.

A pretty little thing she's very friendly and seems to crave human company. I wish I could offer her a home, but in our location, with no garden adjacent to the house and stepping straight out onto the main road through the village (however small and narrow that may be) it really isn't possible. For the moment the children and I are contenting ourselves with buying the odd can of dog food and giving her a breakfast each morning.

In the meantime I put a message on one of the Corfu forums enquiring whether anyone might be in a position to offer her a home. Amongst the replies I received someone suggested that I mention her on my facebook page.

That got me thinking. Most of my facebook friends are not local, so wouldn't be able to help, but I could always start a separate group that's open to all. So, during my tea break earlier I fired up a new group entitled "Help a stray find a home on Corfu", listed under "general interest - pets & animals". Designed to try and match up strays with new homes, its a sort of friendship site for pets!

If you are interested, especially if you live on Corfu, why not take a look or even join the group. I've put a link to the page under the 'some other good stuff' list on the left hand side of the page.

Meanwhile I haven't found a home for Rosy/Fida/Susy (as she's variously known), quite yet, but I've popped a photo of her on the top of this post, just in case those doleful eyes capture someones heart!

Batbiting

I was sitting at my desk yesterday, late afternoon, engrossed in what I was writing, when I sensed something behind me.

This was slightly disconcerting, as the only thing behind me is a chest of drawers, wall and a window (2nd floor - I'm in the loft).

Our of the corner of my eye I was sure I saw something move. A moment later something fell onto my hand - a tiny piece of grit...

Next thing I knew I felt a draught as something skimmed my head and shot through the open door into Niamh's bedroom.

Round and round the bat flew, intermittently crashing into walls and the various hanging storage thingies - disorientated by the lights I guess.

Each time it plummeted to the floor I tried to catch it in a towel, but it was too quick for me. Eventually it started to fly down the stairs so I shouted to Niamh to open the veranda doors just at the bottom, in the hope that it would fly straight out.

A minute later the kerfuffle ceased and we assumed, from the lack of bat, that it had found its way out.

Later on I went upstairs again to finish off my work.

Swoop.

"TONYYYY...!! That bludy bat's still up here. Can you help catch it?"

Eventually we managed to get it, and Tony, into my office. Reducing the space it had to fly in would hopefully make it easier to catch. I shut the door swiftly. A moment later a voice trailed out... "it's landed on my back... ouch! and it's bitten me!"

It took some persuading to make the kids believe that we don't have vampires in the loft, or indeed in Corfu at all. However, my feelings towards those 'cute little' pipistrelle bats has now changed - I give anything that bites a wide berth!

Since the beginning of the year we've had various young birds come in and Nipper was the second bat recently. The roof is watertight and the windows were shut. I can just about understand the baby birds that fall through the cavity between us and next door then out of a tinsy gap in the skirting, but an adult bat, even a pipistrelle, is a slightly different matter. Ah well, it will probably remain one of those unanswered mysteries of life!

Good morning

On Tuesday Jack came home from school with a message that he should remain at home the following day. Swine flu is rife here at the moment, although more to the point the fear of Swine flu if rife, making the slightest sneeze a cause for concern, bed rest and a large dose of Depon.

As a result the education authority has dictated that if more than x number (I think 4) children are off sick in any one class, for any reason, that class is closed.

Yesterday the phone call came through - he's to stay off until next Wednesday.

Niamh's class meanwhile hasn't the requisite number of absentees so she is still having to go to school (you can imagine that went down like a lead balloon!) This morning she wasn't too happy about having to get up in the dark whilst big brother languished in bed, although bribery in the form of mini Weetabix infused with chocolate chips for breakfast did salve her mood somewhat.

In a massive fit of parental care I said I'd get dressed and walk with her to the bus stop, rather than let her walk down alone. I'm always up first during the week, but I concentrate on getting breakfasts ready, lunches packed and children scrubbed, waiting until the first wave of activity is safely out of the house before I get dressed and venture further than the kitchen.

Today was different. At 7.35am I was out walking down the road with my daughter. Generously I offered to carry her bag - good grief it's heavy!! I had imagined that things were still pretty quiet in the village so early in the morning, it was barely light after all. So I was just a little surprised to see the local kafenion packed with men drinking coffee and watching the morning news before they set off to work.

We wandered on. Above us a shutter swung out from a bedroom window, the golden glow of the lights within filtering out to meet the rising sun. A radio played a Greek ballad in an unidentified living room not far away. Fresh pies, warming in the heated cabinet at our new supermarket, indicated that the baker had already done his rounds. The village was certainly much wider awake than I had expected on a late autumnal morning.

As we crossed the gardens to get to the bus stop on the far side of the village I looked westward to take in our own garden. It's abundant with orange and mandarin trees, heavy with their brightly coloured fruit, and Tony's incongruous chicken shed, resplendent with royal blue tarpaulin, looking rather out of place surrounded by natures colours. The sky was lightning more quickly now, revealing grey clouds with little patches of watery light blue dividing them. And there, round and full, was a huge creamy moon shimmering down on us, still high in the sky despite the fast approaching day. What an amazing sight!

Once on the far side of the gardens, looking back towards the main village, I couldn't help but feel nostalgic. The view was the epitome of how a Greek village is expected to look. The greens of the gardens in the valley giving way to the hustle of houses that nudged each other on the hillside beyond. Some are grand four story buildings, brightly painted and well maintained. Old stone houses long fallen into disrepair, jostle for roadside positions with those that are still looked after and lived in. Arched terraces, louvred shutters, steps everywhere, winding their way between the shops and cottages. Above it all the clear moon shone majestically, and the clouds were just tinged with red, letting us know the sun would soon rise over the hills to the east.

OK, so I'm being a bit romantic, waxing lyrical about our village. In reality life is quite hard here at the moment and many of the local people are finding it difficult to make ends meet. But what a lovely way to greet the day! Three years ago I'd have got up at about the same time in order to catch the 7.42 to Liverpool Street. I'd encounter grimy city streets, boarded up shop fronts, graffiti strewn walls, squeezing into tube trains and making my way to an office where the watchwords are stress and targets. Today I walked through a traditional village watching the balance between moon and sun subtly change, aware that the colour of the clouds, rather than the brevity of the deadline, will dictate to many of the local residents how they plan their day.

As I said in my previous post - I'm not going to throw the towel in quite yet!!

Bemused, confused or just plain muddled?

I sometimes doubt that I'll ever really get used to living here. As I've said before, I do recognise that I will always be an Englishwoman living abroad, but I do wonder if I'll ever understand the way things work in Corfu!

Today we've learnt that someone we have considered a good friend, and who has indeed done several good turns for us (and we for him), has also been ripping Tony off at every turn over the last 18 months. A long and boring story that I won't go into, but suffice to say I have no doubt the friend doesn't see it as ripping us off, merely making a bit extra 'on the side'. A case of seeing things from a different angle... and conveniently forgetting to mention it.

Then of course there's the business with the electricity for the cottage being reconnected.

We've waited nearly 2 years for the previous owner, a lovely chap who has welcomed us into his family with open arms, to come with us to get it sorted out at the electricity board offices. (We're still waiting).

We've listened to all manner of conflicting advice about the pros, cons and difficulties of getting reconnected if you don't have an old bill (in our case a bill that would have been issued at least 7 years ago to the previous owner's late father), which has given us a few sleepless nights. But last week I decided to take the bull by the horns.

Last Thursday I went and spoke to an engineer, got a diagram of the wiring drawn up, took it to the electricity board and before you could say 'efharisto' the nice lady at the electricity board was charging me 100€ and saying we could have electricity again. Whole exercise took me 40 minutes.

Today, 7 days later, I phoned the electricity board to ask when we might expect to be reconnected. Answer - no idea, could be one month, could be two...

A spot of quick thinking before the phone could be put down. Is there any reason why we can't get an electrician to reconnect it - after all it is only the matter of refitting a fuse. Answer - oh yes, no problem at all.

'Scuse me but... Aggggghhhhhhh!!!!! Why oh why couldn't they have told me that in the first place? Probably because I didn't specifically ask the question I guess.

It was the same when I tried to get the internet connected many moons ago. The nice people in Athens said, "oh yes, no problem, we'll send a modem and you can have broadband." Six weeks later I go to the local OTE offices and ask (after a 1.5 hour wait) when I might expect my modem and broadband. "Where do you live?" came the curt question. I told her. "Well of course you can't have broadband, it's not available there" and she turned her back on me to serve someone else.

"Umm, excuse me" I said in a little, slightly wavery voice, "but if I can't have broadband is there any chance of getting dial up instead?"

The big scary OTE lady turned slowly and glared at me and growled (I swear she did, she growled). "Yes, why didn't you ask for it?"

'Scuse me again but..... Agggggghhhhhhhh!!! 10 minutes, one disc and 42€ later I had internet access.

There is no doubt that we Brits see life through very different eyes to those the Greeks use. I'm not criticising, merely observing the depth of difference between our two cultures.

I bumped into an English friend yesterday who has lived here for about the same length of time that we have. Like us, she and her family had hoped to 'live the dream'. She had just sold her car, the last big item to dispose of before heading back to the UK to live. She said she couldn't wait to get home to England, and would be glad to see the back of Corfu. Although there were several contributory reasons for their departure, like many ex pats, she and her family had found the difference in culture and attitude too much to want to stay any longer.

I'm not about to throw in the towel just yet, but the longer we live here the more we discover about the Greek way of life. The more we discover, the more complicated things become and the more difficult I feel it is to integrate. I think my children will be fine, they are young enough and sufficiently open minded to be able to embrace both cultures. But as for me, perhaps I never will.

On a lighter note though, I popped out earlier this evening to take some coppers up to the new supermarket (apparently the bank couldn't supply them with 1 or 2 cent coins, so I raided our piggy bank). As I walked up the road the silhouette what looked like a large rat scuttled across the road some 40m in front of me. I shuddered. When I got up to the point where the rat had crossed I looked to the side of the road and there, hiding in a corner, was not a large rat but a middle sized hedgehog. I'd never realised they could move so quickly!

A quick shot in the arm

It's been a funny old couple of weeks, lots of little things have happened and I've thought, "oo, I'll blog that", but really none of them have been worthy in their own right. Or maybe they are worthy, just not long enough to find more than a sentence or two about.

Then I thought again - "Ah ha, bullet points!" My old boss loved bullet points and always reckoned that I made too much of a meal of my writing... So, in no particular order:

*Why have a deck of playing cards been scattered the length of the main road through the village? And what is the significance of the King of Hearts being ripped in two? All the rest are complete...

*Have you ever wondered how those clever people at the circus learn to balance and do tricks on the back of a cantering horse? No? Neither had I really. On Saturday I took the children for their riding lesson and Ilona the instructor said, "this week we're going to do something different, vaulting". And they did. Taking it in turns, four children each rode bareback, a girth with handles was their only saddlery. By the end of the session they were riding arms outstretched, trotting, and thoroughly enjoying the experience. Apparently it will become a monthly treat. Perhaps this is common enough in riding schools these days, but I'd never seen it before.

*In my voluntary role of BBC foreign correspondent I did a short broadcast for a local UK radio station last week, a piece on what Corfu has to offer visitors. The opening question (from cheery DJ) "and what's the weather like over there right now?" Me, (allowing mouth to work before engaging brain) "it's tipping it down, but at least the thunder has stopped"... Great advert for tourism I make!

*The CDR have named one of their donkeys after the magazine I write for. Nisea. Whilst it's a lovely gesture, the girls and I aren't entirely certain that calling a blind donkey after us quite the sort of publicity we're looking for - after all we don't publish in braille! However, we'll ensure our namesake is kept well supplied with carrots and apples.

*You can tell winter is on its way. Gossip is running rife in the village now. Doesn't matter what the gossip is, it just has to be gossip. Yesterday a friend told me she thought she just might be expecting. "Tell me something new", I replied, "I've known about that for over a week". "But how?" she replied, "who told you? It only been in the last couple of days that I wondered if I might be"...

*And whilst we're in the village I'm pleased to report that business is booming here despite the recession. Saturday saw the grand opening of a new supermarket! I don't think Tesco need to start worrying yet, although its a handy little shop. Previously it had been a sort of Arkwrights Store, with precious little on the shelves that was under a decade old; but now we have a good selection of foodstuff (including Kelloggs cereals and Heinz beans as well as many Greek name brands) and even a handful of special offers. Whether it will adversely affect trade at the four other general stores in the village remains to be seen, but hopefully there'll be room for everyone.

*I opened a bank account last week. Nothing novel about that really, but if I'd gone to a high street bank in the UK as asked for an account that offered me internet banking, a savings book and a debit card they would have stood me in a booth with a biro and form to complete, then taken that away, possibly have issued me with a passbook and then told me to go home and wait - 5 days for the pin number, 10 for the card. Here in Greece I take a comfy seat, the nice lady asks me some questions and I provide various documents that I knew would be needed. She fills in the forms for me so all I have to do is sign. Then she prints me off a passbook and two sealed forms, one with my pin number, the other my ebanking login details. Finally she gets a blank card from the safe, runs it through the machine and gives me my ATM debit card. 45 minutes later I'm checking my balance... Greek bureaucracy, what Greek bureaucracy???

On that note I think I'll stop my ramblings - even the bullet points are getting a bit lengthy!

Beautiful but impractical...

Viv posted a comment about the photo of us all in our dancing finery (the photo below). She said they looked amazing but thought they might not be the easiest thing to dance in. I started to reply then thought hey, why not publish the reply instead....

They are amazing costumes, made using traditional Macedonian designs(and valued at about 2,000€ each), but... They are 5 layers thick and weigh 7kg. Starting with a full length cotton underdress and white 80 denier tights/stockings. Over which is the heavy cotton/linen full length embroidered and tapestried shift. Top that with a quilted coat, on top of which is a second coat, this time heavily embroidered black cotton. Then add the tapestry apron (which is like a rug) over it all, tied tightly to keep everything in place, before lastly putting on the woven belt with solid brass buckle. The final touch is the several chains of coins pinned across the cleavage.

Headgear is like a shaped 3D triangle of balsa wood, covered in felt with ties that go under the chin, and a tapestry headband across the forehead. Then a large, decorated tablecloth affair pinned carefully on it - it goes down to your bum at the back! All your hair has to be tucked into the hat and with the ties under your chin and the weight of the headgear pulling your head backwards it makes breathing and swallowing difficult!

The girls in the red had it a little easier as their costumes aren't quite so heavy, but not much. Add then a mass of stage lights and it's better than having a sauna!

Thankfully we only rent these for high days and exhibitions. Last time I wore it was at Lefkimmi for an open air exhibition near the salt flats. I hadn't had time to take the hem up so it was only about a cm above the ground. We finished dancing and left the stage down some steps - the girl behind me stood on my hem as I stepped down - I couldn't move, and narrowly missed falling flat on my face into the audience.

We're hoping that this year we might try some dances from a different region - preferably one that is warmer and didn't historically wear quite so many layers :)