This week’s post is written by my wife Alexandra who is a passionate marathon runner. I am not only proud of her because of her personal achievements, but because she is offering great wisdom and advice that can easily be applied to entrepreneurship. I know, because I live by some of the principals on a daily basis!

“I am a wine ignorant married to a wine-lover. I am a marathon runner married to a non-runner.

The only connection between marathons and wine seems to be that during the first modern marathon in 1896, which the Greek Spyros Louis won, legend has it that he stopped about 1/3 into the race at a small tavern and gulped down a glass of wine with the words: “I’ll beat all of them.” So he did. Could the wine have been that miraculous?

No doubt that wine lifted his spirits, at that moment, but it takes a lot more than wine to get you through the finish line.

My motivation to run is very simple: I do it, because I enjoy it – it feels good. It is the only time in the day, that I have to myself and it is the one thing that I do for myself, so I complete my daily run with religious dedication.

The fun in running has its roots in some self-imposed competitiveness: it’s always about running against oneself, developing, testing the personal limits, achieving. And there is no better way to focus one’s running sessions than the goal of a race. The daily jog becomes training and the aim becomes improving.

On October 16th this year, I ran the Marathon in Istanbul for the second time in my third attempt to complete the 42,195 km in less than 3 ½ hours.

Race preparation takes place on more levels than just physical training: it’s about the choice of shoes, the do’s and the don’ts, the right nutrition, the best strategy. More important than that is mental preparation, i.e. how to preserve your motivation through hours of training and hours of racing.

It’s a few simple mantras that did it for me.

A writer whose books have inspired me greatly is George Sheehan (1918 – 1993), a cardiologist who gave up medicine to write and to run at the age of 45, back in 1963.  Five years later he ran a 4:47 mile, which was the world’s first sub-five-minute time by a 50-year-old. “Don’t be concerned if running or exercise will add years to your life,” he would say, “be concerned with adding life to your years.” He was an amazingly inspiring philosopher and his books are a highly recommended read – his thoughts are of invaluable wisdom and insight. On this occasion I will share the simplest and most basic of his quotes, yet it is the one that unfailingly keeps me going out for my run in the worst of rain, in the hottest heat, on the most tired days: ‘Have you ever felt worse after a run?’ No. Never. The answer is an absolute truth every time.

Whilst training for the marathon, I had the great fortune to get to know Maria Polyzou, Greece’s female marathon record holder.  She is a soft, classy, low profile lady, respectful of anyone engaging in athletics, regardless of their achievement potential. She was a catalyst for me to focus on what’s important.

She happened to observe me during training a few times, upon which she remarked: “Your training should be a respite in your life, not punishment – even during high intensity sessions.” That, from her mouth, suddenly put training into perspective: I had a right to enjoy my training! I was supposed to enjoy my training. So I stopped worrying about the days when I didn’t reach my limit. I stopped wondering about whether one missed session will cause me to fail my target. I stopped doubting myself, just because I had had mediocre performance on a bad day.

One of my more serious worries about the race was the prediction of abysmal, cold and rainy weather. Maria was surprised: “So why do you care about the weather? You are there just to run!” Once again my perspective was put right. Indeed – I wasn’t there to sunbathe. So why did I care?

On the day of the race, there was only one thing on my mind: the-world’s-best-race-strategy! Back in 2009 I had read the article about it, and it never left me since.  Kristin Blanck of Annapolis, Md., was the women’s winner of the 2009 Annapolis 10-Mile Run. The article read:

What plan did Blanck follow to snag her 1:03:29 victory? In a post-race recap ‘…’, she summed up her strategy thusly:
“I positioned myself toward the front and just started running.”

Let me just break that down for you. Blanck’s race strategy was a bit of a “one-two punch”, delivered as follows:
1. Positioning herself toward the front.
2. Running.
How’s that for Zen-like clarity?

The simplicity of the strategy is indeed the calming answer to all anxieties just before a race: Do your thing. Don’t worry. Don’t think. Just go. A treasure of a mantra!

On the day of the race there was one more thing that had contributed to my upbeat spirit: I was standing at the start, with bib number 1646, only thanks to the genuine kindness and goodwill I had received in Turkey. Although marathons are generally not part of their culture, hospitality and respect for their guests certainly are.

I was not going be able to pick up my race pack in time, and had asked the hotel for help. This is the response I got from the hotel’s guest relations manager, Oezlem, a lovely young lady:

Good Afternoon Dear Alexandra,

Thanks for your very kind e-mail!
I called the Congress Center, they said that we can take it for you. Tomorrow we will go and take your race pack. Don’t worry! Just concentrate on your effort, energy! ‘…’
Really the important thing is your performance. We will do our best for you. Tomorrow I will let you know again about your pack. I hope that everything will be better in Greece and also here! We need peaceful all over the world!

Alex, thanks for your friendliness.

Hope to meet and host you at your home, LEVNİ Hotel!

They got my race pack, gave me a room upgrade and provided breakfast at 6 am just for me, at no charge, with lots of smiles and more good wishes. If only for that attitude, I owed it to them, to do my best.

So, at exactly 9 am on October 16th 2011, I positioned myself toward the front of the start on the Asian side of the Bosporus Bridge and just started running. I crossed the finish line 3 hours, 27 minutes and 12 seconds later. Finally my goal had been achieved!

This was the first race that did not drain my psyche. I finished tired yet refreshed, not beaten up. At no point during the course did I feel that I was suffering. I kept thinking: I am trained to do this, so it has to be possible to do it. And believing that is what mental preparation is all about.

As a reward for a goal met, I had promised myself one marathon of pure fun. What better race than the Athens Marathon, four weeks after Istanbul, on November 13th 2011. I had absolutely no other ambition than to have fun on the course and to complete it. I did both. I saw and chatted with numerous people I knew among spectators and runners, the crowd was great, and the fellow runners cheerful. Finishing the race after easy 03:48:25 in the home of the 1896 Olympics and of the ancient games inspires a magical feeling. You become part of marathon history!

I share George Sheehan’s stance: Running has without a doubt added life to my years. Running is life:

Every morning in Africa, a gazelle wakes up.
It knows it must outrun the fastest lion or it will be killed.
Every morning in Africa, a lion wakes up.
It knows that it must run faster than the slowest gazelle, or it will starve.
It doesn’t matter whether you’re a lion or a gazelle
when the sun comes up you’d better be running.

(But, unless you’re a runner, you won’t understand)
Source: Unknown“

Workarounds should serve the purpose of being a provisional measure before a more structured problem solving practice is applied, however one of the country’s most widely applied proverbs refutes this: ‘Ουδέν μονιμότερο του προσωρινού’ (“nothing is more permanent than the temporary”). And proverbs are rarely wrong.

The most recent quick fix that I came across was actually in the wine industry and made me smile warmly:

It seems that the word has arrived in Greece that there is a shift in trend taking place towards lower alcohol wines.  The EU requires by law that the alcohol content needs to be printed on the label, offering a 0.5% alcohol statement tolerance. The final percentage needs to be rounded up or down to the next half percent increment. For example, a wine containing 12.3% alcohol may be labeled at 12% or 12.5%. If the trend of the consumer shifts towards lower alcohol wines, it makes sense to opt for the lower percentage option. But what can be done with wines that are already labeled with the higher option of 12.5%? The answer for the Greek branch of the giant German discounter Lidl seems simple: Identify and use a shortcut. As can be seen in the picture, their shortcut certainly involved true outside the box thinking! I for one am quite sure that no German was involved in the creation . Let’s see when the “new” print label will be introduced.

For more in tongue in cheek posts about everyday life in Greece look here.

My wife Alexandra is sharing a tongue in cheek  account of her latest accomplishment – running the Marathon in Venice. My kids and I are extremely proud of her, it is amazing what real passion drives people to accomplish. Read here how it all started.

It is my husband’s calling to educate the world on Greek wines. I take advantage of this, to spread the word about my own passion: running. Wanna hear a bit more about marathons? It seems the perfect topic, as just over two weeks ago, Athens celebrated the 2500 year anniversary of the first ever marathon run, by promoting the city’s own annual marathon event with unique and amazing publicity, that even led to the participation of the prime minister and several celebrities in the shorter runs surrounding the main event of the marathon race.

The marathon run, as every Greek learns at the age of about 9, is a Greek invention. The myth goes that a Greek soldier, Pheidippides ran from Marathon to Athens to announce to the city of Athens their victory over the Persians, dropping dead immediately afterwards from exhaustion.

Centuries later in 1896 the modern Olympic Games introduced a marathon race of 40 km (which then evolved to 42,195 km) which was held in Greece and was also won by the Greek Spyros Louis.  Today Greeks know all about the marathon myth but virtually nothing about the sport – whilst abroad, it is exactly the other way around.

I decided around May this year to participate in another marathon race. Since I wanted to treat myself to another trip for the occasion, I began scouting around European events. In the end, I decided to run in Venice: I love Mediterranean countries, I could not imagine a more beautiful city, it took place at the right time of year, the course was advertised as scenic and fast, and if there is a place to manage an outstanding pasta party for carbo loading this had to be it. It so happened that Venice took place exactly one week before the Athens event, namely on October 24th.

Naturally the special anniversary marathon event in my country raised awareness for the sport and it was the first time that I was asked so frequently if I had participated. My response that I ran in Venice a week earlier, more often than not returned me a blank look though: “What do you mean, you ran in Venice? How could you run in Venice? The marathon is here, in Athens….”

It seemed a revelation, that Athens does not have exclusive marathon race rights but that major and minor cities all over the world organize marathon runs on an annual basis, to give the public the opportunity to rise to the challenge and promote the athletic spirit. Following this explanation, the clarification required about my experience was:

“So then how many kilometers is the marathon in Venice?” 42,195 km seems to stun people. And 42,195 km in Athens, in Venice, in Istanbul, in London, in New York, in Melbourne and in every other place, even more so!

Of course there was curiosity about how long that took me. ‘A bit over 3,5 hours’ raised the next inquiry of: “How often do you get to stop in order to complete the race?” I will leave the readers to figure that one out for themselves.

And then with 110% certainty came the query: “What place did you make…?” I don’t think there is a single marathon runner (with the exception of the few Kenyan ones leading the race) who gives a damn. You don’t run against the crowd – only against yourself. Fellow runners are your helpers and inspiration; they are not competitors. Victory in a marathon is to finish – and cause for celebration is to finish within the personal targets.

At that point of the dialogue my re-count of Venice was finally good to go. The long awaited question was posed: “So then, how was it in Venice?”

Well, it was well worth it!

I had decided that logistics would be easier and cost less if I booked it through a marathon-travel agent – they organize stay and transport for runner groups attending the same event.

The hotel was right in Venice, close to the finish and the race start was on the mainland, about 30 km outside Venice. The adventure commenced at 5 am. I had never before done the group experience and it started when all marathoners gathered to have breakfast. It was a room full of dead tired people, in denial that they were about to completely wear themselves out. There was not a lot of talking, and only restricted enthusiasm for the upcoming run. Some singles used it as a meeting place. One guy talked about the value of sex before and after – his wife accompanied him though, so I guess that made him legitimate. After breakfast there was plenty of time for mental preparation as transportation to the starting point was endless. The boat left Venice at 6.20. Walking, buses, more walking and lots of waiting at only 11 degrees followed the ride. We finally crossed the start at 9.30. Thank god for outstandingly good company until then!

The course was beautiful, just beautiful, and extremely cheerful. Despite the chilly and humid day, Italians made a huge party of it. There were 26 live bands on the way, several entertainers, and a very enthusiastic crowd of all ages. I now know the full declination of bravi, brava, bravo…. Shout-outs along the way meant for me were: “Cuatro ciento e due brava brava brava!” They were plenty and it was amazingly uplifting.

On km 30 in the middle of a park an unbelievable Alice Cooper lookalike was deafening the runners – despite the fatigue I was able to pick up speed to get quickly past this.

Pace groups in the race were surprisingly pronounced. Pace leaders hold a balloon with the target time and it is their job to take runners following them into the finish at exactly this time. When I overtook the 3.50 balloon the crowd was massive behind the leader, he was singing Italian folk songs to cheer his horde up and seemed to have taken personal pride in not losing any of them!

Due to the cold, I felt cramps looming on both legs already from the 13th km. Despite pacing myself to suppress them, they finally hit me with full force on the 36th km. Stopping was of course not an option for the eager runner, so I crossed the finish line in 03.36.14, albeit distinctly behind my personal target for the race. In the second of my finishing, some guy standing next to me emptied the contents of his stomach almost on my feet. Paramedics started coming towards us and to my surprise bypassed the guy and came to help me. My frustrated look about my race time and the cramp pain was clearly mistaken for the onset of a collapse.

I was given my goodies bag and my stuff and followed the crowd to a cheerful pasta party in a heated tent. It was after 19.00 that the last marathon runners left the tent and started making their way home. The day had been long. But it had also been satisfying in every respect: on my way back to the hotel I warmly thanked every volunteer still cleaning up, for an experience that should not be missed by any fellow athlete: the Venice Marathon.

Sadly, in my country there are not a lot of marathon runners – and too few female runners at that. Suffice to say that with my finishing time in Venice, I managed to make 36th place in the list of best Greek female marathon runners for the year 2010.  That would be impossible in any other country and I am happy to lose my placement to the young, eager and fast ones. So if you have been considering even remotely taking up the sport after the glamour that was attributed to marathons during the 2500 year celebration, I can only assure you: it is well worth the pain. Go for it!

This is a guest post by the love of my life, my wife Alexandra. Her passion for running is a great source of inspiration, as are her achievements! Our kids and me are enormously proud of her, although we begin to worry what on earth might be her next “running goal”

As some of you may know, I have a passion for running – it is an essential part of my life. Any run will do to lift the spirit, whether short or long, easy or difficult. What makes running buzzy and exciting is setting a goal and pursuing it. As a matter of fact, running turned from mere exercise to a fun part of the day, when I started running with a stopwatch, and was able to benchmark myself.

Running a marathon (please read her post from last year)  will always remain the ultimate challenge as not even the most experienced athlete can ever be sure of actually finishing, and even less of performing well. However during the year I stumbled across an event that intrigued me and I decided to go for it: Greece’s first and only mountain run during nighttime.

The run specifics read as follows:
Place: Mount Pelion (340 km north of Athens). Distance 16,1 km. Start time: 9pm. Max time to complete: 5 hours. Course profile: 8 km downhill – then 8,1 km uphill. Total elevation gain: 940 meters (or 3083 feet)

I am a city girl and admittedly I had no idea what to expect from a mountain trail or indeed an elevation gain of 940 meters. My perspective upon reading this was the following: I race 16 km in less than 1 hour 15 minutes. So I added another 15 minutes for the eventuality of having a bad day on the day and another 30 minutes to account for mountain difficulties. I sure ran up every Athenian ascent to train for it. I concluded that two hours would be an almost ridiculously generous estimate, for basically 8 uphill kilometers – after all, how hard could the first 8km be?

About 50 people signed up for the run. The communication, place and character of the event were all very low profile. I therefore presumed this to be an amateur happening, organized by local mountain run lovers looking for some fun. I envisioned the bib numbers being written up on A4 paper at the start line, latter being a chalk mark on the ground, medical care being restricted to a selection of different size plasters and the supply station actually being the forest fountain for water.

I enquired insistently about how the trail would be marked out. During such small events the crowd very quickly dissolves to everyone’s own pace, so you run mostly on your own, and I was terrified of the oversight of a turn in the darkness, amidst endless forest, at the top of a mountain, with no-one around to ask for directions.

Well, none of my expectations turned out right!

The organizer turned out being a celebrity in his field: Nikos Magitsis is the only Greek mountaineer having completed the Seven Summits. He is also a successful trail runner of international caliber – he has qualified and will to take part at the prestigious Mont Blanc Ultra Marathon on August 27th, 2010. He is nothing if not genuine – a very gentle man with immense love and respect for the mountains, nature, and trailing sports. He organizes such runs because of his devotion to the sport, and to give like-minded people the opportunity to experience such runs in a conscientiously organized environment. Professionalism and a deep sense of duty are evident already within the first moments of meeting him.

The starting point was almost at the mountaintop. For the start and finish line a gigantic bright orange blow-up gate had been set up, there were loud music, an ambulance, lots of helpers setting up the party afterwards and a euphoric running crowd warming up, with headlamps. It was dusk and the stunning views reached all the way down to the sea. For the record, my bib number was not handwritten, but was made of highly resilient, waterproof material, to withstand all mountain weather conditions – best quality bib I’ve come across so far.

Some runners carried the full range of available specialized gear for such events. Running rucksacks, camel packs (= drink bags), trekking poles, compression socks. The latter look quite funny. They are tight fitting, over-the-calf socks aimed at improving oxygen delivery to muscles and lead to greater muscle efficiency. I have no idea if it works. Apparently even compression underwear exists, but judging from the squeezy look of the socks, I would not really want to test that, and I am a woman.

Nikos answered my worries about getting lost with the well-natured quote he apparently has used before (and I was informed worriers have always been women): “There is absolutely no way that you will get lost – none! But if you DO get lost, don’t tell anyone because they will think you are an idiot.” I frowned at this, but during the run I had to laugh at myself. The markings were indeed absolutely idiot-proof. There were signs, reflectors and ribbons in the trees every 5 meters, as well as huge red arrows on the ground. In a trail not even known to Google Earth, it was an unmistakably delineated course. A fantastic achievement over 16 km in the dark!

The event was clearly not a competition. Everybody was in it for the challenge of finishing. The only rival was oneself and possibly the forest life we were warned about with the sentence: “if you hear anything running next to you and it doesn’t have a headlamp, don’t’ worry, it’s just a wild boar.”

For many – as for me – it was their first mountain run, and for everyone it was their first run in the darkness. We turned on our headlamps and off we went. Very soon, we were in the deep night. And soon after that, I was on already running alone.

Upon arriving at the first supply station, I found it to be a small oasis: there was light, a guy cheering up all runners as they arrived, music, nuts, crisps, energy drinks and gels – you name it, they had it. I wouldn’t be surprised if they handed out a whiskey if asked for one. Incidentally, there was no fountain in sight. It was all bottled stuff. Nikos took care of us.

I don’t know if there are adequate words to describe the trail and the feeling during the run. The course itself was made up of 30% dirt road and 70% mountain trail. The trail varied from dried up rivers that one could barely walk through because of the huge rocks to narrow paths that were less than 30 cm wide, where one could only do small steps not seeing their feet as vegetation was up to the waist.

I reached the bottom in 54 minutes. On a flat course I am already in my 12th km at that time. But the descent was, at times, so steep that I could either only progress sideways almost fearing the release of a landslide, or slowly slide-down the path because of the boulder. My thighs were sore from the strength it took to support me during this part.

I then commenced the climb, and it was literally that. Every so often I had to heave myself up from the surrounding tree branches. The concept of “running” was a joke, as even just walking was barely possible. Due to the complete darkness there was no indication of what was to come in the trail and where the end of a trail section was. On top of that, there was an utter lack of feeling for how much a distance one had covered, because no steady pace was possible.

At a forest plateau after what seemed like hours, a guy appeared completely unexpectedly and asked: “everything alright?” I was so concentrated on my effort, that it took me a moment to orientate, and to place him as one of the organizers, just checking on runners. I asked: “how long to go?” And he said: “3 km…..” My mental state was alert enough, to deduce that this meant I was just at 13 km – I honestly felt more like having done 33 km.

I did not experience the last trauma in this run, though: When I finally saw afar the finish line I started my homerun. There were noises to my right, and I turned to check them out. Hundreds of bright yellow spots reflecting on my headlamp light faced me, and immediately a huge noise followed, as the completely shocked goat herd started fleeing all at once in random directions. They must have wondered, what on earth was going on in their forest, that night!

The first woman to cross the finish line did so in 2 hours exactly. I followed second, not a minute too soon, in 2 hours 35 minutes and was just thrilled to have made it. The last runner came in after 5 hours 8 minutes.

When I arrived, the party was already going on, as lots of the runners’ families had come to celebrate their achievement with them. The atmosphere was wonderful; the crowd was relaxed and joyful, the mood easygoing and there were food and drink in abundance.

Nikos had even organized a winner’s ceremony with medals and cups. The great thing about that was that my kids thought their Mami (mum) was the greatest, for bringing home such a huge, shiny “second place” cup.

Upon leaving I genuinely thanked Nikos and his whole team of volunteers for everything. He assured me that the pleasure and fun were all his and that was his reason for doing it, every time. As a matter of fact, he would be getting married in September and was trying to convince his wife-to-be to just do a running event followed by a party like that one, instead of organizing another cliché reception.

Now, that’s original thinking, but quite a hard qualifier, to get to see the bride! I don’t know if under circumstances possibly requiring you to run up Mount Olymp in order to attend the ceremony, you really want to be on the guest list

I left Mount Pelion with the lingering feeling, that this was without a doubt the best organized, warm, friendly, intimate and definitely most fun event I have ever taken part in. It’s in such moments, that I am immensely proud of being Greek and of having such compatriots. Niko, kick butt at Mont Blanc! See you next year.

Many other stories about life in Greece can be found in the only in Greece column.

My wife’s and my ID cards recently expired, and a dear family friend volunteered to get it renewed for us. Our friend, Katerina, is a lady who has during her entire lifetime held jobs, where “organising business environments to utmost efficiency” has been the key concept.

Katerina arrived at the association’s premises, at a dingy and humid basement, at exactly the advertised opening time of 17:30 p.m. The helpful volunteer staffing the office arrived about 20 minutes late, and people outside had already started queuing.

The crowd literally jumped on the elderly lady, and everyone demanded noisily to be served first. The lady was clearly lost and besieged in her desire to assist everyone. She must have been doing this job until then purely on the account of her angelic patience and stoicism, not by her resolution effectiveness.

Katerina stepped up to her and asked: “Would you like some help?”

The offer was greeted first by silence, then by disbelief, and very soon by relief: “Please, have a seat, do you think, you would be able to fill out these forms, as per instructions?” Katerina obliged, and it came naturally to her to instantly start suggesting a few filing improvements. The lady was delighted. They went on both happily working away, giving out coupons, distributing food, and filling out forms.

Katerina spent 4 hours at the office. At 10 p.m. the crowds had been dealt with, and she was ready to leave. The lady couldn’t thank her enough and started giving Katerina food to take along, to show her gratitude. Katerina declined, but left her phone number with the instruction that she could be called at any point, and if she had time, she would immediately come and help out. 

In the past, Katerina had on numerous occasions offered to do volunteer work by addressing relevant bodies directly, like the management of orphanages, blind homes, elderly homes, and was frustrated that she never got a response. In the setting where she was just helping out another fellow citizen, she finally got her volunteer work. Her concluding remark about her experience was: “This lady is extremely nice, all she wants to do is help other people, even if they are rude. The problem is that she is too disorganised to do so, and I will get her up and running efficiently over the next few weeks.”

Two “good” people had met, who both fit in extremely well into this country’s profile and mentality: The genuinely helpful volunteer, who fulfils a job despite lacking qualifications, and Katerina, the truly caring human being! I can assure you that there are lots of both types of these people in Greece.

The floor plan is regulated by law and is just 1.3 meters times 1.5 meters. The periptero consists of a wooden box with small windows on 3 sides and a door at the back. A triangular awning often overhangs the box, thereby providing shelter from rain and sun. Inside, wares are placed on shelves; apart from this there is typically only a chair for the operator who does business through the small windows while being seated.

One can buy cigarettes, sweets, postcards, chewing gum, key rings, maps, cookies, crisps, cold drinks, pre-paid phone cards and much more. Many also sell bus and metro tickets. In addition, nearly every periptero still operates a payphone. Because of their small size, the owners have become increasingly innovative to make the most of their business. Fridges are often standing in rows next to the periptero, one for ice cream, one for drinks, one for food like yoghurts etc. In addition, mobile stands are being put up to house magazines and newspapers, even books, sometimes even tourist items hang on shelf constructions that attached to the main periptero. So the 1.3×1.5 often takes up a good 4×3 on the pavement.

These amazingly small but very personalised businesses contribute to up to 5% of the annual GDP of Greece, they are often open even 24/7 and the average daily turnover of a single one amounts to 1500 Euros.

Those that are placed at central places or close to schools can have up to 4 times that turnover. The attraction of this small business is, that until recently, they operated a commerce that did not have to give out receipts for any of the goods sold. Of course this will soon be a thing of the past…

A license is needed for the operation and these are strictly limited. They are given to victims of war, disabled people or families with many children as state support for life. Who knows, should my business not become successful, I might have to apply for a license myself.

Many more stories about everyday life in Greece can be found here.

Easter is the time of year when you see every generation going to church. Even today’s most hip youth, the ones with the torn jeans or the EMO look turn up to join the Good Friday evening procession when priests through the streets of each community carry the Jesus grave. And absolutely everyone shows up at the evening mass on Easter Saturday. Just before midnight, candles are lit by everyone in anticipation of the “news” of the resurrection, which happens exactly at midnight. Fireworks, church bells and standard verbal exchanges accompany this between friends and family such as ‘Χριστός ανέστη’ (Jesus resurrected), which is to be answered by ‘Αληθώς’ (indeed).

One of the primary themes during this whole celebration is food. It starts with Clean Monday (or else called Ash Monday), which signifies leaving behind sinful attitudes and marks the start of a 40-day fasting period, lasting until Easter Sunday. Fasting is basically a vegan diet, i.e. products or by-products from animals are forbidden, which also excludes eggs, milk, cheese and similar from the menu. On some particular days, olive oil is added to the list of banned foods, which leaves grazing almost as the only option.

Very few people do the 40-day exercise, but quite a few people fast during the Holy Week, the week before Easter Sunday. That includes all ages, even children. This year even mine participate, more for the challenge of it, than for anything else. Their daily agony during the week before of “how many days do you think we will last?” has now been replaced by their eagerness to do it right: “Mami, does yoghurt come from an animal? Does a muesli bar come from an animal? Why are we allowed to eat honey – does it not come from an animal…!?”

The fasting period is a paradise for any vegetarian and a nightmare for the same once it is over, because abruptly the food intake is converted into almost exclusively meat. The fasting ends with two meals:

First, just after resurrection and upon coming home from the Easter Saturday midnight mass there is a massive food fiesta, featuring primarily a soup made up of lamb insides (μαγειρίτσα = mageiritsa), followed by oven roasted lamb and other sorts of meat. This is truly a bummer if you HAVE fasted for 40 days, and all of a sudden stuff yourself in the middle of the night with that kind of food. I am sure that has led at times to stomach trauma incidents of varying severity.

The second meal follows only a few hours of sleep later: It is an all day eating session on Easter Sunday which is made up of traditional Easter Specialties and spit roasted whole lambs. The day is an extremely social event: you have either invited people around or you have yourself been invited somewhere. Roasting itself is a lengthy process, it takes a good 6 hours during which the gathered crowd begins drinking and eating mezedes around 11 am, to keep spirits up and hunger at bay, until the lamb is ready.

So if for the vegetarian this is a hard day that would also hold true for WWF supporters. Traditionally our family’s Easter Sunday feast is held at our house, because we have a large garden. A few years ago, my younger son Alexander entertained everyone, when he finally noticed the lambs we were roasting and shouted: Papi, look, doggy!!

The seasoned Greek remains unfazed by such comments, keeps the routines up every year because above all, tradition counts. And that is a truly wonderful Greek trait.

This year, we will actually travel to the North of Greece for the celebration, marking the first time since I moved to Greece that I will be able to just sit back on Sunday and enjoy the food, rather than preparing it. Happy Easter!

My friend happily built away. The project finished and business bloomed. He sold quite a few apartments and made some money along the way. Only four remained unsold, and the only decision that remained was which ones to keep.

He prepared his annual tax declaration for 2008 and as a citizen of good faith detailed all data relevant to his undertaking. In this country, the attitude towards tax authorities is intensely defensive: The golden rule is to keep and maintain a low profile. You don’t want them taking second and third looks into your affairs, because they are bound to find something devastating that they will be able to turn against the most law-abiding citizen. You keep things simple and clear, in order to avoid having to submit additional information.
 
Being a young generation guy, my friend was very enthusiastic about the fact that tax authorities had recently begun offering the option to citizens to submit their tax forms via the Internet, and that was exactly what he did. He advertised its simplicity to me on a number of occasions, and we praised the government for such forward thinking.

In October last year, a tax official called him and implied that some clarifications were needed. He suggested that my friend would visit him at his office on the following Monday, which was St. Dimitris day. This also happened to be the tax officials name day – a day when presents are given. My friend wondered a bit about this coincident but he followed the “advise”. As soon as he entered the office of the tax official, he saw himself confronted with a very grumpy guy asking lots of questions about the construction. The suspicion was voiced that my friend was not an individual investing his savings, but in reality was operating a construction company that he just didn’t declare as one. Such a company would belong to a completely different tax regime.

Upon my friend’s wonderment why anyone would get the idea that such a complicated scenario could apply, the tax official replied that ONLY people who have something to hide would submit the tax forms via the Internet. There would obviously be a price if he were to not ask further questions. After some toing and froing it was agreed that the tax official would receive 3000 Euros immediately, and another 3000 Euros at the beginning of the next year. My friend felt that this agreement was the only way to get the tax official off his back. At the same time, there was no guarantee that this blackmailing would stop.

Since the first payment a few months ago, Greece has been the center of a massive financial crisis that threatens the whole EU. The government is implementing many new and serious measures to reform the economy and reduce public spending, including a radical reform of the taxation system.

The second payment of 3000 Euros was due last week. Some days ago I received a triumphant phone call of my friend. The government had officially implemented the following measure to counter corruption:

Whoever points out blackmail by tax officials to the authorities will receive five times that amount from the authorities and will receive full tax immunity. My friend has been waiting for a phone call from the tax official who blackmailed him ever since with a smug smile on his face, and is almost sad that his phone remains silent….

Update: Also read this Spiegel article to put things into perspective…

Yesterday I received an email by the Embassy Counsellor of Economy and Trade for the Greek embassy in Berlin! He pointed me to a provision in the law stating that if a person with a foreign last name is already known with a spelling other than the one that the transliteration rules provides, then documents proving that claim can be submitted and the new Greek passport will then bear that name.

He also kindly sent me the ministerial decree mentioning several aspects regarding the issuance of passports, pointed me to the relevant pages, and advised me on the best action to take. In addition, we had a lively exchange of thoughts about the promotion of Greek wines abroad.

I am impressed by the actions of the Embassy Counsellor. He read my blog and responded, investing time and energy to help. This is very generous and moving. He obviously shares my motto “listen, engage, share”. I am sure he would make one hell of a blogger.  Fittingly enough, his first name is Dionyssis, who in Greek methodology is the god of wine.

At the Greek embassy, there was the usual form filling. My Greek wife did not hesitate one bit about writing my daughter’s name in the Greek letters that sounded most like the German original. I need to explain the Greek alphabet a bit:

“STOLZ” is pronounced “STOLTS” in German. There is no single letter in Greek corresponding to the German “Z” as a “TS” – the Greek “Z” is spoken like a soft “S”, i.e. like the “Z” in the word lizard. So “STOLZ” in Greek letters would be pronounced “STOLS”.

Therefore, to maintain the sound of the name correctly, the birth certificate entry was as follows: ΣΟΦΙΑ ΣΤΟΛΤΣ (i.e. phonetically SOFIA STOLTS). When our other children were born, we used the same method.
 
Years later we moved to Greece and we wanted to get my daughter a full Greek passport, in addition to her already held German one. My wife filled out the necessary forms, submitted all relevant documents like the Greek and British birth certificates (which clearly state the Latin name “STOLZ”, paid an immense amount of money and was sent away with the instruction to pick up the newly issued Greek passport a few weeks later.

When we got the passport back, the name section read as follows:
Name (Greek characters): ΣΟΦΙΑ ΣΤΟΛΤΣ
Name (Latin characters): SOFIA STOLTS
 
Our look was blank. My daughter’s name in Latin characters firstly and foremost is: SOPHIA STOLZ. What had happened to that? We got in touch with the authorities, to understand why the Latin spelling had been altered. We got the same answer, on every door we knocked:  For the Greek authorities, the only valid way to write a name into a Greek passport, is its Greek spelling on the birth certificate, and THAT is then translated, phonetically on a letter by letter basis into Latin characters.
 
We tried our best to convince the passport authority, that this was all wrong. STOLZ was around long before STOLTS was invented Besides, how can the same person have two passports, a German and a Greek one, with two different legitimate Latin names? We were asked to consider changing the German one. How is one to argue with that?
 
The solution was a bureaucratic Odyssey, whereby a court order was issued to correct the birth certificates of all our children. We succumbed to spelling it “ΣΤΟΛΖ”, which is of course pronounced “STOLS” in Greek, but was the only choice to achieve the correct Latin spelling “STOLZ”. Then the whole passport issuing procedure was started all over. The surname is saved.

At their school everyone wonders about that weird sounding surname: Stols. The question “shouldn’t it be STOLTS?” comes up all the time….

A surprising update can be found here.