It is a truth universally acknowledged, that an American in a
foreign country, must be in want of some culture shock (my apologies to Jane
Austen for that. However, she’s dead. Really dead. So I don’t think she cares).
Upon arriving in the country, it is obvious that there are differences between the
U.S. and Greece.
It’s dryer. Apartment buildings, not houses, are the norm. Streets
can be very narrow. Sidewalks are not to be relied upon. Pedestrians do not have
the right of way: they have the right to try to get out the way before being
killed. While there’s very little in terms of grass, there is a great quantity
of trees and potted plants (one of which is on my balcony and is already dead
from my neglect. Oops).
However, on a deeper level, the U.S. and Greece also differ
vastly in terms of work culture. For one thing, Greek culture appreciates the
term “rest” far more than American culture. The typical American adopts
something of a work-crash-work-intense vacation-work-crash-work model. Not so
in Greece. Stores here close around two and don’t open up again until the
evening. Why? It’s hot, and that’s the best time to go take a nap (no one is
very productive in the heat anyways). Hence, there’s a general air of busyness
around eight in the evening (when it’s cool) and a general air of stillness in
the afternoon. The notion of offering twenty-four hour service is nowhere to be
found. Stores may not be open on Sundays. In fact, when going away for
vacations, shop owners will typically completely close their shops up, rather
than find someone to run it in the interim. (Side note: yes,
Greece is in an economic crisis, but I’m fairly sure that this cultural
difference existed long before that, so there’s little evidence for making a
causation argument).
The profit-driven nature of American society as opposed to
Greek society reminds me a bit of one of my favorite poems, “God’s Grandeur,”
by Gerard Manley Hopkins.
The world is charged with the grandeur
of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck
his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have
trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being
shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black
West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs —
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
I must confess that after leaving the American public school
system, which is so intently testing driven, the Greek model appeals to me. In
simplistic terms, due to No Child Left Behind and Race to the Top, the American
public school system is organized to operate something like the capitalist system
before Child Labor laws. There’s an emphasis on profit (test scores) rather
than giving children the space and time to grow as unique human beings.
Perhaps it is better to stop for a little. Take a nap. Close
the shop. Avoid living a life that is too much “seared with trade; bleared,
smeared with toil.”
Not all things Greek are better than American, nor are all
things American better than Greek. But maybe we have something to learn here.
It’s not a bad idea to rest. Other things are more important than making a
tremendous profit. Life isn’t all money or test scores or big houses or fancy
cars. Sometimes, it’s sitting on the balcony, listening to the chatter of the
neighborhood, remembering “the dearest freshness deep down things” and the Holy
Ghost who broods over the world with bright wings.
Thanks for the reflections. I especially enjoyed the connection to the Hopkins poem.
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