On a Slow Boat to Greece

New Zealand Listener, Volume 22, Issue 554, 3 February 1950, Page 7

On a Slow Boat to Greece

, HE author of this article is a New Zealander who is now on her way to Greece, where she intends to spend several months before going to other parts of south-eastern Europe. Further articles will be received from her at irregular intervals. PS RAVELLING steerage to Europe on a Greek ship was not advocated by those who claimed to know. Any quarters but first class were bound to smell, moreover the other passengers would be-italics of horror-‘"all Southern Europeans." The ship was a very old passenger boat redesigned to catch the immigration trade to Australia, and to pack in.as much human cargo as possible. I insisted that I liked Europeans, Southern and other, and that if smells were characteristic of them. I should have to become acclimatised sooner or later, as I intended to spend several years in Europe, especially in the Mediterranean countries. A first visit below proved that she did in fact smell rather less than the average ship, although there certainly was a pervasive smell, faint and quite unfamiliar, of which more anon. As for the other passengers in third class, eleven all told, only three are "Southern Europeans," all Greeks going home, one a middle-aged widow born in Odessa of Greek pdrentage, who converses wordlessly but charmingly with little shrieks

of horror, hands upcast, and peals of laughter; one an aged Macedonian, who sits in a corner all day with folded hands, crooning to himself and looking like a Biblical fisherman. The rest-a Polish solicitor, a gentle Viennese and a wandering Jew with four passports and no nationality, all going to join families in Palestine; a merry Benghali and two Somalis, one a fine-boned old man with fez, fringe-beard, hookah and the graceful dignity of an Abyssinian emperor; myself, a New Zealander bent on seeing the world, and a young Australian journalist bound for Italy in search of copy. BREAKFAST the first morning out on a full-blooded swell revealed the source of the pervasive smell: when my breakfast egg slid towards me with an unctuous leer, light dawned-olive oil, of course. Brought up to regard oil as a smelly, unpleasant substance intended to reduce friction in bicycles, I know that seeing the world can hold no worse ordeal than the first two days of sitting down at every meal to face and encompass olive oil-olive oil and egg, olive oil and spaghetti, olive oil and veal, olive oil and salad, etc,, ad infin. Only a concentration on higher things pulled me through, together with much sprinkling of pepper. This battle won, I was free to enjoy our drunken prancings as we bucked and cavorted across the Australian Bight. Not so the rest, for apart from some ex-seamen and myself, all went into hibernation as it were, retiring to their cabins till the winter of their sorrows was past. There was even an alarming occasion when I dined alone, with ten stewards to wait upon me, each intent on doing his full duty by each

course, As for the young Australian, he so far disgraced his pioneer breeding that for six days his search for copy went no ftrther than appearing each morning at the breakfast table. And each morning as the ship rolled over to a 40 degree list and the anointed egg undulated toward him, with the motion of a stingray idling around the edge of a bay on the turn of the-tide, he waited no longer to hear what kitchen secrets it might confide, but fled oytfaced to his cabin for the next twenty-four hours. At the first po#t of call he vanished without a word. This left me the only ‘passenger speaking English as native tongue; only the wandering Jew knows enough English for normal conversation. However, four of us at one table together speak, with the exception of the Scandinavian and two Balkan tongues, every European language from Spanish to Russian, including Hebrew and Yiddish, Latin and ancient Greek, so that much varied conversation is possible. On this polyglot ship radio announcements are made in

Greek, French, Italian and English. Any of the first three is easier to follow than the interpreter’s English. ET no one go abroad believing the old story that every other foreigner speaks fluent English. Many of the passengers, after several years’ residence in Australia, speak only a dozen words of English and perhaps two dozen of Australian. Of the Greek crew, only two or three know more English than the little required for their special duties, though most speak some French of Italian. Many speak not a word of English, a few have only one word which must be put to various uses, for example, the normally taciturn steward who, meeting one in a corridor some time after the dinner gong has finished ringing, or the bell for boat drill, approaches crying in tones of supplication, "Missus, missus!" from which one gathers that the soup is growing cold or that one is in theory going down with the ship. Although modern Greek has basically the same grammar as classical Greek it is so different phonetically and in details that I decided to keep silence until I had mastered a modern grammar, apart from uttering such common-. places as "Tea without milk" or "Be sparing with the oil, I beg." The first teal reward of this system came yesterday when’ I found that a steward who has hitherto insisted on speaking French to me-very good French, too-was unconsciously chatting to me in Greek, Modern Greek has also a generous sprinkling of Turkish words and phrases. The long Turkish domination is reflected in many customs, from the method of drinking coffee, very black and thick with sediment and sugar, followed by a glass of cold water, to the habit among older men of playing with and Carrying everywhere in their hands a string of beads, said to be an aid to clear thinking. It has also influenced Greek popular music, which has a large body of songs *that sound Oriental in their lamentations, and unrelieved minor monotone. } As for the more numerous passengers of the first and second classes, to the steerage élite they seem a very dull lot, (continued on next page)

ON A SLOW BOAT TO GREECE

(continued from previous page) mainly witless snobs and. barbarous capitalists, with a’sprinkling of priests going to Rome for Holy Year and, to judge by the unsanctifying glances they east on the heaving waters, doing penance by a sea voyage. No, by far the most interesting people on board are the crew, 250: odd, all Greek but for a/ few Italians and one negro. ‘THE reputation of the modern Greek is much the same as that of his ancestor of the Periclean age: intensely vigorous in mind and body, moderate in his habits, extremely friendly and hospitable, combining simplicity of manner with a subtle and lively wit, and the traditional Attic curiosity and love of all things new; so astute in business that Greete is the one country in Europe where Jews have never been unwelcome -the Greek business shark need fear no rival. For the same reason every third man in Athens is a lawyer, so they say. The Greek is volatile of temperament, very jealous of his honour; the individualist par excellence, capable of unity only in the gravest emergency, and so fond of disputation, so quick to change his vewpoint to anticipate changing circumstances, that ‘it is said that where you find six Greeks together, you find seven political parties. The same spirit that drove out vastly superior forces in 1941 from their little country is shown in the axiom; "If you lose money, you lose nothing; if yau lose time, you lose something; if you lose hope, you lose everything." With few exceptions our crew of 250 illuminate this reputation. Snobbery and class distinction are unknown to them and their curiosity and friendliness are shown with the spontaneity of childhood. If two passengers begin’ comparing photographs, all the Sailors in sight come up and join in the game, passing them from hand to hand, profuse in compliments and criticism. Sit on deck and open a book, and any passing seaman will come over to see what it is,

frequently gazing at it upside downbefore the war 55 per cent of Greeks were illiterate; the figure is assumed to be much higher now since the prolonged disruption of war and civil war. Put the book down for a moment, and you return to find someone sitting in your chair, poring over it. The bulky boatswain never passes me without borrowing the book of the moment and reading half a page to satisfy himself of the subject. Once, when he became absorbed from one chapter to the next, I asked him after twiddling my thumbs for some time if he ever read. books of his own: "No, no, books no interest for me," returning it calmly. ORK goes with a swing and.plenty of jollity, with none of the rivalry apparent in English ships, seamen despising stewards and engineroom crew despising seamen. In fact, I have several times seen stewards scrubbing and painting on deck, apparently from sheer domestic affection. Their easy camaraderie and high spirits are reminiscent of the Maoris, A mingled group rarely sits down without a lively conversation

ending in laughter or song. Starchy discipline is happily absent. When the bdatswain discovered me one day reading my grammar, opened it at random and proceeded to give me a lesson (he speaks even less English than I do Greek), he was hailed with ribald cries of "Professor! Professor!" by all and sundry, from the boy ,greasing hawsers to the second mate laughing from the wheelhouse. The first mate’s watch on the bridge is always signalised by the sound of his fruity baritone carolling away to relieve the monotony. Their sympathy with petsonal idiosyncrasy is such that when I complained jokingly that the colour of ‘my cabin

was aesthetically displeasing to me, a small army appeared the same day and proceeded’ to paint it a more pleasing colour, protesting meanwhile that it was nothing, they were about to repaint it

‘anyway. The slightest hitch in one’s personal affairs, a jammed suitcase latch, a defective cigarette-lighter, »brings a troop of excited helpers overflowing with advice, suffering agonies of distress, though not, certainly, too distressed for words, departing finally rejoicing that your little problem is solved. Speaking of hospitality, a Greek friend assures me that wherever I go in the country or the islands I will "be everywhere easily. hospitalised"-not as gtim as it sounds, just that the Greek countryman, like the backblocks oo in New Zealand, loves to entertain every passerby, plying him with questions, tegaling him with the best at his command and detaining him as long as possible. (CHRISTMAS ' DAY as we simmered towards the equatorial horizon was a festival from "dawn till midnight. We -have a four-man orchestra aboard, led by a fine violinist, who lost everything but his fiddle in a recent shipwreck. He has to compete with a saxophonist with mountaineer’s lungs and no taste, a piano-accordionist who obviously yearns

for a quiet life and takes his revenge for the lack of it, and a drummer who has seen too many American films and is moreover the ship’s clown. We have also a large set of gramophone records. But the crew are independent of organised music; they snatch up the first tintray or dinner-gong at hand and, with the aid of a few guitars, make a competent band. Such a band roused the captain on Christmas morning singing carols below his cabin, one in particular a very lovely air, in a minor key like most of their traditional songs. We dined all together in the first-class saloon, a Christmas tree in our midst, and the orchestra outdoing itself in the musicians’ gallery above. As we descended the grand staircase towards the phalanx of stewards, the chief at their head stepped forward to clasp each fair hand -and kiss it warmly. Good liquor flowed and the day waxed in hilarity. The afternoon was spent around banquet tables, on a flagdraped deck under awnings. And all the afternoon in the heat-haze the Greeks celebrated their national dances, singly, in pairs and in groups, each following the last without pause, to the ultimate exhaustion of the orchestra. Unaffected by their potations the dancers pursued an infinite variety of convolutions, with solemn concentration and many graceful flourishes of the handkerchief each cartied, wreathing it’ about neck or waist, fluttering it on the breeze or passing a corner to his neighbour to form a circle. Neither wine nor fatigue could defeat their most intricate steps, only the unpredictable heaving deck. The sun set in a purple-black cloud mass to the sound of renewed carols. Two nights later in the steaming heat we crossed the equator and headed for Colombo. Next morning an Austrian lady with little English approached me, inquiring solemnly, "Have \you heard anysing in the night?" "No, why?" "They say we have sailed right over an equador in the night, but I have not heard nussing, either." Presumably Triton should have sounded his conch in greeting. arse ;