Teaching at Christmas in Greece
My memories of Christmas in Greece in the 90s are not as Greek as you might expect. I spent nearly every Christmas in the UK. Not that I didn't want to see it in Greece, it's just, well, it's a time for family. Putting it another way, if I had decided to stop in Greece for Christmas, I'm sure my parents would have disowned me.
So, every Christmas would mean getting your Christmas bonus, usually the day you were travelling back, and jumping on the Athens bus. It's odd, but when I first went out to Greece in 1993, there was very little sign of Christmas. No sales in the shops, no nodding Santas hanging from balconies or countless carols being pumped out from every street corner, pretty much nothing. I guess that was because that Christmas wasn't a big deal in Greece, celebrations and gifts came on twelfth night, Epiphany. So, in fact, in the early days of being in Greece it was possible to have 2 Christmas's if you jumped on a plane back after New Year.
Where was I? Oh yes, jumping on a bus to Athens with a wad of Drachmas, leaving behind a wet and wholly un-Christmassy Tripolis. Getting to Athens airport, particularly the 'new' airport, was a Homeric Odyssey in itself. The bus station was on the other side of town from the airport, and like most TEFL teachers, I have an aversion to spending hard earned wedge on big city taxis. So, the many buses and hikes needed to traverse this ancient city would take hours. Which was fine, since the 'English Teacher Express' never took off before 5am.
The converted aircraft hanger serving as the departure lounge for all charter flights was a little more like a massive refugee shelter. All TEFL teachers took this flight, it was the cheapest and the last one you could take if you wanted to get home in time for Chrimbo. Every year, you would nod to the teacher you had seen last year from some obscure Island in the Dodecanese, who would be unshaven and semi-conscious from his long trip. You would swap teaching clangers with your comrades from Thessaloniki and catch up with cultural mishaps with thousands of Athens-based teachers. Some would be in their sleeping bags and some hugging their hip flask of some potent liquid.
There was a real feeling of camaraderie, the feeling of going home and having a holiday, that is, of course, if the charter plane turned up. Charter planes are cheap, but between having to run on tight turn around times and coping with the frequently disgruntled, low-paid baggage handlers, flights leaving on time was not as common as you might have hoped. Planes always turned up though, eventually, even if they were half a day late. We were hardy in those days, or at least used to living in Greece, where there is no real concept of lateness, in fact, the word manana should be a Greek word.
Sitting in aircraft hangers for an eternity isn't that fun, but for some reason I remember it with affection. I guess it was the feeling of fraternity I had with my brother and sister TEFL teachers on our annual pilgrimage home every Christmas.
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