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Authors: Rebecca Hall
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shoehorned my upper body into what can only be described as a black boob tube. It turned out this was the only item of clothing Kaliopi had that fitted my larger frame, and it went well with my jeans and trainers.
Nektarios was tall, with a strong, square jawline and short-cropped black hair. He wore black cargo trousers and a black t-shirt. He’d nodded at me, but seemed a little moody. Trying to be polite and remembering my students’ enquiries into my own black clothes, I asked him if anyone had passed away in his family lately. “What have you been teaching her there in the countryside, Kalipoi?” Nektarios looked at me quizzically.
OK then
, I thought,
it’s just his dress sense. Clearly it fits his Mr Darcy image.
I smiled, a little embarrassed, not least because it was rather difficult not to stare at him.
By contrast, Dimitrios was only just slightly taller than Mr Ilias. He wore colourful trousers, a bright purple t-shirt and had the loveliest smile that touched his eyes, in contrast with Nektraias’s smouldering moodiness.
Moving on from my comment about black clothing, they started in on my education: the significance of the next day; the 28th of October.
“It’s ‘Ochi Day’”, Nektarios began. “‘Ochi’ means ‘No’ in Greek. It’s the date in 1940 that our Prime Minister, Ioannis Metaxas, refused Mussolini’s ultimatum to surrender to Italy. We entered the Second World War on that day—we said ‘OCHI!!’ to that asshole,” Nektarios finished loudly by raising his fist in the air.
OK then, moody yet passionate,
I concluded.
“Ochi!!” shouted the occupants of several tables around them who’d heard this exchange, again with the raised fist. “Ochi!!” yelled an elderly gentleman, raising his fist as he passed by outside under the open windows of the bar.
“Wow, that day certainly has significance and support around here. Unfortunately kids in our country don’t pay much attention to significant historical events. And I’m sorry, I don’t know the exact date Britain entered World War Two,” I admitted.
“Er… Rachel,” said Dimitrios, “I don’t want to sound critical of your nation, but you all seem a little apathetic and appear to neither know nor want to learn about important events that shaped your country. This is a shame; it makes your people appear shallow and uneducated, which clearly
you
are not.” He finished, beaming that smile of his, dissolving any insult I may have felt.
I thought for a minute and concluded he was right; compared to Greece, at least, we are apathetic about anything political or historical that has helped to shape our present and is important for us to understand. It was another characteristic difference between our nations.
“Don’t worry,” Dimitrios continued. “Come with us to the Ochi Day Parade tomorrow morning; you’ll continue your education with us.”
“Oh,” groaned Kaliopi. “But it starts so
early
. I need to lie in. Come by my apartment tomorrow morning, collect and take her with you. And you boys, look after Rachel and don’t wake me up.”
“Now who’s being shallow, Kaliopi?” Nektarios jibed, “but OK, we’ll do just that,” he winked at me and smiled, his face transformed.
Another thing I noted about these two characters—in contrast to my students at school, who didn’t speak
bad
English, these two spoke English perfectly. OK, so they were older than my teen class, but I still wanted to know how they’d learned.
“A Masters in English Literature, from Essex University,” Nektarios was visibly proud of this fact. “Although,” his shoulders slumped, “these days it’s hard to get a job in Greece, so I deliver pizza. Such a waste of a degree. But at least I got to experience living in the UK, alas also got to see how much you people seem to want to waste your time going out and getting drunk on the weekends, and you call that living!”
Dimitrios jumped in before I could start
Nektarios was tall, with a strong, square jawline and short-cropped black hair. He wore black cargo trousers and a black t-shirt. He’d nodded at me, but seemed a little moody. Trying to be polite and remembering my students’ enquiries into my own black clothes, I asked him if anyone had passed away in his family lately. “What have you been teaching her there in the countryside, Kalipoi?” Nektarios looked at me quizzically.
OK then
, I thought,
it’s just his dress sense. Clearly it fits his Mr Darcy image.
I smiled, a little embarrassed, not least because it was rather difficult not to stare at him.
By contrast, Dimitrios was only just slightly taller than Mr Ilias. He wore colourful trousers, a bright purple t-shirt and had the loveliest smile that touched his eyes, in contrast with Nektraias’s smouldering moodiness.
Moving on from my comment about black clothing, they started in on my education: the significance of the next day; the 28th of October.
“It’s ‘Ochi Day’”, Nektarios began. “‘Ochi’ means ‘No’ in Greek. It’s the date in 1940 that our Prime Minister, Ioannis Metaxas, refused Mussolini’s ultimatum to surrender to Italy. We entered the Second World War on that day—we said ‘OCHI!!’ to that asshole,” Nektarios finished loudly by raising his fist in the air.
OK then, moody yet passionate,
I concluded.
“Ochi!!” shouted the occupants of several tables around them who’d heard this exchange, again with the raised fist. “Ochi!!” yelled an elderly gentleman, raising his fist as he passed by outside under the open windows of the bar.
“Wow, that day certainly has significance and support around here. Unfortunately kids in our country don’t pay much attention to significant historical events. And I’m sorry, I don’t know the exact date Britain entered World War Two,” I admitted.
“Er… Rachel,” said Dimitrios, “I don’t want to sound critical of your nation, but you all seem a little apathetic and appear to neither know nor want to learn about important events that shaped your country. This is a shame; it makes your people appear shallow and uneducated, which clearly
you
are not.” He finished, beaming that smile of his, dissolving any insult I may have felt.
I thought for a minute and concluded he was right; compared to Greece, at least, we are apathetic about anything political or historical that has helped to shape our present and is important for us to understand. It was another characteristic difference between our nations.
“Don’t worry,” Dimitrios continued. “Come with us to the Ochi Day Parade tomorrow morning; you’ll continue your education with us.”
“Oh,” groaned Kaliopi. “But it starts so
early
. I need to lie in. Come by my apartment tomorrow morning, collect and take her with you. And you boys, look after Rachel and don’t wake me up.”
“Now who’s being shallow, Kaliopi?” Nektarios jibed, “but OK, we’ll do just that,” he winked at me and smiled, his face transformed.
Another thing I noted about these two characters—in contrast to my students at school, who didn’t speak
bad
English, these two spoke English perfectly. OK, so they were older than my teen class, but I still wanted to know how they’d learned.
“A Masters in English Literature, from Essex University,” Nektarios was visibly proud of this fact. “Although,” his shoulders slumped, “these days it’s hard to get a job in Greece, so I deliver pizza. Such a waste of a degree. But at least I got to experience living in the UK, alas also got to see how much you people seem to want to waste your time going out and getting drunk on the weekends, and you call that living!”
Dimitrios jumped in before I could start
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