Shortly after we got to our furnished apartment in Maine in June of 2020, we answered our doorbell and a Census worker asked us whether we had been living there in April of 2020. Since we hadn't lived there in April, we weren't counted at all in the US Census. We didn't get counted anywhere in the US, because we were nomads the first half of that year. Fast forward to a few days ago... we answered the door at our Thessaloniki apartment and who should be knocking but a Greek Census worker. And so we were officially counted in the Greek census. It's strange to be counted in a country in which we are not even official residents (yet), but not be counted in the States (where we are, of course). The Census worker had to transliterate our names into Greek for the Census report and it's always fun to see our names written in a different alphabet. My first name gains extra letters in Greek. To approximate the sounds in Greek, I become GKAMPRIEL (Γκαμπριελ) but luckily my last name becomes easier to spell (basically ROOSO) but Greek has an excess of O letters, so it's Ροοσω. (As a side note, it's funny to hear Greeks pronounce Gabe. You'd think it would be an easy name to say, but it generally comes out sounding like Guy-uhb.) Sam benefits from the theta (the "th" sound in English), so both of her names become shorter in Greek--Σαμανθα Σμιθ.
It's holiday season and that means lots of opportunities for us to get confused about how US customs compare or contrast to Greek customs. Basic assumptions about the universality of certain holidays are often proven wrong. And Greeks seem amazed, too, that we do things differently from them. Greek Christmas unfolds in different ways from in the States. Even the Santa who delivers gifts is different (St. Nick for Americans, St. Vasilis for Greeks). But maybe they have a rideshare program because St. Nick (Christmas Eve) gets to use the vehicle a week before St. Vasilis (New Year's Eve).
Birthdays are another point of confusion. One of Sam's tutors contacted her and said it was his birthday the other day and he'd like to take us out for coffee. The birthday boy wants to buy us something? What? That's wrong! We should buy him coffee, right? We had a fun chat over coffee (that he bought) explaining how awkward it felt for us to be gifted a coffee when American custom would have us pay for him. So we took him out for pizza after coffee to counter Greek tradition with American tradition (all beverages and food consumed outside, of course).
There are also many funny little mundane things that deviate from our lifelong experience. The other day, we bought a carton of 10 eggs. Ten?! If you don't buy ten, you generally have to buy six (so what's wrong with doubling that?). When we were at Vasilis the butcher's shop (he might be saintly but he's not Santa) a week ago, someone came in and bought one (!) egg, which was then carefully packaged in a small brown paper bag. Again, this seems like something you'd never see in the States. Another trivial, but notable example is donut timing. We love the little donuts drowned in honey called loukoumades. We can't fathom, though, why Greeks think you should only eat them after 4pm! There will apparently be NO Sunday morning donuts for us. And we'd never have thought that buying vanilla would be so different. In the US we'd just buy a bottle of vanilla extract. Here, they favor vanilla powder that looks like powdered sugar and comes in teensy plastic thimbles that hold maybe a quarter teaspoon; vanilla extract is nowhere to be found. Soon we will enter a new year; we will undoubtedly have many more things to learn or unlearn.
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| Our Census receipt |
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| Our ten eggs |
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| Marauding Romans at a holiday exhibit |
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| Police love donuts even in Greece (taken in Syros, in the late afternoon!) |