A Travel Riddle

It’s not often that you hear of a traveler’s experiences of being unwelcome in Greece. 

Dating back to the epics of Homer, xenia, a host’s duty to provide for strangers in order to avoid the gods letting all hell loose should they forget this obligation, has been a key component of Greek tradition for millennia. 

When you are fortunate enough to experience Greek xenia in action, it can be one of the most obvious reminders to have faith in humanity. 

When I took a roadtrip to the mountain villages surrounding my host university, I was stopped in the midst of my exploration and was invited inside by a local couple. We drank coffee, exchanged memories and put our varying cultures on the line in attempt to find the place where they intersect. 

It is this type of interaction which contributes to your sense of belonging in a new place and allows you to temporarily forget your homesickness. 

I now write, however, to sort through my emotions catalysed by an unexpected experience. 

At the starting point of my trip to a new city via bus, I engaged in an unnecessarily confrontational conversation with the ticket person. 

Having read online that students receive a 50% discount off bus tickets, I had booked a reduced ticket. But, when I arrived at the bus stop this morning, I was bluntly informed that (despite me speaking Greek, having proof of Greek citizenship and studying at the local university) because I am “foreign”, I cannot claim a discount. 

The man who relayed this information was short in height, eyebrows crowding his forehead with their stray, grey hairs, untamed in the stormy weather. His dark piercing eyes peered above the frames of his glasses, which clung to the end of his crooked nose. 

Whilst the rain poured, it did not stop him from his condescending pursuit to force me to pay more. Reading Erasmus on my Greek student card, he swiftly altered his language, shouting monotonous, single words at me which he painfully pulled from his childhood memory. “Foreign”. He said. “25%”. He said. “Pay”. He said. “Cash”. 

Just one word, changed the manner in which I was treated. Erasmus. Not a person worthy of discounts. A thing to be exploited. Not a student recognised for her determination to tackle language barriers. A student who should face yet more challenges. 

A little while ago, I was set an assignment for my class on Modern Greek Literature to write a parody of one of Constantine Kavafy’s poems. I chose one titled, Oedipus, a tale which recounts the mythical protagonist’s conceptual fight against the sphinx to become King of Thebes. 

Reflecting mostly on the general experience of foreign students at the university, I transformed the riddles of the sphinx in Kavafy’s tale into a microcosm for the difficulties an Erasmus student faces trying to comprehend a new language. My translation of my parody from Greek is as follows… 

The Erasmus Student 

Upon her language has fallen
with its teeth and its claws outstretched,
with all its grotesqueness and its swiftness.
The student tripped on the very first word;
the first appearance of language frightens her —
such grammar and such syntax
she had never imagined until now.

But the moment that the rough lips
of the language-monster touch her,
she quickly regains herself — and no longer
fears it, for she has prepared for the lesson,
she is equipped with a dictionary, and so she will prevail.

And yet, she takes no joy in her victory.

Her gaze is melancholy;
she does not look at her fellow students — she looks beyond,
at the long road she has ahead to learn Greek,
the destination her fluent mastery of the tongue.

And her soul senses clearly
that the language will speak to her again,
with harder, longer words,
to which she will not be able to give an answer.

I initially wrote these words parodying Kavafy as well as my own limited vocabulary in Greek- something which had not held me back before but was a reason to make me feel motivated to keep trying and to grow my mind’s dictionary. 

But my experience with the ticket man has suddenly sabotaged my capability to parody. For the first time, I feel that my language defines me. It is not only a long road to reach fluency in Greek but rather an endless road… I will never be looked upon like I deserve a discounted ticket. I will never be viewed as truly Greek.