Thirty Before Thirty

Much of yesterday was taken up by the heat. With time to kill before my train and stuck with all my luggage, I found myself stationed outside a bar in the small town of Kalambaka watching the temperature gauge climb on the pharmacy sign across the town square… 36..37…
Kalambaka by all accounts should be swarming with tourists given the multiple tour company offices lining the streets but it’s dead.
…38…39. My guide the night before had told me that they usually had more tourists around this time. ‘Maybe because of the heat’ he shrugs and waves a hand vaguely.

Before the gauge can hit 40, the waitress comes out and motions me inside. I join her and another older local woman as they close the shutters and turn the aircon on. I thank them, glad for a reprieve from the heat and the older of the two smiles and tells me ‘not for you. For me too.’

They speak very little English and I speak very little Greek but we manage to communicate somehow. I ask if this is a usual temperature for this area and they tell me it’s significantly hotter. Sweat is running off all of us and my arms have taken on a milky colour thanks to my suncream mixing in. We turn on the news to footage of Athens literally in flames. Wildfires have consumed homes, towns and forests at the Northwest of the city.
Europe’s experiencing a heatwave, another year of record breaking temperatures and watching the impact of it today sat in 40 degree heat, just 200 miles away from the fires of Athens, it feels a little apocalyptic. As temperatures rise year upon year, it’s hard not to feel some despair and maybe a little regret that perhaps some of this could have been avoided.

My time in Greece has been short and sweet but I feel like it’s a country calling for change. Even out here in the foothills of mountains and thousands of years of monastic traditions, political graffiti and anarchy symbols line the walls of the train station. When I change at Paleosfarsus again, I spot more slogans etched into the underpass. ‘No police, no nazis’. ‘Dead men don’t rape’ and ‘EU Sh*t’. While I appreciate the Circe-esque twist on the usual train station graffiti, it makes me quicken my pace.

Given that Greece is the birthplace of democracy and politics as we know it, I shouldn’t be surprised by how political the social climate is. It feels like the younger generation are screaming for change in a system that is not doing them any favours. Having been hit hard by the soaring cost of living despite signs of Greece’s economy starting to stabilise over the past two years, Greece stands to lose a lot in the climate battle given that a fair chunk of its economy still relies on agriculture and tourism, and if temperatures keep rising, both industries will be impacted. I can’t help but wonder where Greece is headed as the discontent bubbles just under the surface.

As I leave Greece to cross the border into North Macedonia, I think of the kind people that I met as I traversed the country, and I can’t help but feel a little twinge of sadness as I ponder what comes next for Greece.

(P.S- no signal once I cross the border, might be MIA for a day or two)Leggi altro