Showing posts with label greece. Show all posts
Showing posts with label greece. Show all posts

Thursday 28 June 2018

What's in a Name?...

This is not Sparta!

So Nova Scotia gets its independence and decides to call itself The Republic of East Maine. The Walloons of Belgium break away and chose to be the Former Belgian Republic of Champagne, The Scots Upper Cumberland, China Greater Nepal, Pakistan North India. For that matter Canada would have every right to call itself America, It is on the North American continent, has shared heredity and by omitting the ‘United States of’ part could not be accused of inciting confusion. You get the picture and you’re probably laughing at my ridiculous notions but that is exactly what has been happening in the Balkans for the past 20-odd years. Since Yugoslavia fragmented, the southernmost state has been claiming right to call itself Macedonia.

Twitshot
Macedonia (Macedon) was the birth place of Alexander the Great and a key part of Greek heritage. In fact, the claim over Alexander has as much to do with the dispute as the name and territories. He was born in Pella, which is still a small town in Greece. He was Hellenic, the group of ancient civilisations that shared language and culture, though at that time not a unified nation. He was tutored by Aristotle until manhood. He was what we now consider to be Greek.
The area of Macedonia has been shaved by wars and politics over the centuries and while the majority remains in modern day Greece, some is in Albania, Bulgaria and the area that claims a right to the Macedonian name, an area that the Greeks insist on calling by the name of its capital city Skopje or FYROM.
So what’s the big deal? So many years have passed since then and it could be argued that modern Greeks have little to do with the Greeks of antiquity. But it is a big deal, to both the Greeks and the former Yugoslavians. So much so that the former Yugoslavian state named their international airport ‘Alexander the Great’, named major highways after him and in 2011 a huge statue of Alexander on a horse was erected in the centre of the capital, named Macedonia square. It is a big deal to them.
The Macedonian identity and heritage means a lot to the Greeks, as the Parthenon does, as heritage means a lot to many nations it is often confused with nationalism but common heritage is imperative to all peoples, it is what bonds the residents of an area into a tribe of common goals.
Families are the smallest building blocks of community, they have a name and members are easily recognisable by this name. A chance meeting of individuals with the same surname will often spark the question of shared heritage, my name is quite rare outside Ireland and when I do meet someone who shares it, I will ask about their family history. This has on occasion sparked a feeling of kinship. Names matter. People who have grown up in the same area will have connections of memories or friends or schools or places they played. We need to have bonds. We live in an age where Europeans are encouraged to identify as one people but it will not happen and if it does, it will come at great cost. The larger the geographical reach of ethnicity becomes, the more abstract it becomes. The USA has managed this well but it began with a melting pot of Europeans who were looking for a new life far from home. That said, it has taken a lot of flag waving jingoism to maintain. The American dream, Superman, The Super bowl, a common language.
Greece has had a hard time adjusting to the Eurozone architect’s dreams of a unified republic, more than most, it just wasn’t ready. Protests at the imposed austerity were regular but since the capital controls of 2015 the fight seems have left the Greeks. Now they are reemerging with zeal, the prime minister, Alex Tsipra’s capitulation to external pressures have made him a traitor to his people and the Greeks are angry again. Tsipra has sold his address to secure his mortgage with implied promises that putting this matter to bed will be favourable to a restructuring of the bailout loans from the TROIKA of creditors. The Greeks are back on the streets but I fear now as before, no one is listening.
Macedonia is Greece, its culture, its history and its antecedents. It is as Greek as The Parthenon and as that it is a piece of world Heritage. It will not be long before whatever prefixes to the name Macedonia that are agreed by the each party are dropped in favour of the simpler Macedonia. Eventually, in the name of unification, the Greek and Slavic versions of the Story of Alexander may become homogenised.
We are trained to consider the greater good, the big picture, international relations, the smooth running of trade but identity is the base on which all these must grow. Denying where we come from will only confuse where we are going. The former Yugoslavian republic realised that early on and their leaders recognised the need for history, they found a powerful if tenuous narrative for their people and have stuck doggedly to it. To reverse this now could be catastrophic for them to continue would be a lie.
What’s in a name? Just think of when a colleague or acquaintance got yours wrong or ask a Canadian where in America he is from or a Scot if he is English, an Austrian if he is German. What’s in a name? The first thing they do in prison is take your name away, they know why and so do you.

Wednesday 15 July 2015

Episode 32: Mushroom


From Under Dark Clouds: The story of a burnt-out British celebrity who, after scandal and disgrace runs away to a little village in Greece to seek asylum and get his head together. All he needs to do is keep his head down until the clouds blow over and on no account get elected!




startup mushroom
Athens had nixed our plans for a business park. We had strict cease and desist orders from central government to engage in any business development. I asked them about the incubator programme but they only laughed and reiterated any business development. Those narrow minded bastards, did they have no idea of the wave of entrepreneurial activity that would build the brighter tomorrow for our youth?

Socrates seemed unperturbed. The town hall had become a hive of excitement, new faces were coming and going and I was in danger of losing touch. I was more than in danger. I had bumped into Aris from the Startup Shed a number of times but he appeared distracted and disinclined to conversation, his knapsack bobbing on his back as he scurried off, late for an important date. Even Mike the IT guy was spending so much time in his cyber-cupboard that I feared he’d uploaded himself like some activist Lawnmower man. Actually, that would have been no surprise at all.

I tried to enjoy sitting at my new desk but but it really is hard to relax when everyone is so damn busy. Socrates and Aris had taken all the proposals for the business park.

The only advantage is that I now have more time to write to you, my dear Blogees, but I fear I have little to share.

Finally, the day came for my weekly debriefing with the Startup Shed crew and my chance to get some answers. I walked to the conference room with Socrates who was characteristically tight lipped.

“How’s the wife?” Now all my fears were confirmed, there was something going on.

I told him they’d gone to an island with some cousins or something. He continued to study the floor and suggested that I join them.

“It’s been hard on you, I think you need a break.”

It’s true, the last time I’d been away it was at the state’s pleasure and the facilities had left much to be desired.

I was sure I’d spotted one of the girls from the Pitch and Putt, the multi-lingual personal porn service, disappear into one of the back offices. I asked Socrates if I was right.

“Which island did they go to?” was his reply.

My fat doppelganger was the first to arrive. He threw his bag on the table, slumped into a chair and started asking me about the bailout programme and whether I thought Greece should leave the single currency but fortunately Aris arrived before I had time to attempt an answer.

The incubator was going well, we could expect the teams to be ready for round-one funding in around eight weeks. They had all completed first drafts of their business plans and next week they would begin work on their MVPs, a prototype or mock-up of their product.

I asked where we could expect to get the financing.

Aris went into overdrive about VCs, Angels and crowdfunding, I actually understood most of it but maybe he should have been at last weeks meeting with the applicants for the business park, could they have missed this plethora of opportunities out there?

Danny had been working on the social media pull. He showed me some very clever images featuring eggs and Lego.

“Birth and building.” He bobbed with excitement. “Get it?”

I did but, with the possible exception of Danny, these were smart people. We are trying to build more than toys and omelettes.

“We need as much exposure as possible in order to get traction and engagement with the investment community, not just here but world wide. Its a numbers game.” He Bobbed, “Get it?”

I did.

“Where is that English reporter with the girls name?” Socrates asked.

“It’s not a girls name, Jude is a patron saint!” I defended.

“Saint of what? Girlie boys.” Socrates was being very narky.

Jude is the Patron Saint of lost causes.” I wished I’d thought before speaking. “He’s down in Athens doing a piece on endemic cronyism in Greek politics.”

Aris said we should have told him, his cousin works in the parliament building and could have got him in.

Socrates poked his chest, “Let me know if he needs anything.”

Danny just shrugged.

I wanted to know about the activity in the town hall, something is going on. Socrates told me that since Athens had given us a cease and desist order, applications had doubled. But we had to scrap the whole plan? Aris shrugged and grinned.

“They can’t stop businesses moving here if they want to,” Danny said.

I felt like a mushroom, I was being kept in the dark on a diet of bullshit. I left the meeting in a huff and went down to the garage to take my Vespa for a ride and do some thinking.

The high street was bustling with shoppers, the cafes were full but most discombobulating were the previously boarded-up shops, once more open for business. A sandwich bar, a tool hire shop, and even a pet store had opened where once were closing-down and bankrupt signs.

I was determined to get some answers from somewhere so I pulled up outside one of the new sandwich bars and went in. The proprietor sent one of the girls to set me a table while greeting me warmly.

“Sit down, Mr. Mayor. What can we get you?” The store was not yet fully operational and stock laid around in boxes. “I can do you a nice frappuccino. Sweet or medium? No, no! I bring you some nice rakomelo, from my cousin in Crete. You know rakomelo?”

I sat down. It had been some time since someone was so pleased to see me and I really could do with a drink. Rakomelo is like hundred octane unleaded, with honey.

The owner sat with me, sending the staff on errands to bring me mezes and ashtrays and water and cushions. We toasted new beginnings and prosperity. He told me about the thirty years he had been in this business, man and boy. He told me about how the sandwich was invented in ancient Greece. He told me about his father’s shop and he told me and he told me but I couldn't get any answers from him.

Eventually, I got a question in that he could answer, “Why was he here, in my town?”

“Because of your generosity, Mr. Mayor. Because you not like those others!” He feigned spitting on the ground. “You are English, yes? Good people!” He ushered one of the staff over and handed her his phone with instructions to take our picture. “I’ll put it on the wall, by the register. You will bring luck!”

It was only after cautiously riding back to the town hall that I realised that I had left my helmet at the sandwich bar. I weaved my way back to my office where I found Socrates at my desk.

“Listen, old man! I know you’re up to something and I want answers. I've just been down the high street and—”

The phone rang. My secretary answered and announced that it was a Mr. Something from Athens. I smiled and went to take the phone. “It’s for Mr. Socrates.”

He had already lifted the receiver and was greeting the caller. Then a tense pause. “Fuck! Not now, not yet!—” He lowered the phone and huffed. “Get them to hold off—” I looked to the well-assembled secretary but she shrugged. Socrates looked me up and down. “But we are nowhere near ready!” He slammed the phone down and deflated before my eyes.

"Not ready?" I asked, "Not ready for what?"


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Wednesday 17 June 2015

And the band played on.

and the band played on
Fresh calls for capital controls in Greece have met with frantic activity in the markets. As the game of brinkmanship plays out between the Euro 'institutions' and Alexis Tsipras' SYRIZA government, the only certainty in Greece today is the weather. So much money has left the country's banks over the last few years that they are only being maintained by emergency liquidity assistance, which itself is reliant on compliance to the ECB's terms. The country has already defaulted on one payment to the IMF under the guise of a forgotten clause in the loan agreement. The only question is whether the next will have any disguise or not.
Twitshot

A queue of bleary-eyed commuters wait at the bus stop to make their way to school or work. A car horn vents frustration at a driver taking a slim opening in the traffic.

The Greek economy has been in a shit blizzard for years now. A raft of new, often backdated, taxes and seemingly daily revisions to existing ones has made financial planning almost impossible for all but the biggest enterprises. In an attempt to extract blood from a stone, the government has raised VAT, imposed 'objective' taxes on the self-employed's receipt books and levied new taxes through energy bills.

A group of teenagers chat nervously as they walk into school for their final exams while another hits 'pay' to book his ticket to the UK to study advanced mathematics.

Tsipras has stood firm against the Eurogroup negotiators, refusing to cross the red lines of his mandate from the people to ease austerity. His economists recently presented a new set of proposals in order to release bailout payments, borrowed money that will go straight back to the creditors without touching the Greek economy.

A mother phones round her friends to reschedule her son's birthday garden party after hearing the weather forecast. Another packs her kids up for a day at the beach, now that they are on summer break.

According to Paul Mason, there is an option whereby the situation is put on suspension for nine months during which the IMF/ECB pay themselves, yet another default by another name. This may, however give time to work out a more tenable and long term solution or maybe give Tsipras time to prove his commitment to making reforms. But as GDP shrinks quicker than Levi's on a boil wash, there really isn't much more to tax. Greek HNWI have been squirrelling their assets far away from the greek economy for years now. VSBs and one-man-band enterprises have faced such aggressive taxation in a shrinking market that many just cover costs hoping against hope for things to change.

The owner of a car dealership goes through the week's sale figures. He is focused on improving turnover. He has a sizeable nest-egg in a foreign bank. He calls in his sales team, who do not. 

The high drama being played out in Brussels and the telephone-number sized debts have ceased to have any relevance to the Greek people. They know that nothing will change, the fear of falling has long passed. The colour of the notes in their pockets has lost any bearing on reality. Parents hope for a better future for their kids while their eye darts to this week's deals on the supermarket shelf. Few talk about it anymore, life has no penalty time, each day lost fretting over it will not be added to the end.

A man digs coins from his pocket to pay for his tobacco. Some teachers sit restlessly through a seminar on bullying in a stuffy school hall.

Greek capital will return home, when falling asset prices make Greece the biggest church bazaar in Europe. When land and real estate and any surviving businesses can be bought up and new empires built.

The Greeks are now the refugees with nowhere to go. They are already in Europe, they have no hazardous journey across the Mediterranean and no one to ask for asylum.

...and the band played on.

Thursday 19 February 2015

Europe needs counselling


Forget game theory, what is going on in Brussels is an acrimonious divorce with Germany playing the stoical male role while Greece is the emotional wife trying to get the best for her kids. The passion has gone and it is a relationship that has been reduced to mere financial dependence, a situation that will be familiar with many frustrated spouses. The eurozone is a dysfunctional family that is in desperate need of reconciliation counselling if it is not to pull itself apart causing generations of bitterness and trauma.


If this divorce goes through, the Fatherland will keep the house and cars.
Twitshot


She just won't listen!
We, especially in northern Europe are are conditioned to rely on the head to make important decisions, logic is good. The financial institutions are playing this role, crunching numbers and coming up with plausible reasons why Greece is being histrionic and unreasonable to expect concessions that might allow the family to flourish as a stable and contented union. Wifey just doesn’t understand the pressure that he is having at work and needs to get on with keeping a thrifty home. But Dad’s work has become an obsession with him and while it was originally intended to be a good source of income to feed and clothe his family, it is now beginning to take the place of the family. He has become so defined by this role that it has blurred all perception of purpose. The Euro is a medium of exchange, a facilitator existing only to service the family unit and yet as it fails to satisfy this purpose it is the family who are made to adapt, it has become the only thing of importance.

In 2011, I had he pleasure to meet the now Belgian finance minister, Johan Van Overtveldt. In his 2011 book The end of the Euro, he points out that the single currency was doomed from the outset as an economic union was foisted on a group of nations that had not established a political union on which to base it. Like a marriage of convenience where the couple had not had adequate time to establish a sound understanding and mutual admiration before deciding that his job prospects were sufficient to base a life long bond. So arrogant have the world’s bankers become that they really feel that money makes the world go round. They expected the common currency to be the leverage in European political unification under the logical auspices of the German banking system. This, as Overveldt predicted is blowing up in their faces now and Greece is being offered up as the unstable mother, unfit to care for her children.

The Fatherland is presenting a face of maturity that casts aside the humanistic aspect of government as folly and whimsy. Their focus is on balance sheets and policy that has been (badly) designed to support a currency system that will eventually condition the population of Europe to serve it. This is an autistic mindset that cannot contemplate the uncountable. We are being expected to side with the validity of this argument as it is irrefutable with logic.

The mother of democracy is harping on about how badly she has been treated and that she cannot support her children. She is not getting the right kind of support from her partner. Yes, he gives her money for the home but it’s how he gives it, the demands he makes on her, the disapproving frowns when she tries to make herself nice, the silence at the dinner table when she serves something a little simpler because she has evening classes. She has a point but her argument can get a little confused with ideas that are less easy to quantify as they are off-balance sheet considerations.

We sympathise with Mum but Dad makes more sense because he is logical.


What is needed is a mediator who can reconcile this difference of language. Yanis Varoufakis is arguing socio-political aspect of the relationship, a strategy for growth while the Eurogroup president Jeroen Dijsselbloem insists on strict adherence to the austerity programme, a financial paring intended to support the medium of exchange at all costs.

Relationships of all kinds are dependent on understanding and evolution. I spoke to psychiatrist, Dr. Alexios Lappas, he said that successful relationships are based on similarities and differences, the prior form the core of shared goals while the differences maintain interest. However, as the responsibilities and strains of routine bite, the interest begins to wane and they regress into survival mode. The differences begin to be viewed as betrayal, by the anxious survival mode mind and they look for endorsement from friends (common ground relationships) who will tend to agree with their friend and support an exit from the relationship. It will not be long before irrevocable differences are cited and the family will split into those on dad’s side and those who support mum.



It is too late to impose a retro-fit political framework to underpin the eurozone’s fiscal policies but if the relationship is to develop through the present crisis it will need to be forward facing. The present negotiations in Brussels is an opportunity for growth but in order for that to happen Dad is going to have to loosen his tie and open himself up to some uncomfortable new feelings.  

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Monday 16 February 2015

Alexis and Yanis are screwed

And it came to pass that in Europe’s darkest hour came forth two horsemen from an ancient land to slay the dragon and free the good and the pious from servitude. These dashing knights held aloft the swords of righteousness and wisdom to hack away at thorn and bracken to bring hope and light. And now deep in the dragon’s lair they fear no evil, for they have been summoned in the hearts of men to right wrongs. We shall all feast on roasted beast, my brothers, before spring blossoms the trees.


Alexis Tsipras and Yanis Varoufakis are these brave knights who bring hope of a renaissance of classic Greek democracy once more unto a world that has lost its way. But irrespective of what happens in Brussels in the coming weeks, they are screwed.


The whole of Europe if not the world is beguiled by these two men who have seemingly sprung from nowhere to take on the might of the Eurozone policy makers (Read: Angela Merkel). Not since Barack Obama’s first campaign in 2008 has a political leader evoked such idolisation, before him it was Tony Blair, delivering a desperate Britain from Thatcherism in 1997. History is littered with similar stories. And, herein lies the problem. Each of these beacons of hope have ultimately disappointed, exposed as flawed men in a near impossible situation (and maybe I’m being kind). 

Alexis Tsipras came from left-wing student activist roots to pull off a democratic coup in the Greek parliament. Despite not managing an overall majority in the house his support has snowballed spreading far beyond national borders to garner support from throughout the austerity-stricken Eurozone. He has vowed not to wear a tie until his mission is complete, a sentiment that his finance minister, Yanis Varoufakis has taken to heart and run with. This is a man who embodies the Greek economic situation; he needs growth, not a haircut, his charismatic presence belies his true stature and he is definitely not dressed for the bank. He has proved to be an inspired choice. An academic Goliath, highly respected by his economist peers, has a penchant for game theory and a dynamic youthful demeanour rarely seen in his position. The two of them have become the Kirk and Spock of modern politics showing up many for the out-of-touch dinosaurs that many believe them to be.

To all intents and purposes though, the Eurozone is Angela’s game, its her ball and she will be captain, she can even decide to adapt the rules should anyone get out of step. Then along come these two upstarts from a cigarette kiosk of a country telling her she’s off-side. The task ahead of them is formidable and the chances of walking away with all they ask is a snowball’s chance in hell.

The real problems begin when they get back home. Let’s say that they get the majority of what they ask for. Which, if you follow Varoufakis is not a haircut but a restructuring of debts, something akin to consolidating all your credit cards into one low interest loan with a manageable payment plan. But what they really want is to be freed from the conditions of the loan, the austerity measures that have forced Greece's economy to shrink a 1/4 in the last few years and the selling off of public assets to foreign investors. This is the real bone of contention. For while Greece has been forced to take loans to pay the loans which pay the interest, the economy has had its laces tied together by a series of cuts that have forced anorexic shrinkage of an already troubled economy. If they get all this then they have to make it work and be seen to work and that means that people are going to have to magically pop back into full employment, debts accrued during the last years will have to go away and taxes will have to return to being an avoidable nuisance. Things will have to go back to the good ole days (during which everyone would tell you they had never been so bad) things will have to be right for everyone and they won’t.

They have promised to reinstate public employees who were sacked over the last government's term. this is part of what put an unsustainable burden on Greece's resources in the first place and had come about due to successive governments trading votes for jobs. Its result was a public sector bloated with the wrong, unqualified people who didn't give a jot about solving your problem because they had tenure. They have also vowed reopen the state TV and Radio channel ERT, a popular move but will need to be well-managed if it isn't to fall back into the habits of its public sector peers. These are expensive promises, though and neither of them are growth catalysts.

So much is being expected of these two men that there is no way that they won’t disappoint. The best that can be expected is for them to return from Brussels with their dignity and integrity intact carrying the means to create an environment where businesses can begin to build on stable ground. There is still a lot of hard work and sacrifice ahead but what many are going to have to digest is that it will not be only Tsipras’ and Varoufakis’ hard work and sacrifice but their own. They can only do so much and there is still so much domestic reform that needs to take place before the benefits of the concessions that can realistically be expected can take hold.

There will be a backlash. Not only from the Greek people, but all the other nations watching closely to Greece for sign of light at the end of the austerity tunnel. When things do not work out as they hoped or as they chose to believe that T & V had told them. They will cast aside Tsipras and Varoufakis in a wave of told-you-so wisdom. Such is the fickle nature of the people. This will allow the next wave of cure-all promises from whoever has the public ear.

The world has taken these two men to their hearts at a very vulnerable phase in its history. Expectation will be unrealistically high. I hope you have factored this into your game plan, Yanis. 


UPDATE: After more final hours and more renegotiations and more broken promises, the general consensus is getting closer to just roll over and let it happen, already. People are tired and I feel that they are ready to vote back the old order if only to let the screwing be done and lubricate appropriately.
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Friday 10 October 2014

Roundabouts in Greece, a real tragedy.

Is it just me or has Greece really missed the whole idea of the roundabout as a safe way to keep traffic flowing without the frustration of traffic lights.

Now follows a rant but this really needs to be addressed before a major death toll is caused by these relatively simple junctions.


There seems to be a prevailing belief here, prevailing but by no mean unanimous, that drivers on the roundabout should give way to those entering in accordance with the give way to the right law that applies generally on the highway. Thing is though, that if priority is given to those entering but not to those trying to exit a roundabout will quickly fill with no one having the right to leave. This often happens and while it is frustrating it is nowhere as dangerous as those who feel they can attack a roundabout at full throttle expecting those on it to make way for them. Just think, you are 2 or 3 metres from an entrance to the roundabout and someone 50 metres away will boot it with no concept that you may not give way to their righteous path. 

The other matter is the usual belief that any road with more than one lane is there expressly for parking. Watch this to see the calamitous results of a coach using the junction to drop off passengers, or go for a sandwich.  
Watch this: 
Thanks to David Woodhead

This is an American video showing how to use a roundabout from the wrong side of the road perspective:


I know that roundabouts are not common-place in the States but the concept is the same.

An Irish video, simply cause is sounds nice. 


I found plans for a double roundabout in Athens.... mercy!

Rant over. Share this to everyone you know in Greece, natives and ex-pats alike.  
  

Wednesday 19 September 2012

Tales from the resistance



Cut out and wear with pride

Greece; you only have to say the word and it conjures up a myriad of images. Sun, sea, ancient civilisation, wonders of the world, economic crisis and moustaches. What doesn't spring to mind is entrepreneurship and business acumen.


Greeks have traditionally fallen into two categories as far as work is concerned; public servant or self-employed. With private-sector employee being very much a consolation prize. A job, any job in the public sector has always been regarded the safe, secure route, not overly taxing with tenure and a reliable pay-cheque. Self-employment, on the other hand hovers around nearly 40% of the workforce, more than twice the UK level and nearly four times the US. Greeks have been running their own businesses for years. From fishing boats to cigarette kiosks, from farming to shipping, Greeks have been doing the business in business. In fact, in spite of the efforts of the country's largest employer, the government, the people of this greatly misunderstood nation have managed to turn a tidy profit and send a fair bit of it to Germany; there are more Mercedes on Greek roads than Fords.

Monday 7 November 2011

If we all stop believing, will it cease to exist?


There has been a lot of talk of contagion during this Euro crisis. Contagion is the domino effect of a falling economy taking its less stable creditors over the edge, which in turn causes larger and larger economies to fall, unable to resist the infectious debt. Such is the incestuous nature of finance that this could feasibly take down the majority of the world economies; starting with one little trip. There is another contagion that worries the Eurozone, however, that is not spoken of, the contagion of faith.

The Euro is a fiat currency, which means that it has no substantial commodity (usually gold) underpinning it. This means that its value is derived from the faith in the issuing nation and the belief of the financial markets. Were Greece to be excommunicated, or worse, walk out during mass it would spend more than 40 days in the wilderness but it may just learn a thing or two, or at least appear to have. This is the most infectious idea that could be spawned. If Greece survived exile, and ultimately but painfully, it would, this would send a clear message to other suffering members to cut the cord.

The world's financial markets are run by some of the most sharp, aggressive and secular intellects on the planet. They form long and short term strategies and know how to make the market move in their favour but a hint of a rumour of an idea from someone who knows the right people and all hell breaks loose. If traders believe something will happen, it happens because they will make it happen. Have you ever noticed how the news that someone is leaving a company or political position sends the markets into turmoil. For the last two years the markets have gone wild every time Steve Jobs looked a bit peaky or adversely when he was looking well. The markets draw conclusions from omens that are interpreted by the high priests to mean up or down.

The markets don't know what to believe about the Euro, their fates are too closely linked to what everyone else believes, but their minds can easily be made up. If Greece and one other Eurozone economy lose the faith it could be more than the central bank can support.


For the time being, the big players in the Eurozone have faith that they can carry the currency and the market is willing to have faith in them. 



So, if we stop believing in the Euro, will it cease to exist?...




...that depends on who we are.    

Thursday 3 November 2011

Why Greece will fall

who will play Captn George
 in the movie

The present problem derives from the fact the EU thinks it is in battle with Greece but it is not. Greece is in a battle with its government and its political classes as a whole, both right and left. It knows that it has played its part in the situation but it will not take responsibility for its self-serving rulers any more. The EU is dealing with the government who has no influence over its people. 


The Papandreou and Karamanlis dynasties have only ever been allowed to govern because they have shared out the sweeties from time to time, the public sector is bloated with the price of favour, crumbling roads are the price of wannabe civil engineers who happened to be cousins. Now, however, the sweeties are all gone and the sweet shop is calling in the debt. The rulers never curried any sustainable favour and definitely never earned any respect. 
    
The people will vote against its government, not the Euro, not the EU but the government has now made that the same thing. Those who have been managing this country have missed all the lessons on running a tight ship, efficiency is all German to them and working a narrow margin is vaguely sexual. Ultimately, all will lose, the Greeks, the single currency and, once again, the Germans.     

Hopefully, once its all over Greece may get a ringmaster worth his ring and then be remembered as the 300 of Thermopylae. 

Wednesday 5 October 2011

Feel the love

At last someone has been prepared to say what we knew all along. The Emperor's arse is on show and it ain't pretty. 



THEY REALLY DON'T CARE!
Nice tie

...and these people run your world. 

Tuesday 8 February 2011

The cost of enlightenment


Hard day at school love?
 It's about 11 o'clock on a cold night in a dense residential area. I'm heading for my car, key at the ready nervously looking over my shoulder. Suddenly I spot a group of teenagers coming my way, I fumble with my key but it won't find the hole. The teenagers are getting closer and I can see their hoods raised against the cold winter breeze. I try to calm my nerves and focus on getting onto the safety of my car. They are carrying backpacks, some dragging inches from the floor some bobbing around on their backs, tools, but for what heinous work. I get the key in the lock and turn. The buttons pop but its too late, they're upon me. I look for spotty glue sniffer mouths, no. I look for the paint stained hands of graffiti vandals, no but they are ink stained. The car is unlocked. I could leap in but that would now mean swinging the open door into their path, this could rouse them, anger them. I feel like I’m in a tube station at midnight but I’m not and there really is no need to be afraid. This is Greece and these kids are going home after classes, English, physics, ancient Greek. Why so late? Well here in Greece children’s schooling is not finished with the last bell, if anything that's where it starts for many.  

Monday 31 January 2011

The Greek people are commited

Greek PM feels that the Greek people are behind him




Look behind you Georgie...
... isn't that Switzerland?



... Aaah there they are, maybe you just don't speak Greek

Thursday 20 January 2011

Enough is enough

Dear Blogees,
Watch this, a renowned economist, Richard D Wolff gives his views on the present economic crisis.


 


 So, stop me if I've got this wrong. We have a apparent deficit of currency, cash, the medium of exchange that was created to make commercial transactions more portable (very difficult to give you a heard of sheep for your 20 acres when we're in different ends of the country) despite the fact that we, I mean as a race, a nation, a economic future have enough to cover all the shortfalls. The resources that they represent have been used or still exist and inflation will dwindle their correlation.

Currency is a very abstract concept, especially if you consider that the gold standard is now but a myth. Credit allows the liquidation of non-existent currency. Basically money is something that has no intrinsic value other than its value of faith which is unsupported by a tangible resource (even gold only has a perceived value).

What I'm trying to say is that something that is not really in short supply and does not sustain life i.e. we can't eat it, drink it, use it for shelter is removing, on mass, peoples' ability to eat, drink and have shelter and that something was created to make life easier.

Go figure! 

check out this link (couldn't get it to be embedded) worry not it's BBC

Monday 3 January 2011

10p for a cuppa tea, Guv?

Total bail-out package for Greece = € 110 billion
Population of Greece = 11,000,000

simple maths gives us €10,000 per head

Anyone lend me €40,000 before the interest kicks in?

Monday 20 December 2010

Tough at the Top!

Greece is at present a nation in free-fall. Riots are nothing new and I have seen riots about just about everything from globalisation to regimes that have been deposed for nearly forty years. What is more relevant is the action of those who have no time to unite and destroy. Nothing. The majority of the worst hit are doing nothing but trying to get though to the next day, resigned to the belief that resistance is futile. What will be will be.


Thursday 23 September 2010

2-stroke and diesel don't mix


ouch!
So there I was buzzing my orange iconic Vespa back up the incline to my beloved mountain, enjoying the wind in my face when it happened. The front wheel rejected the party line and I bounced off the beautifully polished asphalt landing in an undignified heap in a ditch. The screech of still-financed metal shedding paint as we slid to a halt cut me to the quick. I threw my skid-lid at the floor petulantly unable to do anything else save suck the tears through my eye sockets and retain some decorum.


“You alright mate?” a BMW driver enquired (maybe they do have hearts after all).

I want my mum, I thought looking down at my previously unblemished crutch-buzzer. Could he offer tea and Jaffa cakes? No! I nodded that I was relatively unharmed keeping my upper-lip stiff and Britannic.

He pointed out something on the road just in front of his bumper. My Ebay watch, which apart from a broken strap pin was totally unscathed. Is there no justice in the world?

I picked up the bruised scooter, dented near-side bubble and bent leg-shield. Suck suck choke, the saline tears began to sting. She started after a couple of kicks when I realised that I’d broken my big toe. Ouch!

The traffic began to flow and then I realised the cause of my calamity, diesel. Isn't fuel expensive enough without unscrupulous tanker drivers spilling it all over the already treacherous road surface throwing middle-aged reborn Mods bouncing into ditches.

Protect and serve?
I followed the trail of oil up the hill to its ultimate end at the junction for my village.

The next day I stopped on my way past the police station to make a report. I limped in sporting a freshly scabbing elbow and expressed my woe to the desk Sargent who fobbed me off with feigned concern despite the fact that the trail actually past the station. On my way down I saw the aftermath of another bumper-bounce on the same bend.

I've straightened out the worst of the damage now and my elbow will be ready for a new tan soon but I implore drivers to be patient when stuck in a traffic jam caused by a slow moving scooterist on the windy parts of the road to Hortiatis.

Monday 30 August 2010

Chasing Paper

Clear instructions indeed! 


So, there we were wandering around IKEA as you do, enjoying the fact that the kids were in the play pen and we could complete entire sentences without fear of interruption when my wife’s phone rang. It was one of the nice ladies from the daycare with glad tidings for any overstretched parent, “A program has be announced whereby parents could get free daycare.” The nice lady had scant details but she did give us a name at the town hall of someone who could fill us in from Monday morning. This was not an opportunity to be sniffed at, as like most overstretched parents free daycare would relieve a huge dent in our expenses. We were duly elated and the wedding present that we had intended to buy there gained a revised budget. 


Monday came and my good wife called the Town hall to garner more details as to our application. The nice lady told my wife that she herself was privy to scant details at that time but would call at some point with definitive instructions. She then took the kids off to my mother-in-law’s. The sun shone quietly and I got down to some serious writing, but noticing the worktop overpopulated with breakfast debris decided instead to tackle the feeding of the dishwasher first. Remembering that Top Gear had shown a new episode, I decided that I should have a quick look to see if it held any interest. I’m sure my laptop needed a format but of course this would interfere with my writing schedule. My bowels moved slightly and I harked back to the last time I had an uninterrupted movement. My phone rang. I could not have been more moved, so I didn’t. The number was withheld so I decided it must be the Town hall. “Could I please speak to Ms So-and-so?” I enquired, Britishly in Greek.

Keep your eye on the paperwork
but don't fall in the shit.
“She can’t speak now call back in 15 minutes...” kerderrrrrrr. My gratitude was cut off with a dialling tone, which incidentally sounds like a British engaged tone; nuff said.

The Top Gear team baffoond around on the screen in cars that cost more that my mountain abode for another quarter of an hour when I paused and called Ms So-and-so.
“She’s unavailable call back in half-an-hour,” seasoned in the ways of Greek protocol I smelt a runaround brewing.
“!5 minutes now 30 minutes,” I riposted “Can I leave a message?”
“No.”
“Should I give up hope now?”

Hope?
“Sir , I’m afraid I can’t help you. She’s probably dealing with the subject that you are calling about. Call back and she’ll be able to help you.”
Well, Jeremy, James and the little one drew their conclusions at the Masarati (note to self: sell house, buy one, make sign “Bends for petrol!”)
Called again, “Ms. So-and-so is unavailable.”
“My wife called this morning, I have called three times now. Who can I speak to about the daycare program subsidy?”
“Oh, you need to call the citizens services.” (as good a translation as I can make: Basically an office that does all of the gratuitous bureaucracy that the responsible office has or will drive you to psychopathic or suicidal outrage before telling you that you are missing a stamp or that they are closing. They do exactly the same job but with a smile. ) She did, however give me the phone number. “Oh, you need to call the citizens services.” (as good a translation as I can make: Basically an office that does all of the gratuitous bureaucracy that the responsible office has or will drive you to psychopathic or suicidal outrage before telling you that you are missing a stamp or that they are closing. They do exactly the same job but with a smile. ) She did, however give me the phone number. “Hello, citizens services. Make it quick I’ve got a long queue here!”
“I’m calling about the daycare program.”
“Oh, the deadline is in 5 minutes you won’t make it, have a nice day.”
‘But, but I was told.”
“Sorry, can’t help, got lots of people here, bye.”
I called the Town Hall.



The conversation that ensued was in no way becoming of a cultured middle-class gentleman but I'm of Irish decent, born and raised in Essex and I learned Greek from the streets. I threw more than a few Փ’s in and demanded to speak to the mayor who was also unavailable for comment. So, I jumped on my trusty Vespa and buzzed down with murderous intent.
On arriving I was greeted by a nice lady who had all my details and was ready to pass me over to Ms. So-and-so who turned out to be a young nice lady, not at all offensive to the eye and was apologetic to the hilt offering the national mitigation of “well, this is Greece”. She explained that she didn’t know the criteria of the subsidy and she would simply be passing on the details to someone else, she wasn’t sure who this would be but that my application would be valid. I maintained a sustained level of aggression making it clear that I would not be fobbed off. She smiled in a please-don’t-hit-me type way and fobbed me off.
Some balls yesterday.









We’ll see...


Update: Everyone at the daycare got the subsidy... except us!

From Under Dark Clouds

The Century of DIY