Travel - Greece
Living Your Greek Myth
My Greek god-daughter reminds me that if you're going to do business in Greece, you have to change your mentality. She means several things by that: reconciling widely differing cost estimates; forgetting about deadlines; paying more than you expect in order to get the job done in this century.ﾠ And, of course, she is right. Doing business in Greece is rather like working in the developing world while paying post-industrial prices.Why would a fairly normal, level-headed American do that? Especially when you can rent a place for several months for less money and considerably less hassle? In my case, I am incurably attached to the idea of owning a home on a Greek island. Currently, I'm restoring, with my husband, our second, hundred year old, island house.
The first house, on the island of Aegina, was an abandoned, nineteenth century olive press that we turned into a delightful home. It was both an aesthetic success, and, upon its sale seven years later, a financial boon. There were, however, many bad moments in the process. For example, I'll never forget our handsome and cheerful plumber, who not only reversed all the hot and cold fixtures, but also managed to make water come up through the drain in the floor every time I took a bath.
Why didn't I focus on previous mishaps when, for a second time, I decided to go back into house restoration? Had my memory dissolved with the passage of time, or had I somehow become expert at repression? Was I such a cock-eyed optimist that I believed the second time would be easier? That was partly true. After all, I'd learned lots of Greek technical words; I knew something about how the building bureaucracy works; and I had lower expectations about the final result. I was sure that all those first-time experiences would carry me through.
Still, in my heart, I knew better. I'd read best-selling authors who had made careers out of recounting the eccentricities of building in Tuscany or Provence. I knew they were prevaricating. To sell books, they simply left out the bad news. They never told you about the day your cistern digger hit solid rock and quickly disappeared halfway through the job. They forgot to mention the summer they couldn't open their front door because the wood had swelled with the rains of winter. So, how could I have allowed myself to mimic their convictions that most days would be glorious, and small catastrophes would be humorous? There is only one answer: the dream is so potent that it envelops you like blazing sunshine, blinding you to the piles of refuse the contractor has left behind or blotting out the neighbor's donkey that has eaten all your newly planted shrubbery.
While my second house restoration will undoubtedly furnish material for a series of columns, I am impelled to start with a column about the beginning locating and contracting workers in the building trades. This isn't easy. General contractors are unknown in small Greek villages. Instead, homeowners must research each trade to find their own plumber, electrician, carpenter, etc. The way you do this is unsystematic. You ask around. You get references from local acquaintances, village tradesmen, other homeowners. You try to avoid settling on someone's cousin or drinking buddy. Unfortunately, there are never that many tradespeople to choose from. And some will be tied up with other jobs. Somehow, you end up with the logical candidates. But not always.
Once you've got the names, how do you choose between Nikos, Giorgos or Costas? First, you meet them at a cafeneion where you describe the job they are to do. Next, you take them out to see the property. After that, they will make a bid, but only after you have called them several times to remind them. The bid is a total figure for the job; it is not broken down by cost of materials or labor, although you may get hand-written notes in Greek indicating what the worker will do. Thus, you end up with three bids and no real basis for evaluating them exceptﾠ for considering the bottom line. While, naturally, you're inclined to go with the lowest bidder, you will also factor in the bidder's manner or personality.
At this juncture, you can do a little negotiating. You can ask for a lower price, but since you don't really know what you're paying for, it's hard to figure out how low to go. When the bidder then drops his price, you are initially pleased; then you quickly start to worry about the bidder's integrity if he made the price too high in the first place. Once you have made your final choice of workman, you have to face the losing bidders, knowing that in your village you will keep running into them. If you are hiring four different tradespeople, you have the potential to make eight to ten enemies. Fortunately, Greeks are pretty good about losing out. They shrug, raise their hands, and say, "Ti na kanoume?" What can be done?
Once you have chosen your crew, you have to get them to come to work. If they are busy on other jobs, this can involve many phone calls. The Greek technique of pacifying the impatient homeowner is to start the job and then disappear. The procedure guarantees the homeowner will honor the deal because it's impossible to bring in a new worker to finish a job someone else has started.
Greece is currently showing a wonderful commercial on European television entitled "Living Your Greek Myth, Starring You." The commercial has enough sentimental scenes of Greek dancers and beachside tavernas to lure any Shirley Valentine. Unfortunately, I periodically fall under the spell of that myth. This new house project will undoubtedly have mythical proportions, and the worst part is that I knowingly cast myself into the role of star.
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