"Greecing"

In our Greek-Italian translation tests back at school we always bump into the word "δοδεκανησος", placed straight in the middle of a sentence. If on top it was preceded by a preposition, that could mean whatever: from the Dodecanese, to the Dodecanese, through the Dodecanese, about the Dodecanese. In that case, it was a matter of guessing. Some students began asking for hints to mates, in exchange for chocolate bars. Others followed the old Italian tradition of tossing a coin and go for a solution. Others sticked to the dictionary, hoping to get that very sentience (or eventually a similar one) among idiomatic expressions. Others, like me, decided to write their "own" version of the story. I then imagined brave Greek warriors sailing the blue Aegean sea to conquer new lands; merchants trading rare spices and precious tissues from Asia minor and telling stories about those populations. The Dodecanese wasn't an actual place for us - scared students of a very strict Italian school. It was rather a nowhere land.
August 2003, three weeks after getitng my school degree. I was at the Olympic airlines check-in desk at Malpensa airport, carrying my backpack and my sunglasses (sometimes I really look like an Italian despite of myself). I was going to the magic Dodecanese, in the middle of the Agean sea, in the philosophical land of Greece. As the plane began its landing, I saw a constellation of small isles, spotting a strong blue sea. I exited the plane followed by the kind "Welcome to Greece" of a smiling cabin assistant and a blast of the dry, warm wind from Rodos island ran over me. The blue-white Greek flag was happily waving next to the building hosting the terminal, cicadas were singing restlessly, the sun was shining: it was 3 p.m. and I was in Greece.
I understood immediately that I would love that island as much as I loved wrinting creative translations, as much as I loved Kos, Kalimnos; Santorini; Creta in the following years.

Travelling in Greece is a great emotions: you feel the history, you feel the breath of our civilization. At the same time, it's sad. Nowadays Greece is one of the lowest-growth economy within the Euro zone. The language is less spoken than Italian (and I've said much) and contemporary Greek literature as a marginal role internationallt. The public debt is soaring, burocracy stiffles entrepreneurialship, the GDP relies basically on the touristic sector. In order to maximize the return from the summer season, the Greek bet on a teenaging tourism form Northern Europe, selling crews of boys and girls discos and cheap drinks. Which is what they ask: easy hangovers, bullying each other after clubbing and sleeping all day long. Ignoring completely that they are in the land where Socrates and Plato were born. Of course, they're profitable to the economy, much more than a backpacker who eants to sightsee sites is.
Still, beyond economic figures, you can find the irrational side of a journey in Greece. You would live it if you are able to enter the shaded area hiding the true Greece, the one where the Greek live. An "Eυφχαριστό πολί" whispered to the old lady selling you a cold Pepsi is enough to boost the magic enchant of this land: the Greek are very friendly and polite and they will be delighted of share their culture and traditional knowledge with you. You would get to know then, that several eld people from Rodos speak Italian because of the occupation during World war II, you would learn the differences between the Greek ortodox believes and the catholic's, you would figure out that the sweet rythm of Greek music is produced by a guitar-like instrument called buzouki. This is my own Greece, this is the Country where philisophy was born. Tis the land of a population which is proud of its past. My own Greece is the same as theirs, the same of a lady running a smalli deli in the extreme south of Kos island, who explained me that in modern Greek "peripatos" doesnt mean "walking" but rather "journey". The "journey" which leads to new discovery and knowledge. Which is the true objective of philosophy. That philosophy which was taught in Aristoteles' Peripatos.