Just months before I left Greece - and before I even knew I would so abruptly and so stupidly resign from a job that others might kill for - I booked myself on a bus tour of all the ancient sites. It was in the middle of winter which even in Greece can be pretty harsh, and we spent more time inside Greek tavernas than in ancient Greek temples. "Opa!" indeed!
Two Australian girls, deaf-and-dumb teachers from Melbourne, who had just arrived in Athens on a whirlwind tour of Greece, sat across the aisle from me. They had no need to talk behind my back because they always "spoke" in Auslan. Whatever they were saying about me must've been nice enough because we joined up for the duration of the bus trip and they even spent another week staying at my apartment in Piraeus.
If you have an hour or two to spare and are missing Greece as much as I do, then "My Life in Ruins" is a welcome ray of sunshine on a cold winter's morning in Australia. It's been many years since I last spoke Greek, and I'm already beginning to fall back on my phonetic device to remind me of the Greek word for "thank you", and so I simply say "F. Harry Stow" to Greece, to my wonderful friends in Greece, and to the two deaf-and-dumb teachers in Melbourne for the wonderful memories.
