Читать книгу The OPA! Way - Elaine Dundon - Страница 13
ОглавлениеWe have a weakness for fresh seafood, and during one trip to Greece, we had what we referred to as a spiritual experience, indulging in the best octopus we’d ever eaten. Our evening began with a leisurely stroll along the beachfront into the historic old town of Rethymno, where the narrow streets and alleyways take one back in time. We stumbled upon Cavo D’oro, a tiny restaurant nestled in the picturesque old harbor. Comfortably seated with a view of the pristine water, we noticed that a small blue and white boat moored in the water close to the restaurant was for sale.
“Should we buy it?” we joked with each other. When our waiter, Giorgos, stopped by our table to welcome us, we ordered several small dishes, including the now famous grilled octopus, and added, “And we’ll take the boat!”
That began an evening of conversation with Giorgos; Petros, the owner of Cavo D’oro; and his father, Vasilis. The evening flew by as we all laughed and shared stories from our lives, savoring the impressive food, the soothing atmosphere, and most of all, the hospitality. As we walked back to our hotel in the cool night breeze, we remarked how wonderful our adventure to Cavo D’oro had been, especially in comparison to other dining experiences when we simply ordered, ate, and left.
Early the next morning, we chose to skip breakfast and set out on our journey to the beautiful Amari Valley, located in the central mountainous area of Crete. As our car weaved through the small village of Thronos, we decided to stop, stretch our legs, and take a look around. A few yards ahead we saw a sign, “Aravanes,” that was painted on a piece of wood, with a large arrow pointing straight ahead. Curious, we followed the narrow pathway and arrived at the back of a building that appeared to be a small hotel, and gasped at the magnificent view of the Amari Valley that was laid out before us. We wandered inside and were greeted by Lambros, the owner.
“Yiasas, welcome,” he said. He was busy setting up the restaurant for the day, but within a few minutes following our introductions and establishing that we were visiting Alex’s homeland, he set three shot glasses on the bar and quickly filled them with homemade raki. (The offering of raki is a symbolic gesture welcoming one in from their journey as well as a gesture of celebration or friendship.)
“Yamas,” we said in unison before downing the raki in one gulp and slamming the shot glasses back onto the bar.
Later, when we informed Lambros that we had to be on our way, he said, “Wait, I want to give you something—here is a book about the region.” Returning to our car, we reflected on what a wonderful man Lambros was . . . and that we really should have eaten breakfast before setting out; a little bread and honey would have been good protection against the raki in our empty stomachs!
Continuing on our journey, we arrived at a crossroads where a small kafenio was located. As we weren’t sure which road to take, we decided to stop and ask the men gathered together in front of the kafenio. We introduced ourselves and shared that we were looking for the road to the village of Monastiraki, the birthplace of Alex’s pappou (grandfather).
“Please sit,” gestured one man as the other yelled something into the kafenio. Soon the shot glasses and raki arrived at our table and the round of “yamas” echoed throughout the kafenio. We thought to ourselves, once again, “We really must have breakfast before we set out on our adventures!”
Following a short conversation, we again asked which road would take us to Monastiraki. Instead of simply pointing to the right road, one fellow jumped up and signaled for us to follow him—he would show us the way. We followed his truck up a winding dirt road and, after a few turns, the road opened up into the quaint village of Monastiraki. When we stopped our car, our guide motioned for us to follow him to his home. He insisted that we sit at his kitchen table, upon which he took out his carving knife and began to peel two apples for us. “Ah good, some breakfast,” we thought to ourselves, knowing that the apples would help soak up the raki in our empty stomachs! Our host handed us the apples, which we gladly accepted. He also gave us two large oranges to take with us on our journey.
As we sat at our kind host’s kitchen table, we reflected on the last twenty-four hours: beginning with our dining experience at Cavo D’oro, to meeting Lambros in Thronos, to meeting the men at the kafenio, and finally . . . to sitting in the home of a fellow we had just met by the roadside, who had shared raki with us and shown us the way to the village of Monastiraki, and who was intent on making sure that we had something to eat. We couldn’t have been more grateful for these wonderful examples of authentic Greek hospitality!
Philoxenia
The word “philosophy” is derived from the Greek words “philos,” meaning love, and “sophia” meaning wisdom, so philosophy is really the love of wisdom. In similar fashion, the word “philoxenia” is derived from philos (love) and the Greek word for stranger, “xenos.” So philoxenia, as it relates to the concept of hospitality, is the love of strangers. Its roots can be traced back to the myths of the Greek god Zeus, referred to as “Zeus Xenios,” who was the king of the gods and also the god of hospitality and protector of travelers. The English words “host,” “hotel,” and “hospital,” it is interesting to note, are derived from the very same concept—that is, to take good care of strangers or guests.
There is a saying in Greece that if you are ever lost, you can just knock on someone’s door and he or she will help you. The true meaning of Greek hospitality involves making sure the guest feels protected and taken care of and, at the end of the encounter, even providing guidance to the guest’s next destination.
The Greeks we met along our journey told us that they believed all things, and thus all people, were connected and that they had a duty to ensure the health and well-being of others, especially during a crisis. “We are born to help one another,” they told us. “In your family, it is expected, you have to do it; and for strangers, especially those who are tired and need help, it is your obligation to be hospitable.”
“It is the task of a good man to help those in misfortune.”
—SOPHOCLES
Kindness
Once upon a time, a lion captured a small mouse in his large paw. Just as the lion was about to eat the mouse, the mouse exclaimed, “Stop, I may be able to do you a favor one day.” The lion thought this was amusing as he doubted how a small mouse would be able to do him a favor, but he let the mouse go. Sometime later, the lion was caught in a rope trap set by hunters. The mouse, seeing the plight the lion was in, began to gnaw the ropes and eventually freed the lion. “See,” said the mouse, “wasn’t I right?!” No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.
—Aesop’s Fables (Greece, ca 620–560 BC)
We were the recipients of many acts of kindness during our odyssey. For example, when we were in Athens at the Megaro Mousiki metro stop, unsure of which line to take to our destination, a kind woman named Lida offered to help us. Coincidentally, as our destination just happened to be the same stop as hers was, she helped us purchase our tickets from the machine, ensured we followed her to the right train, and even walked us up to the street level and pointed us in the right direction. Despite living in the big city of Athens, where everything seems to move at least twice the pace of life on the islands, Lida still embodied the traditional values of Greek hospitality.
“You will best serve your friends if you do not wait for them to ask your help, but go of your own accord to lend them aid.”
—ISOCRATES
Just as others have helped us in the past, we must help the next person. We need to keep the kindness circulating; to pay it forward. As global villagers, we are all born with the capacity to search for ways to help others and to spread kindness in the world. Living and working with meaning involves more than just satisfying our own needs. A truly meaningful life, including a meaningful work life, requires that we look out for the interests of others in addition to our own. In this connection, if we want more humane villages within which to live, we need to be more kind. Similarly, if we want more humane workplaces within which to work, we also need to be more kind.
What you do for others, you do for yourself.
TRADITIONAL VILLAGE WISDOM
Being kind requires empathy, the ability to identify and find resonance with someone else’s situation or feelings. Being kind requires the awareness that we are all connected in some way. If we are willing and able to see ourselves reflected in the other person who needs help, then we can also see that we too may need help. The more aware we are of this interconnection and reflection of our shared humanity, the more kind we will be.
“If we always helped one another, no one would need luck.”
—MENANDER
Generosity
One day we passed a large sign on the national highway just outside the town of Agia Pelagia, but were unable to read the sign because we were driving very fast. We circled back and had to smile when we saw the sign up close. While most signs tend to communicate one or two things, this sign was advertising not two, not five, not ten, but about twenty services offered in the nearby town, such as the availability of a hotel, supermarket, barber shop, taxi service, and jeweler’s shop, along with goods like handbags, ties, vases, and fuel. We smiled because we knew that this was not just a physical sign on the highway but also a sign of Greek generosity. This sign symbolized the Greek’s approach to life: We welcome you. We want to take care of you. We have plenty to share with you. We live in abundance!
Giving generously is a virtue that leads to deeper meaning in our lives, as we gain a sense of joy and fulfillment in giving to and taking care of others. It’s the pride we take in opening our hearts and sharing what we have with others. It’s the sense of satisfaction that we feel when we spend less time protecting ourselves and more time giving to others.
Hospitality reflects the generosity of the person and is a manifestation of the human spirit. However, we all know people who do not reflect true hospitality and, instead, expect others to cater only to their needs. We all know people who feel entitled to receive things. We hear them say, “I want” or “I deserve” or “You owe me” or “The government owes me.” But as our friend Kostas advised us, it is better to always give more in value than you take.
Fortunately, there are a lot of generous people in the world who know that life is about feeling joy and sharing joy with others in the world. As we experienced in Greece, there’s always room for one more, there’s always food to share, there’s always inviting conversation to join. Generosity, in other words, means that there’s always a way to connect meaningfully with others!
One of the most special chance meetings we had in Greece was with a man named Kyriakos. After visiting the grave of a deceased relative in a small Cretan village, we were heading back to our car when a man approached us and, without even knowing who we were except that we were strangers in his village, invited us into his home for lunch. We protested, saying we had to be on our way but, as is the usual response, he ignored us and kept grabbing at our sleeves, pulling us into his home—gently, of course!
We relented and entered through the weather-beaten doors into the courtyard of his home. In the entrance was an old oven, which probably had served as the main cooking area for a century or two. Beside the oven was a table with several chairs where Kyriakos motioned for us to sit. Once seated, he and his wife served us raki and a wonderful feast of marinated meat, grilled potatoes, sliced cucumbers, fresh bread, and chocolate cookies.
Kyriakos took a keen interest in why we were at the gravesite and how we could be related in some way to the members of his village. When our collective attempts to determine our relationship with the deceased relative stumbled due to our collective broken English and Greek, he simply picked up his cell phone and called a friend in Athens who spoke many languages and could easily translate our conversation for us. After thirty minutes, we were all satisfied that we had figured out the family tree, and then it was time for us to continue on our journey. We couldn’t leave his house without receiving a souvenir bottle of his homemade wine. And, of course, our visit wasn’t complete until we also had a stop at his brother’s house for a bottle of his homemade wine too. Again, we had experienced the true meaning of Greek hospitality firsthand.
Throughout our travels we were invited into many people’s homes to share simple meals or were given food to ensure we did not go hungry. Penelope in Pyrgos, Santorini, made sure we continued on our way with a large bag of cookies. An older woman in the village of Chromonastiri, Crete, first offered us raki, then water, then a cookie, and then made sure we went on our way with an orange, which just happened to be the biggest orange we had ever seen. In another village, Stelios made sure we had a drink of freshly squeezed fruit juice before we continued on our journey and Costas, who runs one of the oldest bakeries in the old town of Rethymno, made sure we didn’t leave without two of his extraordinary cookies, masterly fashioned into the shape of swans.
The concept of hospitality is deeply rooted in the rituals that are expressions of an authentic relationship between a host and guests or strangers based on generosity, curiosity, and friendship. This concept also extends to Greek restaurants, where going to a restaurant is like being welcomed into a Greek home; they want to ensure first that you feel comfortable and then you will eat! We observed that many of the Greek waiters spent time talking with their customers and also made sure everyone’s glass was always full. The restaurant manager or owner visits each table, greeting everyone and connecting with them on a human level. (Although, of course, we have seen this happen in restaurants in our hometown in the United States, it often looks like it is done as a chore rather than with pleasure.) Unlike many other places where your dinner is rushed and you are handed the bill at the end of finishing your last bite, if not before, the attitude in Greece is very different. “Sit and enjoy your dinner, don’t rush, let your food digest. Enjoy your time with us,” said many waiters to us.
One of our favorite family-run tavernas is the Acropolis restaurant, located near the Aegean Pearl Hotel in Rethymno, Crete. The owner of the restaurant, Andreas, is a real character, welcoming everyone in from the street and, once people are seated, offering them a raki in the true form of Cretan hospitality. It’s a family affair with his son, Dimitrios, helping with the customers and his lovely wife, Stella, supervising the cooking in the kitchen. Andreas makes everyone feel welcome as he rests for a while at each table, sitting to take orders and connecting with people as friends.
“We have everything,” he says with a twinkle in his eye, meaning Stella will try to make anything you order or perhaps something close to what you order. They aim to please. Andreas seems genuinely happy to see you in his restaurant and on certain nights, he and Dimitrios stop serving for a while and play traditional Cretan music on their instruments. If you wave to get his attention to get your bill, he will simply wave back to you! If you ask for your bill, he will bring you dessert—melon or grapes or another raki on ice to entice you to stay a little longer.
“Sit and enjoy your dinner, like you would in your own house,” says Andreas. Of course, we always choose to stay a little longer!
Unique Spirit
Hospitality involves connecting with the unique spirit of each person. Importantly, it involves taking a genuine interest in the person, versus treating him or her as a transaction or as someone from whom you can gain something. It’s saying, “I care about you as an interesting human being,” not “This is what you can do for me.”
We have stayed at the Aegean Pearl Hotel in Rethymno many times, not only because of the luxurious surroundings, modern amenities, and delicious food but also, most of all, because it feels like our home away from home. A hotel can be just a hotel, a building with beds, but the Aegean Pearl is an experience mainly due to the hospitality of the staff, led by Eugenios Fragiadakis, a true manifestation of the Cretan Greek spirit.
We first met Eugenios early one morning as we observed him going table by table through the dining room, chatting with the guests. We assumed he was asking how they liked the breakfast or if the eggs were cooked to their satisfaction. It wasn’t until he stopped by our table that we realized that Eugenios was very special.
“Where will you be going today?” he asked us, connecting in his distinctly humanistic way. We explained that we had heard of a small village in the mountains that we wanted to visit but weren’t sure if we knew the correct name. Promptly, Eugenios asked to see our map and proceeded to trace a route for us to the very village we wanted to go to.
Each day we watched Eugenios connect with the other guests and each day he asked us how our travels had been, suggesting new places for us to visit and, of course, recommending that today, as always, would be a good day for a swim in the sea. Eugenios is one of those people who genuinely takes an interest in other people, who honors the unique spirit of each person he meets, and who truly embodies the Greek spirit of hospitality.
The spirit by which someone offers hospitality is important. We all know the signs when someone cares: They look deeply into our eyes and take time to connect with us. They not only talk but listen, and they don’t rush the conversation. We feel genuine interest and meaningfully engaged after having had a conversation with them!
At work, it is also important for leaders and managers to see themselves as “hosts” if they really wish to create a more human-centered, meaning-focused workplace. By taking a genuine interest in others, by understanding what is important to them, by enriching them and making them feel stronger with every interaction, members of the team will feel like they belong, that they matter, that their work matters, and that their work can be a source of meaning in their lives.
What you do for others, you do for yourself. One good deed leads to another; favors are returned as well as passed forward. When you share the love, you put love into the universe and, in turn, you share in this universal love. This is the cycle of hospitality that is an integral part of the Greek DNA.
Do a good deed and throw it into the sea.
TRADITIONAL VILLAGE WISDOM
You must give before you can receive. However, many of the Greeks we met were more altruistic in their beliefs about honoring the human spirit through hospitality. They believed in giving something without the expectation of return and without the expectation of any benefit or reward. They were simply sharing what they had, helping others. They gave openly with their hearts and spirits. They believed that the reward of a good deed comes solely from the joy in having done the deed. Indeed, we’re sure that Zeus Xenios would be very proud!
Summary
The Greek word philoxenia literally means “love of strangers.” So often in our travels across Greece, we experienced random acts of kindness from people who wanted to help us find our way, teach us about the traditional Greek village way of life, or just share whatever they had with us. Through their kindness, generosity, and treatment of each person as a unique human being and spirit and not simply as a transaction, we confirmed that Greeks truly believe that hospitality is in their DNA; it is an integral part of their being.
