The success of the
first conference in Thessaloniki whetted the appetite of the Panhellenic Union
of Physicists and laid the foundations for a second national conference, three
years later in the October of 1980. Mytilene, the capital of the picturesque Aegean
Island of Lesvos, was selected for the conference venues. I was dragged along
without having afforded a say. Father either saw that I had begun to mature
scientifically and, therefore, the conference would be another useful
experience, as his main argument was, before I would spread my wings and fly
over the plains of positive science –with Physics at its core. He still
attached a significant value Physics (probably unfounded or disproportionate, with
regards to the personal or social impact of this branch of science) and the role
of physicists in the economy and culture of Greece. Besides, as far as he was
concerned, that would give him another opportunity to interact on par academics
and university professors, many former fellow students and some old friends from
his university years. He counted on, or rather was convinced of the interest
such a conference would arouse and, maybe, open the first doors that would lead
to the academic career he secretly but fervently desired for me. Many of the
speakers and delegates would potentially be my university teachers in a year
time.
Later in life, I became
convinced of his deep-seated regrets of he not pursuing an academic career or,
for some vague reasons, of being deprived of it. In truth, as Father was
prescribing and planning my future strictly within our national borders without
soliciting my opinion, there were not many prestigious professional occupations
outside university for the capable scientist he believed I was. In any case, in
those teenage years, as a guardian and undisputed custodian of his sons’
education, he used to see it as a fatherly duty to bring me along and introduce
me to circles of colleagues, often against and regardless of my reluctance -because
of timidity and reserve.
So, I followed him,
despite the reflexive objections of an introvert, which rarely expressed as a
teenager as this caused fearsome reaction and scolding. Of course, all that
instinctive reticence was rooted in an innate timidity and lack of confidence and
a range of phobias in the face of social interactions, especially in the
company of mature scientists in which I did not belong. The idea of socializing
in domains outside an entrenched individual space, which we call ‘comfort zone’,
unsettled me. On the other hand, a ship voyage by ship to Lesvos, a first to a
Greek island and, as it happens, the last on that specific island, was enticing
and excited me. I found solace in the thought of the hours of solitude in some
hidden corners of the large ship, hanging on from the handrails, endlessly gazing
the waves and their white foamy crests, the seagulls chasing stern. Time on a
ship surrounded by the desolate vastness of the blue and black sea fascinated
and lured my since I was a child. It would be sufficient enticement to counter-balance worries from a deficient
sociability.
The ship set sail from
Thessaloniki’s port to the east in a warm October later afternoon leaving the
sun behind us to its always imperious setting behind the Olympus mountains standing
tall beyond the west coast of the bay. The evening darkness was falling fast,
as always in October, and I did what I always want to do on a ship since
childhood: going up and down the decks, contemplating the waves illuminated
obliquely by the sunset, sparkling with the reflections of yellow and orange, and
before long by the faint light of the crescent moon commanding the clear
firmament and leaving a white trembling trace on the blackness of the sea. I
enjoyed the crisp sea air for hours on the top deck close to the bow, letting the
breeze dishevel my hair, feeling the salt spray and the droplets escaping from the
wavetops on my cheeks. A group of colleagues from Father’s telecom company and
other delegates known to him were talking with loud voices and gestures under
the canopy of the deck below. Father's voice, as always, stood out above the
clamour the rumble of the ship engines, stentorian and assertive, counter-arguing
and pontificating on any issue. I heard a man called Adam, his colleague and
closest at the time, apparently annoyed from Father’s opinionative attitude,
describe his voice as hissing and sibilant. He likely felt it piercing to the ears, annoying in its intensity,
which on many occasions certainly was. After the night fall we retreated to
warm ship cafeteria, where I enjoyed the galley cooks’ meal of meatballs with
rice in the restaurant, as I always do on board of Greek ships.
After a few hours of botched
sleep in a suffocating bunk-bed of the economy class cabin, battling with in
turns snoring from Father and the two strangers we shared the cabin with, I
went down to the bow for a glimpse of the morning glorious sun, proudly asserting
itself from Anatolia, illuminating the Mytilene seafront and its promenade
drawing closer. As the ship began its awkward manoeuvres to moor at the quayside, which I always find
fascinating, the handful of boatswains tasked with preparing
the hawsers drove away with shouts the few curious individuals like me from the bow.
The few scattered figures of dockers and fishermen in the harbour meant that
Mytilene was just waking up to the day. The ship’s arrival was the first highlight
of the day for the early risers amongst the island’s inhabitants and tourists
alike, but soon the promenade and its cafes will be bustling with people for the
morning coffee and a fresh pie.
The afternoon of the
first day passed indifferently and carefree win the company of a group of
Physicists, friends of Father, dining together in a Mytilene taverna with the
usual gestures and clamour and racket inherent in such Greek gatherings -of
either educated or illiterate people. Father, as always, with his loud voice established
himself at the centre of attention and the inevitable arguments, even when discussions
touched upon innocuous, non-controversial issues (like Physics as a science, of
their Union, of the Conference and its sessions), as those themes were spontaneously
risen in the flow of the otherwise convivial evening. I listened silently and nonchalantly
to the verbal confrontations of old acquaintances, friends and colleagues, as, thankfully,
I was ignored by the adult company. I quickly became bored, as I was hearing names
people unknown to me, like Karoubalos, Resvanis, Charalambous, apparently
distinguished academics of the time, bright stars of international acclaim of some
sort, bearers of modern trends in Physics research in Greece, who, as far as I
could understood, would honour the conference as speakers. Several names were
commented upon, some belittled with derogatory remarks, others endowed with
laudatory comments, made the rounds of the table, like names, market values,
past performances of players in a football team's lineup are discussed amongst fans
prior to a game. The talk around a certain Yiannis Iliopoulos, a distinguished
theoretical physicist of the Greek diaspora caught my attention and impressed
me most, as he was mentioned and keenly discussed by the party with noticeable admiration,
especially of rumours of his nomination for a Nobel Prize in Physics. I
surmised that the expectations amongst the ‘common mortals’ of Greek Physics,
for a scientist of his calibre to honour the little conference of his homeland
was high; his presence would raise enormously its profile, as well as that of the
organizing body, the Union of Greek Physicists. At the end of the conference, it
occurred to me that eventually Iliopoulos did not attend, to the disappointment
of many delegates, as this took something away from the prestige of the
Conference. However I also heart that some amongst the minority of a narrow
minded academic nomenklatura, displayed not just indifference but even some
furtive joy as his presence could have potentially overshadowed their research
and lower their status in the scientific community, a status a few achieved
with skewed methods, relying on nepotism, favouritism and the like within the
opaque walls of the Greek academia. In other words, as it may happen, big name participants
or absentees of international calibre, can cause side effects on mindset and behavior of the small Greek scientific community, in
particular to its niche academic castes in pioneering disciplines, such as
Nuclear Physics or Particle Physics or Theoretical Physics· these are disciplines
in which Greece, from an economic and historical standpoint, could not and did
not have much to contribute on the international stage, while the state pays handsomely
to professors to delve into and produce research of little or no impact to
country’s wealth.
In the evening, Father
dropped me at the hotel after treating me with some street-souvlaki, before he carried on his socializing with a pool of
colleagues and old friends from university or past employments, in the endless
conversations mainly of political nature, which pleased him. Those were the
hours when he, a deeply egocentric and self-centred man, asserted himself above
a group of people and became the centre of attention and given his chance to
provoke arguments and disputes or contradict the theses of others in politics,
society, science, etc. with intransigent opinions and an imposing voice. Those various
conversations, those dialectical confrontations -one might say with acquaintances
or strangers, friends or enemies, were inconsequential and largely ineffectual in altering one’s
opinion on any given subject. They were happening just
for the sake of the vibrant dialogues they started.
Our hotel was an old, two-storey building, crammed
unnoticed in a row of other low dwellings in one of the alleys of the old-town of
Mytilene behind the seafront and promenade. The evening was pleasantly warm and
peaceful and offered the few hours of autonomy and the precious solitude and I
was longing for after a noisy day. We were sharing a triple-bed room with a
colleague of Father’s for budgetary reasons. I lied in the bed of my choice by
the wall, reading a novel and leafing through the program of the conference.
Later, I went out to the small balcony of the upper floor, rested my chin on my
forearm on the railing to watch the movements of the few passers-by below. Fleeting
vague thoughts swirled my mind about the mentally exhausting day I spent amongst
strangers, and the even more difficult dawning ahead of the first day of the
conference. The autumn visitors of the island, few tourists and conference delegates,
were scattered in the taverns and cafes along the waterfront. The alley under our
balcony, with only a pale light from the lamp of the wooden electricity pole by
the street corner illuminating it was half-dark and deserted.
I began feeling sleepy
despite the slight apprehension about an unknown tomorrow caused. The tranquillity
of a street away from the tedious world of scientists and their conference was
interrupted by voices of two islanders who entered the alley from the direction
of the port. They seemed in a state of merriment, surely from the ouzo they
consumed in a local taverna· Mytilene is nationally renowned for its ouzo. They
were singing, blurting out jokes, heedless as to whom might be listening from
behind closed doors, unconcerned about disturbing the silence in those quiet late
hours. One of the friends, as they were passing under my balcony without noticing
me above their head, demonstrated three light jumps on one of his legs and let
loose an equal number of farts. Pre-planned, intense, harmonic and rhythmic, not
dissimilar to sounds I and my child friend Kostakis produced by puffing out onto
the skin of our forearms on the ground floor of our apartment building, and
burst out laughing at the acoustic effects. I giggled again at that unexpected
comic episode. I recalled that incident in the alley of Mytilene years later,
when Peter Ustinov, asked by a TV presenter what theme in comedy invariably cause
laughter, timelessly and universally, regardless of the age and educational
level of the audience, promptly answered: farting and flatology, in general. He was right.
The balmy evening into
night passed like this: calmly and pleasantly and with a little bit of unexpected
amusement from the farting incident, until I fell asleep. Around midnight I was
woken up by the arrival of Father and his colleague with whom we were sharing
that cheap triple-bed room. The colleague whispered something subtly and made
an effort not to make noise and wake, unlike Father, who usually kept the usually
volume of voice at inconsiderably high levels. I pretended to be asleep, but
the presence of a stranger in the next bed somehow unsettled me and I stayed
awake, until late after midnight to sounds of loud, sustained snoring coming
from Father's bed. As much as I laughed at the antics of the two Mytilenean
friends under our balcony, I was just as embarrassed of Father's snoring. I was
sure it would be a nuisance for the quiet stranger at the other end of the room,
and kept as both awake, incapable of doing anything to stop it. I eventually fell
asleep late well after midnight, having suppressed my embarrassment and with
the hope the stranger in our room managed to get some sleep, though I could
barely hear him breathing for as long as I was awake.
From the inaugural day
of the conference, although most ignorant of advanced topics in Physics
incomprehensible, I was naturally attracted by sessions that sounded ‘exotic’ to
my scientifically immature mind, like Nuclear Physics and Astrophysics. As alluring
as those sessions sounded, unsurprisingly, I made no much sense out of what was
presented, despite a keen interest to comprehend and the effort I put in just
to ‘get a vague idea’ of what each of these trends was all about. The mental
fatigue and boredom following those incomprehensible presentations was to be somehow
moderated by a day trip to Molyvos, taking place on a reserved by the
organizers for the entertainment and mingling of delegates and speakers· an
opportunity for chatting and gossip, ice-breaking and relaxation, on the
sidelines of the heavy scientific program – thankless for many like me with his
utter ignorance and young age. We arrived at the village of Molyvos shortly
before noon, after a two-hour journey through slopes of mountains covered with
bushes and shrubs, barren patches, through some basins with olive groves and
vineyards, old farmhouses amongst scattered cypresses and small orchards. It
was a landscape which at my age I had found indifferent. In later years I
discovered a strong appeal in the tranquillity and solace of those
mediterranean landscapes.
The various groups of
physicists were scattered in the alleys of that picturesque coastal village.
Father, as always on occasions bring him close to the shores of the Aegean, was
irresistibly drawn by the crystal clear and lukewarm October waters. He defied the
pebbles and stones of a narrow beach at the waterfront outside the village fenced
by rocks, as the well as the urchins on the sea bed and had his obligatory
bath. As for me, satiated by ‘sea bathing’, the sine qua non of each of my
Greek summer holidays, after I splashed my feet on the shallows, whilst keeping
a mind on the sea urchins that lurked in the crevices of rocks, I spent the
rest of the time sitting on the sunburnt pebbles, under a friendlier sun than
that of our August holidays, throwing stones into the water, listening to the soft
murmur of waves and gazing listlessly at the distant blue horizon. My sensual
relationship with the sea has always been more audiovisual and olfactory,
rather than the more daring tactile relationship between body and water.
The taverna where we
ended up with several conference delegates, most acquaintances of Father’s, for
the inevitable lunchtime feast was located at the far end of an alley under a
vine. The last tables of the taverna reached out the very end of the alley fenced
by a balustrade at the top of mortared stone wall raised above a narrow coastal
road underneath. The fortunate taverna patrons could savour the immaculate blue
of the sea and the sky whilst enjoying traditional local specialities with
their ouzo and retsina. The conversation in Father’s party that started from
the moment were seated and carried on lively and uninterrupted throughout the
meal to the sweet treats and the coffee that followed, left me indifferent and
unable to participate. I savoured the neglect of the adults around me. My eyes
were exploring the freshly painted walls of the low-houses on either side of
the alley, the souvenir shops beyond, the dark interior of the taverna, the
coming and going of its patrons, and the few tourists that reached that end of
the village, until they rested at a couple sitting at the last table, by the
balustrade, leaning on the railings and on each other's shoulders, and silently
gazing at open sea yonder. The man wore a white shirt with its sleeves rolled up
below the elbows, contrasting his swarthy skin and his thick and black wavy hair,
covering tousled his neck and falling just above his shoulders, a ferocious thick
moustache like that I saw sported by many Cretan lads. He was now and then bringing
his right arm around the shoulders of a woman next to him, to embrace her tighter
and pull her closer to him. And it was then when they turned their faces to the
side of each other and exchanged kisses, which lasted a few seconds, oblivious to
a group of middle-aged conservative scholars eating their lunch and talking
physics. Those were clearly erotic kisses, kisses expressing deep intimacy and strong
desire. Even a person like me, who had never kissed a girl by then, could sense
the lust permeating the two lovers and visualise their lovemaking later in the
day. Those were kisses and touches and exchanges of lustful looks, in silence. Perhaps,
they did not speak the same language and interacted through sensual romantic
gestures, like kisses and caresses, instead of words.
It was also clear that
they descended from different races. The woman had straight, long
platinum-blonde hair, parted in half. At some point she got up and headed towards
the door and the interior of the tavern, and I could see her affront. It was obvious
to me that under here light green, simple and linen, gossamer mini-dress, which
hanged over her slender body by two thin laces, she was wearing absolutely
nothing. The nipples of her breasts, slightly sagging despite her young age,
were clearly outlined in sensual and arousing details. Her sunbathing-red brown
tanned skin and hair color pointed to a Northern European, perhaps Scandinavian
origin, while the physiognomy of her partner, his masculinity and erotic
effusiveness, pointed to stereotypes I had formed at the time of Greek ‘καμάκι’ (harpoons), which in summer time
prey on blonde tourists from the sexually liberated north, who descend to
Greece from the sun and the sea and romantic adventures.
From those sagging
breasts in the slender figure, but mainly from the color and parting right in
the middle of her long straight hair and her Nordic cheekbones, I recognized that
woman: she was, without a doubt the foreign starlet of a couple of Greek porno movies,
those second rate films of mediocre quality in double-bill porn shows· in seedy
cinemas I used to frequent since early high school years, driven by the weight
of sexual repression and frustration from hormonal urges -a kind of
psychological addiction I found difficult to curb, even in adulthood. (And why should
I, if it had been a harmless well-kept secret from friends and family, a
valuable aid in lifting those hormonal burdens during a barren adolescent life devoid
of sexual experiences, a relief from frustration, an aid to some form of gratification.
Whether the ‘products’ of that industry I enjoyed had an indirect detrimental
impact-no matter how small- on the lives of its workers, perhaps, even of that young
woman in the taverna with her lover (or, maybe, pimp) concerned me sometimes,
but not to an extent to curtail those habits.) Observing the couple then I
wondered: was their love genuine and pure or some kind of fleeting,
opportunistic, hedonistic, aimed exclusively at ephemeral pleasure, whilst
making also some money, perhaps? How possible erogenous causes led to a genuine
love affair? Was the man aware of this woman’s past and even present in that
despicable industry? If so, did it bother him? Did he participate in the same or
similar films and I had just naturally failed to notice him? (His unfamiliar
physiognomy, after the many films of the genre I had watched, did not rule out
the possibility of being an actor himself, as the male porn watchers’ attention
is mainly focused on the faces and bodies of the women protagonists.) Could it
be, in the final analysis, that he himself urged or manipulated her into that
squalid avenue of ungainly and, for many, lewd and humiliating roles, as an
agent or pimp, for personal gain? If there was something more than a fleeting intimacy
in that couple's story, I would never know. These and other such thoughts,
mixed with images from the movies and sex scenes with the woman actress sitting
close to use, distracted me from the tedious discussions of the physicists
around me. When we got up to leave, the sun had begun its decent towards the
sea. We left the couple there, under the arbour, still hanging on the railings
with their heads intimately touching, savouring their love and the glorious
sunset.
From the sessions on the
frontiers of modern physics research, in the next and last day of the
conference, I gained, as an aspiring scientist myself, from little to none. The
figments of magic I was expecting in the few specialized, mostly dry and laden
with mathematics presentations, in astrophysics or particle physics or quantum
mechanics, were elusive· neither them, nor of the speaker, with some at least
oratory skills, managed to inspire me. I would have to return back to the
basics: the text books of classical physics for a deeper understanding of more
prosaic material for the purpose of a good grade in the final exams at the end
of that school year. As it turned out, physics did not become the science where
I dedicated the most financially lucrative parts of my career, although it
offered a few valuable tools to that end. My childish ambitions to formulate a
new theory of the world and its matter and particles, the unification of the
theories of the microcosm and the universe I often heard, the afternoons of
reverie in the company of Father's university physics books reached an inglorious
end with the conclusion of that second panhellenic physics conference. Father
mentioned several times in different context and settings, but always in his well-known
authoritarian and arrogant style, which a priori rejected counter-arguments and
often exasperated his interlocutors, that he would never allow me to pursue a
career in nuclear physics: it would cause cancer and early death. Back then, as
a teenager, I suppressed my aggravation from similar career and life
controlling decrees and mandates and concealed my anger and resentment, retreating
to just the downcast face of defeat to any such arguments. Later in life, they
caused rage and altercation. Yet, such prima facia inconsequential impressions
can subliminally stir one’s course in life in one direction or another. Apparently,
and sadly in a way, I followed in some of his footsteps and partially inherited
Father’s special trait of exercising authority and coercing opinions to the few
people I had some influence over and felt resentment if they rejected them.
In the last session on
Thursday afternoon, there would be an open discussion on the prospects of basic
academic physics research in Greece. The members of the panel consisted mostly
of university professors, but there were also some the humbler representatives
of researchers’ and teachers’ associations. Seated in a row on an elevated
platform behind a long table facing the layman audience, the most vocal members
of the panel, that is, the haughty academics amongst them, expressed the
opinion that state funds for research should be doubled and even multiplied
from current levels. Greece should reach the same levels as north American and western
European governments expenditure on research, to expand its foundations and
scope, as it is blessed with ‘good brains’, Greeks being a select race
genetically gifted. It is no coincidence, most of the panel argued, albeit
without statistical evidence, that Greek émigrés pursuing scientific careers
excel in their disciplines. A view, I assumed, was also shared by most of the
attendees in the room, panel members and audience alike. State-sponsored
academics, researchers and teachers, in fields with no cross-section with the real
economy in Greece, made up the relative if not absolute majority amongst the
attendees. In any case, research funding in one way or another, in say disciplines
like Solid State or Nuclear Physic should be provided from the state coffers of
a rather poor country, whatever that meant or implied. Private organizations with
the financial muscle to funding such ‘basic’ or ‘academic’ research of longer
term and wider scope, were non-existent, and Greece’s low-tech and light always
relied on tried and mature traditional methods of production to make a profit
and good use of its outcome.
Father, seated next to
be in the one of the back-row seats of a half-full room, stood up and with the
familiar arrogant and quasi-sarcastic style, the loud and imposing voice,
piercing to the ear, intervened with a meant-to-be rhetorical question: ‘Is the
Greek academia, in areas such as the Solid State, capable of absorbing
efficiently and for the benefit of society the funds asked for by the panel
professors?" (For inexplicable reasons, even to ignorant self, this Solid
State Physics I heard a lot about throughout the course of the conference, and thought
about it as a somewhat boring discipline for one to dedicate their most
creative years, enjoyed a disproportionately large weight amongst the research endeavours
of physics departments, and, from the little I knew, Greece’s economy did not
produce any of the exotic ‘materials’ that were subject of that research and it
was unlikely to ever do so).
As much as I was
irritated by Father’s categorical and sweeping statements, whether those
concerned personal or family issues, I could not but admired him for his
assertive intervention in that session of an elite group of university professors
of physics: for his self-confidence, straightforwardness, the clarity of his
speech, gifts that Mother used to reluctantly admit found charming when they
first met. As expected, and it is possible the ultimate purpose of Father's
intervention was to stir waters and prick consciences, even provoke emotions
and a reaction, or, as one would say today troll the visibly annoyed members of
the panel and the audience, at least those whom his question photographed. An
intense dialogue ensued on the issue of government grants for academic research,
which Father followed impassively, although, surely with an inconspicuous
feeling of satisfaction. I turned into myself mildly disappointed that I did not
inherit the gift of confidence, bravado and bravery, but some other attributes
of Father’s less useful in life.
I saw
the porn actress whom I recognized in that taverna of Molyvos again on our ship
from Mytilene back to Thessaloniki. She was standing not far from me on the
upper deck, at the guardrail of the stern. She was wearing the same skimpy dress,
with her beautiful long blonde hair was blowing in the sea breeze. With her
right arm raised she was waving with slow movements her farewell to someone on
land. The ship was sailing away from the dock and at the edge of quay there he
was: standing with his legs slightly apart, his right hand on the forehead to
block the glaring sun from the west. It was the same swarthy, dark-haired lad with
the Cretan moustache, in his white shirt standing still in the same pose for
minutes. As we were receding, he became an insignificant lonely dot, still but
visible at the edge of the waterway. His mistress continued the wave at him
with her arm, a gesture of the prolonged farewell, as if it were the very last,
until Mytilene’s port and its people disappeared from our view behind the
jetty. The melancholy in this prolonged farewell moved me. Own farewells to
people I loved in the future, I found them emotionally terrifying in the future
and left long-lasting unconsolable impressions in the memory and soul.
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