Friday, 6th March 1981
The third and last class of lyceum has almost finished but nothing has changed for me: While at school, I constantly have to put up with the same old gossip and jeers, the same hostility from everybody, the same boring duet of friends during the breaks. Moreover, it's been about a week now that my classmates have been avoiding me even more: They all make sure that they sit as far as possible from me, and they complain about a terrible smell in the classroom. This makes me wonder, because I haven't smelt anything bad so far.
Seeing that Nina was sitting alone at her desk this morning, I made so bold as to go and sit with her. “Welcome,” she said in a flat voice. During the lesson of literature, there were groans of disgust echoing all over the class, probably because of the mysterious stench that only I can't smell.
As soon as the lesson finished and the bell rang, Nina sprang up, took her things and went to sit at another desk, where three other girls were crammed. “She is terrible!” I heard her say to them and only then did I realize that I am the cause of the whole problem! According to various hints I happened to overhear later, the smell is due to silent yet stinky farts which I let out continuously but, strangely enough, I can't feel them at all! How can this be possible?
Friday, 27th March 1981
I've had the same problem for a month now and I don't know what to do. I still wonder: How is this possible? Every day, for six or seven hours that I am at school, the whole classroom resounds with groans of disgust and everybody complains about the awful smell! They never stop! This morning, during the fourth break, as soon as I dared approach a circle of classmates, one of them turned towards me and asked sniffing: “Who let it out?”. I got away hastily, as if admitting my guilt.
Saturday, 11th April 1981
I still go to the local playground from time to time; I just sit on a swing and watch the children play; it relaxes me a lot and makes me forget my troubles. This afternoon, little Nicolas approached and stared at me for a few moments, with an ironic smile on his face. He is an impudent, mischievous six-year-old boy, who is always swearing and pestering everybody in the park. His mother never makes the slightest remark to him, she just looks at him admiringly. Maybe that's why he has become such a handful.
I didn't even have the time to realize why, but the little monster started calling me names with his shrieking voice:
“You, tall camel, you are so ugly!”
“Shut your mouth, now!” I scolded him.
“You have a man's voice, too! You are a man! A man!” he mocked.
“You are a nasty little boy, you know that?”
“Shut up, you fart! You fart all the time and the whole room stinks!”
He repeated the last sentence over and over again, full of malice, while I was wondering flabbergasted: Does he really know what he is talking about? Has he heard about me, maybe? But from whom? Too many mysteries around me lately...
Friday, 8th May 1981
I don't care about the problem of the “stench” any more. As far as I can see, there is nothing I can do about it. I have told my mother about it but she says it's only a fixed idea and that I should forget all about it.
In the meanwhile, pupils of other classes have started to talk about me: “What stinks?” I heard an unknown girl ask her friends on the road this morning, as we were all heading for school. “You know what it is!” another one answered meaningfully and they all giggled. I wasn't even close to them.
It's weird though, that such things happen only when I am in the school premises. Nothing like this happens when I am at the English tuition centre, or at home, or anywhere else. Indeed, how is it possible that someone “lets them out” non-stop for seven hours every day, without ever realizing it?
Thursday, 6th August 1981
I took the lyceum certificate with an average grade of 16.7; as about, this year's Pan-Hellenic Examinations, I didn't do so well: Composition 14, Maths 11, Physics 16.5, Chemistry 16.5. As expected, with such marks I didn't manage to get into university and I am uneasy in my mind about the future.
School belongs to the past now, unlike my reputation. As it seems, I won't get rid of it so easily: Whenever I am in streets or in public places, I often have to put up with jeers, catcalls, mocking laughter, ostentatious spits down -as usual. I don't dare pass groups of youngsters on the road because they will surely make fun of me: “What an ugly camel you are!” … “Help! A scarecrow walking!” … “We like women, not garbage!” -I heard this morning. Paradoxically, thought, such incidents happen to me only in the area where I live, in Glyfada; nowhere else.
Tuesday, 18th August 1981
Since yesterday evening my family and I have been in a hotel in Suez, Egypt, together with some other women whose husbands work with my father, on the merchant ship “Apollo”. It's incredibly hot here. We could hardly walk around just for ten minutes this morning, since it was impossible for us to bear the extreme heat and all that dust in the air.
At one o'clock we had lunch in the restaurant of the hotel. Mum told the waiter that she wanted to eat a “chicken soupen” and everybody laughed. When the food came, my sister told the waiter that she didn't want any grated cheese, but he didn't understand and he spread a little cheese on her spaghetti; Alice stood up immediately and walked away crying. What a vamp...
It was late in the afternoon when the agent came at last. When we finally got aboard the “Apollo”, everybody was happy because women and children could finally meet their husbands and fathers after many months of separation.
No sooner had we entered my father's cabin, when mum was astounded to see Alice kissing a handsome dark-skinned steward in the corridor. She didn't mention anything to dad, of course. The young man comes from Pakistan and his name is Sayed.
Late at night, my sister, two other children and I gathered in the cook's cabin and watched an interesting adventure movie, which had no subtitles. I was impressed, because it was the first time in my life that I had watched a film in a video player.
Saturday, 22nd August 1981
We are on roadstead outside the harbour of Latakia, in Syria. Dad spends his time playing backgammon with Jimmy, the marine engineer, and he always loses. They both shout, sing and joke all day. Nick, the wireless operator, happens to be a dwarf and Jimmy is always after him: He calls him “nephew”, he plays tricks on him or grabs him and turns him upside down. Marina, the engineer's four-year-old daughter, is very fond of me and she follows me wherever I go. I have a really nice time here, on the ship.
This evening all Greek seamen and their families had dinner on the deck. We roasted a lamb, we drank wine, we told jokes and we had some laughs. Michael, a nice Pakistani steward took us lots of photographs.
Thursday, 27th August 1981
At noon we entered the harbour of Latakia at last. In the afternoon we went out, to the city. Syria proves to be a modern country with lots of shops. Half of the native women wear traditional long dresses and kerchiefs on their heads. The other half wear blue jeans and T-shirts, and they don't hide their hair. We enjoyed shopping for hours, we bought colourful traditional clothes and fine jewels: a gold bracelet for me and a gold watch for Alice.
Later, in the evening, we all went to an outdoor restaurant. There was a big group of Arabs sitting at the next table. Their wives were wearing heavy, dark-coloured coats, despite the terrible heat of the summer. However, when they undid some buttons, we saw that the heavy coats covered expensive silk gowns and sparkling jewels.
Sunday, 30th August 1981
This evening some of the sailors decided to go out. We were casually watching them from the deck, when my fourteen-year-old sister suddenly sprang up, rushed out to the dock, and ran to catch up with Luigi, the third engineer. The guy is handsome, but he is 37 years old and married with seven children. Dad frowned in disappointment. “It seems that your daughter is used to chasing men!” he said to mum.
At night we were invited to dinner by Alonzo, a Syrian steward. I was impressed at the l
uxury of his house and the good manners of his family. Alonzo, who is a Muslim, proves to be a quite progressive man: Not only does he let his wife go out without a kerchief, but he also allows her to work as a teacher. He helps her with the housework too. There were lots of Syrian traditional dishes on the table and I liked most of them. I had pilaff with dried fruit, stuffed vine leaves and yogurt sauce.
Tuesday, 15th September 1981
Early in the afternoon, the Asian sailors made trouble because nobody came to serve them lunch, as they complained. They smashed up everything in their dining room and then they all returned to their cabins, refusing to work. It was Sayed who had started the mutiny. Michael was carried away by the others. Luigi was scared and hid in the engine room. The chief steward and the cook didn't turn up at all, because they both had a terrible back ache, as they said. The truth is that the sailors caused all this trouble because they know that most of them will be fired as soon as we arrive in Belgium.
Thursday, 17th September 1981
This morning we arrived in Antwerp, Belgium, after fifteen days of dull voyage. All women and children went for a walk in the beautiful city. Most of the buildings are old but well-preserved, the streets are covered by flat cobbles and the people are good looking and well dressed. The weather is always rainy or cloudy, but it's not very cold.
We finally got into a huge department store, we shopped in all of its seven floors and when we finished, we had ice creams in the restaurant of the eighth floor. There aren't so big and luxurious department stores in Greece.
Later, in the afternoon, Mr Kranas, the ship owner, came into my father's cabin. He had just arrived from Greece and wanted to know everything about the mutiny. He seemed polite, calm and composed. He sent for Sayed, who came immediately. The young man was asked to apologize, which he did reluctantly.
“The ship owner never loses!” said Mr Kranas finally.
“Yes, but socialism is gaining ground,” retorted Sayed with a timid smile.
... We shall spend two more carefree days in Antwerp, going for long walks in the cobbled streets, shopping in the same department store, visiting the immense zoo and the aquarium, having a good time in night clubs with Greek music. On Sunday we shall return to Athens by air. This is not only the end of a nice trip, but the end of “the happiest days of my life” as well...
Chapter 14: Daydreaming