Under the Parthenon
There is barely a more fitting symbol that defines Greece today than Dionysos, the now infamous restaurant that used to draw glamour from its namesake, the ancient Greek deity, and its proximity to the Parthenon – a restaurant that last week made headlines after revelations about its malodorous kitchen. So it appears that a restaurant that has always attracted local and foreign elites and has been linked to important moments in Greece’s political life (such as the recent meeting between the Greek premier, his Bulgarian counterpart and the Russian president) and not-so-big ones (such as the meeting between Costas Karamanlis and former conservative party defector Dimitris Avramopoulos) is run along the same lines as a summer beach cantina. The name borrowed from the great reveler Dionysus now rings with sarcasm. Like the ill-fated restaurant, our state appears just another corner shop. They’re both largely kept alive thanks to the shadow of the Acropolis, namely tourism, Greece’s heaviest industry. Millions of tourists-turned-clients who were not blessed with any important office have tasted the half-servings of Greek restaurants. Service here is about decorating the shop window. The Olympic Games are a good example: We bedazzled the world – but bedazzled as we were by our own glory, we left the much-hyped Olympic legacy, those costly venues, to crumble. Other recurrent pledges, such as purging the state of corruption and zero tolerance on graft, are also a smokescreen. We speak big words, we love to hear them and we take pride as we float in an ocean of scandals and dodgy food. All we do is what chefs do to disguise a bad smell: douse the bad food in spices to fool the client. This attitude is reflected in the post factum decision to impose rules on the savings of insurance funds in order to prevent future scandals. Are rules what are really missing here?
