The book, written in first person from the view of a Greek business man who is befriended by Zorba, an animated, raw, uncensored man who’s opinion of women is one where they (and there are many) exist for his enjoyment. Although he does have the treatment of women down to a correct science, there is a strong, superior male ego at play.
As I observed the areas in Greece where we have been, I am picking up a feel that women are to be looked at, catered to and honored, but they are not equal, and they are to keep in their rightful place. Many times, with the exception of boat yards and industrial areas, the paths leading through the old towns and the maze of homes and shops, it was always the women working and the men sitting around. Very old country.
Maybe it’s different on the Mainland or in Athens. On the Island Paros, a waiter from Athens named Evos buddyed up to me after about my fifth Gyro there! He started commenting on life in the Islands and “the villagers”. It was interesting that he separated himself from them calling himself “Athens boy, not like them”. I heard this similar attitude on other islands. It is prevalent and worrisome to some Greeks. “The youth leave and only come back to work the tourist season,” one shop keeper said to me. And as tourism is, and has, slowly replaced mining, farming and other island incomes, this seems logical.
I asked Evos if he liked Turkey (always an interesting reaction) and he wrinkled his nose and said with disgust, “I hate Turks.”
“Why?” I asked wanting more, “What did they do to YOU?”
“Nothing,” he answered, “but I think of my grandmother’s, grandmother’s, grandmother… and what she went through,” his voice trailing off. “It’s in my blood,” he said tapping the veins in his left wrist.
And the World turns. Century old prejudices are passed down. Women sweep the cobblestones. And Zorba, no words can say, so he dances.
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