A Lesson in Simplicity

A Lesson in Simplicity.

Living in the United States as a member of my middle class family means that my everyday life consists of using an electric coffee maker, a television, an air-conditioner, a cell phone, a laptop, a car, an iPod and an assortment of other electronic devices. It’s not uncommon for my family to fill up an entire 30 gallon trash bag in two days or to use two rolls of paper towels a week. Though I’ve started to “green” my life, getting my family on board takes time. But with all of this, life starts to seem rather complicated.

When I was in middle school, even my first two years of high school, before my license, which led to my cell phone, before college which led to my laptop, my television, my film collection, my alarm clock, etc, I didn’t pay any attention to meeting deadlines, other than homework. I didn’t worry about getting in touch with someone immediately or trying to drive, talk, change the radio and choke down my lunch before work all at the same time. As my assortment of electronics, my number of deadlines and my hours spent working increased, my ability to stop, take a breath and enjoy simple pleasures decreased. Living the average life in America was taking its toll without my even knowing it.

But the summer before my sophomore year at the University of Rhode Island started me on a different path, one that is hard to stay on at times, but one that I am constantly striving for. That summer I took a vacation to Greece. A friend’s grandparents lived in Athens and she invited me to stay with them for three weeks that July.

When I landed, Athens was like any other busy city in the world, congested from cars, buses, taxis, pedestrians and stray animals, bustling from street after street of retail stores and restaurants, and people sandwiched together from overpopulation. Young women dressed in the most incredible clothing, every household seemed to own a car and stuffing 50 people onto a bus was normal. As my friend and I traveled away from the airport and downtown area things slowed down a little. There were fewer cars and shops and more churches. When we walked up to her grandparents’ house I was stunned.

It was tiny! The entire property was probably about 50 square feet, with a small concrete porch, a bathroom smaller than that of the URI dorms, and an adorable flower garden about 5 feet wide. We walked in and were greeted by her grandmother, Yaya, and her grandfather, Bapou. I can’t explain it, but I felt at home immediately. That night we had genuine Gyros (pronounced year-ohs) from a street vendor and I called my parents just so they knew I was in Greece safe and sound.

The next three weeks were incredible. We traveled to beaches where the water was turquoise! I have never seen something so beautiful. I had always thought the beaches in RI were good. In Greece you could see through the water to the ocean floor. You would go for a swim with fish! And not yucky slimy looking fish, but beautiful gold fish, like the kind you see in fancy home aquariums. The water looked un-natural, I had never realized how grey and murky the Narragansett Bay water was! We ventured to Monasteries and walked the same paths as Socrates and Aristotle. But even more incredible than my new surroundings was my new home.

Every other morning Yaya ventured out to the local market. The market was unlike any I had ever been to in Rhode Island. Entire blocks were designated for specific vendors. There was a block for fish, a block for meat, and multiple blocks for fresh produce. Every single bite of food and sip of a drink that I had, except for the beers at restaurants, came from Greece. Yaya bought fresh bread every single day from the bakery across the street. Every time she went she brought the same bag she had used the day before. The bags from the market were used as trash bags for the week.

When Yaya got home she would do the laundry and clean the house. She washed all of the clothes by hand and had to do it every two days because between Bapou and herself they had fewer clothes than me, and all of my clothes fit into a single tall laundry basket. The clothes would then air dry on the line outside. After the laundry she would clean the house. She used vinegar and baking soda to scrub the entire house until it was spotless! No fancy mops or scrubby sponges, just a rag and piece of steel wool.

In the afternoon Yaya didn’t slave away, she relaxed. The four of us would sit out on the porch and play cards, listen to the radio, and drink Ouzo, licorice liquor that is extremely strong. If it was hot Yaya hung sheets to create shade and sprayed the concrete with a hose, no fan, no air conditioner, and it was perfect. Around 5, Yaya would go in and start to cook dinner, lots of vegetables, rice, legumes, and fish, with very little meat. Every night we would have traditional Greek salad with chunks of tomatoes, cucumbers, olives and feta cheese, drizzled with olive oil. By the end of the meal there would be so much juice left in the bowl from the tomatoes we would soak it up with the bread Yaya had bought that morning. Nothing went to waste. If there were leftovers we ate them for lunch the next day or on Thursdays we would have a buffet of leftovers from the previous few nights.

After doing the dishes, since there were only six plates, bowls and cups in the whole house, Yaya would take out the trash. Guess how much there was? Less than half of a plastic grocery bag. Less than half! The only things that got thrown away were fruit pits, peelings, tissues, and a cardboard juice container every few days.

In the evenings we would watch reruns of American shows from about five years earlier and old movies on a tiny 20 year-old television. We would sit on our little twin beds and munch on fresh apricots, nectarines, and cherries.

In three short weeks I had forgotten about my cell phone, my computer, and ensuring that I saw the latest episode of “Law and Order”. I didn’t care that there was not a constant stream of hot water for showers but instead a cool drip from a metal hose. I didn’t care that we didn’t get Starbucks every morning. I was much more content sitting on a folding lawn chair on a damp concrete porch, playing cards with people who could not understand more than 10 words of what I was saying. Life was simple. I wanted for nothing, I missed nothing, and without even realizing it, I was surviving without the things I had always considered necessities. And in the end…

Living simply is the most important step towards living green.

So I raise my next glass of Ouzo to Yaya and Bapou, saving the world just by simply living their lives.