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[Salon Wanderlust: Travel with a passion]

T A B L E_T A L K
Share your stories and give advice on visiting Greece in the Wanderlust area of Table Talk

R E C E N T L Y

A day in the life of a longhouse
By Maxine Rose Schur
Drinking and dancing with headhunters
(06/02/98)
Mondo Weirdo
Island oddities
Flying Caribbean style and Koh Samui blues
(06/01/98)
Letter from Jakarta: Part 2
By Jeff Pulice
Expats drink, rumors run amok, Habibie has an amazing week
(05/29/98)
Who stole Tomorrowland's soul?
By Janelle Brown
Disneyland's revamped Tomorrowland presents fresh façade and a few thrills -- but where's the old magic?
(05/28/98)
Hitchhiking Vietnam
By Karin Muller
Renting a horse -- and other examples of how tourism is changing Vietnam
(05/27/98)

Browse the
Wanderlust Postmark archives

DISCO bouzouki TAKES ATHENS BY STORM

For a crash course in Greek cultural history,
go to the city's new night life hot spot: Gazi.
BY KATHLEEN CROMWELL | Forget the Acropolis the next time you find yourself in Athens. Instead, check out Gazi -- where you can receive a cultural crash course in Hellenic habits based on thousands of years of history. And you don't have to climb all those steps.
Gazi -- which literally means "gasoline" -- is an area in western Athens where the old gas refineries are located. Unused and abandoned, the huge structures are mute testament to a time when the place was a spewing, stinking, thriving commotion of industrial activity. In their post-industrial repose they sit like just one more ruin, acquiring the patina of history.
A few years ago, a campaign -- involving at one point the inimitable and ubiquitous Melina Mercouri -- got underway to revitalize and reinvent what had become a decidedly blighted spot. Instead of tearing down and destroying the empty edifices, the existing constructs would be utilized and interwoven into the urban fabric. But how?
The campaign organizers realized that Gazi had one advantage: Its remote location, far from any residential neighborhoods, made the abandoned buildings perfect places for the pursuit of night life without keeping others awake who were not so inclined.
But what would draw Grecian night owls to a dark part of town well off the beaten track? How could they fill those enormous, cavernous spaces? There was one obvious answer: Build a bouzoukia and they will come. Build a few and they'll stampede.
The desire for drama remains undiminished in modern-day Athens. Which is why bouzouki -- a traditional form of musical expression beloved by generations of Greeks, named after the guitarlike instrument that dominates its sound -- is at its height of popularity. No longer merely music to dance and sing to, live bouzouki music in bouzoukia clubs has morphed to become a phenomenon, an event, a culture.
Post-junta (1970s) bouzouki has become big-budget, high-tech and hip in order to cater to a younger mass audience -- while trying not to alienate too many of the traditionalists. Gone is the mustachioed fellow in folk garb who sang soulfully and plucked a plump little stringed instrument. The musicians have been relegated to the background, and front and center are guys in tight pants and/or gals in short skirts who sing what are basically the same old songs with more contemporary themes. Add big lights, wireless mikes, massive sound systems -- and voila, it's disco bouzouki!
But today's bouzouki isn't just a spectator sport -- at least not for those who get transported by the music. In a hybrid of Disneyland and Las Vegas with some post-punk thrown in, the new bouzouki has done away with such antiquated forms of self-expression as breaking plates and replaced them with the more modern and infinitely more titillating -- and less costly -- table dancing.
Table top dancing, to be specific.
As one Athenian cheerfully points out, table dancing provides Greeks with a societally endorsed equivalent of that popular Western cultural pursuit: the striptease, which is nonexistent in Greece. Not that any clothes are actually taken off in the Greek version. They don't need to be -- as being up on a table affords an excellent view, for those sitting around below, of this challenging but oh-so-rewarding motion statement.
While dance has always been an integral part of bouzouki, it used to comprise precisely prescribed movements and gestures; now it's anything goes. But one thing has remained consistent throughout bouzouki's dance history, and that is the undulating belly that undoubtedly stems from its early Eastern influences.
Perhaps this new use of table tops has contributed to the current heightened interest in bouzouki, or maybe it's the big, over-produced, highly saturated sound. Then again it may just be that this particular form of music and all of its slick trappings has struck a deep chord in the populace.
Whatever it is, Greeks can't get enough of it. Whether male or female; getting an allowance or drawing a pension; gay, straight or in-between; blissfully wedded or singly bedded -- the interest in this cultural concoction transcends all demographics.
This adoration has made some bouzouki singers major celebrities with huge followings who get paid enormous salaries. No single performer in the American entertainment world really compares. Rather, what comes to mind is a composite of several different entertainers: Madonna, Frank Sinatra, Whitney Houston, Barbra Streisand, Tom Jones and the early Elvis. Which is why bouzoukias are not intimate little places; they're designed with huge audiences in mind.
Within the Gazi renaissance, a good example of this is the recently opened Chaos. Housed in a building where cars were manufactured, the place is immense yet inviting. Chaos presents an earnest and scrubbed-clean version of post-industrial guerrilla decor, with certain details retained from its illustrious past -- such as caged light bulbs and exhaust apparatuses -- that are too precious and smudge-free to be tongue-in-chic. Everything -- even the black clipboards that the hosts/hostesses clutch officiously to their chests -- is color-coordinated to match the pseudo-rugged theme. Chaos is emblematic of millennial design, with its attitude of wring out the functional, bring in the frivolous and to hell with annoying details like places to sit.
Tables and chairs do exist, but these are at a premium and confined to the main floor. The packed-in standees are relegated to the mezzanine -- from which they can stare longingly at those with dough enough to cop a table. The bouzoukia is nothing if not mathematical: More money = more action = more of an impression.
The bouzoukia owners eagerly cater to this simple formula, and a whole cottage industry has sprung up around the notion of Showing Appreciation -- aka Showing Off. In addition to applause, whistles and conspicuous cries of "Bravo!" one can express one's admiration with flowers. In terms of impression, this last may be the best of all, as a small bowl of these babies -- a couple dozen or so -- costs in the neighborhood of 70,000 drachmas: about $200! And we're not talking hot-house exotics, either -- these are run-of-the-mill geraniums. Nevertheless, the blooms are specially ordered, brought to the table and then tossed at the performers on stage, creating a colorful and eye-catching array.
As all would agree, it's a win-win-win situation. It's a chance for the patron to display largesse, the performer to be adored and the purveyor to make lots of cash.
It's also likely that the presence of television has played a significant part in the way bouzouki culture has evolved. Certainly it's become more visually oriented: Out with the tepid, in with the telegenic. And so sartorial statements run the gamut from standard-issue suit and tie to strapless, sequined techno-whore; tattoos and piercings are also visibly in attendance. One thing is certain: Casual is definitely not part of the bouzoukia dress code; both entertainer and entertainee get decked out to the hilt.
This is not surprising, since a bouzoukia is definitely at the top of the entertainment venue food chain. If you're light on cash, you can still participate in the basics -- drinking, dancing and singing -- but the way you do so will differ greatly from those with money to burn.
Budget bouzouki entails paying 5,000 drachmas (about $18) to get into the place, fetching your own drinks at the bar and dancing cramped among others who are too broke to sit at a table. The lack of amenities is made up for by the fact that the majority of the standees are youngsters and the energy level is very high.
Those with lots of loose change will have a table to sit at and will not have to fetch their drinks -- but they will have to make them. How it works -- and the reason why it's so incredibly expensive -- is that table-dwellers buy their liquor by the bottle. This features a lovely presentation: a big, silver bowl of ice with tongs, spotlessly clean glasses and a trayful of mixers, including Coke, 7-Up, club soda, etc. A bottle of mid-range something or other (whiskey is the national beverage of choice) costs around $100. Usually a group of four can go through two or three bottles during the evening. If they're also flower-tossers, well, it adds up pretty quickly.
But this is Greece, and bank presidents and taxi drivers alike will fork over a lot for a night on the town with friends. If it means some have to dig a little deeper than others, so be it.
Whatever the expense, in this birthplace of democracy, everyone is on equal terms in the pursuit of a good time, Greek style. Which involves a lot of self-expression. During the course of an evening one can witness emotional displays that cover a full range, including hugging, crying, shouting, kissing, fist-shaking, heart-clutching and head-tossing. And this is the audience!
But then, this is the land where drama was invented -- and where the entertainment isn't the only thing that's entertaining.
SALON | June 3, 1998
Kathleen Cromwell is a freelance writer who lives in Athens.


	T A B L E_T A L K Share your stories and give advice on visiting Greece in the Wanderlust area of Table Talk R E C E N T L Y A day in the life of a longhouse By Maxine Rose Schur Drinking and dancing with headhunters (06/02/98) Mondo Weirdo Island oddities Flying Caribbean style and Koh Samui blues (06/01/98) Letter from Jakarta: Part 2 By Jeff Pulice Expats drink, rumors run amok, Habibie has an amazing week (05/29/98) Who stole Tomorrowland's soul? By Janelle Brown Disneyland's revamped Tomorrowland presents fresh façade and a few thrills -- but where's the old magic? (05/28/98) Hitchhiking Vietnam By Karin Muller Renting a horse -- and other examples of how tourism is changing Vietnam (05/27/98) Browse the Wanderlust Postmark archives		DISCO bouzouki TAKES ATHENS BY STORM For a crash course in Greek cultural history, go to the city's new night life hot spot: Gazi. BY KATHLEEN CROMWELL \| Forget the Acropolis the next time you find yourself in Athens. Instead, check out Gazi -- where you can receive a cultural crash course in Hellenic habits based on thousands of years of history. And you don't have to climb all those steps. Gazi -- which literally means "gasoline" -- is an area in western Athens where the old gas refineries are located. Unused and abandoned, the huge structures are mute testament to a time when the place was a spewing, stinking, thriving commotion of industrial activity. In their post-industrial repose they sit like just one more ruin, acquiring the patina of history. A few years ago, a campaign -- involving at one point the inimitable and ubiquitous Melina Mercouri -- got underway to revitalize and reinvent what had become a decidedly blighted spot. Instead of tearing down and destroying the empty edifices, the existing constructs would be utilized and interwoven into the urban fabric. But how? The campaign organizers realized that Gazi had one advantage: Its remote location, far from any residential neighborhoods, made the abandoned buildings perfect places for the pursuit of night life without keeping others awake who were not so inclined. But what would draw Grecian night owls to a dark part of town well off the beaten track? How could they fill those enormous, cavernous spaces? There was one obvious answer: Build a bouzoukia and they will come. Build a few and they'll stampede. The desire for drama remains undiminished in modern-day Athens. Which is why bouzouki -- a traditional form of musical expression beloved by generations of Greeks, named after the guitarlike instrument that dominates its sound -- is at its height of popularity. No longer merely music to dance and sing to, live bouzouki music in bouzoukia clubs has morphed to become a phenomenon, an event, a culture. Post-junta (1970s) bouzouki has become big-budget, high-tech and hip in order to cater to a younger mass audience -- while trying not to alienate too many of the traditionalists. Gone is the mustachioed fellow in folk garb who sang soulfully and plucked a plump little stringed instrument. The musicians have been relegated to the background, and front and center are guys in tight pants and/or gals in short skirts who sing what are basically the same old songs with more contemporary themes. Add big lights, wireless mikes, massive sound systems -- and voila, it's disco bouzouki! But today's bouzouki isn't just a spectator sport -- at least not for those who get transported by the music. In a hybrid of Disneyland and Las Vegas with some post-punk thrown in, the new bouzouki has done away with such antiquated forms of self-expression as breaking plates and replaced them with the more modern and infinitely more titillating -- and less costly -- table dancing. Table top dancing, to be specific. As one Athenian cheerfully points out, table dancing provides Greeks with a societally endorsed equivalent of that popular Western cultural pursuit: the striptease, which is nonexistent in Greece. Not that any clothes are actually taken off in the Greek version. They don't need to be -- as being up on a table affords an excellent view, for those sitting around below, of this challenging but oh-so-rewarding motion statement. While dance has always been an integral part of bouzouki, it used to comprise precisely prescribed movements and gestures; now it's anything goes. But one thing has remained consistent throughout bouzouki's dance history, and that is the undulating belly that undoubtedly stems from its early Eastern influences. Perhaps this new use of table tops has contributed to the current heightened interest in bouzouki, or maybe it's the big, over-produced, highly saturated sound. Then again it may just be that this particular form of music and all of its slick trappings has struck a deep chord in the populace. Whatever it is, Greeks can't get enough of it. Whether male or female; getting an allowance or drawing a pension; gay, straight or in-between; blissfully wedded or singly bedded -- the interest in this cultural concoction transcends all demographics. This adoration has made some bouzouki singers major celebrities with huge followings who get paid enormous salaries. No single performer in the American entertainment world really compares. Rather, what comes to mind is a composite of several different entertainers: Madonna, Frank Sinatra, Whitney Houston, Barbra Streisand, Tom Jones and the early Elvis. Which is why bouzoukias are not intimate little places; they're designed with huge audiences in mind. Within the Gazi renaissance, a good example of this is the recently opened Chaos. Housed in a building where cars were manufactured, the place is immense yet inviting. Chaos presents an earnest and scrubbed-clean version of post-industrial guerrilla decor, with certain details retained from its illustrious past -- such as caged light bulbs and exhaust apparatuses -- that are too precious and smudge-free to be tongue-in-chic. Everything -- even the black clipboards that the hosts/hostesses clutch officiously to their chests -- is color-coordinated to match the pseudo-rugged theme. Chaos is emblematic of millennial design, with its attitude of wring out the functional, bring in the frivolous and to hell with annoying details like places to sit. Tables and chairs do exist, but these are at a premium and confined to the main floor. The packed-in standees are relegated to the mezzanine -- from which they can stare longingly at those with dough enough to cop a table. The bouzoukia is nothing if not mathematical: More money = more action = more of an impression. The bouzoukia owners eagerly cater to this simple formula, and a whole cottage industry has sprung up around the notion of Showing Appreciation -- aka Showing Off. In addition to applause, whistles and conspicuous cries of "Bravo!" one can express one's admiration with flowers. In terms of impression, this last may be the best of all, as a small bowl of these babies -- a couple dozen or so -- costs in the neighborhood of 70,000 drachmas: about $200! And we're not talking hot-house exotics, either -- these are run-of-the-mill geraniums. Nevertheless, the blooms are specially ordered, brought to the table and then tossed at the performers on stage, creating a colorful and eye-catching array. As all would agree, it's a win-win-win situation. It's a chance for the patron to display largesse, the performer to be adored and the purveyor to make lots of cash. It's also likely that the presence of television has played a significant part in the way bouzouki culture has evolved. Certainly it's become more visually oriented: Out with the tepid, in with the telegenic. And so sartorial statements run the gamut from standard-issue suit and tie to strapless, sequined techno-whore; tattoos and piercings are also visibly in attendance. One thing is certain: Casual is definitely not part of the bouzoukia dress code; both entertainer and entertainee get decked out to the hilt. This is not surprising, since a bouzoukia is definitely at the top of the entertainment venue food chain. If you're light on cash, you can still participate in the basics -- drinking, dancing and singing -- but the way you do so will differ greatly from those with money to burn. Budget bouzouki entails paying 5,000 drachmas (about $18) to get into the place, fetching your own drinks at the bar and dancing cramped among others who are too broke to sit at a table. The lack of amenities is made up for by the fact that the majority of the standees are youngsters and the energy level is very high. Those with lots of loose change will have a table to sit at and will not have to fetch their drinks -- but they will have to make them. How it works -- and the reason why it's so incredibly expensive -- is that table-dwellers buy their liquor by the bottle. This features a lovely presentation: a big, silver bowl of ice with tongs, spotlessly clean glasses and a trayful of mixers, including Coke, 7-Up, club soda, etc. A bottle of mid-range something or other (whiskey is the national beverage of choice) costs around $100. Usually a group of four can go through two or three bottles during the evening. If they're also flower-tossers, well, it adds up pretty quickly. But this is Greece, and bank presidents and taxi drivers alike will fork over a lot for a night on the town with friends. If it means some have to dig a little deeper than others, so be it. Whatever the expense, in this birthplace of democracy, everyone is on equal terms in the pursuit of a good time, Greek style. Which involves a lot of self-expression. During the course of an evening one can witness emotional displays that cover a full range, including hugging, crying, shouting, kissing, fist-shaking, heart-clutching and head-tossing. And this is the audience! But then, this is the land where drama was invented -- and where the entertainment isn't the only thing that's entertaining. SALON \| June 3, 1998 Kathleen Cromwell is a freelance writer who lives in Athens.