Please Don’t Fix Greece

There is something slightly peculiar about the way we travel.

We spend thousands of dollars to go somewhere different.

Different food.

Different language.

Different architecture.

Different customs.

Different pace of life.

Then, approximately five hours after arriving, we begin wondering why they don’t do things the way we do them at home.

The stores close when?

Why is dinner so late?

Why hasn’t the waiter brought the check?

Why can’t I get a giant glass of ice water? And a bucket of ice on the side?

Why isn’t there parking directly in front of the restaurant?

Why is everybody sitting here drinking one coffee for two hours?

And occasionally:

How much am I supposed to tip?

Ah.

Here we go.

I lived in the United States for about thirty years.

I know the drill.

The bill arrives.

There are suggested gratuities.

18%.

20%.

22%.

Sometimes 25%.

The little screen spins around and asks a question that increasingly feels less like:

Would you like to leave a tip?

and more like:

How generous a human being would you like to prove yourself to be while the employee watches?

😂

That’s America.

America developed its own restaurant culture, compensation system and tipping customs.

Fine.

But then we get on an airplane.

And bring them with us.

There is no reason to tip in Greece the way you tip in America.

That sentence will probably get me in trouble.

So let’s make the distinction very clear.

Restaurant workers in Greece are wage employees.

They are paid by their employer.

A tip is extra.

It is voluntary.

In fact, the Greek government itself describes tips as money voluntarily given by customers to salaried employees.

That doesn’t mean restaurant workers are swimming in money.

They aren’t.

Working in hospitality can be exhausting.

Long hours.

Hot kitchens.

Tourists.

August.

Sometimes all four simultaneously.

And if somebody has taken wonderful care of you, by all means leave something.

We do.

Frequently.

But there is a difference between:

Thank you.

and:

I have imported an entirely different compensation culture into your country.

Suppose the bill is €38.

Leave €40.

Lovely.

The bill is €63.

Leave €65.

Thank you very much.

The young waiter went out of his way for you, translated half the menu, found something your wife could eat and brought you another chair because apparently no Greek chair has ever been designed for a human spine?

Leave more.

Nobody is going to object to generosity.

But then there is this:

The bill is €81.

Here’s €100.

Why?

“Well, I normally tip around 20 percent.”

Yes.

At home.

You aren’t home.

This is where travel requires a little humility.

Not deprivation.

Not stinginess.

Humility.

You look around.

You watch what local people do.

You learn the rhythm of the place instead of immediately imposing your own.

The Greek family at the next table isn’t pulling out a calculator and determining whether the service deserved 18%, 20% or 22%.

They may leave a few euros.

They may round up.

They may leave more because they know the waiter, loved the meal or simply feel generous.

That is different from turning a percentage into an obligation.

And I think that distinction matters.

Over the past two years, I have watched restaurant prices rise considerably in places where Karen and I actually eat.

Some of the same meals and same restaurants are now roughly 20% more expensive than when we arrived.

That is our experience, not an official national inflation statistic.

But the official numbers aren’t exactly suggesting that restaurant prices are standing still either.

Now imagine adding another expectation on top of that.

The menu price rises.

Then gradually everyone begins expecting another 10%.

15%.

20%.

Not because Greece suddenly changed its wage system.

Because visitors brought the custom with them.

One generous tourist doesn’t change a culture.

Neither do ten.

But millions of visitors behaving the same way can eventually change expectations.

And the visitor goes home.

The local family doesn’t.

This is the part of the discussion that often gets misunderstood.

“But the waiter needs the money.”

Maybe he does.

Probably he appreciates it enormously.

And I am certainly not going to tell you not to give someone money if you want to.

Give him €20.

Give him €50.

Buy him a motorcycle.

It’s your money.

But there is a difference between personal generosity and creating a new social expectation.

Once something becomes expected, it isn’t really a tip anymore.

It becomes part of the price of eating out.

And that price applies not only to the American tourist spending two weeks in Greece.

It applies to the Greek couple taking their children out for dinner.

The pensioner having lunch on Sunday.

The young couple earning Greek salaries.

The family celebrating a birthday.

They don’t leave the country next Tuesday.

They live here.

And this isn’t really a story about tipping.

Tipping is simply the easiest place to see it.

The larger question is:

Why travel if we aren’t prepared to let the place be different?

If dinner is at nine, try dinner at nine.

If the shop closes in the afternoon, go take a nap.

If the waiter doesn’t bring your bill until you ask for it, perhaps he isn’t ignoring you.

Perhaps he is doing exactly what Greek diners expect him to do:

leaving you alone.

Sit.

Talk.

Order another glass of wine.

Nobody needs your table in seven minutes so they can turn it three more times before closing.

If everybody else in the village is moving slowly, perhaps the solution isn’t to teach the village efficiency.

Perhaps the solution is to move slowly.

The same applies everywhere.

Visit a village.

Watch the village.

Visit an island.

Learn how the island works.

Go to Spain.

Do Spain.

Go to Japan.

Do not spend the first three days searching for the American version of sushi.

There is a certain kind of traveler who wants an authentic local experience provided that it contains all the conveniences, habits, foods, schedules and cultural assumptions of home.

That isn’t really an authentic experience.

That’s home with different scenery.

None of this means locals always know best.

We Greeks have managed to survive several thousand years while doing some spectacularly inexplicable things.

I have written about many of them.

I intend to continue.

In the meantime, smile.

Say:

Ευχαριστώ πολύ.

And go have another coffee.

You have two hours.