A lunch without alcohol
This is an entry from my journal. I describe a small part of life in the mountains as well as my experience at an Easter celebration.
On Sundays it is common for people here to prepare souvla (barbecued meat on a long skewer), if the weather is good enough. Other dishes are also available, so there is something for everyone. Though meat is the main serving. Winter in the mountains is usually too cold or rainy for souvla. But the other months provide ample opportunities.
Today was one such day. I was invited to attend a lunch not too far from my house. Nominally, it was about celebrating Easter. Though in practice we were all there for the food and the companionship. Few ever bring up religious topics on such occasions.
There were lots of people present, all of which I have met before in other gatherings. Last time I was there all the people around me consumed vast quantities of alcohol. Beer, wine, zivania, and whiskey. I abstain from alcohol, though I never tell anyone in person why. When somebody asks if I want some, I simply respond with something like “no, I quit long ago—thank you!”.
What helps my case is that the tone of my voice and body language communicate an unequivocal view. This is basically the opposite of how a shy person responds, where they say one thing while they invite others to tease out something else.
People are respectful when you draw clear boundaries. Those who are not qualify as bullies, which you can then deal with more forcefully. That I do with alacrity. But in the vast majority of cases everybody means well.
When someone appears pushy yet has no obvious bad intention, it is because they get mixed signals from you. They will nudge you to answer affirmatively, perhaps by appealing to your sense of camaraderie: “here, have a shot in the name of our newfound friendship”. And if you do not know how to respond firmly, you will eventually yield, thus positively reinforcing the original push.
I do not talk about my life choices. I am not interested in converting anyone to my views and the manner of my living. Why I abstain from alcohol is my own business: in short, I prioritise longer-term health over scoring meaningless points at the lunch table. Plus, I am perfectly sociable without pampers. If others choose to consume it, I respect their choices. I was a bartender for many years, after all.
The table today had all the usual offerings of alcoholic beverage. There were bottles of wine, cans of beer, a freezer packed with zivania, and plenty of ice cubes for those who wanted to blend whiskey with cola. Some folks who were sitting further away from me were drinking as usual. Though those around me chose to abstain for once. Someone remarked that “we are already having a good time, we do not need the drinks”. I nodded without saying a word.
My lifestyle can be summed up as “do, not tell” or, better, “master it first, teach it afterwards”.. If I believe in something, I embed it in my activities. And if it is benign, then I am the embodiment of its efficacy. I do not need to preach what is obvious. Others will notice the effects and try the same. And if they do not discern the pattern, then they are not ready for it, anyway. I find talk that is devoid of action to be disempowering. It inevitably devolves into a vicious cycle of overthinking and attendant restlessness.
There are no deep conversations at such gatherings. Topics range from political commentary, to one’s adventures at the hunt, to matters of farming, to some construction work that is being planned. Whatever lacunae are filled in by blanket generalisations. You learn to not take anything seriously. It is innocuous chit-chat. Its function is to strengthen the sense of trust among those present. Anyone who has a strong urge to be pedantic will suffer at such an event.
Even though I am on good terms with everyone here, I do not have any friends. Nobody knows exactly what my interests are and how much in-depth I am willing to go in any given exchange. They have a vague sense of what I do, but are otherwise not curious to learn more. I have long accepted that my interests lead me down the path of loneliness. It is virtually impossible to meet like-minded people in a sparsely populated region. This is partly why I spend more time hiking than mingling with the locals.
I am also dismayed to observe, time and again, that the local communities are dying of old age. There are no young people here and no prospect of there being any in the foreseeable future. The women I met an aeon ago gave me lectures about baby machines and the familiar talking points. To think of the greatest power of all, to birth a new form of life, in such demeaning terms… I remained silent and left.
Millenials in my part of the world grew up with the promise of the comfortable life, having been fed the tale of inexorably expanding economic prosperity. Well, except those of us who were already poor—we were earmarked for the meat-grinder. When the 2008+ financial crisis hit them, they joined the various Occupy/Indignados movements to announce to the world how angry they were for not getting what they thought was their birthright.
We are still reeling from that crisis. It was, at its core, a dismantling of the underlying value system and the expectations that went along with it. Many of those people never moved on. They were broken and defeated; a “lost generation” as the media was correctly portraying it.
I am a man of action. With severely limited means, yes, but with the attitude to fight until the bitter end. I like to make things happen and get bored when thinking leads to nowhere. In this case, however, I have no solution. Maybe I have not been daring or creative enough in my approach, in which case I shall change my ways and try anew.