Worn out and anxious, Greeks try to maintain a semblance of normality

Fruit vendor Christos Vasilakopoulos, 48, said people are so short of cash they won’t even buy a piece of fruit.

“People are thinking about how they spend every euro,” he said.

But still he continues to peddle goods in the hope of scraping together a living wage.

“I have to do this,” said Vasilakopoulous, who used to work the fields outside of Athens before the crisis. “It’s the only way I can feed my four children and two grandchildren.”

Peristeri, which literally means “pigeon” or “dove” in Greek, lies in the northwestern part of the city. Seventy percent of the neighborhood voted “no” in the July 5 referendum on the austerity measures demanded on Greece by its creditors.

Graffiti and posters pushing for “Oxi” — the Greek word for no — were still all over the neighborhood. On Saturday, however, many residents seemed bitter and confused by Tsipras’ apparent about-face. On one wall closed to the public housing development, someone had freshly painted in red the words: “Tsipras betrayed the No [vote].”

The reaction is understandable. The prime minister campaigned for voters to turn down the European’s bailout offer that included stern budget cuts and pension reforms and they rewarded him with a huge margin. But within days, Tsipras proposed a similar package of measures and managed to secure lawmakers approval for his government to negotiate the terms in Brussels with the country’s European and international creditors.  

“I voted ‘no’ even though I know it is going to be hard. I’m just sick of all this uncertainty. I want it to end,” said Yiorgos Tzokas, 43, the owner of a neighborhood convenience store, who said his mostly cash business has not been that hugely impacted since people always will buy basic foods and beverages.

“I’m disappointed in Tsipras. If he was going to back the measures anyway, why did he put us through a referendum? It has just destroyed everyone’s well being.”

Disappointment mixes with anxiety of the future for many in Greece.

Anastasia Doufexis, 45 and her husband, Spiro, certainly feel that way. Since 1989, they’ve run a tiny business in Peristeri that manufactures men’s clothing.

They employed 13 people and were hopeful that they had built a strong economic foundation for their two children, aged 18 and 16. But the crisis has hit them hard.

Since 2010, they have gradually let go all but one employee and Doufexis estimates that business is down 60 percent. Suppliers are demanding to be paid in cash, squeezing their cash flow even more. The only reason they are still open, she says, is that they sell pants to the country’s navy.

The crisis has changed the way they think about money, she said matter-of-factly without a hint of bitterness.

“We have stopped spending. We live only with what we need,” she said “We save what we can for emergencies and we use our money for only what is essential.”

Her 18-year old son just passed the university entrance exams and his results were good enough to get him into a program to study mechanical engineering at the university in Volos, a port city about 203 miles from Athens.

It’s something they’ve worked toward for years, spending, like so many Greek parents, thousands of euros to get their children extra tutoring. They won’t be sending him to university in Volos though — it simply costs too much to cover his housing and boarding. Instead, he’ll end up attending a small technical college in Athens, the family said.

“All we want is for this uncertainty and anxiety to end,” she said. “We want to know what is going to happen, good or bad, we just want to know so we can put all this behind us.”