I didn’t fully appreciate how embedded into my upbringing, the notion of cultural diversity, actually was until I was quite older. As offspring of a Greek father and British mother, being raised in a bilingual household on Corfu, Greece, didn’t seem strange or remarkable, it just felt normal. In reality, unbeknownst to me, throughout all of those years, two very different cultures were colliding, exchanging ideas and compromising in order to finally create something new, a melting pot of cultural traits and characteristics – my brother and me.

The family dinner table was diverse and unpredictable. One day it could be a heavily spiced pasta dish called “pastitsada”, a traditional Corfiot recipe that my Greek grandmother had taught my mother, her “foreigner” daughter-in-law who had just decided to settle on a small Greek island for love. Hearing this story helped me realize that there are many ways to express one’s love and acceptance, universal languages that help us welcome new members to our family even when actual common vocabulary between two people isn’t there yet. The next day, the food at the dinner table could be an English Sunday roast, the kind my mother grew up with at her own childhood dinner table. The only difference was that “our roast”, included a plate of feta cheese, a mandatory element which accompanied all of our meals, irrespective of the cuisine or cultural heritage that spawned them. To this day, it is a principle that is dear and true to me – every meal could be made just a little bit better with some feta cheese on the side.

Our extended families were also quite a clear illustration of the cultural richness at play within me. On the one hand, my grandparents from my Dad’s side. Kind-hearted, quiet, stoic people who rarely ever crossed the borders of their mountainside village. Having lived a life of rural hardship, their values had little to do with material possessions. They had to do with family ties and the idea that one’s standing in society should be measured by his integrity and ability to walk with his head high, principles that shaped the strong moral compass my Dad uses to navigate this world too. I remember my Dad taking us to visit them every Sunday. My grandad would give us each 1,000 drachmas (about 3 euros in modern times) to go in our piggy bank, our first lesson on how to save up and be sensible with our finances. On the other hand, my grandparents from my Mum’s side. Maybe it had to do with the fact that we only saw them twice a year for two weeks at a time when they would visit us in Corfu, but there was a more relaxed and easy-going spirit to them. They had also known all too well the value of hard work by owning a farm in the Northeast of England. But they were also the kind of people who, in their retirement years, enjoyed a glass of vodka before going to bed at night and who joked and laughed, their voices sometimes keeping up two little boys who were told to go to sleep in the next room over. Their suitcases came packed with chocolates and sweets that we couldn’t get in Greece and the newest Disney films that we were privileged enough to understand in the language they were made in and therefore didn’t have to wait for the translated version to be made. This “sneak preview” gave my brother and me plenty of cool points but also looks of envy from the other kids in the neighbourhood.

I like to think that I am the best of both worlds, a plate-smashing gentleman. Someone who is passionate, warm and outspoken, while being polite and on time for his appointments. Someone who appreciates the worth of hard work and perseverance but who also likes to kick off his shoes and enjoy life as much as possible. I’m simultaneously the worst at being both Greek and British. I don’t like the taste of olives and I cannot see the appeal that tea holds over people, cardinal sins in each respective culture. Nowadays, there is a third culture in the mix, adding layers of diversity and fresh points of view to my personality. For almost the last decade of my life, I have been living in the Netherlands. It’s introduced to me the concepts of being direct and forthright, of tolerance and accepting everyone’s uniqueness and of the almighty agenda. That last part, my Greek side is still rebelling very strongly against.

Cultural diversity is a thing of beauty. It expands our horizons and creates wonderful hybrids that see the world with new eyes, eyes that are more sensitive to the different parts our societies and their people are made up of. In my biomedical background, I learnt that the key to a population’s fitness is diversity in its gene pool. I think the same holds true for our communities. The more diverse and colourful they are, the stronger they are and the more resilient against misplaced ideas of exclusion or superiority. I will strive to incorporate more and different perspectives and worldviews into who I am as I continue to grow older. Right now, all I can tell you is that feta cheese and stroopwafels go together a lot better than one might think. 

By Spiros Pachis, Policy Officer UMC Utrecht