Greeks don’t just cook food, they live through it. Expressions bubble up straight from the kitchen.
Take Έφαγε τα νιάτα του—“He ate his youth.” It means he wasted his best years. You’ll hear it about your cousin who has been “studying” for 18 years and is now fluent only in backgammon. Or Έφαγε πόρτα—“He ate a door.” That’s being rejected. Like tourists trying to get into a nightclub in flip-flops: πόρτα.
Food doesn’t stop at rejection. There’s also Έφαγε ξύλο—“He ate wood.” Translation: he got beaten up. Scenario? Someone dared insult Yiayia’s dolmades. He ate wood before dessert. Then there’s Μου έβγαλε το λάδι—“He took out my oil.” That’s exhaustion. Waiting three hours at the tax office and leaving dehydrated and oil-less.
If someone Έφαγε τον κόσμο να σε βρει—“ate the world to find you”—it means they searched everywhere. Picture your mom at IKEA when you wandered into Lighting. And of course, when food is actually food, there’s Γλείφει τα δάχτυλά του—“He licks his fingers.” Delicious. Any man caught alone with Yiayia’s moussaka will be guilty. For something darker, Πίνει το αίμα μου—“He drinks my blood.” That’s the boss calling you at 9 p.m. on Friday.
But Greeks don’t just use food. Everyday frustrations are turned into one-act tragedies. Μου έσπασε τα νεύρα—“He broke my nerves.” That’s your neighbor’s kid practicing drums. Or Άσε με στον πόνο μου—“Leave me to my pain.” Translation: Dad fixing the Wi-Fi for the fourth time.
When things go wrong, they Τα έκανα θάλασσα—“made them sea.” Meaning: messed up. Like when you tried cooking lentils and the kitchen ended up looking like Santorini after a volcano. Or Βγήκε από τα ρούχα του—“He came out of his clothes.” That’s outrage. Grandpa watching Panathinaikos lose.
Then there’s the classic Με έπρηξε—“He bloated me.” That’s annoyance. Aunt asking for the tenth time why you’re still single. And Με πήρε στο λαιμό του—“He took me on his neck.” That’s being dragged into trouble, like when your cousin invites you for “a quick coffee” that somehow turns into a five-hour road trip.
Even animals aren’t spared. Κάνει την πάπια—“He does the duck.” That’s pretending you didn’t hear, like your brother when asked who ate the koulouri. Or Έγινε λαγός—“He became a rabbit.” Meaning he vanished—like the guy at the taverna when the bill arrives.
Μου έβαλε την ουρά στα σκέλια—“He put his tail between his legs.” That’s being put in your place. Try arguing with Yiayia. Instant regret. Or Κάνει τον κόκορα—“He acts the rooster.” That’s bragging. Uncle showing off about catching a fish “this big” (arms stretched wide).
For pure clumsiness, there’s Σαν την κατσίκα στο σαπούνι—“Like a goat on soap.” Meaning completely unstable. You, learning to dance zeibekiko after three ouzos. And when two people just can’t get along, they’re Σαν τον σκύλο με τη γάτα—“like the dog with the cat.” Which is to say: any Greek couple married more than twenty years.
And this is just the beginning. Because in Greece, language is always served with food, drama, and the occasional farm animal.
Part 2 is coming soon.
In the meantime, don’t worry if you get “lost in translation.” We all do.
