Supermarkets in Greece don’t just sell groceries. They double as philosophy labs. Take Τον έπιασαν στα πράσα—“They caught him in the leeks.” It means caught red-handed, like you sneaking a tiropita at midnight. Or Τα έκανε σαλάτα—“He made it salad.” Translation: he messed up. Picture yourself trying to fix the TV wiring, only to discover you now get Albanian channels exclusively. Then there’s Σου ‘φυγε το καρπούζι—“The watermelon slipped from you.” That’s what happens when you fall asleep holding food and gravity decides it’s time to remind you who’s boss. And for bad luck, there’s Μου έσπασε το ρόδι—“He broke my pomegranate.” Traditionally a symbol of good fortune, here it means your friend spilled wine on your brand-new shirt on New Year’s Eve.

Weather in Greece also refuses to be ordinary. It comes dressed in furniture and fire. Βρέχει καρεκλοπόδαρα—“It’s raining chair-legs.” Translation: it’s pouring. In Thessaloniki, you’ll see people drenched head to toe, still holding their coffee upright like lifelines. Or Έκανε λιοπύρι—“It made sun-fire.” That’s August in Athens, where you could fry an egg on your car hood. Χιόνι με το τουλούμι—“Snow in bundles.” That’s Northern Greece in January, when children go to school by sled. And Έριξε καυτό λάδι—“It poured hot oil.” No, not rain, but the sensation of the sun scorching your shoulders on day two of your island holiday.

And then there are the expressions that drift toward philosophy—because this is Greece, after all. Πάει το πουλάκι—“The little bird is gone.” Translation: you missed your chance. Like the last bus, again. Or Άλλαξε ο Μανωλιός κι έβαλε τα ρούχα του αλλιώς—“Manolis changed and wore his clothes differently.” Which means: nothing really changed. New government, same chaos. Όπου φτωχός κι η μοίρα του—“Where the poor man goes, so goes his fate.” Translation: the poor always get the short end of the stick. Like when your car breaks down. Twice.

There’s also Μάτια που δεν βλέπονται, γρήγορα λησμονιούνται—“Eyes that don’t see each other are quickly forgotten.” Which is how your aunt guilt-trips you when you haven’t called in weeks. Or Χορτάτο στομάχι, αυτί δεν ακούει—“A full stomach doesn’t listen.” That’s Dad ignoring your opinions after Easter lamb. Όπου λαλούν πολλοί κοκόροι, αργεί να ξημερώσει—“Where many roosters crow, the dawn comes late.” Which is exactly why every Greek committee meeting takes six hours to decide nothing. And finally, Όποιος βιάζεται σκοντάφτει—“He who hurries stumbles.” Or in Greek shorthand: siga-siga (slowly, slowly). Picture yourself rushing through the metro with souvlaki in hand. Spoiler: you’ll drop the souvlaki.

So, dear traveler, when you hear a Greek say:

…don’t call an ambulance. You’re not in danger. You’re in Greece, where life is a drama, food is a metaphor, and sometimes, the only way out is to do the duck.