Chrisanthi Giotis

Dancing in GreeceHi,

So you've clicked on this page, I guess that means you want to know a bit more about me...

I'm a just turned 30-year-old, Greek-Australian who grew up in inner-city Sydney, Australia, and still calls Dulwich Hill home. But, as much as I love being home I also love travelling - the people, the places, the inspiration.

I'm a journalist first and foremost and I'm also a community activist. Funnilly enough both of these passions were ignited in third grade of primary school - Mr Davies' class. This was when I got my first short story published in the kids' pages of a Sunday newspaper and when I, together with my great friend Aline, wrote an essay railing against water pollution. By sixth grade (10 years old) I was giving up my holidays to help raise money for new playground equipment and I've been sticking my hand up for all sorts of community projects ever since (Wow, I sound super nerdy - I'm not really!).

As a journalist in Australia I worked at The Sydney Morning Herald, the Daily Liberal and The Weekly Times. I also co-presented an award-winning political talk show in Greek on SBS radio (a national broadcaster in Australia). I've covered everything from young people being chased through Sydney after an Iraq-war protest to indigenous relations in country NSW to issues around binge drinking in the UK which appeared in The Guardian. More recently as deputy editor of Social Enterprise magazine I write about some incredible stuff. I got to interview a Nobel Peace Prize winner with a mission to put poverty in poverty museums, interview people with solutions to the violence in Afghanistan and discover the potential of low-tech green energy solutions to not only save us from climate change but also tackle poverty.  If you want to read those stories click on the PDFs below.

While doing this I've also attempted to keep my friends entertained with stories of my travels, and you can read one of my little missives below.

With It Began in Africa I hope to unleash the best of my creativity, passion and journalism skills to do justice to the amazing people, places and ventures we are seeking out.

But, time will tell! Hopefuly, you've read enough about both Steve and I to maybe give us a chance. Sign up for our newsletter and you'll know as soon as we've hit the road and then you can judge for yourself.

Hope to see you in our world soon...

PS: wondering what on earth is going on in the photo? I'm dancing at my cousin's wedding in Greece  - some photos are best left blurry

 

From Bethnal Green to Bethlehem - Tuesday 3 February 2009

Yesterday it snowed. I don’t know how many inches but the snow almost reached my knees as I walked to work. London came to a standstill – this city’s public transport can’t cope with snow and the city can’t cope without public transport.
I’ve now moved to Bethnal Green to the East End – the home of the cockney and still really rough in places – although it’s also an artists' hub.
I didn’t get the day off work because I walk to work now, and it was fantastic.
Everyone was in the park playing in the snow – strangers were pelting each other with snowballs – giant snowmen were being built and igloos were worked on all day. I had an argument with my boss (a proper one about work stuff) and we settled it with a snow ball fight. This city has never seemed so simple and wholesome. Even the local strip club was closed.
The sense of community reminded me of Jerusalem and Palestine. We visited just before the latest siege on Gaza and as crazy as this sounds I’ve never felt so safe anywhere. Inside the 400 year-old city with the old Bazzar, which was the only shopping centre inside the city walls, I just felt safe. I felt that no-one would rob me, that no-one would stumble out drunk from a pub and try to cause trouble. We stayed over night in a refugee camp, we walked out into the middle of the desert with only the advice of one person speaking in broken English. We hitch-hiked because it was Sabath and no buses were running. The politics of the place was heartbreaking. One elderly refugee we spoke to in Bethlehem (which is in the West Bank) told us that he still – 50 years later – talks to his former Jewish neighbours and they still send him presents whenever they go overseas. I’ve been taught to think of the wall not only as an assault on the economy of Palestine
but also on the multiculturalism of the region. It’s most far-reaching effect is to stop Jewish people from meeting Palestinians.
War is as incomprehensible as ever but the most heartbreaking part of the trip – more than the murals of the young martyrs and more than Abu Yasser’s wonderful dignity – was when a Muslim festival was going on in Jerusalem. The east and most of the old city had completely closed down – in the new city – literally only 20 minutes walk apart a shopkeeper had no idea that the festival was on.