I’ve been in Astoria for a little over a year now and it’s been a fabulous, sometimes surreal experience. It’s as if you’re in a twilight zone of a complicated world— you’re definitely in New York… It’s all there— the trains, the accented people buying a bottle of wuatah from the corner bodega… the yellow cabs, the smoke rising from the streets.

But you hear Greek everywhere… The cashiers at the supermarket (the American supermarkets) realize you’re Greek because you’re carrying an Ethnikos Kyrikas in your hand and tell you to have a nice day— in Greek.

Random conversations… People road-raging, screaming “get out of the way malaka” as the pedestrian (so often) violates the don’t walk signals.

I sit inside my apartment and outside I hear entire conversations in Greek of passers-by, or Greek music blaring from the passing car.

On a random walk to the train, you’ll hear a crazy Greek woman screaming to her grandson below “Niko— prosehe ta autokinita” and you look up and she looks like she should be milking a goat in a rural Greek village.

Astoria doesn’t try to be Greek, like most Greektowns I’ve visited. It just is.

No, in Astoria, the Greek isn’t just staged or shown off for tourists. It just is.

Having grown up in Pittsburgh where you made a huge deal when you heard someone speaking Greek at the mall— this is all very surreal to me. Even in Chicago, where I lived for over 17 years, no neighborhood— not even our own Greektown there— was like this.

Over the previous year, I’ve snapped hundreds of pics with my iPhone camera… Things that caught my eye that I thought were interesting, or peculiar.

I didn’t take pics of Greek shops with flags hanging outside— they are everywhere, and many of them fit all of the cliches and stereotypes that you’d expect… Opa, Zorba’s and Greek Islands are all represented and there’s plenty of Greek keys to go around everywhere in Astoria.

You know you’re in Astoria when…

The guy in the T Mobile shop has a name tag that proclaims his Greek speaking proficiency.

The fruit markets translate everything into Greek.

The graffiti is Greek…

So is the street art…

And it's everywhere...

The tattoos on the hipsters show Greek (Cretan) pride…

The “help wanted” sign is in Greek in the front window of the restaurant (complete with a misspelling)

The corner food truck is run by a woman called the “Souvlaki Lady” and right behind her is Thessaloniki Jewelry.

After your souvlaki, head a bit down the street to another food truck for dessert. Yep. Loukoumades.

Horta are always available at most markets, so you don’t have to go digging up the side of a country road.

There's even a variety.

The stores let you know they’re Greek… pretty blatantly

Very, very blatantly.

The Ethnikos Kyrikas (published daily in Greek) is at every news stand right next to the New York Post and the New York Daily News.

And on every corner on every street, some faraway Greek island, village or town has their “club house”… Dozens of them.

And the Lesbians!

Even Greek soccer clubs have their fan clubs in Astoria where members gather to watch matches and scream, yell, shout and throw things at the TV when the other team scores. (Yes, I’m a Panathinaikos fan!)

Oh and that other team, Olympiakos, they’re here too– on top of a meat market called Acropolis (of course, what else?)

The subway stations have “Ellinika” as a language option when buying your tickets to ride.

The neighborhood park is named Athens Square and inside it are a half dozen statues of Greek gods and philosophers, not to mention a replica of the Temple of Delphi. I’m sure the little Mexican kids playing have absolutely no clue who these bronzed people are…

Drivers let you know they’re Greek too with their vanity plates.

They're everywhere... the malakes!

A lot of these too...

Andlet's not forget the Kalamata plates and the komboloi hanging from the Greek-blue 57' Chevy!

Of course, the Greek-inspired “We are happy to serve you” coffee cups are everywhere and can be found in the strangest places.

And the names of shops look like they belong on Ermou Street in Athens.

Like this one too.

At the “American” grocery stores, there’s your Misko pasta products, ready for your pastitsio.

and “Papadopoulou” cookies mixed right in with all the other products, as if they just belong there— no “ethnic section” in these stores.

And on any given random day, you see people… Greek people… doing the strangest things.

Or taking their son somewhere… in his foustanella…

Or roasting an entire lamb on the sidewalk…

Or throwing in a Greek flag for good measure along with the Christmas decorations. Just because we're Greek!

You can even get bouzouki lessons at the local music shop.

Speaking of music... Practically every storefront or empty wall has a Greek music concert advertised.