In addition to so many other things, the Greeks invented the gods, and for the past month now they have been obsessed with one god, Egelados, the earthquake king and son of Zeus.
Emergency workers were still mopping up the mess wrought by the tremor in Athens on September 7th when the monster quake hit Taiwan. After the devastating earthquake in Turkey in August, Hellenes have begun to wonder, aloud, where Egelados will strike next. Tally up the disasters and the omens do not look good.
Perhaps because they happen to live in Europe's hottest earthquake zone, it's the Greeks who fear they are headed for a follow-up dose of his wrath.
In suburbs so recently laid waste by nature, where tent cities abound, the fear is almost palpable. It has calcified
amid forecasts that the capital - which saw 143 die and around 100,000 made homeless by the 5.9 Richter scale earthquake - should brace itself for the worst.
Physicists at the University of Athens, measuring waves in the Earth's crust, believe Egelados will vent his fury within the next month.
Seismologists are an argumentative bunch. In the wake of the earthquake on September 7th they have been debating furiously what they failed to predict. Insults have been traded, squabbles aired.
But amid all the tut-tutting and rowing, a consensus has emerged that in Greece, at least, the bedrock beneath the country is cracking like glass.
Scientists appear to agree that the activation of Turkey's North Anatolian fault has already had wider repercussions on the eastern Mediterranean basin.
Living in earthquake territory is not easy. Wobbly foundations make people feel scared, unnerved. For all the government's attempts to assume a "business-as-usual" approach, few can talk of anything else.
It's not only the trail of destruction that an earthquake leaves but the way it disrupts life afterwards. Athens was shaken for about 10 seconds on September 7th but psychologists say they are 10 seconds that could take years to overcome in a city long thought to be immune to "the syndrome".
Teams of counsellors have descended on schools in the capital's poorer districts, the areas that were worst hit. Children, it is claimed, have begun to suffer from nightmares.
Mothers speak constantly of the rumbling roar that preceded the movement when the earth opened up on the day most Athenians say they will never forget. In these areas, because of structural damage, only a quarter of schools are operating.
Even in untouched parts of the city centre you can feel the earthquake's effects. Tourist attractions are no longer buzzing.
Although the Parthenon was relatively unscathed - a few bits of plaster fell from its pillars - the National Archaeological Museum was not so lucky.
Its second floor, containing one of the world's greatest collections of classical vases, has been cordoned off. Employees say the cracks in the walls are so bad it could take months before they are repaired.
At a photographic display the other night, I was told that the British exhibitor had cancelled his trip to the capital because of the earthquake.
He's not the only one. Visitors have clearly thought twice about venturing into Europe's oldest metropolis and have headed straight for the islands.
Numbers have dwindled to the point where many concerts have been cancelled. As for night-clubs, patrons have voted with their feet and made straight for bars by the sea.
It's not just foreigners. Even residents, who might have been made of sterner stuff, now avoid congregating in crowded places.
My own friends have informed me they will only go to the cinema if they are seated next to the exit. As long as Athens goes on shaking they will not eat in tavernas that face concrete tenement blocks.
In the areas hardest hit, on the outer edge of the capital, the picture is worse still. Here, amid flattened buildings, people are trying desperately to restructure what nature has chosen to destroy. More than 400 businesses were felled by the earthquake and more than 30,000 homes will need to be demolished.
Most belonged to immigrants and impoverished Greeks who had returned to the motherland from the former Soviet Union.
It is in places like these that Egelados, Greece's first non-mythical god, is truly feared and truly cursed.
AFP reports from Athens:
Greece should "be at the forefront of efforts" to bring Turkey and the EU closer together, according to the Greek Foreign Minister, Mr George Papandreou.
Turkey and Greece found themselves in an unprecedented atmosphere of goodwill and solidarity as they rushed to help each other after the recent earthquakes.
"It is in Greece's interest for Turkey to join the European Union," he said in an interview with the pro-government newspaper, Ta Nea.
"If there were a common agreement by which the Greek-Turkish dialogue must be based on law and international treaties, we would react positively," he said.