A different reality - CNET

"Dad. Syria. Psh, Psh," he says, pointing a finger to his head while imitating the sound of gunfire.

I say, "I'm sorry," but he shrugs it off. That's life in Syria, where he came from. It was another reminder of the pain refugees have faced both at home and in Greece, where they fled to safety. The pain often sits just under the surface, bubbling up after they talk about their past for just a few minutes.

I came to Greece to find out how, or even if, the tools of the digital age are helping the country cope with thousands of displaced migrants. The assignment proved to be a more difficult than I'd expected. The Greek govement constantly struggles to find refugees decent housing and even process their requests for asylum. Helping reporters isn't a big priority.

While many locals were happy to talk to us about the refugee crisis, others wanted us to leave. We were even, quite literally, chased out of a neighborhood in Athens by anarchists who don't like reporters.

Yet, the memories that stick with me are those of the refugees we met throughout Greece, who were welcoming and eager to tell their stories. They wanted me to know the dangers that forced them to flee their homes and the difficulties they face in Greece.

They were people like Kabir Anwari, a soft-spoken 20-year-old from Afghanistan I met my first day in Greece. He was living amid rows of tents inside an abandoned building in the port of Piraeus. (The govement shut down the camp five weeks after we visited it.) We talk about how he came to Greece and what it is like for him being away from his family.

"Every day is so difficult for me," he says.

And, like so many other younger refugees I met, he asks if we can stay in touch on Facebook and WhatsApp.

I see him a few days later at the port. This time I give him a big hug and tell him to be strong. As I walk away I worry about what will happen to him, I realize I'll probably never see him again.

It feels like a loss.