The Final Post (For Now!)

I have been home a week now (it seems like so much longer), and I have spent my days rather busily.  Christmas lept up on me unexpectedly and kind of drove all of my actions (wrap gifts, bake cookies, after-Xmas sale shopping) but that did not prevent me from mulling over Greece and falling in and out of small depressions.

The first few days here were terrible. Not because I don’t love my family or like home, but because I was still missing everyone and missing my routine and life in Athens.  It’s sad to think that I will probably never see most of the people I met there ever again, you know?  I know I’ll see Jay-Z again (we’re both committed to it), and I might see Mari or Kaitlyn up in Northern California sometime.  Ryan, Jessie and Joe are other matters, but miracles can happen!

A part of me still wants to go back – that’s the emotional heart-ruled side. The more logical part that’s run by my head tells me to move on, stop browsing through pictures, stop emailing all the Arcadians.  Look forward to CMC and next semester.  I’m trying to do both.  I’m trying not to totally “compartmentalize” Greece in my mind and rather incorporate everything I learned and experienced into my present life and situation.  It will be an ongoing challenge, I think, at least until I make peace with the past and stop resenting time for moving forward so quickly.

Brendan asked me on the phone the other night how I have changed.  How have I changed?  Even a week after I’m not sure I entirely know how I’ve changed.  I’ve become more globally-minded… I am more aware about world conflicts and international news.  I have certainly learned to be more spontaneous, more flexible… you kind of have to be to survive in Greece where time is fluid and things never go as planned.  I certainly have way more confidence in myself and in my abilities to navigate a “real-world setting” (rather than the books and scholarly journals of academia) and I must have developed more independence somewhere along the way.  And sure, our Eftichidou 16 dinners probably made me a better cook!  Every experience counts and every witty conversation with Jay-Z, every night talking on the Eftichidou balcony, every travel clash with Joe and every life views debate with Ryan likely taught me more about how to handle relationships with others, even.  But I think those are lessons learned that will reveal themselves as time goes on rather than in one fell swoop right now.

I can’t believe I’ve broken 3,000 hits on this blog.  I certainly wasn’t expecting to have so many people reading my adventures (if you write it they will read, apparently), but it was certainly a pleasant surprise to see so many people interested.

This is all for now.  Perhaps in a month or two… or six months… or a year I’ll write again to compare the post-one week musings with later insights, but we’ll see.  One day I will make it back to Greece to see everything I missed.  Until then, I will have to be content with memories and trying to replicate all the delicious Greek food I tasted here in my American abode.

Home Again

I shouldn’t have worried about needing to cry. The tears came. And they wouldn’t stop. All the way home I cried at various intervals… sometimes out of sadness, sometimes out of nausea, sometimes out of exhaustion, and sometimes out of pure disorientation.

We stayed up all night at the Arcadia Center Thursday… Petros, Joanna and Maria stayed up with us, too.  We were all fine for the first part of the night… we danced, we ate chocolate baklava and played chess.  And then Ryan and Jessie were the first two to leave around 2:00 a.m.  Jay-Z and I walked back to the Melissou apartment where their stuff was and where a third girl on the trip, Allison was waiting.  I figured these would be two of the hardest goodbyes and they could only get better from there.  I admittedly did cry like a little girl when I hugged Jessie and then broke down completely on Ryan’s shoulder.  It may sound silly, but I really spent most of my last three to four months with these people.  It was heartbreaking, to say the least.

At five that morning, a charter bus arrived to take us all away.  The tears really started flowing then… Petros and Joanna were both crying in my arms (as I was theirs) but saying goodbye to little Jay-Z was probably the worst.  It’s always better, I’ve decided, when you’re the one leaving.  If you’re the one left behind, you’re stuck in the same place, now empty without the one who left.  I cried the entire way to the airport (silently, thank goodness) and listened to all of my Death Cab for Cutie songs on random.  By the time we arrived at the airport, I was so tired and numb, saying goodbye to Tina as she ran off to catch her flight to Turkey was certainly made much easier.  I was out before takeoff and woke up shortly after landing.

Heathrow was terrible, too, becuase this time I had to say goodbye to Eva, the roommate I feel I most bonded with.  She doesn’t cry, and I swear my tears were getting her going… we parted quickly, promising to see each other again some day.  I bought some food at Heathrow using some of my leftover euros and received some British coinage back… what funny looking currency, that England has, that’s all I have to say about that.

The flight from Heathrow to JFK was the worst leg of the trip because it was so long and I was squished in the middle and my television in front of me was broken.  I slept for most of the flight, going in and out of delirium, all the time listening to music.  Landing sucked… we spent half an hour flying around in turbulence waiting to land.  But we did. And found ourselves in customs in the JFK airport.  I was expecting hardships and troubles there… I did not declare the six chocolate bars I brought back nor the four bags of pistachios stowed away in my suitcase, but I walked right through.  The final goodbyes were said here… from there on out, I was on my own.

I trudged outside with all my luggage through the New York snow to get to the Airbus to take me to the next terminal over where American Airlines was located.  After some confusion in figuring out how to get my boarding pass (and paying $90 to check my bags and then pay for an overweight suitcase… 68.7 pounds, baby!), I made my way through security and into the terminal.  I felt so sick, so ill… I called both my parents to let them know I was in the States, and my mom talked to keep me distracted.  I tried to buy food using American money and (true story) freaked out when I realized I didn’t know how to pay using U.S. currencies.  It was a surreal experience…

I finally fell asleep in the airport.  My flight was delayed until 9:35 p.m. though it didn’t leave until 10:15 p.m.  I tried to sleep as much as possible on the plane in order to avoid the nausea, and around 2:15 in the morning of the next day, we landed in Los Angeles.  I started crying (of course) when I saw the lights of the City of Angels from the plane, and I sobbed again when I saw my mom and Carter after getting out into baggage claim.  We got my suitcases and headed home… I walked into my room around 4:00 in the morning, checked email and Facebook, sent messages to my friends to ask whether they got home safely and then took a shower… a much-needed shower.  I was in the same clothes for 60 hours straight.

I passed out at 5 and woke up at 10.  I’m still going, too.  I’ve eaten so much Golden Spoon today, it’s insane.

I miss Greece. I miss the people. I can’t believe Christmas is coming up so quickly… it’s exciting to be back, but I don’t really want to see anyone right now.  I want to curl up and cry.

But it can only get better from here, right?

Happy-Sad

I’m kind of distraught.  I’m not going to lie.  As of now it is 3:30 P.M. on Thursday afternoon… our bus for the airport leaves at 5:00 A.M. and the plane leaves in mid-morning for Heathrow.  I am packed.  My room looks very empty… very sad.  I have a bag full of stuff for Jay-Z (who is staying another semester) and only my computer to pack away, basically.  We have an all-night party at the Arcadia Center that begins at 8:30 tonight… our professors are all going to be there, too.  One final hoorah.

I already found out my grade for my sociology class… A.  So at least that’s a good note to leave on.  It was pouring this morning… absolutely pouring.  I was convinced Greece was crying, basically, seeing us go.  I had my last koulouria bread ring for lunch and have basically wiped my refrigerator clean of food.  New podcasts are uploaded to my iPod and ready for the long flight home…

I think we’re going to try and watch the sun go down from a rock next to the Parthenon.  Then the goodbyes will begin.  It’s a bittersweet feeling… happy-sad as Brendan and I used to say.

I need to cry.  I keep listening to sad music and feel the tears coming, but they never actually fall.  I know I just need to sit down somewhere and cry for a really long time.  I have a feeling that will make me feel better.

I am excited to go home, but I am extremely sad to leave.

All Good Things Come To An End

As of today, December 14, I have one week left in Greece.  Not even a week, really.  Four days at this point since our bus out to the airport leaves Friday at 5:00 in the morning.  Today I have to turn in my final sociology paper and attend a final literature class and give a final presentation on Zorba The Greek the book versus the movie adaptation.  Tuesday I have a history final and then I’m trekking to Central Market to buy crabs for our final Eftichidou 16 dinner, and then I will probably spend the rest of the day cooking for that (I’m also making yiantes which take a good five hours to prepare in all).  Wednesday I plan on busing out to Nafplio, the pretty seaside port town that I have yet to make it to, and Thursday, among packing and saying goodbye, Jay-Z and I are going to hit up the Hard Rock Cafe.  Arcadia is throwing an all-night party Thursday for us, so you can be sure I’ll be hanging there, trying to hold back tears as I say goodbye to everyone.

I’m a big fan of self-reflection, and so naturally, I’m getting into that pontification mode, trying to figure out what I’ve learned and how I’ve grown from all this.  Naturally, I learned a heck of a lot about Greece.  Between the history of the place and the culture of the people, I sometimes feel like I walked onto another planet.  I can only imagine, too… Greece is certainly more Western at this point than it is Eastern, and if Greece still feels so foreign to me, I can only imagine what more countries to the east of here must be like!

I have gained way more independence, that much can be said.  My cooking skills have improved dramatically (partly because I learned to expand my food pallet again, which was another positive result of coming here) and I do believe I have developed a good appreciation of alcohol.  That last statement people might not be so enthusiastic about, but really, when you look at the way American college students drink, that’s not exactly healthy, and now I really don’t think I’ll ever resort to binge-drinking behavior.  I’ve learned to appreciate food more.  I’ve learned to appreciate the moment more and living in the present.  I’m still a mad crazy planner (I have earned a reputation for that here at Arcadia, actually), but I am not planning everything nearly as much as I did.  I am leaving a little room for spontaneity. Really!

I have this bigger purse I bought at the laiki one week, and everywhere I go I take a set list of things: my phone, my keys, my wallet, my iPod, my camera, my planner, and a pencil (or two).  I figure I’ll want my camera because you never know when a photo opportunity might crop up.  The iPod… well, life is just better put to music, so if I’m craving a song, I can whip it out.  My planner is a bit of a space hog, but if I need to write down a name or number or want to check what’s going on later, I have that.  And the pencil… well, I always carry a pencil.

I tried an experiement this weekend.  I left my iPod, camera and planner at home when I went out.  My friends Ryan and Jay-Z were floored (like, really) and were even more surprised when I explained I was trying to “live in the moment” and not get distracted by music, photographing or thinking about the future.  I would not be able to do this indefinitely.  Music is a part of my soul, and I love taking pictures… and without my planner, I am helpless.  But for a weekend, it was a good experiement.  It is also the reason, though, on why I don’t have any pictures of Hell’s Kitchen where we ate dinner one night, the Saturday night riot demonstration in Syntagma, or the 2004 Olympic Stadium in Irini… I guess I’m just going to have to go by pure, unadulterated memories and leave everyone else wondering.

I have become more globally-minded (surprise, surprise!).  I have an appreciation for things from the States… I have an appreciation for people back in the States, the people who care about me and who I love.  I’ve learned to listen: to people, to places… (to the American Embassy when they sent out warning emails telling me not to enter the city center on a particular day).  I’ve learned – like really learned – how to survive in a city.  I discovered that I want to live in the city.  I am a city-person and need to feel the throngs of people rushing by on a 24/7 basis.  I discovered a secret passion for the Middle East and for more “mystical” religions.  I found a great group of friends to travel and adventure with, and for heaven’s sake, I even learned some valuable lessons in love and the emotional interplay that can occur between people.

And I did learn some Greek.  Ναι, ναι! Πολύ καλά!

Thank goodness I made myself leave CMC this semester. I don’t regret it one bit!

Hanging Out In Hydra

So I found my new favorite place in Greece during the first weekend of December: the island of Hydra!

Hydra is a part of the Saronic Islands group and it is actually located pretty close to the mainland.  Compared to the Cycladic (think Santorini, Aegina and Syros) and Dodecanese (think Rhodes), Hydra and its surrounding islands are more green and lush looking.  The big catch about Hydra, though, is that no cars are allowed on the island.  The streets aren’t even designed for driving on (save a random trash truck here and there).  The port forms a horseshoe around the ocean and the main village actually escalates up into the hills.  It was the most picturesque Greek village ever, and I nearly died when we walked off of our Flying Dolphin boat.

Hiking was certainly in order (Hydra is known for awesome hiking paths, which was my main incentive for going) but first I demanded that we drop off our backpacks somewhere.  We went into this trip as spontaneously as possible (very nearly booked our boat tickets the night before we left for Hydra and again the day we left for Piraeus) so we obviously had no hotel room ready for us.  We wandered the streets of Hydra town (worse things have happened, believe me) for an hour or two and finally settled upon this place called the “Hotel Hippocampi” or something of the sort, which meant “Seahorse Hotel” in Greek.  The owner of the place was hilarious, and though the room was a little steep in price (60 Euro a night), he promised us free breakfast in the morning.

Our stuff safely stowed away, we took to the streets again where no cars = more donkeys.  Again, Hydra is known for its prominent use of donkeys as transportation vehicles, so we saw a good number of them tied up and walking around.  We stopped at a small taverna that seemed open (we hadn’t eaten really since breakfast around 7:00 that morning before catching our boat out) and had an amazing lunch of toasted bread, fava, cucumber-tomato salad and some delicious chicken dish in a sundried tomato cream sauce.  The woman serving us, obviously sensing we were foreigners, brought out slices of halva (a Greek dessert made with flour, sugar, olive oil, cinnamon and raisins) and told us, “It’s from us.”  I love islands where you get free food simply by being clueless about the area you have stumbled into.

Now fed and watered, Ryan and I decided to be the ambitious freaks we are and begin our hike from one tip of the island to the other at 3:00 p.m.  We really had no idea how long it would take to get there and back, but I had a nagging suspician it was going to take longer than we thought it would.  Nevertheless, I decided to push myself, live in the moment and be a little adventurous.  Every so often I would get nervous and suggest turning around, but Ryan kept me on track and kept making me go forward.  When we seemed to have reach the other point of Hydra, the trail began winding upwards, so we climbed a mountain (basically) and crossed the island to view the ocean on the other side.  It was beautiful.  Breathtaking.

By the time we turned back, the sun was going down and it was getting chillier.  My fears had come true and we were walking back down this somewhat desloate island path in the dark.  Luckily, my mom had given me a really powerful little flashlight keychain before leaving for Greece and I had remembered to bring it, so we stumbled our way home by use of a mini-flashlight.  We returned to the room, collapsed around 6:00 p.m. and slept until about 7:45 when we decided dinner was in order.  That mean consisted of a Greek salad, yiantes (giant white beans oven-cooked in tomato sauce) and the biggest prawns (as in shrimp) I had ever seen (though stil with the tails, shells, feet and heads on… mmm, delicious!).  I drank too much win, I am the first to admit that, but it was delicious and red and I had to be somewhat helped back to the hotel room.  Regardless, it helped me sleep, and I woke up without a hangover or even a headache, so I guess I didn’t overdue it as much as I thought I did.

The next morning, true to his word, our hotel guy made us a huge breakfast. Yogurt and honey, toasted sesame seed encrusted bread, coffee and the biggest omelette ever.  We checked out (we were the owner’s last customers of the season, so he was eager to have us out… at least he was still friendly about the whole thing) and bought our Flying Dolphin tickets for later.  Today we planned to hike to the tallest peak on the island, so with a limited time schedule, we booked it up the trails.  It was even more beautiful that day because it was sunnier, and when we reached the monastery at the top, we collapsed and dined on a lunch of pistachios, dried dates, mandarin oranges and a gnarly big dark chocolate bar that Ryan had procured earlier on the island of Tilos (big shrimp, big egg dishes, big chocolate bars… I’m beginning t see a trend!)

Down the mountain we went, sweaty, tired but extremely fulfilled.  We shopped a little at the portside shops for gifts until our boat arrived.  The ride back was a bit hellish… the waters were choppy, I felt sick, and we were delayed in returning to the mainland because of the weather.  As we pulled into Piraeus, Ryan received a call from our housing director Joanna telling us not to take the metro back to Syntagma like we normally do.  Rioting had apparently broke out it was not safe.  She recommended a taxi, but still on our adventurous high, we decided to take the metro in and get off before Syntagma Square.  As we later found out, we walked straight through some of the areas that the American Embassy was warning people not to walk through, but nothing happened, and we assumed we were safe the entire time, munching on salted almonds and roasted chestnuts as we made our way back to Pagrati.

Long Overdue Rhodian Ramblings

I know this will probably make a lot of people uneasy, but I did go down to Syntagma the other day to see the damage.  It was not as bad as it had been near the beginning, but bank ATMs were still smashed in and lots of shops were closed and sad looking.  The burned tree still stands there and the lighting ceremony is supposed to go on anyways, but my Greek professors do not seem to care about it at all.  They don’t understand the global media’s fascination with the tree being burned down.  “I do not care about a stupid Christmas tree,” ranted my literature professor, Paulina.  “People are losing thousands of euros, properties are being destroyed. Who cares about a Christmas tree!”

No tear gas was involved, and now that things are finally calming down (both society and academic-wise), I can finally provide the long awaited update on Rhodes.

* * *

Rhodes can apparently boast more than 300 days of sun in a year, earning it the mythological reputation of being the home island of Helios, god of the Sun.  Even though a day or two on Rhodes was more chilly, the sun was always out.  It was kind of amazing considering that it poured in Athens this past weekend (or so reported my friend Jay-Z who remained in the city over break).

My mom and I arrived in Rhodes around noon on Thursday where one of our hotel owners picked us up and took us to a small bus to transport us out.  As we drove into the island, she gave us a crash course in Rhodian history and pointed out different sites along the way.  We eventually switched out of the bus and into a smaller, beat-up little car because only certain small cars can actually drive into the narrow streets of Old Town Rhodes (pictures will probably explain why later!).  We got to our hotel and climbed the stairs to our honeymoon suite room at the very top, which afforded the most amazing view of the town and harbor.

From there, we wandered down to the main square of Old Town and explored Rhodes for the rest of the day.  We went down by the habors, climbed up into some neat parts of the old castle and had a pretty good lunch at one of the touristy tavernas that was open.  A cruise ship was docked that morning, which meant that shop owners and restaurant owners were at their finest, trying to lure in poor unsuspsecting tourists who would not know how to say no to them.  Later that evening, wandering down by the new harbor, I noticed two young guys walking a ways in front of us… I knew that backpack!  I called out to Ryan and he and our friend Ted, who was with him, stopped briefly to say hi before jumping on a boat to the island of Tilos for the next couple of days or so.  In the winter, Tilos drops in population to about 60 – 80 people.  My mom and I were glad we were staying on the main Dodecanese island of Rhodes rather than head off towards that deserted place, no matter how beautiful the island claims to be.

Old Town really does look like some kind of castle you’d find out of Disneyland.  It’s old and magnificent, but the difference between it and Fantasyland is that it’s really old (not just made to look like it) and it has so much history attached to it that goes way back far before Walt Disney’s dreams.  By the way, have I mentioned I can see Turkey from our window?  I could see it everywhere we walk.  It was taunting me.  It was terrible…

Yes, that land formation out there is Turkey.  We were soo close!  Crazy, right?

The rest of the day was nice, but by nightfall, Old Town took on a whole new persona.  With the cruise ship gone and the off-season dearth of tourists, we found ourselves the only ones in a seemingly abandoned village.  We were also the only ones staying in our hotel, which just added a bit to the creepy factor.  My mom and I probably started feeding off each other’s anxieties, and by the time we were done with our frenzied scared fest, we decided to call Olympic Airlines and move our flight up one day.  Feeling somewhat satisfied with ourselves, we ventured outside through the dark labyrinthine roads looking for an open place for dinner.  We had been informed by our hotel manager (a man whom we later dubbed “Mystery Man” due to his tendency to randomly appear and then disappear at the front desk at various intervals throughout the day) that a local pub/bar run by three Greek-Americans down the road would be open.  We stumbled into the smoke-filled room, ordered a pizza and a chicken salad and a half a liter of retsina (a white wine made from pine resin).  The highlight of the night was probably the drunk Norweigan man who kept coming over to us and speaking to us… his final comment was something about how the Greeks and Norweigans were tight because of trade or something or another.  “It’s all about money,” he slurred.  “Money is shit… but shit is everything!”  Good quote, I thought.

The next morning the place still seemed deserted (no cruise ships to be found!), but at least the little bakery and mini-market down the road from us was open.  As we wandered through the streets in the daylight, we wondered whether we had been perhaps too hasty in our decision to leave early.  Plus, now leaving a day early, we would have to see if our hotel in Athens and my mom’s flight back to the States could be changed.  In any case, the second day we made it to the acropolis at Lindos, one of the smaller beach towns on the eastern shore of Rhodes.  We had the whole place to ourselves (thank you off-season!) and had fun snapping zillions of pictures and feeding some of the stray cats pieces of my mom’s chocolate croissant (sans chocolate).  Some time earlier we had run into one of my Arcadia friends Allison who had been traveling from Crete to Rhodes since the Tuesday before break… all alone!  She seemed a little out of it when we saw her, but she seemed exuberant to see a familiar face.  I could only imagine… I mean, I think I could travel for a day or maybe a night by myself, but six days flying from island to island? Alone? That would take some serious guts, in my humble opinion.

We took a bus to Lindos but took a taxi back and after that hiked to Monte Smith, an area above the town of Rhodes with an Olympic Stadium (people were actually allowed to run on the track!), a theater, and a partially preserved Temple of Apollo (that dang god is everywhere, let me tell you!).  Lo and behold, who do we run into at the top but Allison!  The three of us walked down to Old Town together and made plans to meet at a little local restaurant that advertised an “Exotic Menu” made from “Organic Foods From The Mediterranean.”  It truly was an amazing meal we had there, though the highlight was surely the parmesan creme brulee.  Yes, parmesan creme brulee.  Think about  it for just a second, the idea, the concept, and then allow me to tell you how spectacular it was.  I think it far surpassed any kind of saganaki (fried cheese) dish that I could have wanted my mom to try.

The next day, we were rethinking our decision to cancel our last night and called back Olympic Airlines to change the flight back to the original Sunday flight.  It was becoming far too complicated to change everything else as well, and we decided that we might be able to handle one more night there.  We tried to catch a boat to do an island day trip to Simi or maybe Kos, but we were poor planners (shocking, right?), and, assuming we missed the boats out, decided to stick around Old Town and see all the amazing historical sites. It worked out in the end because we wanted to walk the perimeter of the town via the castle walls, and the walls would have been closed Sunday.  Walking the walls was probably my favorite part of the trip!  And the entire time, I continuously munched on sesame seed and honey-covered almonds, a sweet treat of Rhodes that I had discovered (I ate pretty much an entire bag of these delicious nuts each day we were there.  They were so addicting).

We also visited the Palace of the Grand Masters that day as well as the Archeological Museum.  Lots of history was to be found, especially concerning the Knights of Saint John.  I was in a history major’s paradise!

The last day we spent hanging around the area and even moved our flight up to an earlier time, paying a penalty fee for late notice changes.  As it turned out, we sat in that airport for probably four or five hours waiting for someone to tell us why airplanes weren’t coming in, taking off, or boarding.  The most bizarre thing was that no one was there to even inform us about what was happening and we had to keep wondering whether we missed our plane or not.  We finally took off on an Aegean Airlines plane (originally had planned to leave on Olympic) and made it safely to Athens by, say 7:00 p.m.  We had dinner in the fancy schmancy Sofitel Hotel near the airport, I took advantage of the exercise room’s elliptical, and then we both promptly went to bed.

My mom left the next morning and I took a cab home… an interesting cab driver he was, and an interesting conversation we had about America.  He spoke a little English, and I spoke a little Greek, so it all worked out.  Kind of.  Basically I got “You are beautiful American” and “I love San Francisco!”  Whatever.  I probably didn’t need to know any more.

I Predict A Riot

Because so many people have emailed, Facebooked, Skyped and called concerned about my well being, I decided a quick post was in order. I promise to post our Rhodian adventure and details about the beautiful Island of Hydra soon…

In other news, I’m sure everyone has heard about the riots here in Athens. They’ve spread from downtown out to other major cities all over Greece and rumor has it that the Greek embassies in Germany and England have even been overrun. The American Embassy has sent out warnings to registered Americans telling them to stay away from downtown and the Arcadia staff have advised the same thing.

I had some friends who wandered into Syntagma tonight and accidentally walked into tear gas on their way home… I’m about a mile and a quarter away from where this is all taking place.

It really is terrible. Shops have been looted, cars have been burned. The huge Christmas tree in the center of town was torched tonight. All of this because a 15-year old boy was murdered by a Greek police officer. I’m not saying that this is in any way right, but I really don’t see how all of this violent activity helps anything.

It’s very sad. I feel similar to how I did when the World Trade Center was bombed, though to a much less degree seeing as this isn’t really my home country.

Point being, I’m safe and fine. I do want to venture down at some point and see the damage… I know it’s not the smartest thing to do, but when else do you get a chance like this. At least I know to bring water and a scarf in case of tear gas…

Pictures are courtesy of my friend Jay-Z who was one of those who wandered downtown this evening, got gassed and promptly had a rock thrown into her foot, leaving a gnarly gash and probably a large bruise in the days to come.

Fly, Fly Away

As I write this, I am sitting in the Athens airport with my mom (who is desperately trying to figure out how to send a text to Carter on her new international cell phone she got for this trip).  It has been one hectic weekend full of lots of taverna dining, awesome chocolate goodies and other delicious Greek desserts as well as much walking all over the city.  We hiked Lycavettos Hill, went up to the Acropolis and visited various neighborhoods around the area.  My mom got to meet pretty much all of my best friends here, saw my old and decrepit apartment and even went inside the infamous and rather snazzy Eftichidou 16 (and got to see the awesome balcony view!).

In half an hour we board our teeny tiny Aegean Airlines plane for Rhodes.  I have high hopes for this trip… I want my mom to experience the Greek island atmosphere plus I really want to check out all the monuments and sites I have been learning about in my Byzantine history class.  I am trying not to think about how close I will be to Turkey and instead will have to continue dreaming about Istanbul.  Another trip, perhaps.

I have discovered over the past couple of weeks just how interested I am in the Middle East.  When I think of the places in the world I want to visit – well, of course I want to see Western Europe.  I want to see France and Italy and England and such, but I really want to visit more Eastern countries first.  Turkey, Egypt, Israel… those are my priorities right now, which seems a little strange to me.  I guess I’ve always been interested in the kinds of political and social issues (and especially the history!) of the more Eastern parts of Europe, but it hasn’t really hit me until now when I think about some friends here at Arcadia who can boast of visiting both Egypt and Turkey by the time they leave.

First, though, I need to come back to Greece. Thessaloniki and the whole Northwest part of the country (Slavic towns and communities, Lake Ionnina).  I need to visit more islands… Naxos, Mykanos, Santorini, and I’d love to go back to Syros (one day wasn’t enough).  I need to see Mount Olympus.  I need to go back to Crete and hike the Samarian Gorge.  I want to see Corfu!

After returning from Rhodes I will have two weekends left.  One of those weekends will be Hydra.  I feel like the last weekend needs to be spent in Athens, but maybe I’ll go somewhere else… maybe…

Happy Thanksgiving!

Break The Terror of the Urban Spell

Yes, the title of this post is a reference to the song “Riotproof” by Tori Amos, but both the song title and lyrics seem to fit this week perfectly.  Monday, November 17th, was the 35 year anniversary of the Athens Polytechnic Revolt, an event in which students staged a sit-in at the Polytechnic University to protest the military junta presence in Greece.  Tanks were brought in, students were killed, and the United States has since been greatly blamed for the catastrophe.  As we were informed by our Arcadia staff members, November 17th becomes a rather anti-American day.  A parade of protests moves throughout the streets of Athens, ending at the American Embassy, which is guarded by riot police and other military vehicles to prevent anything from happening.  Violence usually occurs, teargas and Molotov cocktails are common fare.  The day before and the day of, I actually received warnings from the American Embassy warning Americans to stay in their apartments from 4 p.m. of that day until 6 a.m. the following morning just in case.

Seemed like a perfect time to go venture out and see what all the fuss was about.

Our group left at 5:00 p.m. since the parade would be moving by our area around that time.  Multiple Arcadia staff members came with us for protection and they told us all to bring scarfs and water bottles, the idea being that if teargas was thrown, we would soak our scarfs with water and wrap them around our head.  We weren’t anywhere near the American Embassy or the Polytechnic University, but some of our staff got calls from friends that crazy, violent stuff was going down at both locations.  It started pouring with mad crazy thunder and lightning, which only added to the atmosphere of the event.  “I feel like I’m in some kind of post-apocolyptic war/adventure movie,” I told my friends around me.  It truly felt like the end of the world was coming.

As it turns out, yes November 17th is a time for Athenians to exorcise their hatred towards America (there has and still is a kind of resentment about how much power and influence the States maintains over Greece) but it has now become a stage for all-out protests.  We saw people protesting the economic crisis as well as students protesting against the prison hunger strikes (prison conditions are so bad that people are hunger striking both in jail and out to try and raise awareness about it).  And we saw a heck of a lot of communists protesting against capitalism and other such western democratic ideals (the Communist party is still huge and alive and thriving in Greece, have I mentioned that before?).  Young communist students all wore black hooded sweatshirts and riot police were actually marching alongside them with gas masks on and teargas dispensers already in hand.  “I hope they’re not trigger happy,” said one of my peers while we watched them soldier by.  “I think anyone here right now with some kind of weapon in their hand would be trigger-happy,” replied another.

Thankfully nothing terrible happened to any of us.  We kind of got chased away at the end by some loud-speaking Greek mob, but our Greek-speaking staff liasoned with anyone who would have caused us harm.  It was certainly an eye-opening experience.  I can honestly say I have never seen something like this and have actually had the capacity to understand what it was I was observing.  “This poor country,” I sighed while standing next to Jan, our resident director.  “What do you mean?” she asked.  “That there are still so many social and political problems in Greece,” I replied.  “I never would have guessed before this semester just how much inner turmoil existed here.”

On a happier note, Tuesday night was my friend Ryan’s birthday, so we threw a huge dinner party for him (long live Tuesday night Eftichidou 16 dinners!).  I brought the chocolate cake that changes lives for everyone to try and we all dined on delicious homemade Italian food.  Wednesday was my personal mental health day… I woke up in a funk for starters, which kind of colored the day with a kind of depression.  I left my house at 10:15 that morning and didn’t get back until 5:45 in the afternoon.  I must have walked 8 – 10 miles (not sure how the kilometers conversion works out still) all over Athens, seeing things, hanging out and whatnot.

Today seems like it’s going to be a much better day, however.  I have some classes, lots of homework, but tonight, Ryan and my roommates Tara, Eva and Elissa and I are all going to see Medea, a modern dance show that is supposed to be the most phenomenal production ever (I have heard this from many).

My mom leaves on an airplane for Greece around 1:00 a.m. my time tonight (3:00 p.m. on California time).  I pick her up at the airport at 6:05 p.m. tomorrow evening.  I am hoping somehow a taxi service plan to the airport will work out because there is apparently a gnarly metro strike all today and tomorrow.  These Greeks and their strikes.  It must just be what they do.

The Mystical Middle-Earthean Meteora

The long-awaited trip to Meteora went down this weekend.  We left on a train (my first time riding a passenger train!) on Friday morning at 8:20 in the morning.  Because we waited so long to buy tickets, the only tickets available were first class, so we rode our 4.5 train ride up into the mountains in style!  The ride didn’t seem that long, probably because we all dozed off a little bit.  We arrived in the town of Kalambaka/Kalampaka, which was nestled right next to the Meteoran rocks.  There was another town down the road, Kastraki, which was even closer to the site of Meteora, but it was more expensive, so we made our way to our little hostel/hotel, Alsos Rooms, which truly was a hop, skip and a jump away from a footpath leading up into the mountains.

To provide a little background information, Meteora is full of these huge rock formations and no one knows the geological history of them.  No one knows how they got that way, basically.  Years and years and years ago, the monks who lived in Mount Athos (famous monastery area in Greece where women are STILL not allowed into today due to their “unclean” nature) migrated over to Meteora and established a number of monasteries high up on the rocks.  So not only were we traveling here to see the awesome landscape, we were also here to view these monasteries that defied gravity and teetered on the tips of the cliffs.

We were a larger group of eight, which seemed like it was going to be a problem, but we eventually split up, which made each group more manageable.  The first day we hung out in Kalampaka, since we were told by our friendly hotel owner that trying to get up into the monasteries anytime after 3:00-3:30 in the afternoon would be a tough feat.  We grabbed some lunch at a cute little tavern and wandered throughout the Old Town.  That night, my friends Ryan, Tina and I hiked up the dark road to the town of Kastraki looking for more adventure while the five of them stayed behind in Kalampaka.  We didn’t find any nightlife, but we did find the most awesome ceramic shop ever.  It was run solely by this one female artist, who was there, taking pieces out of her giant kiln as we looked through all her pieces.  I spent a good chunk of cash there, and we headed back to Kalampaka.  We stumbled upon our friends eating pizza at a pizzeria, but the three of us decided to go to a more traditional taverna where we indulged in stuffed tomatoes and peppers, briam (a kind of vegetables, eggplant, and potatoes in red sauce dish), lamb and chicken.  Bed was a welcome relief that night, although I ended up having to share a tiny double with my best pal Jessica (Jay-Z), and we’re pretty sure we were spooning the entire night.  I guess that’s the sign of a close friendship?

Breakfast came included with our 20 euro student fee at the Alsos House, which turned out to mean we had access to the place’s kitchen and any of the food there.  The owner bought two loaves of bread and two cartons of milk for us that morning.  Determined to make sure that everyone would start off the day right (I was way too overly concerned with everyone’s well-being for the first half of the trip), I proceeded to brew coffee, boil hot water for tea, and toast up some cheese toast using the bread, butter, and a bag of shredded cheese found in the refrigerator.  I burned the bread a little bit, but I think everyone appreciated my efforts.

The five who split off the following day were going to try to head back to Athens on a bus in the early afternoon.  I personally thought that trekking all the way up to Meteora to leave at 2 or 3 in the afternoon wasn’t worth the money, so I planned to leave either on the 5:30pm train that evening or the 6:30am train the following morning depending on what time I got back from the monasteries.  Ryan and Tina agreed with me, so while the other five rented a taxi or two to take them up to the top of the rocks, my two companions and I hiked up the footpath near our hotel into the canyon.  We must have seemed an odd trio (Tina is actually 42 years old, is a mother with a husband and is currently finishing her B.A.  But despite this, she never once tried to be a “mother,” nor did she try to be “young and hip” like us while we were hiking.  I respect her immensely and hope that one day I will be able to find the kind of peace with myself that she has found within herself).

We stopped by monasteries and climbed rocks.  I mean… really climbed rocks.  There are some cliffs and ledges I ventured out to that I’m sure would make my friends and family cringe seeing me out there (at one point Tina even yelled up at me “I’m so sorry Bri, the mothering instinct is coming out in me. GET DOWN FROM THERE!”) We were planning on trekking the 9 kilometers from one end of the canyon to the other, but about halfway there, it started raining and we got picked up by a nice Greek couple who let us hitchhike with them to the main monastery, the Great Meteoran.  Unfortunately, pictures were not allowed inside or else I would have some spectacular monastery pictures to show for it.  I guess I will have to be content with the memories and the fact that my friends and family will never be able to see what I saw.  Let me just say, however, that the church in the Great Meteoran was spectacular.  The inside walls were plastered with these immensely detailed fresco paintings of biblical stories.  It looked like a comic book, almost… that’s the best way I can describe it.

Coming down from the mountains was another story.  We walked… and walked… and walked.  We found a footpath off the road that looked like it was washing away, and being the crazy ones that we were, we went off onto it.  The entire day we had a running joke of how we were in Middle Earth (as in Lord of the Rings), and I could have sworn on this path we were somewhere in the outskirts of the Shire on our way to the town of Bree.  Like me, Tina was a huge Tolkien fan, and we spoke in Lord of the Rings quotes all the way down to Kistraki.  We hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast and by 3:00 in the afternoon now, I was absolutely famished and was complaining profusely about walking up hills.  Before I knew it, Ryan had picked me up and carried me the last quarter of a mile to a tavern, which had the best tasting food I have ever gorged myself on (hunger always makes food taste better, doesn’t it?).  Oh yes! I also saw a persimmon tree in someone’s yard! Yes, I’m a dork, but I was super excited about it!

Luckily we made it back to the train station by 5:00 p.m. so we could get our late train home.  As we were walking along the platform, we saw our five friends sitting in the train already waving at us.  We went inside and found out that due to miscommunication, they missed their 2:00 in the afternoon bus and miraculously got their money reimbursed.  So here they were.  We began and ended our adventure together.  We got into Athens around 10:30 that night, which meant getting back to my apartment by 11:15, which meant after telling my roommates about my adventure, I was eating dinner at midnight. Such is life in Greece, it seems.  I got to sneak in a call to Brendan that night, too, which allowed me to go to bed feeling all warm and fuzzy inside!

Sunday, I took it easy.  Cleaned my room, did some laundry, wandered around Plaka trying to buy more gifts for people.  I cooked potato leek soup Sunday night from scratch… without a recipe… using fresh ingredients purchased from the weekly Laiki (it’s getting cold now! It’s soup season!).  I also had a leftover cheese fondue package from weeks ago, so I melted that down, boiled some broccoli, cut some green peppers, chunked two loaves of bread and lay that out for fondue dipping.  Finally I made a green salad with balsamic dressing, cracked upon a chilled bottle of white wine and invited some friends over for dinner.  We had halvas, dried figs, and chocolate-covered baklava for dessert.  It was a perfect end to a perfect weekend.

Life is, as always, good here in the Mediterranean.