Retraction

I was misinformed about the football ball thing. I thought it sounded strange.

Thanks go out to Iqbal for this message:

"...but I was just looking at your blog and felt I ought to correct you on this ball business. It is just called "a football." Not soccer ball or football ball! I felt compelled to correct you as Americans seem to have a hard enough time understanding football without you misleading them further!!! Maybe you want to issue a retraction to your readers."

Fin

Football Ball

(Until May 2nd, don't trust the dates on these posts... They are in chronological order but not necessarily written at the times indicated.)

Yesterday Alex informed me that soccer balls, in the rest of the world, are called football balls. Not footballs. Football balls. I thought that was awfully strange. I also think that in order to improve foreign relations, America should change the name of soccer to football and football to hiteachotherball, or something. Someone tell Obama.

So I just got back from another game of tennis. I'm really starting to enjoy it (and Murry said I'm a natural... possibly proving you can't trust relatives to tell you the truth about your athletic abilities) and I'm incredibly sore which I always take as a good sign. I wish I knew where a tennis court was in Corinth. When I informed Alex I wanted to start playing he said, "Lay... you're like a little kid. Every time you do something you get so excited about it and want to do it forever and then you forget about it."(Or something like that.) He may be right. But I've kept moderately interested in tennis since Andrew and I played in Francestown a few summers ago.

Ah the days of innocence.

Anyway, basically I'm just trying to enjoy my last few days in Corsica and trying to convince Alex we need to come here in July. If it wasn't for Alex I don't think I'd go back to Greece... I'd just stay here. I'm really getting sad about having to leave my Europe-family when I go back to America. It has been so nice being able to pop over to France when I feel like it.

Alright I need to go because my wrist hurts from all this tennis. I might take a walk down to the beach because the maids are here and I seem to get in the way.

Fin

Who Broke Her English?

Last night we had a dinner-party here. Everyone spoke at least a little bit of English, so I was pretty happy. And, once again, everyone seemed pretty knowledgeable about the world. (Except we couldn’t remember the capital of Indiana for a good ten minutes.) It did make me realize, though, how being in Europe has exposed me to a whole new side of my family… I’ve finally gotten close to my grandparents and met all these relatives I never even knew I had. I feel like going back to America is going to feel almost as much like leaving home as leaving America did. I really wish Europe and America were closer. The thought of being somewhere where a trip to Paris or Corsica or isn’t a few hundred Euros away makes me really sad. It makes me think I should stay in Europe… just maybe not Greece. I can’t figure out now why I ended up there and not, for example, France where I know people and the language is easier. But, as Murry said last night, “America needs you right now. Someone has to change the world.” That is a bit of an overstatement, but it is true that, at least for now, my life and career goals are rooted in America. Let’s just hope no one bans me from the EU……

Another thing I appreciate about being in Europe is that the people you meet here tend to be more diverse. At least in my terms. I haven’t met one NH-raised American yet. And, let’s face it, people with different backgrounds tend to be more interesting… when you can understand them. One of the girls here last night was from British Guiana. Apparently they speak a sort of “broken English” there as their native language. I can understand her, but she talks as if English isn’t her first language. So interesting.

Well, I’m off to run and then play tennis with Murry. I haven’t played in almost a year… so I’m a little nervous. But, hey, I’m sure I’ll have a fun. (Phrase courtesy of Alexander Zuyok.)

Rose By The Pool

Ah, a beautiful day poolside with a glass of rose. Beats a frappe any day.

Last night we went to dinner at a friend's place again. Everyone took part in what they call "Mediterranean arguments". Which are... well, I guess people around here just argue more openly. I'd love it if I could understand anything. As it is, it gives me a lot of time to observe human behavior, which I think in the long run is beneficial. Usually you listen to people when they talk/argue and don't get the chance to consciously watch them. I felt like I was doing homework for an interpersonal communication class.

Another thing about "Mediterranean arguments"is... they argue about... get this, worthwhile things. It seems to me a that an average Bonifacian fisherman knows a whole lot more about America and politics and the world than the average American. (No refridgerators here, Joanna.) At the end of the night August (Ahh-GOO-st) motioned me over and said, in slow French half translated by grandpa, "Why... after the mishaps with the war in Iraq... and everything [implied: awful] Bush did before 2004... Did Americans vote for him... AGAIN... and by a greater margin?"He was genuinely puzzled. I could answer that the American public didn't know better. Which, unfortunately, is true.

Off to a nice little dinner with my great-uncle (or is it grand uncle) and his girlfriends. Yes, plural.

xo (I write these like I'm writing an email, don't I?)

On Gardening

Today I did a very small amount of gardening. I dislike gardening a lot but I thought it was only fair to help out (since I've been spoiled, fat & happy living the life in Corsica for the past month). So Anyway, as I was gardening (or, rather, scraping up pine needles from under flowers) I was thinking about why people garden. I mean, it must be because gardens are beautiful and we, as humans, like surrounding ourselves with beauty... but it doesn't seem to me worth the effort. (I assume people who garden really love gardening and being outside and spending time with flowers and dirt in a socially acceptable manner. Me, I'd still rather build a fort or have a mud-fight. I suppose the time where that is appropriate will soon pass.)

Okay back to the point: One time, dad decided we needed to clear all the acorns out of Loreli and Shasta's paddock. AlthoughI filled wheelbarrows full of acorns, more just kept falling down and I made no progress at all. That's how gardening feels to me. Nature is just going to keep making you work harder... so why do humans insist on working against nature? (That comment can, clearly, be looked at more broadly...)

When I grow up I think I will grow dandelions because they don't take any work. (On a side note, maybe we should all start growing vegetables instead of flowers. If we all grew our own vegetables we'd cut on CO2 in a trillion little ways and maybe we'd help out a little with this world food shortage CNN keeps talking about...)

Fin

(Mom used to have me put that at the end of stories I wrote when I was a little girl. I'm not sure my teachers understood.)

On Being Tan

For the first time in my life (since I have managed to never go anywhere warm for spring break) I have a tan in April. I'm pretty smitten with it-- keep checking to see if it is still there. And I figure, sans a week in Paris, the weather is just going to get better from here. I figure by the time I get back to Greece summer will be full-on and I will unrecognisable by the time I get back to America. Whenever I think about being deeply tan I think of Rich's comment about seeing me for the first time when I moved to NH in 6th grade. "I really thought you were black."

I can't really figure out, come to think of it, why we like being tan. (Or, most of us.) Is it some kind of fad (people used to want to look pale and white)? Or maybe people really do look better tan... it seems to cover up inperfections and makes me skin all glowy and nice. And I don't feel a need to wear much makeup, if any. Why bother cover up a bronzed face, right? (Note to my British loves: I don't know how you spell it, but I had to go back and correct that word because I spelled it "bronsed" Eep.)

So I'm still here in Corsica. Still enjoying the weather and the landscape and being able to relax. I'm also working a lot which is somehow more relaxing here... I guess because I'm only doing Mirrix work and my brain isn't muddled with mindless English exercises and I'm not fretting over my next trip to Athens.

The only problem I have here is that I really really miss Alex. For the past few nights I haven't been able to fall asleep because he's not there holding me. I could handle it for the first few weeks but it keeps getting more difficult. I guess you get kind of addicted to those things... and a warm body to hug does wonders when you tend to do all your worrying-- and I have a lot of worrying to do-- at night. These next few months are going to be tres stressfull... trying to figure out how exactly I'm going to get home... and how exactly I'm going to take Alex home with me. I think I've pretty much decided on mid-August as time to go back... but we'll see what happens. Anything is pretty possible right now. I guess I just have to relax and let things happen... (easier said than done).

One last thing, check out mom's new Mirrix blog: http://www.mirrixtapestryandbeadlooms.com/claudia.html

Nasdarovia

Yesterday was a lovely day. The weather was perfect. I went running in the more, lounged by the pool, read on the beach, took a walk on the cliffs… and then we had some people over for dinner. I even attempted to speak French. I am fascinated by how Greek seems to flow out of my mouth when I try to speak any language besides English. I mean my French isn’t great but, somewhere smushed in my head, I have an OK vocabulary. I bet, though, if I concentrated, my French would be better than my Greek in no time. (Tough huh?) It is totally third on my list to learn after Greek and Russian.

I thought of twelve billion things I wanted to blog yesterday and, per usual, I remember nothing. I had a lot of time to let my mind wander while everyone took part in interesting political conversations that I couldn’t understand. I tried. Like I backed up the claim that marijuana is not physically addictive. As for the topics of genetically modified food and colonialism, my views are slightly less strong.

When Joanna went to America she commented in an email to me how people don’t “cheers” enough there. Last night I felt the same way. Greece has conditioned me to “cheers” (“ya mas” “nasdarovia”) every time my drink is refilled. And then there is the eye contact rule. And you can’t put down your glass after cheersing without drinking from it. Right.

So my LSAT book isn’t coming. Apparently Amazon can’t find it. Stupid Amazon. I’m a little bummed since being here would be a good time to study without the stress of everyday life and I’d have my grandpa to help me… but I guess I’ve set myself into a pretty good schedule… and I’ve gotten gobs of work done. And plus, the boyfriend will be working a lot this summer, so I will have a lot of time without distractions. I wonder how successful studying on the beach would be…

Ah well, time to head for another run and another beautiful Corsican day. I’m seriously going to miss runs around here when I get back to nobody-runs Greece.

(Also, I’m going to wear my Nero Bravo shirt because I doubt many people can read Greek here. Woot.)

A Parliamentary Affair

A Parliamentary Affair

So I’m reading this book titled “A Parliamentary Affair” (along with Bill and Hillary’s autobiographies). I’m not too far into it, but the book is about The House of Commons. The first part describes, both from newcomers perspectives and from seasoned MPs, what being in Parliament is like. (It’s a novel, but surprisingly well written.)

It is hysterical! I was sure the book was really about the NH House. Everything… from the types of people to the childlike jokes to the feeling that, really, government is like grade school… even the different bars near the House. There’s one part that describes how no one takes notes up when the give speeches because if they start to read everyone will chant “Reader! Reader!” Sounds like something that could happen in NH… Anyway, I’m really enjoying the book for that reason. Glad to know NH has stuck to its roots. (Also, it made me miss the State House a lot. So strange what a different life I lead now.)

It is a beautiful morning in Corsica. A bit chilly, but beautiful. Everyone has been complaining about the weather, but as long as there is some sun and I can get outside, I’m happy with it. I have a whole summer of burning-hot weather to look forward to. I’m drinking coffee outrageously slowly… a terrible habit I’ve picked up in Greece. In the land of espressos and tiny cappuccinos this doesn’t work so well because the coffee is always cold by the time I get to the bottom. Why, of all habits, did I pick that one up? I also have this annoying habit of saying, or at least wanting to say, obnoxious things like “In Greece, we don’t HAVE this at grocery stores.” “In Greece, we never do this.” It kind of reminds me of an annoying school child visiting a friend’s house. “At MY house we never drink milk with dinner…” I guess I also do it the other way around because Alex always mocks me when I talk about America. “In A-meerr-eee-ka….” I’ll have to bite my tongue when I get back, because I’m sure no one cares about the cheese selection at Alpha Vita.

So I’m starting a new business. Sort of. I’ve decided that my current work in Athens for what works out to being a few Euros an hour will kill me if I stick with it for the summer. And I’ve had an impossible time finding teaching work in Corinth… (thanks Angeliki…) My only hope is getting some private lessons OR… this: I want to launch a web site (which I’ve already made) advertising my ability to make web sites. The pay, even in dollars, would mean that even if I got one web site a month to do (in addition to the work I’m already doing) I’d be absolutely set as far as money. Maybe I’d even be able to afford a new pair of sneakers. But who knows if it will work. There are billions of people out there advertising web site design. What I have going for me is: A) word of mouth and a link on current sites and B) I’m in an odd middle point when it comes to web site design. With 8 years experience I am far from amateur, but I’m certainly not a professional. This means, for much cheaper prices, I can do similar work to a professional (I’m emphasizing simply aesthetics, which is better for both search engine optimization and, at least in my opinion, generally). I’d also be able to offer much more personal service since I’m not exactly tied down to a real job. (By the way my coffee is now cold. Damnit.) So if any of you need a web site, or know anyone who needs one… let me know. I’m thinking my URL will be either elenawilson.com or lenkadesigns.com. I haven’t decided.

Okay, time for a run. Today I’m going to run on the roads because two days ago I managed to slice open my [wonderful, Nike-ipod, Layna] sneakers on a rock and grandpa had to glue them back together and now they look very scarred. Poor sneakers. They’re nearly worn away to nearly nothing but I really love them and plus, as I alluded to before, I can’t afford new sneakers just yet.

A Real Post

So let me attempt a real post here.

Last night we went to dinner at the house of some friends of my grandparents. It was a lovely dinner, with fresh fish and pasta and strawberries and cheese that reminded me how much I like French cheese. When we arrived a little dog came running up to us and I pet him and he licked my face and I sighed because I miss dogs. Then I went inside and two cats surrounded me and I pet one and she purred and I really truly almost started to cry. I'm not even sure exactly why... I guess I just really really miss animals. (Not including poor strays on the streets of Corinth.) And every time I take a walk around here I think "I wish I had my horse here." That was something I'm not sure I appreciated enough about my childhood. I took for granted the fact that I had my horse out back and could ride her whenever I wanted to. Now I realize how much it sucks to not have that when you're used to it. Lesson: appreciate your pets.

Anyway, life is good in Corsica. I spend my days playing outside, mostly. I hope my future life is full of periods of time when I can take off and spend my days playing outside. What I mean by that is I am terrified of a real 9-5... mostly because I won't be able to take a month off and come to Corsica . Really I think the Americans have it completely wrong when it comes to work. In Europe you get REAL TIME OFF. So you can actually vacation... actually spend some time in the sun or on the mountain or just relaxing. How could two or three weeks a year ever be enough? Console me, someone.

Also, I want a little Corsican child of my own. I realize this would mean I'd have to find a Corsican man which I'm not planning on doing (don't worry Alex, I'm sure a little Ukrainian/American is just as good!) but oh my Goddddd this little boy came with his grandparents to visit us earlier today and he was just so darned cute (insert your jokes Shannon, Erica and Abby). There is something really really adorable about foreign children. Perhaps I am just amazed at their ability to speak a language besides English.

I guess I don't have a wholleee lot to say... just relaxing a lot and working some... but I really need this break. Just to get my head together and try to figure out what's next... Of course every time I start thinking about that I convince myself that I should just wait until I get back to Greece before I start worrying... so chances are I will be no further in my life-plans when I get back to Greece... but at least I will be rested and cheery and ready to launch myself head-first into a hot Greek summer. Or part of a hot Greek summer.

Ah well. I'm kind of killing time waiting to see if Alex gets on Skype (Skype is amazing. Alex and I played tavli online against each other last night. Incredible!) but it doesn't look like he will. I hate having to rely on computers for communication but I have like 3 euros left on my Vodafone card and I'm not sure I can get one in France that will work. (I could in Italy but not in Turkey so who knows. Although I think my phone is picking up the signal from Vodafone Italy not Vodafone France.)

Cheers, loves.

The List

The only thing that is absolute

Is his touch

And the state of being he can summon

In the morning

With his warm breath steady on my neck

And the world in flux cannot

Identify

The right way or the wrong choice.

I ask myself questions,

Weigh opinions

As if the world is black and white

And I must choose my

Shade of grey

But even logic isn’t sure

And paradoxes

Still exist

Like decisions to question

And conclusions to not.

Corsica

Pardise. Yes.

Notes

I've been traveling and getting settled the last few days so I haven't had much time to blog... and I can't remember much I wanted to say except these things:
1. I like steak tartar (I'm sure it isn't written like that but that's how it sounds...)I don't even like cooked steak, but I like it raw. I tried a bite of it (thanks to Joanna's bravery)a few months ago, but I had more at a nice restaurant somewhere in the South of France and it was simply very good. I recommend it.
2. I miss the country. Being in Corsica (which is where I will be for the next three weeks) where I can breathe and play outside without ever running into a person is a freeing feeling. I miss that. It makes me miss home.
3. Taking off swimming pool covers is much more difficult than it looks.

That's all for now.

Corsican Path

The cliff's edge made passable
By man-made stone-carved steps
I walk them, then run, along the brink
Where She and humans met

Inhale the air of purity
The wind can sweep you up
A timeless place in short-lived times
I drink from Mother's cup

The path gets steep, the stones get rough
I stop here now, below the bluff

Afraid only of nature's wrath
And not the ones who tame her.

Avignon

We stopped in Avignon for the night and explored the city a little. It was beautiful. Fully walled and all the buildings were old. It reminded me a bit of Rome. All those squares Erica and I were perpetually lost in. Then we got dinner. Once again the waitress questioned my age. "Juene Fille" (spelling?) she called me. Young girl. She couldn't have been any older than me. Perhaps it is that I tend to be quiet when we order around here... due to my bad/non-existant French. Does that make me come off as much younger? The other night grandpa and I were telling Ellen's sister about how people keep questioning my age to drink (I think last night makes 4 times and I've been here 7 days) and we told her the drinking age in America and she got this horrified look on her face.
"But.. when can you vote?"
"18."
"But you can't vote and not be able to drink. Really? I don't believe it."

Neither do I, neither do I. Also, I think the drinking age in America has stunted my growth as far as ordering cocktails is concerned. I always end up ordering something I don't really like because I don't know the names of anything else. Or saying "I'll have what she's/he's having".

I must sign off now. We're heading out to a winery (you obvi. can never have enough wine) and then going to lunch and then boarding the mini-Titanic to Corsica.

A demain! Or the next day.

From The Road

As I write I am sitting in the backseat of the car as we drive South towards Avignon. It is about 2:30 and we have about three hours ahead of us. I somehow managed to sleep the first two hours. I arranged all our coats and made pillows and blankets like a little kid. Then we had a little lunch and now we’re back on the road. This drive is mostly beautiful. Rolling hills, green fields, little red-roofed villages, the occasional small castle. This drive reminds me of something I can’t quite put my finger on but I have a feeling it just reminds me of France. I remember attempting to take photos out the car window the last time we made this journey but they all came out a blur or primary colors and now those images are finally coming into focus gain.

Grandpa has GPS. Mom got it for her car but I haven’t been home to see it so this is my first GPS-guided car ride. Grandpa says he likes it because the GPS system is very polite. It never yells if you mess up. It also has a nice woman’s voice and speaks British. I’m sure you can imagine: Hello dears, pop onto the motorway in your driving machines. Make sure you have a torch in the back and look out for a hole in the wall in case you need some money! Cheery-o! I think I need one! Although I have a funny feeling you need a sense of direction for one to be useful since it seems to lie sometimes. The first thing it did when we set off was ask us to drive straight into a brick wall. I can just see the lawsuits. “Mr. Smith, why did you drive off the bridge?” “The GPS told me to. I’m suing!”

We just stopped off at a “rest area” (there’s a reason I put that in quotes). It was terrifying. The toilet was literally a hole in the ground. It was the second time I’d seen one like that… the first time in a Monestery in the mountains of Greece. Gold star America for having proper toilets.

I think I will make a table about the advantages and disadvantages of Greece, France and America. Someday.

Might not have Internet again until Thursday (I will post this at the hotel tonight) unless they have Internet on the boat... but don't fret! I'll be back. And thank you to all the nice friends and relatives who have emailed me and seem to be enjoying the blog. Cheers, loves.

Blog 'Till You Drop

I should stop with the titles since I generally have a difficult time staying on topic and they may not be representative of the actual entry. 

Maybe this entire blog should just be called "nonsequitors" rather than just the title of the pictures I posted yesterday. Or maybe every entry should have that title. (By the way, those black and white photos were photographs here at the Paris apartment that I took pictures of and then uploaded. So they were relevant in terms of the fact that I just got them on my computer.)

So anyway... I am obviously an amateur blogger... and one blogging about nothing rather than something (a key issue in the world of blogs, I'd assume) but I found this article interesting... primarily because I had no idea people BLOGGED for a living. What fun! (Except maybe not. You'll understand if you read the article.) The whole concept of writing for a living generally seems to be wonderful and terribly stressful all at once. But perhaps jobs in generally are stressful. I wouldn't really know since I haven't had a real 9-5 American job. I hope I never know.

Am I getting off topic? (Oh wait, anything I think or do can be considered on topic as long as I'm sufficiently far away, right?) 

So I've decided to learn some French while I'm here. Ellen and I are exchanging French lessons for computer lessons. I don't think it will take too long for me to remember the French I have buried behind Greek and Russian and Spanish (which is also buried...). And, let's face it, French is a whole world easier than Greek. It is even easier for me to hear French. As if they speak in actual words instead of a serious of hard-accented sounds. I will forever be fascinated by language... and I will probably live my life knowing lots of pieces of lots of languages but never being able to make it much past a friendly conversation in any of them. Oh well. 

This is a picture Alex took of me last night. (How weird has technology gotten?) We were Skyping and I was being restless and swinging my Mac over my head while we spoke and apparently his Skype can take "video snapshots". Basically, it gives anyone you Skype the ability to take really awful pictures of you without you even knowing. 

Also, in the name of nonsequitors and stream of consciousness writing... did you hear Charlton Heston died?

nonsequitors

Mommy on her horse when she was a baby, me as a baby, and lots of wine currently on the dining room table here in Paris. 

too young to drink

Today, in a beautiful cafe, I was not poured wine. Apparently I did not look like I could legally drink. In France. I looked like I could not legally drink in France. Which means I look about six years old. A few years ago I would have been offended, but at this point I'm OK with looking young (finally... everyone has been telling me that would happen since I really was six years old. "Someday you'll WANT to look young").

I don't have much else to say right now, so here are some quotes about my blog: (aka: testimonials from satisfied readers!)

"you sort of narrate your life from this sarcasatic, lost-in-europe type attitude." -Scott

"I've read your new blog - you're like a professional writer now" -Mason

Tourists

Waves on the Seine look artificial
Handheld Eiffel Towers sold
A city shaped and superficial
Painted statues swathed in gold

And then there is the other city
Where Parisians shop and dine
One elegant instead of pretty
Where we cross a secret line

I watch a boat pass down the river
Inside tourists dressed the same
A cold wind blows, a tiny shiver
Matching shirts, Paris for shame

A garden grown, a subtle wink
A glitzy meal, a pretty show
A dandelion, I should think
Where chic, red poppies grow.

Running is Normal

I just returned from my first run in Paris. It was, in a word, incredible. The best run I've had in nearly a year. Not one person looked at me like I was crazy... in fact, people SMILED at me AND other people were running. I'm not kidding. I was not the only runner. There were men running and women running. There were slow runners and fast runners. There were people. Running. Now, to everyone but a select few that sounds normal, but I seriously have never seen anyone running in Corinth and it is such a relief to be somewhere where A) running is normal and B) there are nice places to run. (I ran in this beautiful hilly park with a pond and flowers and birds and trails.) mmm, exercise and a society that appreciates it. 

At the end of my run (I will note at this point I was wet with sweat, panting and my hair was wildly frizzy) there was this guy (my age more or less) walking towards me and when he saw me he opened his arms and smiled like he knew me. (Now, I think I know two people under the age of 30 in France and one of them is 14 so there is no way he knew me, but I didn't really think about that in the moment) So I stopped and he said something to me in French... and I started talking to him in Greek. And I didn't do it on purpose, it was just the only language I could get out of my mouth. Like anyone in France speaks Greek. Especially grammatically incorrect, heavily accented Greek. So then I sort of recovered and said "I don't speak French" in French and then he asked what languages I do speak and I answered, again, in Greek. (On a side note, one thing that being around so many foreign languages has done is really trained me to read people. If I just understand one word I can often figure out what someone is saying just by context and body language and the similarity of words to other words in other languages I may know. I've noticed this with Russian. I only know a few words and some phrases, but I can often figure out what Alex and his mom are talking about when I listen carefully. When I say often, I mean sometimes.) So anyway then the guy asked for my number and I smiled and said "non, merci" and ran off. 

I think I'll take a shower now.

Oh France

After long hours of waiting I finally arrived in Paris yesterday at around three, Paris time. (Which reminds me, I must correct my first blog post that says Greece is GMT +2. Since the time change it is GMT + 3.) It felt like the longest damn plane ride of my life (although, obviously, it was not) and I was very happy to see grandpa and Ellen waiting at the end of the long moving sidewalk (is that what they're called?) for me in Orly. I sort of felt like I was coming home, which is odd since I don't think I've ever lived in Paris, but I suppose it has become somewhat of my home base recently. 

So I spent yesterday drinking red wine, (when I first typed it I wrote it in Greek without even thinking. I think red wine is the word I use third often after 'thank you' and 'yes') napping and eating delicious food. The food here is exactly what I would choose to eat if I could cook. I men exactly. Delicate salads. Ratatouille. Sesame seed crusted salmon. And now I'm drinking hot water with lemon because that's what Ellen drinks in the morning and I wanted to try it. I like it, actually. Better than lemon tea.

So basically I really don't have much to report, but I'm thrilled to be here (and, as some of you will understand, I am happy to be somewhere where I don't have to turn on my hot water or throw TP in a trash can) and the only thing that weighs on my mind is that I miss Alex an awful lot... and once you get used to cuddling every night it is difficult to break the habit. Will update later. For now... coffee. 

airport post

I am writing this from the airport, although I won’t post it until later since wireless costs 4.20 euros for 30 minutes which wouldn’t even be worth it if I were stranded on a desert island with no way to communicate to the outside world.

My plane is late and I got here too early so I have almost 2 more hours to dawdle, which is OK since I’m pretty much just relived to have made it. I always worry when relying on Greek public transportation. I also always worry when relying on myself to get on the right train. When you’re going to the airport though you can usually just follow people with big suitcases. There was this adorable German couple that rode with me from Corinth and I was incredibly impressed at their ability to navigate Prostiako. I’ve been taking the train for three quarters of a year and my train-related Greek is pretty good (ie: I can ask “where is this train going?”) and I still can’t figure my way around. I guess it would be easier if I spoke English to get directions, but I’m stubborn. The guy who is always at the ticket booth in the morning thinks my Greek is much better than it is so he explains to me where to go and I smile and say “I understand” when really I understand every third word. Which, to my credit, is usually enough. But anyway, I had Alex and Socrates come to the station yesterday anyway to find out how to get to the airport, how long the ride would be and let me know if there were going to be any transportation strikes in the near future, just for peace of mind.

But, regardless, I made it. I’m sitting in the semi-industrial looking gate B7 waiting area. There are three other people here, and everyone is dead silent. When I went through security I wanted to pretend I was a tourist so I pretended not to understand any Greek they spoke to me… even stuff I would have been able to figure out if I were a half-wit foreigner. Like "ehete laptop?" 

I have a splitting headache. Like a really bad didn’t sleep/drank too much last night/recovering from a terrible illness kind of sick. And I took my trusty ibuprofen out of my purse because I thought maybe security would think it was some kind of illegal drug I was smuggling across the EU borders. Ah well. I’m going to go read the book Joanna was reading in this airport about 3 months ago on our way to Paris. Airports are significantly less fun alone.

pictures: the Gulf of Corinth and Alexander (agapi mou)

Goodbyes

Today is my last day in Greece for a whole month. I spent the day, so far, packing and reading and lying in the sun. Now I'm waiting for Angeliki to call me (how much do you want to bet she won't call... Natalie? Laura?) about a job interview at a school near Corinth for the summer. Sweet Socrates has offered to drive me there if she bothers to call. Thank Zeus (did I get that from you, Joanna?) someone around here has a car. 

Tonight Alex and I are meeting Jessica for some goodbye-for-a-month drinks. We're going to avoid the tequila and outrageous tabs this time. It took me until recently to realize how much I relied on men to buy me drinks in college. Now if a guy buys me  drink it is my boyfriend and that's basically the same as me buying my own drink... and I can't afford to be buying any drinks right now. We're lucky we could pay the electricity bill this month. (Which is outrageous because of Apokries. Apparently when the city uses a lot of electricity for a holiday they just split the costs among electricity-payers. So instead of a 20 euro bill we had a 40 euro bill. I didn't even enjoy Apokries. And the light-up clowns up and down the street were just creepy.) 

Well I'm going to go get myself together. Wish me luck tomorrow. I'm worried the reliable (ha) Greek train system won't be so reliable. I will pray to the Prostiako gods. 

(this post is dedicated to all the men that have spent their hard-earned money on getting me drunk)

My First Real Blog Post Thingie

So. It is 2:35 AM GMT + 2. (What is NH? GMT -something? I just realized I have no idea.) I can't sleep so I thought I'd blog. How modern of me, right? I'm sitting on a chair wrapped in a fleece blanket listening to Alex snore softly across the room. He's sick. We're both sick. I have never in my life been sick so often as I am in Greece. Anyway, more setting: There is a tavli board to my left. I've become sort of obsessed with tavli (backgammon in English). It is a nice little break from life for a few minutes. I suggest you all purchase tavli boards and learn to play. To my right is a fan. I'll admit we haven't used it yet, but just the fact that we have a fan out in March (okay, April 1st now) makes me pretty happy. Not that I don't miss the snow... but I've been damn happy with March in Greece. 

Anyway, on Wednesday I leave for France for a few weeks to visit my grandparents. I am very excited. I haven't yet purchased my return ticket but I think I'm going to stay about a month. Play around in Paris and then we're going to go down to Corsica. I hope it will give me some time to get my head together and do some writing. I've had this image in my head for ages of sitting on a bench at the Louvre (or on the floor like an art student) and writing poetry about art. Not like the Mona Lisa, but half-obscure art that no one really pays attention to. And then, I will go drink coffee at a cafe and there will be no instant coffee on the menu and I will be happy. (And also, and this is for you Joanna, I will go running and NO ONE WILL STARE AT ME LIKE I HAVE SIX HEADS.) 

So that's pretty much my plan for April. I'm really looking forward to spending some time in France that isn't rushed and hectic. Although I do have an absolute ton of work I need to get done plus I want to start studying for the LSATS... but hey, a month is a long time... right? 

Cheers, loves. Will write more tomorrow! This is fun!