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.