Me? Another language?

Okay, I'll admit it... I never really tried to learn Greek. It happened to a degree, of course, just by virtue of being there, but I never really put in much effort because for some reason I never really cared. In contrast, I want to speak Russian so incredibly much... and consequently I am spending a lot of time learning. Alex and I put stickers all over the apartment today labeling "stol" and "lampa" and "cartina". I've also been trying to use it more. Roman (I adore that name when pronounced in Russian... row-ma(soft)n) was over this evening and I played hostess in Russian even though he understands English fairly well. There was one point where Alex asked me to say the Russian alphabet and I was like "ah, beh, veh, deh... uh I don't think I can... can you guys?" And then they laughed because neither of them could. 

I blame the absence of a Russian alphabet song. 

Coming tomorrow: Christmas tree shopping in Chernigov...

Chernigov After Dark

Since Alex and I managed to miss daylight yesterday, Vara and Alex took me on a little nighttime tour of Chernigov. We drove around for a while and there was an interesting comparison between Soviet housing and older and newer architecture but basically Chernigov looks like any other city... just with more gold-domed churches and more people in fur. WAY more people in fur. So after we drove around for a while it started to snow and the boys took me to a little river port where we got out of the car, climbed a 1,000 year old staircase ("America isn't even as old as this staircase!") and walked around this beautiful old park. As we walked Alex and Vara pointed out different historical landmarks: Here is the oldest church in the former S.U., These are the twelve cannons that defended Chernigov many years ago. Etc. Etc. I was fascinated by how interested and proud they were of their city, of their landmarks, of their history. (By the way, Vera is a friend of Alex who I've met twice now. He doesn't speak English except for "pen, pencil, girl, boy and table" but I adore him anyway. Funny how you can judge someone's character without even having a proper conversation with them. (Or perhaps that's a skill I've acquired living abroad.))

Eventually we got cold and headed home.

"I want to see Ukraine during the day." I said.

"Neit" Alex said, "it's better in the dark."

Ochen Harasho

I think I've been here three days now, but every moment seems to blur into the next leaving me in a sort of haze. There is Absolute Bliss in having the freedom to do nothing and to be with the one you love. You can sleep when you're tired and eat when you're hungary and not feel beholden to anyone or anything. That's what this week has been like... blissful haze. For example, Alex went into the kitchen to make me tea (chai... see my Russian is improving already!) a few minutes ago and came out with a cup of tea, Russian biscuits cut diagonally, almonds and pistachios with a little cocktail umbrella sticking out of one of the biscuits. We're soaking up all those little pleasures that most of the time no one has the time to appreciate... 

[I stopped writing to drink my tea and then watched a movie and fell asleep for 12 hours... it is now past 4 pm the next day and we just woke up, completely missing sunlight, my tour of Chernigov, and any time to prepare for a "Greek themed" dinner we're having for one of Alex's friends... oops.]

As I said, time means nothing to us right now. We literally slept through all of daylight which is a confusing feeling. I feel like I'm back at yesterday. Now that I think about it, we really should get ourselves on some kind of schedule. 

Anyway, let me continue my "arrival" story:

I walked through the door of the airport to where mobs were standing with signs and anxious faces. I walked about ten seconds before I saw him; tall and grinning with a bouquet of roses. We embraced, blocking the passageway out and not caring one bit. I felt a surge of emotions: relief, joy... and a sense that nothing at all had changed. We were apart for four months and still felt every bit the same about each other... perhaps more. 

A moment later Alex introduced me to his friend, Oleqs. (I think? I thought it was the same as Alex's name, but apparently not.) He was sweet and doesn't speak a word of English. We went out to his car and Alex sat in the back with me (on the instruction of Oleqs) and we cuddled and stared at each other like we couldn't believe this was happening. A few minutes passed and we stopped at a little restaurant on the side of the road. It was an adorned log cabin and when you walked in there was a bar in front of you and then stairs on either side leading to little tiny rooms with one table each. We ate some traditional Russian food and then went home to Chernigov where Alex made me dinner. 

Thank You Pasha.

After four months of living in America I'm back overseas and figure I should start blogging again... 

I am currently in Chernigov, Ukraine. And boy was it an interesting trip. Before I explain, though, let me just say I am THRILLED to be here. And, although disoriented, absolutely content to just lie in bed with Alex for like, the rest of eternity. (The only reason I'm writing this is because he ran out to get some potatoes for the dinner he's making me.) 

On Monday afternoon Mom, Joni and Dylan dropped me off at Logan airport. I boarded a plane to JFK and then we waited for half an eternity on the runway, causing me to just barely make my connecting flight. When I stepped (or, rather, slid) into Delta Gate 10 to board the plane I looked around and couldn't contain my laughter. Everyone looked just like Alex. I'm pretty sure I could spot a Ukranian from a helicopter. 

On the JFK-KIEV flight I was seated next to a guy that was probably Alex's long lost twin brother. He was a Ukranian with a US Passport who is currently living in Odessa, Ukraine. I was thrilled when I realized he spoke English and he (along with everyone else) was very curious as to why an American girl was traveling to Ukraine alone. We made conversation over the course of the flight and he turned out to be an interesting guy who reminded me more and more of Alex as the flight went on. And boy was that an excruciating flight. I couldn't sleep (despite three melatonin) or read or watch movies because I was so anxious to get there...

But finally we arrived. Pasha, my seat mate, took down my carry on and as he hopped across the aisle to avoid an inside-airplane traffic jam, instead of the typical wave and "nice to meet you" he said "Come with me" and then basically saved my life about 14 times. "Stand in this line" "Fill this out" "Go now" "Stand here" and then when the passport control guy said I needed Alex's address to enter the country (really?) Basha appeared out of nowhere and gave his address instead and talked the passport guy into letting me through. And then he helped with my luggage, etc, etc. (This airport was absolutely insane and I never ever would have retrieved my bags if it wasn't for him.) The last I saw him we were walking towards the exit and I looked at him nervously and he said "Go, go, see him". And there was Alex on the other side, roses in hand... 

I'll finish the story in my next post... but long story short... thanks Pasha. 

spiti

I'm home. Last night my parents picked me up from the airport and we had a late night Japanese-style dinner. Then Rick and I drank some American beer and mom and I stayed up half the night (despite not having slept in two days) talking. Eventually I went to bed under my down comforter and woke up freezing. It just isn't 104 degrees here and I won't be able to get used to it. I woke up at 8 this morning, again despite the lack of sleep and have been drinking coffee (okay, plural. Coffees.) and talking. I'm giddy to be home but nervous to start my day because I have an incredible amount of stuff to do today. First thing, ride my pony. (Last night I went out to the barn and called her name and she came galloping in from the pasture and the first thing she did was smell me all over. She sniffed my face for a good five minutes before she realized I brought her food.)

Anyway, I'm home. I miss Alex, but I'm home and happy to be here. It feels surprisingly natural. I'll try to make lots of phone calls today but feel free to call me at 603.547.6278!

Love, Elena

AlexAlexAlexAlexAlex...

I don't think I've ever really thought about Zurich before, but it sure looks green from an airplane. Or maybe I'm just comparing it to Athens. 

Anywayyssss (as Jessica and tora half of Korinthos would say), here I am, halfway to America at the Zurich airport in Switzerland. I used mommy's credit card number to buy some Internet time because I have a 9-hour layover here and I can't leave the terminal group I'm in which basically leaves me bored. Really, I should be sleeping instead of typing, but there isn't anywhere good to lie down and I can't sleep sitting up. It is 9 am Swiss time (10 am Greek time) and I've been awake all night sans maybe an hour total of sleep on the plane here. 

Let me catch you up on my life.

My friend Jason visited me for a few days at the end of July. He's in the Peace Corps in Macedonia (or whatever you want to call it, Greeks). It was amazing to see him and be with someone who strangely seemed to relate really well to my situation. Unfortunately he didn't stay long. 

Then, Zach (the little brother) came to visit at the beginning of the month and Alex, Zach, Laura and I went to Santorini to camp for a few days. It was lovely. We rented scooters and ate well and I got to relax for the first time in ages. The only problem was that sleeping on ferries sucks. But anyone could figure that out. After Santorini I had to say bye to Laura (waaaaaahhhhhh) because she was going back to England for a little holiday. Zach stayed with me a few more days after that and by then it was countdown-to-America. Which sucked. I hate goodbyes and Greece is too damn nice in the summer to want to leave. I should have waited until winter. 

Two days ago, after a nice calamari dinner and right before my going away party, Alex tripped on the curb and sprained his ankle pretty badly. He sucked it up through my (AMAZING) party but he's in pretty bad shape. The going away party was really nice. Everyone wrote on a card for me and printed out place cards with my face on them and some Greeklish. I cried a lot and then it took us an hour to walk home because of Alex's ankle. 

Last night (which still seems like today) Alex and I took the last train to the airport. Someone was supposed to drive us, but it fell through so we had to wait 5 hours in the airport. The time went fast because it was my last time with Alex until December which basically sucks a lot. The goodbye was very tearful. Then I had to go through dreaded immigration (you know what I mean by that if you know me) but everything went totally fine. What a waste of 6 months of worrying! (*GRINNNN*) When I got to my gate I hung out with a nice New York couple and then Alex called me to check up and told me to look in my bag where he had hidden a goodbye post card. I started crying (again). I've basically been perma-crying for a week. Why bother drying my tears?

That all said, I AM excited to go home and see my family and my friends and my pets and be somewhere where showers are nice and I can speak English. I'm not sure how long I'll last in America, though. Europe does that to people. Fortunately in December I'm going to Ukraine for a few months to finalize Alex's visa to America. America would be so much cooler with Alex in it. 

Which brings me to what I can't get off my mind. Alex. 

For the first time in my life I feel like, despite so many differences in background, I'm with a guy who wants just what I want. Our lives seem to perfectly intersect and I love him more than should be humanly possible. 

We just have to patient. Which isn't my strong suit. 

Sunday

I love Sundays lately. It is the only day Alex and I get to sleep in and cuddle, which I adore and day just feels relaxing. I guess there is something to be said for living in a religious (take that word as you may) country. Sundays are somehow still sacred. The stores are closed. People are at home. The biggest stress on a Sunday is cleaning the house or getting coffee. And things, usually, are nice and quiet around town. Of course today at what I'd guess was 8 am, three guys decided to jackhammer the sidewalk below our balcony. That, I was not so happy about. 

We finally rolled out of bed this morning at around noon. Then I made coffee and pancakes. I made Alex's mom (we realized at breakfast that I never call her anything because I haven't found an appropriate name yet... isn't that strange. They tried to teach me the word for "mother-in-law" in Russian but it had too many difficult sounds. My Russian sucks.) one in the shape of a lamtha which is also what a Russian L looks like. (For "Luda", her name) And I made Alex one in the shape of an alpha. My mom had sent us some NH maple syrup, so the pancakes were basically perfect. 

Now it is 3 pm. Jason was supposed to come earlier but due to train delays he won't be here until late tonight. I'm a little disappointed because I'd like Alex and Jason to hang out some, but what can you do? Eastern Europe (And I'm including Greece in that) isn't so good with train scheduling. 

I think I'm going to go watching some Sunday TV in English and paint my nails. I love having time to relax!

Love, Elena 

Bold.

I just got back from a little walk to the beach. (I'm beginning to get homesick for Greece and therefore finally appreciating how beautiful it is here.) It is a little windy today (the worst weather I've seen all summer) and everything was... bold. As if a child had drawn the landscape... it was that surreal. The sky was a perfect blue, the mountains a sturdy brown, the sea shimmering aqua, the tan beach meeting the brilliantly white waves. 

Sometimes I can't believe I live here. 

Bad Blogger, Bad

Sorry for the lack of posts. Sometimes there is too much going on to get it together enough to write about it. Perhaps I'll start from the most recent and work backwards.

Today: I worked all day and was sad because it is looking like this K1 visa might take even longer than we thought... and I honestly can't bare the thought of not being with Alex for *gulp* 6 months. It looks like I'll move to Ukraine for a few months in December if things haven't progressed by then. Ah the stress. I'm starting to wish (well part of me is) I was staying here a little longer... Also, I made a pizza from scratch that wasn't very good.

Yesterday: We helped Laura move into her amazingggg new apartment. It was actually fun. (Moving? Fun?) I had that giddy moving feeling even though I wasn't the one moving. I guess the fact that she managed to recruit like 300 guys (or 6) to help her made things less stressful (not stressful at all) for me. And I'm happy that things worked out and she got in all safe and sound.

Day before yesterday: I went into Athens and had coffee with my boss. He was supposed to pay me too, but instead didn't pay me, made me pay for the coffees and gave me more work. (Okay, so he forgot his wallet.) I had a nice time though.

Is it sad that I can't remember what I did the day before that? Worked, I assume. I pretty much do a lot of that since I sort of have three jobs at the moment. I also went to a sweet concert with Laura last week which was really nice. Greek concerts are like American concerts but with Ouzo and souvlakia. Well, kind of.

Anyway, basically, I am enjoying my last weeks in Greece and I'm freaking out about leaving my boyfriend. I guess I hadn't quite realized how attached-at-the-hip we are.

Alright, off to rent a cheery DVD with the boy.

Athens... to have fun??

I have ten minutes before I have to leave to catch my train (I'm guessing... good old Prostiako seems to be changing their schedule every other day so who really knows the schedule) so I thought I'd throw in a quick blog entry in the interest of being a good little blogger. I'm heading to Athens to go to a concert with Laura which I'm uber-excited about because, well, it will be fun. I'm also stopping by the office to pick up some more freelance (it never ends) and get paaaiiddd. Perhaps I'll count my money this time. (Last paycheck I didn't and there were 100 euros missing...  but apparently my boss trusts me and is making up for it in this one.) This night out symbolically marks the beginning of the end of Greece for me. When we planned it about a month ago I thought "wow, at that point, I'll really be wrapping things up." And so I am. A few more big events and wham... home. As the date gets closer I'm simultaneously becoming more afraid and more excited. There are so many plusses and minuses no matter where I am. 

Greece: Alexander, the weather, the sea, working freelance, being in Europe, the experiences I can never get in America, my friends, being near France... 

America: The ease, the pay, my family, my friends, my home, my car, my horse, English, a familiar culture... 

You get it. Lots to love everywhere. Somehow it took me 8 minutes to write that and I have to go get my stuff together. 

xo

it seems like whenever i'm overwhelmed by work i don't want to do (currently: writing my 9th city & guilds practice test), i blog

It is official. I am the campaign manager for Representative Mike Kaelin's State Senate Campaign. I'm thrilled for like a hundred reasons: A) I have a JOB. (I can delay entry-level position hell for another few months)  B) I'll be able to pull myself out of poverty, perhaps even enough to pay for Alex's visa. C) I'm getting back into politics, and even managed to get work with an amazing guy who I believe in. D) I'm going to be busy busy busy so I won't realize that I'm living at home, missing Alexander and going through uber-reverse-culture-shock. etc. etc. etc.

As for life on this side of the world; things are busy. We have deadlines at work that of course we're not able to make (is this the nature of publishing or the nature of Greece?) so instead of gradually ending work on the 20th, I'm going to be working through the end of the month basically non-stop. I could use the euros though, so I'm not complaining, but this in addition to web work and coming up with a campaign plan (oh and two visitors and leaving Greece) is going to be pretty stressful. 

On that note... back to work. 

What's My Name?

Does it count as an identity crisis if you're no longer sure what your name is? Two separate people asked me my name yesterday and both times I faltered... Elena... Eleni... Leena... uh. I'm sure it has an L sound in it, just call me Bob. I feel like when I'm speaking Greek I should say my name is Eleni but whenever I do I feel like I'm lying. IS that my name? Does your name really change when you jump a border? How strange.

In other news, I'm absolutely exhausted. I went to Athens yesterday to work in the office all day (weirddddd) and then hung out with Alieda and then met up with Laura and then missed the last metro home. Go me. Thankfully Laura is a Godsent a shared her bed, but that meant for a crazy morning trying to make it back to the office before anyone else got there. I was not successful. So then I worked another long day of rearranging KRATIKO tests. It was really strange being back in the office (and going up to the apartment, even though I didn't end up spending the night there). I felt like I jumped back in time except Joanna wasn't around which pretty much sucked. It did make me realize that this is totally the beginning of the end. A week more of work. Concert on the 18th. Jason visits. Zach visits. SPITI. Crazy, I think so. And I'm finally settling in here. It is going to be tough. 

Also, Aleida and I went to Applebees and it was amazing and I pretended I didn't speak Greek except I kept making mistakes. Like "kai egoImeannn me too." I feel like it is a crime to speak English, even in Athens where they expect it, since I've been here so darn long. But I still can't hold up so well just in Greek. Like the other night I was doing so well at this restaurant we went to but then I wanted to tell the waiter that the table was wobbly and I always mix up the words for table and bank so I decided to use English instead of sounding like a huge idiot who has a wobbly bank. Also, I don't know the word for wobbly. Give me another ten years and I'll totally speak Greek. 

There are like a million things I wanted to blog about but I'm hot and sweaty and tired and just want to go collapse in the living room. I'll try to be better at this as my time here comes to a close. 5 weeks and counting. 

Why I Didn't Become a Doctor

Yesterday Alex's mom fell and scraped up her elbow and knee. Today, since Alex was at work, I was charged with reapplying her dressings. Long (painful) story short, I'm covered in some blue staining liquid, her bandage is crooked, and she looks to be in more pain than before I went near her.

Last night, after she fell, a friend called me and asked if I could meet at the bar (where they have wireless) and help her set up her new MacBook (yay for spreading the word about MacBooks!). I said sure but Alex didn't want to come because he was worried about his mom. So I went out alone. Something I haven't done at night since I was in Athens. Alex and I go everywhere together. Why not? Anyway I show up and my friend isn't there yet (shittttt I think). The owner of the bar and one of the regulars see me and in this order, the owner spits on me (a 'you look beautiful' gesture) and the other guy asks me if I'm pregnant. "Moro?" (baby?) he asks. I was very insulted but he said it was because I was wearing a sundress (with an empire waste) which I never wear. The only obvious conclusion is that I'm pregnant. Really, I was just too lazy to change out of my beach clothes. I also think everyone is willing me to have a baby. They've already compiled a list of people who are going to fly to America for Alex and my wedding. I'm not joking about this. Later in the night the owner guy comes over and very seriously asks which month we'll be getting married in and lists all the people who will be joining him at our ceremony. Anyway, back to my arrival. I sat down between the two guys and ordered some wine (which was paid for by one of them). It was a good situation to be in because I had to make conversation in Greek and didn't have anyone to fall back on and ask "howdoyousay...?" So then my friend arrives and we play with her new computer AND new itouch (which has made me decided I NEED an iphone when I get home). After about an hour I say I need to go because I told Alex I'd only be gone a little while but people keep buying me drinks and preventing me from leaving. It was kind of strange being there without Alex because all the guys suddenly thought it was okay to stare at my ass or compliment my breasts. When the cat's away, I guess, but I was sort of offended. Anyway I end up staying there until really late and then my friend begs me to go to a taverna for a while with the owner guy. So we go to a taverna and order a huge amount of food and wine and it ended up being a pretty fun night. The things was, I spent the whole time wishing Alex was with me. I'm going to have huge separation issues when I get back to the states.

And now this blue-fingered girl needs to get back to work.

Jobs, Soccer, Americans

Have I mentioned that Greece is hot? I'm permanently lethargic thanks to the heat. It takes all my energy to get my ass out to the beach so I can cool off. And then I have all this work stuff. Which I have learned to never complain about, because having work is a precious thing. Speaking of... in an hour I have a little Skype date with a potential employer back in America. I'm pretty psyched because it is a campaign job which would be a nice transition back into American life. Welcome home, let's throw you into the lion's den. Better than editing English books. It will be good for me to have my head wrapped around something for a few months while I regain my balance. It blows my mind that I'm going to be back in America in a month in a half. I'm happy and excited and terrified and sad all at once. I'm going to really miss it here and I know it would be easy to just keep sliding along in my cushy Greek life (cushy minus the part that we're broke all the time). But as the old adage says... "the easiest path is not always the best". Or something like that. (Speaking of adages, Joanna I miss you.)

Last night Alex invited his current English teachers (backstory if you don't know: I met Alex when I was training to teach English. He was a kind of practice student and still attends the school, getting new teachers every few weeks.) out to watch The Big Game with us last night. He didn't tell them A) he has a girlfriend or B) his girlfriend would be with him whichhh I feel like is a little slimy because, hey, if it was me and some cute Ukranian boy said "Hey why don't you and your friends come watch the game with me" I'd be like ooohhhhhh ahhhh. (In fact a little more than a year ago I think that did happen to me... and look where we are now.) Anyway it was pretty funny when I met them because they didn't think I was America (why would I be?) and one was like "So, uh, we all speak English here huh?" And Alex and I laughed. It was nice to talk to the girls and I warned them (maybe a little too well) what TEFL Corinth and living in Greece as an American is all about. I think they appreciated my honesty but I felt a little bad afterwards. After all, anything could happen. Maybe Angeliki will finally find someone a job.

Cheers... I'm off to negotiate.

Dear Blog

Dear blog-

How are you? How are the kids? Has the weather been nice on the Internet lately? Things are going well here although the heat is sometimes unbearable. If Greece has taught me anything it is that actually LIVING in a vacation destination is NOT the same as vacationing there. Rather than spending my days on the beach (which ok I do but not nearly as much as I COULD) I'm hiding inside working and avoiding the fry-an-egg-on-the-sidewalk sun. 

Anyway... Last night Alex and I went to a birthday party at a club on the "other sea" for this Russian girl who is a friend of the family. To be honest I'm not particularly fond of her and wasn't looking forward to it for a variety of reasons, but I did have a cute new dress (the kind that is way too fancy to wear to any NH club) and was obliged to be Alex's plus one. The evening began at Jessica's filharmoniki concert which was adorable. I've never seen someone play a meaner tambourine! We had to leave early though to get dressed and walk (or for me I should say teeter on four inch heels.) like three miles to the birthday girl's house as fast as we could only to find out everyone else was incredibly late. When we gave her the present (that I will note I bought and wrapped) she said "Alex spaceba! Oh Alex!" and didn't even LOOK at me. I was pretty pissed to be perfectly honest and since she admittedly used to be in love with Alex, I'm always on my guard around her. So then we sat around for another half hour while I sweated in my beautiful new dress. (How is it that Greece is so hot at NIGHT?) I felt invisible for the next 30 minutes because everyone was speaking Russian but finally people with cars arrived and we headed off, smushed in the back of some teenytiny car. It was nice being there with Alex though, wind blowing in our hair, forced to be incredibly close and therefore nuzzling and kissing like new lovers. And discussing football, which has become a favorite subject of mine. (Russia at this point was beating Holland, yes HOLLAND, 3-1 in overtime but we didn't know until Lazerith called.) When we arrived at the club there was no one there despite the fact that it was after midnight and because the birthday girl had taken another car (and apparently gone to Russia and back since it took her a good hour) we had to wait for her and no one was drinking. Bor-ing. It did give me a new respect for Alex though who always manages to be the life of the party regardless the situation. Unfortunately he was being the life of the party mostly in Russian. (And okay I admit it, I don't understand screamed-over-the-music Greek at all.) Finally the birthday girl arrived and the waiter brought out tonsss of bottles of alcohol. Finally. Alex even managed to special-order some tonic for my vodka which was very sweet of him. Vodka tonics aren't a popular drink around here. So we started to drink, and because I am supposed to be on a grechka-only detox diet for the next week I only had two drinks the whole night. I'm so boring sometimes. The night ended up not being too terrible... I did some napkin-throwing Greek dancing and the birthday girl went absolutely wild which was good for her. At one point she decided to try to give Alex a lap dance while he sat next to me. I jabbed my fingernail into his back and he screamed and everyone caught on and thought it was pretty funny. The nerve, honestly. Finally it was time to go home and we piled into the car of this Albanian guy. On the way back he asked me where I was from, thinking I was Russian. "oxi, oxi, Amerikey..." AMERICA? Oh my GOD American is AMAZING. He couldn't start talking about how his cousin moved there and NO ONE was racist towards him (as Greeks are to Albanians). It made me think and I came to the conclusion that EVERY country has its prejudices. Some, clearly, are worse than others, but I'm sure if that guy's cousin was Mexican or Iraqi things would be different. I DO think that generally America is pretty good for foreigners though. I mean, maybe I'm just a little ignorant but MY reaction to foreigners living in America is "wow cool" not "get out of my freaking country". I realize though not everyone shares these feelings, but I've never experienced racism like I have living in Greece. 

After that little night out Alex and I spent the day sleeping/lying around and (for me) working. Now we're drinking rum and coke and watching Spain-Italy. Have I mentioned I love soccer (football)?

Hope things are well.

Love, Elena

One Year

Today officially marks Alex and my one-year anniversary. Well, officially only because we decided on the 18th because we never had a real "Let's be boyfriend and girlfriend" moment. The day didn't start so well... at 5 am we had an earthquake and had to go outside in case of an aftershock or something and I never got back to sleep. Then Alex went to work and I did some work/got some groceries (I tried to buy Alex that new on-the-rocks tequila but accidentally bought rum. I also left my groceries at the register after paying for them "coritsie mou? you idiot you left your bags". And I gave a beggar with a tiny child 2 Euros... I think because I'm currently reading Orwell's "Down and Out in Paris and London".) Then my boss called and said "oh yeah can you do blah blah blah and blah before you come in tomorrow?" I spent most of the afternoon working and baking an anniversary cake. It looks edible but very home made, with a heart made out of pieces of white chocolate. I don't think Alex really likes cake, but I think he'll like the idea of me baking for him. When he gets home we're going out for a late lunch (or regular dinner in America) and then going out to watch Greece and Russia play Spain and Sweden respectively. I'm becoming Euro Cup OBSESSED.

Ok back to work, let's hope we get through the rest of the day with no more earthquakes... and Alex likes his cake.

on being 'greek'

I have a hangover. Alex says it is because I drank tequila after drinking cheap wine. He has a point. But let's start at the beginning:

Last night Alex was at his English lesson and I was dragging on my freelance. I couldn't handle another minute of rearranging old FCE tests... the problem with freelance, well one of the problems, is you're always burdened with getting things done, regardless of the time of day. I also spend way too much time at home. Anyway, I was feeling unmotivated so I thought I'd go for a little walk by the harbor. I was five minutes into the walk when I saw Jessica and her friend sitting at a table on the sidewalk. This is normal in Greece, to drag your furniture onto the sidewalk and drink and chat and pull up chairs when your neighbors walk by. Not something you'd see in America but I like the idea of it. If only we had a sidewalk in Francestown. So Jessica waved at me to come over and I pulled up a chair and they poured me some 2-euro-a-plastic-container rose. Mmm. We talked for a while and then Jessica and the other woman's little girls showed up and then I decided I should call Alex and let him know where I was. He was a little pissed at me for just disappearing and not taking my phone and had actually taken Ira's bike out looking for me. (I'm not sure what he expected to find. Me dead on the side of the road?) I told him to come over and, allbeit grudgingly, he obliged. By the time he arrived the Austria Poland game was about to begin so we turned a TV around in the window and watched football from the sidewalk. And everyone seemed to think this was totally normal. One of those little things I appreciate about Greece. As the evening progressed more people showed up around our little table and the alcohol flowed. Which is why we ended up going to Lazerith's place after and drinking tequila. The end. (Also, Poland and Austria tied.)

earthquake

Welcome back earthquakes. Even though we HADN'T had one in months, every time the wind blows too hard or Alex shakes the bed I panic for a split second... which is why it's sort of ironic that today when the earthquake (a 6.5 in Patras) hit at first I thought it was just a strong wind. Then I saw everyone crossing themselves and I turned around and watched Corinth sway for about 60 seconds. When it stopped Alex ran home to make sure his mom was OK and she called me a moment later in histerics but OK. Everything glass on our shelves was broken and the TV had fallen off the shelf but she managed to catch it so it didn't break. In Patras, two people were killed. (BBC NEWS) Earthquakes are the biggest reason I want to go home. I hate living in fear of them... and maybe I'm overreacting but I really am afraid. I guess this crosses San Francisco off my list of future-residences. 

Apparently, Ime ena pop star!

So last yesterday was kind of weird. Spent the day being lazy... except I did shop and cook a delicious artichoke/asparagus pasta and watching movies/losing at tavli with Alex. After lunch Alex's mom proposed to me that I start cooking all the time (currently I cook somewhere between once and three days a week). It was a huge compliment (Russian mother handing over COOKING rights??) but truth be told I don't want to cook ALL the time. I like it to be special... I like my cooking to be appreciated, otherwise I don't like cooking. And I know being the primary cook means your cooking is not really appreciated. We'll see what happens. 

So after lazing around Alex and I went out to watch "the game" (Euro Cup Portugal V. Turkey). Portugal won and may I just say they have some damn hot players (Ronaldo included of course). Also, so far my picks have been right. CR and Portugal. So we watched the game with Niko and then Jessica and then somehow the night turned a little crazy... we ended up at the bar drinking tequila with orange slices and no salt and, of course, Heinekens. Eventually the crowd was just Alex, Jessica, Lazerith (the bar owner), Kiki (the bartender), Costa and this other guy named Alex. Kiki started DJing with the same 5 songs over and over again and we were dancing (in Greece??) and stuff. At one point Costas leans over to me and says, in broken English, "Do you know Kalomiora?" "Yes..." "You look JUST like her." I'm starting to get used to being told this. My role in Corinth is "the American girl who looks like Kalomiora". Well, better than nothing... 

Also, Alex and I are joining a soccer team! I am SO excited even though it is ALL Greek guys, Alex and me (making me a teeny bit the oddball) but really at this point whatever, I just want to playyyyy. So what if I'll be underestimated by chauvinistic Greek guys. Intramural soccer has taught me one thing: I can beat up guys on the soccer field, especially when they underestimate me. Hmph. 

Ok... let Sunday morning (afternoon) begin...

Friday Night Slice of Life

It is Friday night. I'm sitting on the couch wearing just Alex's t-shirt (and I'm still hot) and working... Yep, on a Friday night. This is either a function of working freelance or being broke. Or maybe both. We're saving our money for tomorrow night because it is a football-night which means lots of beers at the bar. At least for Alex. He was just watching a movie in French with Greek subtitles (which is still on but I'm not paying attention) but he just left to get us some beer at the periptero... and then got intercepted at the door by a yaya neighbor who needs help fixing her lamp. He's such a good boy.  And we're such a married couple sometimes: spending our Friday nights like this. It's nice to be in love. 

slice of my life, there you go. 

Sometimes I talk to myself

Sorry for not writing for a few days... I'm not sure who I'm addressing that apology to... but perhaps I have some loyal blog readers out there who were terribly disappointed in me. When I was younger (9,10) I used to write apologies in my diary (journal for you Brits) when I didn't write for a while. My entries would go something like this. June 1st: I went to Sarah's house today. It was so much fun, we played Barbies and then her mom took us to the beach. September 1st: I am SOOOO SORRY I HAVEN'T WRITTEN IN SO LONG! I've been sooo busy and it was summer and I hid my diary under my bed and forgot about it.... But... 

You get the point. 

Alex's mom just came in here with a beach towel and told me she was going to the banyo (bathroom). I was like... "ok..." (why is she telling me this?) And thennn I remembered that bathroom and beach are the same word sometimes. Ahh Greek. Sometimes I can't wait to go back to America where everyone speaks English and the word for bathroom and beach are completely different. 

Now to the blog title: Not a very interesting story, actually, but I was writing (and apparently concentrating really hard) and I hear a little knock at the door and Alex's mom was like... "who is here?" and I was like "what?" and she laughed and said "you were talking..." and I was like "I was?" And she laughed and now thinks I'm crazy. Is talking to yourself when you write normal? When I'm really concentrating on writing... (not like this blog where I just write whatever comes to my head) sometimes I need to actually say words before they make sense. I donno.

Oh ALSO, last night Alex and I had a conversation I can't BELIEVE we hadn't had until now. We were lying in bed trying to force ourselves asleep so we could be up at six (have I mentioned what a wonderful girlfriend I am because I wake up with Alex to make him breakfast and coffee before work?) and for some reason we started talking about animal sounds. I think he mispronounced a word and I said he sounds like a chicken "bawk bawk" and he said "BAWK?" and then we went through every animal we could think of and the ONLY sound that is the same in Russian and English is moo. Everything else is wildly different. Maybe I'll attach a video clip of Alex saying animal sounds in Russian later... but I doubt he'd agree to that. 

Anyway I am absolutely bogged down with work, which is why I haven't been writing much, so I'm going to end this here.

Cheers

Football, Volley Ball, whatever

Summer has arrived. And by summer I mean the summer NH never experiences. The 37 degrees C type of summer. It actually isn't toooo bad yet, but I'm not sure I can even go running today for fear of heatstroke. Better join the gym. At the very least it will give me an hour or two of air-conditioned relief from the weather. Funny how in a year my perspective can change... instead of wanting to spend every free minute lying in the sun, I want to avoid it. I guess I know I'm going to get plenty of sun this summer... Which brings me to a point: I'm becoming Greek. Or, maybe not exactly... but I've managed to LOOK just a little bit American until recently... but yesterday I saw my reflection in the train windows when it went by and I could barely distinguish myself from the other girls. My hair was wavy, I was wearing too much makeup, twisted-leather Greek sandals, European-clothing (my little What Not To Wear In Europe personal shopper... aka my boyfriend... recently took me on a little shopping spree)... no one can tell I'm not Greek until I open my mouth or use my ipod. The guy at the train ticket booth that morning told me I looked like Kalomoira. This is getting a little strange because I'm not sure I see the resemblance. Anyway... what else is new...? Alex and I bought a football (soccer ball) the other day! We haven't had a free minute to use it, but I'm psyched. Like, reallyyyy excited. When I got home yesterday there was a volleyball next to the football. The moment I saw it I knew what had happened. Alex's mom had seen the football and said 'Alex! You already have one!' And found his volleyball in some deep dark closet. Then Alex tried to explain the difference but she still thought it was silly to buy a FOOTBALL when a VOLLEY BALL is so similar. (I confirmed my guess with Alex and it went pretty-much exactly like that.) 

Cheers to MY mom for not only knowing the difference between soccer balls and volleyballs but ALSO being a decent player herself. (Find THAT in Greece...) 

Day 365

One year ago Erica and I boarded a plane to Europe with no idea what we were doing and no idea what we would be doing in a year. And here I am, unable to comprehend the passage of time or even the fact that I'm the same person I was back then. In one year I left the comfort of life at home (now I realize how comfortable that life was) and jumped headfirst into a completely different world. Looking back I can't remember A) Why I came here in the first place or B) How I imagined I would ever survive. It seems more courageous in hindsight... no, not courageous, stupid, silly, crazy. But, somehow, it all worked out. I wrote a Personal Statement (I've written about 600) for law school admission the other day discussing this story Meyrowitz once told us about someone taking a music lesson and the music teacher always giving the student really difficult homework (so difficult the student could never complete the homework) and finally the student confronted the teacher and the teacher had the student try to play the first piece of music he couldn't play... and the student could play it brilliantly. My point was, maybe this trip to Greece was difficult enough to put everything else in perspective.

And by difficult, I just mean that everything is a teeny bit more difficult. Enough more difficult to make a difference. For example, my Greek. For every success I have 5 failures. For example. I just left to go to the grocery store. On my way out (feeling confident since I'd just managed a whole day out without using English when I should have been using Greek) this old lady in the hallway says to me "Poo ine ado?" (where is here?) "ti?" (what?) "poo ine ado?" I SWEAR that is what she said.  I had to tell her I don't speak Greek which took my confidence way down a few pegs. But then I go to the grocery store and have an actual conversation (okay not a very complex one) with the checkout girl. See what I mean? I'm everywhere at once. ANYTHING could present a problem. But at the same time, anything could be a huge success. I absolutely cannot explain the feeling I get when I manage something in Greek. Baby steps. Give me 5 years and maybe I'll speak a little Greek. 

I'm a little wired right now because Jessica and I just had freddos with too much sugar. I'm beginning to live for coffee dates. And we sat there for two hours sipping on one coffee each, which is getting closer to the four hour norm around here. And a little girl told me I looked like Kalomoira. Alex agrees if I "didn't look so much like a fish." I love my boyfriend. 

Okay more coffee, like I need it. 

Unproductive ligo me

I just read Natalie's blog (http://www.itsallrealtive.blogspot.com/) and found it amusing/interesting at her use of Greeklish. It is something about this language. Certain words and phrases stick into your mind. I no longer think the phrase "I don't know" I think "Then ksero".  Maybe the way Greek works is you slowly start incorporating Greek words and phrases into your lexicon and suddenly your English is gone! All I know is everyone in American is going to be incredibly annoyed at me for like a year after I get back. Either that or they're going to accidentally learn some Greek. 

The reason I am blogging right now is because I am, for some reason, really incredibly unable to be productive today. Everything I do takes like twenty times longer than it should and I spent like three hours writing different beginnings for Personal Statements for law school (fuckkkk). And then I did some more law school research since I still haven't made any decisions about schools. (I have a list about 45 long at this point.) I can't figure out where to aim. I read stuff online and it totally intimidates me... it seems like some people spend their LIVES trying to get into law school... and the numbers don't look good. Things like, we admit 250 students out of 4,000 applications. And then I think: OK so I will never get into any law school. I guess I just don't understand the whole deal. I mean, OK, my GPA is good and my resume is decent... so if I do well on my LSATS (we'll see...) then I should be OK, theoretically... but how many BILLIONS of people out there have BETTER grades and BETTER resumes? Someone help me out here... 

Okay the boy woke up finally. Time to drink some biera. 

yasou

Perspective

The contents of his suitcase, the whispered phone conversation, the shouts of a mother, the giggles of friends: Hints of lives much deeper than I see. Only the surface; somewhere infinitely deep. 

Her strawberry blonde hair was neatly braided down her back. She wore a yellow cardigan and a white shirt, fabric stretching over her rounded stomach. She already had two children, dark-haired and close in age, circling around her and speaking in high-pitched French. She spoke to them calmly while staring, distracted, into space. Her face was less tired than it seemed it should be. The smooth white skin of youth made her look almost angelic, virginal if not for the baby inside.

When I looked at the man—the boy—somewhere in between—I thought of old movies or advertisements for expensive cologne. His pudgy, child’s face was partly hidden behind an old man’s grey hat placed crooked on his head. His shoes were black and pointed and his suit matched the hat—grey and knit and oddly unexpected.

Two young girls sat close together. They were both dressed in sweatpants and jackets and had the wily presence of those set out on their own for the first time. They carried similar bags—black cloth with leather handles—and both held their phones, new-age security blankets, as they spoke in low voices to each other and giggled over a French phrase book one of them held. 

As the plane took off I watched the airport, the city, the country, shrink. Each block, each house, each room, each soul inside told a different story, saw a different life. Each legacy holds weight to one or few or many and yet, here I sat, and watched it disappear. 

name days & recording studios

Tourist season has arrived. Yesterday I wandered around Monisteraki for a bit and tried to pick out the subtle things that distinguish tourists. (Which means I was not including those tourists wearing "HELLAS--GREECE" t-shirts or carrying huge cameras.) I decided on two things: 1.) tourists are usually dressed very badly and 2.) tourists are often sun burned or at least slightly red. This must be because tourists get to Greece and sit in the sun from 12-3. Greeks sit in the sun from 4-7. Big difference, and understandable when you live here. Of course I enjoy the sun, but at the moment I have no need to go lie outside at peak hottness until my skin sizzles. A year ago, I wouldn't have said that.

Wednesday was my name day (as I mentioned in my previous post). We went out to watch Manchester v Chelsea and I had one of those nights that makes me appreciate being here. Good soccer, good beer, good people, and the thing about name days is everyone (who is anyone) KNOWS it is your name day. I was very flattered when the guy who owns the bar (who has decided Alex and I need to get married) jumped out when I came in and said "Ah Eleni! Xrona Pola!" and then showered me with spitting-worthy compliments. In contrast the next day my boss said, "Oh yeah, you know it was your name day yesterday, did anyone tell you? Do you know what that is." (No, I live under a rock. Please explain.) 

Which brings me to yesterday. I had to go into Athens to do a recording for "Cracking ECCE" which means some people cram into a recording studio and read listening exercises to be put on a CD and sold with a book. This book is Michigan (an American test) so the group was all from America and Canada. And Ian from Ireland who is just a good actor and doesn't have an accent. Usually these recording sessions are pretty small. There are three or four of us and we do a few sections of a book. Yesterday there were loads of people. This strange mix of ex-pats all shoved into a tiny studio. It was fascinating both to people-watch and to talk to all these people who had somehow ended up in Greece. "You're a newlywed here" one woman told me. And I was thinking a year was a long time. It was an enjoyable session. I'm getting really good at it. Lawrence even called me "Amazing" which is the biggest compliment he's given me, ever, hands down. I think second would be something like, "That was okay." Thank you mommy, for teaching me how to read. (Which is really a big chunk of recording and the part I'm best at.) 

I feel like all of this should have some kind of conclusion, but I have none. I'm still kind of exhausted. I somehow didn't get home until 11 last night. After work I drank freddos with Laura, which was lovely, and then the train from wasn't until 9 pm so I had to wait around for an hour in the less-than-beautiful Larissa Station. The ride back was really strange. Apparently they've done more line-changing/schedule-changing than I was aware of because, ok, the Prostiako line is in the shape of a triangle. One end is Piraeus. Partway up that side is Larissa Station. The point is the airport. You usually have to switch lines to get to the airport, though, and typically the train goes from Piraeus to Larissa to Naz(blahblahcan'tpronounceit) and then goes backwards, cutting towards the other point of the triangle which ends at Kiato (and Korinthos, where I live.) BUT, yesterday, somehow the train went straight to the Korinthos side of the triangle. I was terribly confused. And the train was one of the older, bigger trains that doesn't announce stops so I was even more confused. (HOW ARE WE AT KINETTA ALREADY??) To make it worse, I was exhausted, no one was on the train and the blue-interior and semi-mirrored windows were kind of creeping me out. How would anyone who didn't know the stops by heart know when to get off? Public transportation is not made for tourists. 

OK... time to start my day. 

PS:

(Interesting NYT article about blogging)

Ελενι Μερα

Today is my name day in Greece.  So far only Alex's mom has wished me xronia pola. But that's okay, I didn't even know it was today until she said something. I still don't quite get the whole name day thing... it seems to me it is bigger than birthdays around here... but so much less personal. I have to share my day with Constantine. I remember when it was Alex's name day (and I was still new to this whole Greek thing) he texted me: "I drink beers! It is the day of my name. Alexander-day!" 

So, in honor of the day of my name (which for these purposes is Eleni), we're going to watch football (okay, so we'd be watching it anyway...) with some people who speak ENGLISH (yay!) 

Also, I spilled nail polish all over my keyboard today and somehow managed to fix it. I'm an idiot and a genius all at once. 

ya

Alex Quote #1

"I'm never eating meat again." -Me

"Are you going to be a vegetable?" -Alex

9:40 PM, May 20th 2008

It must have started with the chicken...

Since yesterday I've been feeling homesick and I blame the chicken. You see, Alex's mom is working two jobs. She leaves at 8, comes back at 1, goes to another job at 3:30 and comes back and midnight. Yuck, I know. And Alex works early to about 4-5. And I work at home, unless I happen to be working in Athens. So the duties of housewife sometimes fall on me. Yesterday I worked, cleaned the house, went running, and came home just as Alex's mom arrived back from her first job. She had vegetables and chicken with her. (The chicken was not nice clean AMERICAN chicken where you aren't even sure it is chicken, it was the kind of chicken where you cannot avoid the fact that it is chicken.) So she looks at me tap typing away and asks me if I could make lunch. Sure, I say. (I was planning on it. I was thinking pasta. One of the two things I can cook.) Can you make this? She asks. This? I ask. She explains me how to make a sort of baked chicken casserole thing. Incredibly, I understand.  (This was done in Greek, for those of you who have forgotten my situation.) Anyway, I'm a little annoyed because I only like cooking if I can be creative (perhaps why I'm not the best cook) and it scares me to try to recreate one of her dishes. But I say yes, and she goes to take a nap. (Poor dear she is ALWAYS exhausted.) Then I push my work away (again, this is difficult, this working from home thing.) and take out all the ingredients I'll need. We don't have any potatoes. I go to the store and end up spending 20 euros on god-knows-what. I come back. I cut up vegetables, peel potatoes (with a KNIFE) and throw some spices in. (That was what she said to do, pointed to the spice rack and said, "eh, afto" Now that I think about it, perhaps she meant something specific...) Then comes the chicken. It is soaking in a bowl in the sink. I take a piece out. It has a strange congealed blood-like substance on it. I bring it over to the cutting board (remember kids, never cut chicken on a wooden cutting board) and try to cut the thigh from the leg. But there is a BONE in there. Should I break the bone? Do knives CUT bone? I AM NOT A SURGEON HERE. (And if I was the chicken would be very dead anyway.) I start to panic. I'm already borderline vegetarian and I cannot handle raw meat. The skin begins to peel from the leg. I want to throw it away. It doesn't look edible, anyway. Finally I take out our biggest knife and hack at it until the bone breaks. Then I do that two more times. Somehow I don't cut off any of my fingers. I put the chicken in the casserole dish and shove it in the oven. Now the vegetables are ruined with the gross chicken on top. I leave it in the oven and refuse to look at it. Alex gets home about an hour later. I tell him the story. He says "my princess cut CHICKEN?" I'm not sure if he was being sarcastic or not. 

Anyway, turns out the chicken was good, even though I refused to eat it. I might not ever eat chicken again, actually. 

And how does this relate to being homesick? I have no idea, but after the chicken incident I kept thinking about two things. A) cooking at home with the family and how most of the time we ate what I wanted when I was home and no one ever made me cut up chicken or onions and B) cooking with Shannon and being afraid TOGETHER of things like chicken. Which is why we ate a lot of salads. Which led to me thinking about home and how long it has been since I've seen anyway (nearly a year now) and then I got worried that everyone is going to forget me. So, uh, don't forget me, loves.

(that was very therapeutic.)

Also, story Alex just told me. The guy who was is in Eurovision from Russia was in Greece a few years ago and all the girls loved him and told him to say, "Ego poli oraeo pethi." And he said, "Ego poli oraeo pedi." 

How do you write the dth sound in English? 

"And even though we ain't got money, I'm so in love with ya honey"

On the way home from the airport.

Instant wedding invitation: courtesy Olympus u830.

(And dedicated with much love to Joanna Tzenis) 

No such thing as a free... anything.

We're broke. As always, but it starts to get stressful. I mean, OK, I just found out I'm owed a good sum of money which I should be getting next week. Yay, right? Problem solved. Except the second I get any money it disappears. Just like that. Rent. Groceries. The occasional beer. I am not joking at all when I say I have yet to purchase an item of clothing (including shoes) for myself since July. And, I mean, come on... that's ridiculous.  Most of my shirts are literally fraying away to nothingness. Last night Alex and I had a little "money discussion". He pointed out that ONE night out can easily equal and entire day's work here. Everything is just incredibly expensive. (And plus, wages are worse than terrible.) On Saturday we went to the beach. That's cheap, right? We packed a picnic lunch (total cost, 20E). Took the bus to Kiato and back (10E). Alex bought cigarettes (3E). We bought water (1E). When it got too hot we went to a taverna and had a beer each (8E) and some calamari (10E). There you go, 52E... more than I make most days... gone in 5 hours of "outdoor fun". And, okay, you can't live life counting pennies like that, but around here it seems like we're always working for the next day. Just barely staying afloat. Praying nothing tragic happens... hoping the washing machine doesn't break... mending the broken bathroom window with duct tape... rigging the coffee machine with a toothpick. 

I can handle this for now, I just hope life isn't ALWAYS like this. 

And with that in mind: America, here we come. 

Sunshine & Clean Streets

Yesterday at approximately this time (5:30 pm) a guy walked down the street with a rolling trash can and a broom and did an exceptional job of hand-sweeping the road. I was very impressed, since it doesn't seem like the Greeks clean their streets very often. At least in Corinth. A sure sign summer (aka tourist season) is coming. Anyway, it is 24 hours later and I just looked from the balcony onto the street and in a section of street 4 cars and one motorcycle wide I counted 24 pieces of fairly large trash as well as several cigarette butts, candy wrappers, etc. In 24 hours. And this isn't some huge busy street. We're almost at the end of it and besides Beyond (a bar on the OTHER side of the road) there are just apartments and some small shops. Is this normal? Are people SO inconsiderate?

I needed to look up a word today and for some reason I pulled out a tourist guide instead of my dictionary and ended up paging through it because it had nice pictures. It was absolutely a dirty lying book obviously published by the Greek tourism industry. My favorite was the line, "Greeks are incredibly careful, slow drivers who pay attention to road rules."

The book also mentioned nothing about the horrible pollution here. If I were them I'd issue a warning to anyone asthmatic to go somewhere else.

So last night Alex came home from English lessons (I was in bed working expecting him to come home with a DVD) and said "You have five minutes, we're going out." I'll spare you the quotations but we ended up going bowling (and then playing billiards and then eating chinese book) with Peter Beech (for those of you who don't know Peter, he is the owner of the course I took to become certified to teach English), Petra and a few current students at the school. At first it was incredibly awkward (Here I would like to publicly announce that I WON in bowling, even beating Alex which I've never done before) but it ended up being a really nice night. I enjoyed being around a group of English-speaking people. It makes me look forward to being home.

Anyway, I'm going to go because I'm uncomfortable writing from the kitchen which, today, is the only place the Internet works.

FIN

Do I speak Greek?

Today was a good day. Or at least compared to what I thought it was going to be. I had to go into Athens to pick up some work and before I left I sort of panicked. I think it had something to do with the fact that I haven't had to navigate Greece alone (read: speak Greek) in quite a long time now. Oddly, though, instead of forgetting Greek this last month my comprehension seems to have improved. In fact, I managed an entire taxi/metro/train fiasco ALL in Greek AND without any total screw ups. (Apparently on Tuesdays and Thursdays now the Kiato-Piraeus train goes to the aerodromio, not Piraeus. Totally logical. And extremely inconvenient for those of us who want to go to Piraeus from Korinthos. (On the way back I had to take the metro to Larissa Station to buy a Prostiako ticket, get back on the metro, switch lines, go to the Naza****** [insert here name of station I cannot pronounce] station and then wait for another train instead of the usual "buy ticket. get on train".) Anyway, I was pretty shocked at how much Greek I was understanding throughout this, which is a pretty amazing feeling. (Like: Oh hey maybe I'm not THAT dumb.) But I sort of realized that the stage of language-comprehension I'm at is kind of like those vocabulary exercises we did when we were kids. As if parts of sentences just aren't there. "Is this where the _____ store is?" "Please _____ me go _______ tomorrow." I've just gotten decent at filling in the blanks. Sometimes. Other times I can't understand a bloody word of Greek. I haven't figured out why. Part of it is that sometimes I just don't listen, or, well, try at all. 

So anyway, besides functioning like a semi normal person (which it seems I feel the need to brag about) on my journey to Athens, I also picked up a decent amount of work, got some copies of "Summer on The Island" and "Easter in The Village" (the books I wrote that I will never get credit for) AND had my first freddo of the season with Laura. AND Laura brought me SALSA, coriander seeds and some other food-stuffs I can't seem to find around here. (Thank you again agapi mouuuu!) And then I went home to my boyfriend. 

The End.

Just One Little Comment About Americans

With tourist season coming up (especially in Greece) I thought I'd share a little story about American tourists and why we have such a bad image.

Last week I visited Versailles. (The chateau) We walked through the main building and then decided to take this little train to some of the outer gardens and buildings. We got off at the first stop and realized we wouldn't be able to spend too much time there because the last train back was at 6:30. So we wandered around a bit, drank some Versailles orange juice and caught one of the last (crowded) trains back. On our way back we stopped at the next two stops where the driver of the train got off and explained that there was no more room on this train BUT that there would be another train coming along momentarily.

At the front of the line was an American family. I could tell because I'm getting very good at spotting Americans, but also because they LOOKED that kind of trashy-American that doesn't belong in France, except maybe at Euro-Disneyland. ANYWAY, the (overweight, cartoon-character-t-shirt-wearing) mother says "WHY CAN'T WE GO ON THE TRAIN???" The train driver explains to her (in very good English) that there isn't any room (and let me tell you, from the perspective of someone already smushed on the train: there was no room) but another train will be coming by soon. "There IS room!" she said, pointing to a space roughly the size of her sausage-like finger. "Desole" the driver said. "At most ten more minutes." The woman scowled and crossed her arms. Her chubby husband, daughter and two young boys did the same. (How DARE they not have enough room on this train?) Everyone is staring at them, dumbstruck that they're upset about this. (What can you do? The French think. Have a glass of rose while you wait!) Finally the driver shrugs and gets back in the train. At this point we can hear the other train in the distance. As we pull away the roundest of the sons steps out of line and points at our train and hisses, "RUDE RUDE YOU'RE RUDE RUDE RUDE RUDEEE." I could have ripped up my passport then and there.

And the moral of this story is, well, don't act like that. And the thing is: most Americans DON'T... but that tiny percentage that does... well, that's where our bad reputation comes from.

(When I told Alex this story he said: If they were Russians they would have just pushed their way onto the train and refused to leave. Perhaps, then, I'm just overly critical of Americans... )

SPITI

So I'm home (although I barely know what that means anymore) and although I was sad to leave France, I had a pretty amazing homecoming. As I was sitting on the plane (next to one of those adorable couples you can't help be jealous of regardless your marital status) and thinking: "Okay... so I haven't seen Alex in a month and a half. The feeling I get when I DO see him is going to be infinitely telling." When I arrive in cloudy Athens I see Alex walking towards me. The first thing I think is "Wow he's cute." And then we get close and it was... perfect. That's the only way I can describe it. I just never wanted to leave his arms. I finally got the airport moment I've been waiting for all my life. (I really have...) So then we went out to the car (I thought he was picking me up by train but he convinced his friend to drive) and Alex's friend spent 20 minutes telling me how much Alex missed me. In the car we couldn't stop holding hands even though I was in the back seat. When we got home Alex gave me a welcome-home rose. (It took quite a while to get home because we needed gas and there is a truck-drivers strike right now so none of the gas stations have any gas left.) And then Alex's mom made me Borsh (spelling?) which was delicious. And then well... it was a good night. I'm happy to be back and looking forward to the summer and figuring out my life a little bit. 

Thank You Grandpa and Ellen

It is 11:30  on Saturday night. Tomorrow I head to Greece. By tomorrow I mean I have to wake up in 4 and a half hours. It seems the only decently cheap (EasyJet obvi) flight from Orly to Athens is at 6 am... since the last three times I've made the trip it has been at that time. 

Anyway, I am really sad. Like, crying right now sad. It's funny how fast you can grow accustomed to something, to someplace, some people. I feel like I'm being drawn and quartered. I want to be so many different places at once. I want to be here with my family, in Greece with Alex, home in NH with my (immediate) family and back in the states with my friends. Even this summer I want to somehow dash between France and Greece. 

If the life of the traveler is a lonely one, I know why. 

I would also like to thank, via-my-blog my grandpa and Ellen for taking better care of me than I could have ever asked for. Greece is going to seem quite the downgrade from life here. They've taught me a very important lesson though, one that I'm not sure I can articulate but I'll try:

Ellen said to me the other day, "In the world there are givers and there are takers." (She is, clearly, a giver.) The way the world works smoothly is not by everyone insuring their survival or happiness by TAKING what they feel is theirs, but by everyone GIVING what they can. (Alex and his mom also demonstrate this.) In this way, you begin a cycle. When I grow up you can bet I will spoil the hell out of my granddaughter if she shows up on my doorstep impoverished and far from home. Or even if she doesn't. 

In the world there are givers and there are takers, but everyone should strive to be a giver because in they end it is only they who are truly rich. 

Anyway... thank you two for:

-taking me to Corsica

-feeding me better than I've ever been fed (continuously) before (including sushi several times)

-buying me nice things

-giving me intellectual conversation every night (including a new understand of nuclear energy) 

-taking me to Versailles 

-putting up with me talking about Alex all the time

-supporting any crazy plans I may have in my head involving the future

-getting me an LSAT book

-and about a billion other things but I'll stop here because now I only have 4 hours and 10 minutes to sleep...

Paris in that time between spring and summer

JE NE PARLE PAS FRANCAIS

Much to say. Sometimes blogging is like homework you don't want to do. Other times it is not. 

Mmmm Sailors

I was walking along La Siene the other day and decided I should be a better photographer than I am. I mean how hard can it be? If I can appreciate nice photographs, why can't I TAKE nice photographs? (Mr. I-hate-Elena photoshop teaching junior year of high school might have had an answers to this question.) So anyway, I was playing with the settings on my camera... you know the MANUAL ones... and I was totally engrossed in the act of photographing a pretty tree jutting out into the river. I was leaning over the barrier adjusting my camera just so when someone came up behind me and said (in French) something like "photographing those men?" I turned around. "Uhh..." And then I saw it. Directly in front of me (but a centimeter below where I had been looking) was a boat. And on the boat were men. Half naked men. Men in Speedos. Men in Speedos lifting heavy objects. My jaw dropped, mostly because I honestly had no idea they were there. "Uhhh um non, non..." The man who had come up behind me laughed and smiled. I giggled and blushed and started to walk away. Just then the man leaned over towards the men and called to them (in French)

"This little girl was taking pictures of you!" He pointed at me and I fled.  

A Psalm of Life: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Tell me not in mournful numbers,

Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou are, to dust thou returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
Find us farther than today.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, - act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sand of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

In The Direction of America

Home is beginning to seem intangible. As if it never really existed. I am trying desperately to keep in touch with people and yet I become more and more estranged every day, seemingly soon only to exist in stories or gossip. I am fading into European life and part of me is terrified I am going to disappear. Life is going on without me, and when I return things aren't going to be the same. (A concept that takes some getting used to.) My version of reality right now is a sharp deviation from the American norm. I'm living in a temporary world. Liminality. Once upon a time there was someone writing songs about me, but now I'm just a memory. A college fling. A song on an external hard drive that no one ever listens to. Some invisible entity across an ocean. 

Time is intersecting highways and I can't always tell if I'm heading the right way. 

Are you BIKING?

Why is it that when I'm riding a bike strangers I pass make "biking" gestures to me? Do they think I am not aware that I'm riding a bike? Are they impressed with themselves for identifying the vehicle I am on? Are they attempting a backwards game or charades? On a bike ride today from the apartment to Notre Dame (Ah Notre Dame. Jeff & Rich, shout out to you here. I can't even say the name of it without thinking of 6th grade romance) I had THREE people make "biking" gestures to me. Thank you, people I passed, because of you I was ultra-aware of the fact that I was on a bike. Significantly more than if you hadn't made those gestures. 

[end rant]

Anyway, I love biking in Paris. Although it can be a bit of a challenge for the unexperienced. Like, how do you cross three lanes of traffic on a bike? And when is it appropriate to squeeze yourself in front of traffic? Only experience will tell. Unless I ask someone. Which I won't do since I don't bike in Paris very often, anyway. 

I did some thinking while I was biking and I decided my biggest problem in life right now is there are simply too many options. I want to DO everything. I want to SEE everywhere. I want to BE everyplace. There are too many things I'm interested in doing and so it all gets jumbled in my head and I end up with a crappy job in Corinth, Greece. (Not that I regret that, but it has almost opened up my range of opportunity TOO wide.) How do people choose their paths in life? Is it like positioning yourself in a nice part of town, slapping on a blindfold, spinning and choosing to walk down the road you face when you stop? How can anyone be sure of what they want if they realize the whole WORLD is at their disposal? 

If you have an answer, let me know. 

IqbalPleaseDon'tSueMe

(The music I used for this video of Corsica is courtesy of Iqbal Birdi. I do NOT have his permission to use it so I hope he doesn't sue me but I don't think he will. In fact, I'm not even sure the name of the song because I don't have the CD with me... but the fact is that Iqbal is an amazing musician and you can visit his current band's MySpace page by clicking here: the No Sorrows.)

This is some video I took in Corsica all smushed together and, really, of very poor quality but it gives you an idea of the place. 

Runner's High

So we're back in Paris and I've decided it is my favorite city. Not that I've been to that many cities, but I think Paris pretty much has everything you could want from a city. The only problem is everyone seems to speak French... but that's something ONLY an American would have issues with. My French is improving a little bit which is nice except that my mind will get crowded again with Greek and Russian soon enough that it won't make a difference. 

Now regarding the blog title: I love running in France. This morning I went to the park and half of Paris was running. There were even little kids running! And there were yoga classes... and it was all just very nice. I think I'd drop dead from shock if I saw something like that in Greece. (Funny how perspective changes so quickly.) 

Anyway, we've been in Paris since Friday night with Murielle and Auguste (spellings butchered I'm sure: sorry). It was Auguste's birthday yesterday and he took us out to a reallyyyy nice restaurant where just an entree (little rant: entree means APPETIZER not MAIN COURSE you stupid stupid American restaurants) cost more than I usually spend on food for a week. 

I promise I will write more when I have something more exciting to say.

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.)