Madrid, Rome etc

Dear friends:
A lot has happened in my life since my last entry. I went to Madrid, I went to Rome, I had a few visitors here in Athens, I turned 23, I got really really sick,  I felt incredibly lonely and hit my lowest point thus far while in Greece, I got over it, I packed my bag for Santorini, I decided not to go because it was pouring rain, I drew some weird characters and wrote some songs.


First of all, Madrid:

All the buildings look like this

Probably my favourite city I've visited so far. I stayed with a friend who's doing a similar "teach abroad" thing, and spending time with her and her two lovely roommates definitely made the experience. The weather was also great. The architecture is simply stunning, there's plenty of green space, the people were friendly, the food was delicious, the art incredible. I saw a really neat photo exhibit at Caixa Forum, a contemporary art gallery. The exhibition, titled "The Floating World" and composed of photographs by French photographer Jacques Henri Lartigue, dealt with Lartigue's fascination with speed and movement. It's on until June 19th, and I highly recommend it if you're in Madrid. Obviously I also loved the Prado - Goya's da MAN, which I hadn't previously realized. The giant carnival rave dance party in a hockey arena certainly didn't hurt, either. I really have nothing bad to say about Madrid. You should go.

Lartigue photo

Tapas 

Rome:

I'm not going to blab on and on about the architecture. It's beautiful, and it's ubiquitous. But Rome has a certain intensity that Madrid does not, and can feel a little overwhelming. This intense feeling was certainly intensified because I spent most of my time in Rome alone. I stayed with a friend from high school, but she had work and an Italian boyfriend to attend to, so the time I got to spend with her was limited. Luckily I got to enjoy two very nice Italian dinners with her, on the Thursday and Friday nights before she went away with her boyfriend for the weekend. Both nights we went to restaurants in Trastavere, which is a very funky area on the West Bank of the Tiber, south of the Vatican. I would definitely recommend this laid-back area for eating and strolling, if you're ever in Rome.

Trevi Fountain

 On Thursday we went to a very good little pasta restaurant, and were seated very close to a party of six Italian men, who inquired whether my friend had a boyfriend. When she replied yes, they told her that since it was spring, "Prima Vera," it was naturally time to find a new one. On Friday, we went out to drinks with her boyfriend and his friend, who were both very pleasant. However, her boyfriend was one of the most maniacal drivers I've ever been in a car with, and altered my opinion of Greeks as the worst drivers on the planet.

Trees I liked

Spring was certainly in the air - it was warmer in Rome than it's been in Greece thus far. The lovely weather gave me that strange contradictory happy/sad feeling that spring weather does. Although it means new beginnings ("Prima Vera" in Italian, Anoixi - like "opening" in Greek), it also means endings. I guess I feel this sense of simultaneous openings/closings, because spring has always meant the end of a school year, which is both happy and sad. It got me thinking a lot about how my time here is almost up, and scared about what's to come next. I can't believe I only have three months left.

I went to the Vatican without knowing that once you reach the Sistine Chapel, you can't turn around and see the rest of the museum. So I rushed through the entire museum to get to the chapel, and once I'd seen it, that was that and I couldn't turn around. So if you ever go to the Vatican, take your sweet time in the museum. Fortunately, as I was breezing through the museum I did linger for a while in a room full of old maps. There's something very enchanting, almost Narnian, about old maps. A nice break from the Madonna and child, for certain.

Hall of Maps

I thought I would enjoy travelling alone, but I actually found it rather stressful and depressing. This negative feeling was certainly compounded by things going on in my personal life at the time, so perhaps it was just bad timing, but I also realized that you have to be a lot more careful and spend a lot more time figuring out where you are, and that ain't no fun. On my birthday, I nearly burst into tears in the streets of Rome, completely alone. I wasn't in any danger, but I just felt so frustrated not knowing where to go. Navigating on my own was a lot more difficult than I'd expected. I got lost a lot, and not always in the most charming areas.

:(

It also felt a bit strange to have an anonymous birthday, with no one to say "Happy Birthday!" to me except myself. I try not to get too worked up about birthdays because they usually end up feeling like just another day anyways, but being around no one at all that you know on your one special day of the year is an odd feeling. For instance, I went out to my birthday dinner on my own, and I felt like people were just staring at me the entire time wondering why I was alone. I sort of felt like screaming at them, "Fuck off it's my birthday!!!" (but didn't). I also dislike how Italian restaurants sit you so close to the next table. I was right next to an old Italian couple who said maybe three words to each other for the whole meal. I felt like I may as well have been part of their party. Maybe they'd run out of things to talk about. But is that how marriage goes? I hope my parents still have conversations when they go out for dinner.

Later on the night of my birthday, I stood in the Piazza by the Pantheon and watched a four-man string band play live. They were great, and a toddler of about three years old was dancing wildly along. I guess I had a big smile on my face watching this kid dance, because a young man approached me and said, "Your look deserves to be written." I gave him a questioning look and told him to go write about it. "I will, " he said. "I'm a writer," and then showed me the back of his book, on which his picture was plastered. I politely declined to ask him about his book, or himself, nor did I mention that I, too was a writer. Then he said something about the light of the moon and how I was gonna make a great mother one day... European men, man. Could they lay it on any thicker? Ugh.

Cool Green Birdy

I had some interesting experiences in cabs in Rome. My first driver attempted to charge me forty euros for a fifteen minute cab drive, after he turned off the meter when we crossed over the Tiber. "The meter doesn't work on this side," he said, "so it's another price." Jerk. I gave him twenty five and got out.  Another, much kinder one, actually gave me more change back than was owed, simply because I had helped him practise his English. All he knew how to say was, "I have run out of food."

Back in Greece..

I think being in Rome alone set something in motion inside of me that made me feel really really lonely, even back in Greece. There's also been some rather unfortunate stuff going on (or not going on) in my personal (read:romantic) life that has been rather upsetting, and has had a more profound effect on my state of mind than I'd like to admit. I could go on and on about that, but that's not what this blog is about.

Anyways - after I got back from Rome, I got really really sick. In Romeo and Juliet (which we finally have finished in my grade ten classes), after Mercutio's famous Queen Mab speech, Mercutio tells Romeo, "True, I talk of dreams, which are the children of an idle brain." So sometimes is misery, in my opinion.

This was the lowest point I've had so far while in Greece. It's funny, because I'd always expected the hardest part to be the beginning, but the beginning was easy as pie. My bad mood didn't stem from anything culturally related, but instead from being sick in bed with an idle brain, with nothing to do and no one to talk to. It kinda caught me off guard.

Anyways, I'm doing much better now. Currently I am on my two week vacation from school for PASKA (Easter). This past Sunday I was supposed to go to Santorini but opted not to because of bad weather. These few days at home in the apartment have actually been incredibly productive, and now that I'm healthy my brain is not so idle. I've been playing a lot of guitar and drawing weird characters inspired by a Greek artist named Christina Christoferou, who illustrated the cover of "The Magus," the total mindfuck of a book I'm currently reading. Tomorrow my parents are coming to Greece (hooray!) and we are off to Corfu for a true Greek Easter celebration, then to Crete.

New friends

Let the sun shine.

Come visit me in Greece, already.

Turkish Delight

The other weekend I went to Asia.
I'm talking about Istanbul.

I was there for less than forty-eight hours and the weather was absolutely wretched (freezing rain), and still I had a wonderful time. Strolling around freezing in my inadequate cloth footwear, I kept thinking, "I've gotta come back here when it's warm again." I sure hope I get the chance to.

It was really f-ing cold

In 324,  Emperor Constantine I defeated Licinius, and came to effectively rule the entire Roman Empire. Shortly thereafter, he decided to build a new, Christian city to replace Byzantium: Nea Roma. Most people simply called it Constantinople. The city became a center of Greek culture and Christianity, and shifted Roman power eastward.

For a while, the city's seafront and its walls protected it from invaders from the east and against the advance of Islam. But things started to go sour after the Fourth Crusade. The city was sacked and pillaged in the early 1200s, and unfortunately never quite bounced back. In the mid 14th century, the Ottoman Turks began taking small towns and cities one by one, slowly strangling Constantinople by cutting off its supply routes.

Finally, in May of 1453, the last Roman Emperor (Constantine XI) was killed, and Sultan Mehmed II captured the city and declared it the new capitol of the Ottoman Empire. Hours later, the sultan rode to the Hagia Sofia and summoned an imam (islamic priest) to proclaim the Islamic creed and convert the cathedral into an imperial mosque. 

And still, all my students refer to it as Constantinople. Get over it, Greece, it was over 550 years ago.

 Check out this song about it:

 Istanbul - They Might Be Giants

(Originally written by "The Four Lads" but I like this version better.)

Mandee, Whitney and I left Athens two Fridays ago around 7 pm, and arrived at our hostel by 10. Living conditions certainly colour an experience, so I think "Bauhaus Hostel" deserves a large amount of credit for my enjoying Turkey so much. Immediately upon our arrival the man at the front desk told us there was a "bellydancing show upstairs!!!" and that we had better "run!!" in order to catch it before it ended. We climbed three flights of stairs to increasingly loud music and came upon a pretty happening bar on the top floor. A gorgeous young Turkish woman, clad rather scantily in a sparkling bellydancing costume, shook her booty in front of roughly thirty young beer-drinking onlookers. Aside from the bellydancer, it felt more like Brooklyn than Istanbul - the audience looked out from behind many a pair of horn rimmed glasses and flannel shirts.

After we changed and freshened up, we went back upstairs for another drink. There we met two American boys, Zach and David, who decided to join us for dinner. That's one of the (only) great things about hostels - everyone knows no one knows anyone, so everyone hangs out. We ventured out into the cold Turkish night and found a kebab joint. The old Turkish owner brought us chicken skewers and rice and repeatedly referred to us as his daughters.

Bauhaus is located in the Old City, right by the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sofia. The streets are entirely cobblestone. People had told me that Istanbul is a crazy busy place, like New York, but our section of the city felt quiet and calm.

On Saturday morning we first set out for coffee, and settled upon our location based on the lights. Here we had our first taste of apple tea; apple tea is delicious, especially on such a miserable day, but it's basically just hot koolaid. (I bought some at the airport- ingredients= sugar).










Perhaps I oughtn't judge a city by it's stray animal population, but I was struck by how good lookin' the stray dogs in Istanbul were. They just looked so dignified. The ones in Athens are so FAT - these were some lean, adoptable, playful lookin pooches.

Check out those crossed paws 

Hagia Sofia

                                                                                                                                                             The Hagia Sofia as we see it today was commissioned (for a third time) by Byzantine Emperor Justinian. He was determined that it be ENORMOUS, and ordered that only the richest materials be used.  It was decorated over a period of 26 years, with precious gold, silver and marble, taken from far away lands. Hollow bricks from Rhodes were used to construct the domed ceiling.

Everything in Istanbul is very ornate - I loved the colourful, finely detailed glass lamps on the ceilings of all the restaurants we ate in, the handpainted dishes, the intricate wall paintings in the mosques. I especially liked the walls of the Blue Mosque. I was surprised to feel so drawn to an Islamic aesthetic, because I usually think of Islam as so foreign, and as something that makes me uncomfortable. Similarly, the call to prayer: I thought it would kinda freak me out. I loved it. It's fascinating, haunting, beautiful.



I really liked the Turks I met on this trip. I found them very friendly, and that they had quite a sense of humour. People had told me that the men there would be incredibly aggressive, and I did find this to be true, but not in the way I expected. In Greece, you have to put up with a lot of stares and hearing how beautiful you are. (I read somewhere that Greek men rank #1 in the world for sleaziness. Woo!) In Turkey, the only men who really hassled me were those who wanted me to buy something - the men in the bazaars and standing outside restaurants. They really, REALLY want YOU to buy their product, and they let you know it. They shout after you loudly if you walk away, as though they're incredibly offended. It's pretty annoying, and a terrible sales tactic, but hey: at least there was no groping.

Lights in the Grand Bazaar

My favourite part of the trip was wandering through the bazaars, (Grand Bazaar and Egyptian Spice Bazaar). Here you experience a sensory overload - the smells of spices and apple tea, the free samples of Turkish delight, the bright warm light of countless lamps, the shouting after you as you walk away from a stall in an attempt to bargain. Bargaining is expected. You certainly hear a lot of, "This? forty, but for you, 25," and wonder for whom the price ISN'T specially discounted. Still, it's a fun game to play. I think I also loved the Bazaars because they were such a nice warm refuge from the horrible wintry mix outdoors. I kinda went overboard on the scarves.

Teas and Spices

I also quite enjoyed the Basilica Cistern, or "Sunken Cistern," the largest of several hundred cisterns that lie beneath the city. It is close to 10,000 square meters, and can hold 80,000 cubic meters of water. Large fish swim in the water, their scales reflecting the orange glow from the sparse lighting. A forest of columns extends from below the water to the ceiling. I put on my ipod, and as I listened to Beethoven, I tried to imagine that it was just me and the fish.

Basilica Cistern

Our Restaurant Saturday

Aladdin

Saturday lunch was delicious. Hummus, Turkish ravioli, some kinda eggplant thing, and more apple tea. And of course, lamps galore overhead. The owner then insisted we go visit his "museum" upstairs, which looked much more like an opium den. Totally bizarre - there was a girl typing away on her macbook on one couch, and what looked like an older version of Aladdin lying on some floor pillows. Costume clothing everywhere. I couldn't tell if he wanted us to buy drugs or what, but it certainly seemed like an inviting space to just lie down and sleep.

We went to the other side of the Bosphorus, Taksim, on Saturday night for dinner. THIS was the NYC, super hyped happening city I had heard of. It was nuts. Unfortunately for us, we didn't realize that Turks don't eat as late as Athenians do - showing up at a restaurant at eleven pm for dinner didn't really fly. So we had to settle on fast food. Good all the same.

Fruit Market on the Asian Side

On Sunday we awoke early and hit up the blue mosque, then went down to the water to take the ferry over to ASIA! The Asian side wasn't nearly as nice, in my opinion, but we also didnt really have a clue where we were going. The weather was also terrible.

Speaking of weather, we're having a snow day today in Greece. :)

Meteora

The only places I can liken Meteora (Μετέωρα, "suspended rocks") to are sets from fantasy movies – Middle Earth, Narnia, the landscape surrounding Hogwarts, Jurassic Park. Certain slopes reminded me of Pride Rock, and I half expected to see a baboon holding up a lion cub for a vast array of African animals below to see. But alas – there were no animals. Only giant rock pillars, shooting 600 meters or more up from the valley below, like a mangled mass of fingers reaching toward the sky. If you look closely, some rocks look as though they have faces carved into them.                                       

It is commonly believed that weathering and earthquakes shaped the rocks into their current forms tens of millions of years ago. In the 9th century, a group of ascetic hermit monks moved up to the ancient pinnacles. The great height of the suspended rocks and their unforgiving cliff walls kept away most visitors, making the hermit life easy. The monks lived in caves and cutouts in the rocks, meeting only on Sundays to worship and pray.

By the end of the 12th century, a large ascetic community had flocked to Meteora and founded the great Meteoron monastery upon Broad Rock. The setting was perfect for the monks - here atop the rocks they had complete control of entry to the monastery, which could only be reached by climbing a ladder. If ever someone suspicious came along, they just pulled the ladder up. In the late 14^th Century, the Turkish occupation led more and more monks to seek refuge at Meteora. Over twenty monasteries were built, but only six remain today.

The Train

Meteora sits smack in the middle of the country. I hadn't traveled very far inland in Greece before, so on the five and a half hour train ride I saw what mainland Greece looks like outside the cities. Athens is Greece’s largest city, with a population of around 3 million, with Thessaloniki in Northern Greece coming in second at just under a million. The route from Athens to Kalambaka (the town nearest the monasteries) was entirely rural. As I dazed, droolingly, in and out of that half-awake sleep you experience when traveling, I saw goats and sheep and cows, snowcapped mountains (which baffles me because it’s 65 degrees on the ground), and near-empty valleys stretching on endlessly below as the train snaked through the hills. I also got to watch one of the most unrestrained displays of PDA I’ve seen in a while, performed by the couple across the aisle. Barf.

When “the turtle train,” as an elderly Greek man on the train described it, finally pulled into Kalambaka, I think most of us (seven of us) reacted like, “We came six hours for this…?” Kalambaka is a rather desolate looking little town, and not in a charming way. It just looks really run down, with an American strip mall feeling.

Thankfully, as soon as we took two taxis up to the “panorama view” to watch the sun set, I understood what I had come to see. Meteora is like a city of rock formations. These ominous grey figures rise like spires into the sky. Across the valley (beyond Kalambaka) sit snowcapped mountains. The view is certainly beautiful, but there’s something haunting about it – I think because it’s so lifeless. The rocks break up in ridges at the sky, and sometimes the odd tree or two creates a silhouette against the dimming light. But the trees appear black, not green. One tree in particular looked like a large bird, perhaps a vulture crouching to devour its prey. It was also freezing up there. Because the weather down in Kalambaka had been so warm, I hadn’t brought a coat up. The wind hit me like a whip, and as the sun went down, I couldn't stop shivering.

As the light bled from the sky, we walked back to town. 8 km later in the pitch black, we were pretty hungry, and settled on a lit-up, pleasant looking taverna for dinner. A short, fat, bald man seated us at a table in the middle of the otherwise completely empty restaurant. When he returned to take our orders, we listed off the usual fare, to share for the whole table: a couple greek salads, two tzatzikis, patates (fries), zucchini balls, some fried cheeses, bread, beer, and a few meat dishes. For the first time ever, the waiter disapproved of our selection. He told us that if we got all these appetizers we'd feel sick and bloated because they'd mix poorly. He puffed up his already chubby cheeks and put his hands out in front of his stomach as if to act out the horrible consequence we’d face from such a selection. In a poorly concealed attempt to make more money, he aggressively urged us to order more mains. I was sitting there thinking, “this is a traditional Greek restaurant, and you’re trying to tell us that this traditional Greek meal is going to make us sick? Great sale, buddy." We said no thanks. He walked off in a huff. 

After he left, we began to discuss how rude he had been. My friend Eleni happens to be the loudest person I've ever met, so I think the waiter overheard her saying "What an asshole!" Sidenote: Eleni is Greek American and fluent in Greek, and loves to chat with the locals. She also likes to assume that most Greeks don't speak any English, and talks a whole lotta smack about people, in English, right in front of them. It's made for some pretty awkward situations, because from what I understand, most people in Greece understand English.

After we’d been served and had begun eating, our waiter returned and asked, "How is everything?” It was rather mediocre, but we responded that it was good. “You can't argue I don't have a good kitchen, even if the service is terrible,” he said, sarcastically, having obviously overheard our commentary. Awwwkwardd.

On Sunday morning we called the cab drivers that had driven us up to the panorama. They arrived within two minutes, and took us to the monasteries, or as close to the monasteries as you can get in a car – they take a lot of stone steps to get up to. Once inside, women are made to wear long skirts to cover even loose fitting pants. The skirts reminded me of American Apparel’s African print, and I contemplated trying to buy one, but then forgot.

A few monks still live and practice in the monasteries, but I didn’t see any. Their quarters are cut off from the part that tourists are allowed to see. What we saw were the ornately decorated monastery interiors, where prayer is to take place. Considering that it’s not tourist season, there were a surprising number of old Greek women lighting candles and doing the sign of the cross. In Greece the sign of the cross goes forehead, heart, right side and then left, unlike the left/right you see in North America. I liked the rich, deep blues and golds of the wall paintings, and I realize it must have taken forever to get them up. However, what's depicted on the walls creeped me out, big time. The imagery is almost entirely of people cutting eachother up or burning eachother or burning themselves or bleeding giant spouts of blood into the air or being swallowed by enormous fish with horribly jagged teeth. There was one room full of skulls of about a hundred monks past. So after two monasteries I was happy to get the hell out (pun intended) and spend more time enjoying the scenery.

Greg, Tom and Robyn all felt the same way, so we split off from the other three girls and hiked down into the valley that ran between the road back to Kalambaka. Tom kept saying "there's the path" and insisting that we follow it down into the gorge. Although at first there did seem to be a path, by the time we were about 200 m down into the abyss there was nothing left to follow. Attempting to relocate the path, we crisscrossed a fairly wide stream two or three times, and had to contend with some very slippery rocks. We tromped through bushes of thistly thorns and soon I was covered with prickles. I’ve been pretty itchy all over this past week, and I’m wondering if maybe I got poison ivy. At about three pm I started panicking in my head, thinking, “we're definitely going to miss our (5:30) train. We're gonna be stuck here all night and get attacked by bears, or at least snakes. Definitely.”

Somehow, we miraculously made it back to the road and had time to walk down to a taverna (a different, better one) and get lunch before returning to our hostel and heading off to the train. Though I was momentarily convinced I’d be eaten by a bear, our little adventure into the gorge got me really excited for more outdoor exploration. I can’t wait for island hopping to begin.

While we were down in the valley, the other girls saw a naked man standing in the woods next to the road. Perhaps it was a monk, doing some sort of spiritual exercise. I’m sorry I missed it.

In other news, I had my first real full length conversation in Greek the other night, with a taxi driver. I was very proud. His name was Stellios and I’d say he was about sixty. Before I got out of the cab, he insisted on writing his number down for me in case I ever needed a cab again. "Or, you know, if you want to get coffee or something." Ha.

Lately

I wish I could say I haven't written in a while because I haven't done anything and I have nothing to say. Truth is, there's always something to say, I've just been really lazy about saying it. 

Though I predicted January to be an unbearably slow month, it went by fairly quickly, and here we are, Feb 11th. At school, SWAV (a club whose initials stand for "Students Who Are Volunteering," I believe), is selling red hearts with chocolate bars attached for valentines day. Love is in the air and the kids just can't stop humming Duck Sauce's dance hit "Barbara Streisand," so I have that song stuck in my head all day at work.

The weather in January was pretty cold, but this week really felt like real spring. I felt myself reminiscing about good times on the main green and walking around on Benefit admiring the pretty New England architecture. The changing seasons are what give me the most keen sense of missing home here - in the winter I missed real cold and snow and christmas food, now I miss the buzz of coming spring and the smell of cherry blossoms. I miss Brown. 

Anyways. Here's what's up since we last talked:

1) Julia and I went to Lake Vouliagmeni, (Βουλιαγμένη meaning "sunken,"), a thermal lake about 20 km south of Athens. "Thermal" meaning it retains a constant temperature of 24 degrees celsius year round. It was pretty warm considering the January air outside, and I stayed in for a half hour. The lake is fed by underground currents seeping through Mount Hymettus, and is reported to have many healing properties, due to the high mineral levels in the water. It was once in a large cavern, but during an earthquake in the middle ages, the roof collapsed, leaving the lake open to the sky. Apparently, some American scuba divers disappeared there in the late sixties.

Lake Vouliagmeni

Julia was taken by the strays

Mandee went to this lake in the fall, and said that when you dip your feet in the fish would nibble at them. Some people do this intentionally for exfoliation. Maybe in the winter the fish lose their appetites, because they certainly weren't interested in exfoliating my feet (I was a bit disappointed, actually). I have no idea why this is underlined but I can't seem to undo it.

2) I recently visited the acropolis for the first time (shame on me!). It's pretty magical up there.

Odeon of Herodes Atticus (Roman)

I feel a bit silly for not having been before now, but I guess that's how it works with cities you live in. "The Acropolis isn't going anywhere," I told myself, and thus I felt no pressure to get off my ass and go see it. Well, I'm glad I finally did.

View on the way up

3) Language: Im getting a bit better, but Im also feeling a bit lazy because everyone speaks English. I've made leaps and bounds since I got here in September, but listening to people speak still feels like listening to words in a dream. Its all very slow and I can only make out single words here and there. By the time my mind registers what they've said, they've usually already registered the look of confusion on my face and said it for me in English. Once that happens, I link the English words to the Greek ones they just said, and I want to say, "Oh, I understand." But even that comes late - my mind takes a while to scramble together how to say anything.

3 ) I was supposed to go to Cairo two weekends ago, but then Egypt had to go have a revolution, so I didn't. My friend from Cairo actually ended up coming to stay with ME for a while, after being evacuated by the state department. Looks like it finally worked out, though! I wonder how long it'll take for Cairo to be safe to visit again. I certainly hope that all my Grade Five efforts at learning heiroglyphics and memorizing the names of all the Egyptian Gods (Anubis rules!) wasn't all for nought.

Slender Ancient Ladies

4) I have basically stopped exercising. My diet consists primarily of Tiropita (cheese pie), specifically the "Kouru" type.










5) Meg persuaded me to conduct interviews for Brown in the Athens region. I think it's pretty funny that I'm doing this, since it's something my Dad does. I feel a bit like since I just graduated, I shouldn't be allowed to - what do I know about the selection process? Anyways, I actually quite enjoy it - I interviewed two kids this week and really enjoyed talking to them both. The girl I interviewed (over the phone, sadly) just so happened to be the 2009 Eurovision Candidate from Cyprus. I'm a bit starstruck.

6) Meg's boyfriend, Giorgos, and I have started a band. Last night we had our first practise. We're hoping to play live somewhere at some point this spring. I'll keep you posted.










7) I sold a painting. Shameless self promotion here: If you're reading this blog, you may as well check out my OTHER website: http://web.me.com/clairecushman

More to come soon.

It's A New Year

I departed for Toronto on December 22nd. Only a few days earlier, terrible snowstorms had hit much of Western Europe, and European airports (namely Heathrow and Frankfurt) were terribly unprepared. You've seen the pictures: thousands were left stranded in these airports for days on end. Because I was scheduled to fly through Frankfurt, and the sky was scheduled to snow, I anticipated major delays. To prepare for my long wait in that cold, miserable prison of an airport, I downloaded 9 rental movies on itunes. And then didn't watch a single one - by some magical twist of fate I got home without a minute's delay. A great start to my holiday.

The cold in Toronto was an immediate shock to the system - My body has certainly adapted to the Mediterranean climate. Thus for the first few nights at home, I slept with a hat and gloves on.

I made a great new friend over break: Bruno. Bruno is our new chocolate lab, who my parents got in October. He's a pretty cool dude. He's like a giant lap dog - he'll sit right on you and lick your face and paw at you and just loves being around people. A neighbour has taken to calling him "collapsible Bruno" - he stumbles down stairs and his enormous paws slip on glossy floors. Unfortunately, he throws up a lot (because he rips to shreds and eats anything he can find, including my leather boots), and this particularly frustrates my mother, as she is his primary caregiver.

And he's not even a stray!

My four months in Greece is the longest I've ever spent out of North America, so I was expecting there to be some kind of reverse culture shock when I returned home. That I might think things like "Wow, the sidewalks are so pedestrian friendly!" and "Everyone's speaking English!" and "Where are all the cats!?" But I didn't. Aside from the dizzy jet lag feeling, I slipped right back into North America as though I'd never left.

For the most part, being home was quite relaxing. Christmas was very low key, which I really appreciated. The most stressful aspect of returning to North America was that it forced me to confront my future - what the hell am I going to do next year? I've come to the conclusion that I'll probably move back home (after seven years living away from home) for a little while. I don't have any idea what I want to do with my life and I think I need to spend some quality time thinking about it, and experimenting with different options. I'd like to paint a lot, write a lot, and put some real energy into singing, which I've never had a chance to focus on. As a wise woman named Allie Wolner once said, though floundering around at home is not pleasant while you're doing it, there's something really valuable about floundering around.

I've been reading Johnathon Franzen's "The Corrections." I'ts f-ing great.

As you may have noticed from my use of past tense, I am now back in Greece. It was wonderfully warm and sunny when I got here, 2 Saturdays ago. Last week was not quite as nice, but at least it's much warmer than at home.

I think these first two months back are going to be tough. The weather right now is decent, but it's certainly not ideal for Greece (no laying on the beach at this time of year). We also don't have any long weekends until March, so it will be two months of weekends doing whatever in Athens. Thus it feels a bit like from now until March is just a period of waiting.

Big news: Lizzie left, for good. She had been having a pretty rough time last semester and talking about not coming back this semester, but I didn't think she would actually follow through with it. She did come back, but I guess after one day here she decided she just couldn't hack it. So she packed up her things and headed home on Monday night.

Luckily, right now, my friend Julia from Brown is visiting for the week. (She really couldn't have come at a better time).

It's pretty strange having this huge apartment all to myself. It is a bit lonely, but there are certainly some pros - I can walk around naked, leave my dirty dishes in the sink, and play music as loud as I want. I'm certainly someone who needs their own space.

While I was away from Greece, I had some time to reflect upon this experience. One thing I thought a lot about was being on my own. Although I am here with nine (now eight) other Americans my age, living in Greece and not speaking the language can be incredibly lonely at times. In November, there was a period where I even felt utterly cut off from the other teaching fellows, and totally alone. However, I suppose any experience the year after college will bring its lonely moments. At Brown, I was surrounded by wonderful people my own age 24/7.

But there's certainly value in being alone, and one does not have to be "lonely" just because they're alone. I'm pretty damn good at keeping myself busy, and am excited at the prospect of turning Lizzie's old room into an art/dance studio. Maybe living in this apartment on my own will be a good thing.

Along with the notion that it's okay to be alone I have accepted that I am not going to find romance in Greece. I went on a few dates with Greek dudes last semester, but nothing really came of it, and I've stopped hoping anything will. They're all way too old for me anyways... yuck.

Anyways. Now that Lizzie is gone there is TONS of space in my apartment. So please plan your visit to Athens!

Hronia Polla (Happy New Year, but really means "many years!"),
CC

Snow in Athens

Late Friday night (well, early Saturday morning), I was out with some of the fellows in "Gazi" (sort of like a theme park full of bars in downtown Athens). As we walked from "Soho" to "Tora" (means now in Greek, not a jewish bar), it began to snow. It came like a light rain at first, and all the flakes melted as soon as they hit the concrete. The snow continued all day yesterday, in fluffier, chunkier flakes, and now the mountain I look towards out my window is white. :)

 (There's no snow on the ground in Halandri though, because we're at a lower elevation.)

Rather than play outside in the snow, I went out to lunch with Laura, one of the teachers in my department. We had originally planned to just get coffee, and ended up getting Margaritas and Burritos instead. The whole setting kinda cracked me up: Here I am in Athens Greece, getting tipsy at 3 pm on a Saturday with my colleague, sitting in a Mexican restaurant decked out in Christmas lights, and watching the snow fall.

Laura's husband is Greek, and this got me thinking about romantic relationships between people who don't have a common mother tongue. Because his first language is Greek, I imagine that when Laura's husband thinks, he thinks in Greek first. It's well known that there are certain words or expressions that just can't be translated from language to language - (did you know there's no Greek word for Hangover?) - and I wonder how this applies to matters of the heart. Whether certain things are different in such couples, what's lost and what's gained.

(Just a thought).

The snow came quite abruptly - up until a few days ago, the weather was still in the 70s, and I was beginning to think winter in Greece didn't really exist. Last Monday I walked to work in a sleeveless dress. And then suddenly, within two days, the temperature dropped 30 degrees.

The cold and the sight of (though fleeting) snow has made me VERY excited to go home for Christmas. These last few weeks have just felt like a push til the end. I can't wait to go home, sleep, speak English without having to politely ask whether the person I'm speaking to speaks English as well, see my family and new dog, and eat home cooked North American food. I don't mean to diss Greece, but right now I'm ready to get the hell out. The inefficiencies are driving me nuts - for example, the reason I did the nearly hour long walk to school last week was due to a transport strike, which happened again today, and will happen again on Wednesday as well.

I've also realized that making Greek "friends" is not only difficult, but sometimes not much fun, either. I've met plenty of Greek people, and they've been very kind to me on the whole, but they're usually also:
a) much older than me, so I don't feel like we have much common ground
b) male, and not really that interested in just being my friend
c) not native English speakers, so I can't understand everything they're saying and they can't undesrstand me either. This totally kills the humor part, which is all I really want anyways.
d) Eager to tell me all the best things about Greece, which I've heard over and over again from all the other Greeks I've met.

So! Feeling a little dejected about making new Greek friends. I do really love my colleagues though, and am feeling closer and closer with some of the other teaching fellows.

I feel like my Greek is improving, and I'm still really enjoying learning it. Every time I sit down for a few hours and really study it I feel like I make huge progress. So I need to do more of that. Hopefully by the time I leave I'll really be able to speak it. The problem now is that because everyone speaks English, I hardly ever get to practise my Greek.

Last weekend Mandee and I went to ancient Corinth and saw the castle there. That was pretty damn cool. Inspired me to keep exploring greater Greece when I get back after Christmas.

Brussels

Because Canadian and American Thanksgivings fall on different dates, I've felt a bit out of touch with Thanksgiving since I started living in the USA, six years ago. My parents, in Toronto, celebrated it in October, and when Alex and I came home in November, we'd often end up having chicken instead of Turkey.

This year I strayed even farther from the holy Turkey dinner - I rang in Thanksgiving in Brussels, with chocolate, french fries, and beer. While my American travel companions (2 guys, 2 girls) complained of missing a proper Thanksgiving meal, I was quite content.

Belgian chocolate, in my opinion, really IS that good. I bought an embarassing amount, and have finished all of it which I didn't immediately give to my coworkers. Sorry Mom, but none of it will be making its way home for Christmas.

I fell in love with this little sweetshop, "La Cure Gourmande"(it's a chain), where I bought three cookie tins and an excessive amount of chocolate. I filled one tin with cookies, but the other two I bought simply because the boxes were so pretty.

Cookie Tins

Beer: both nights we went to a bar called Delirium, which has over 2000 beers on tap. It was a riot. Three floors, jam packed with people (who were dancing! Greeks don't dance), loud classic rock.

Belgians are notorious for being the most boring people in Europe. I'd like to say "I couldn't disagree more," but the truth is, I didn't meet many Belgians in Belgium. I did have a lovely time with the French and the Brits, though.

The second night, I struck up a conversation with two French guys dressed in drag (one as some kind of red mixed religion drag queen). I thought maybe there was an occasion, but when asked why they were dressed up, they responded, "Why not?"

"Why not?"

We also met a group of British blokes and ended up chatting and dancing with them until 4 am, when Delirium finally closed. Some of them had such thick cockney accents that I couldn't understand half of what they were saying, so having a language in common wasn't such a wonderful thing after all.

*When I say we, I mean, me plus the two other female teaching fellows who went on the trip. We somehow managed to spend almost no time with the boys.


What I loved most about Brussels was that it put me in the Christmas spirit. Although Athens is doing its darndest to be jolly (there are TONS of Christmas shops), the still seventy-five degree weather somehow makes it quite difficult to get into the cheer. Brussels, on the other hand, was f-ing freezing. It was a major shock to the system to walk out of the airport into such frigid air. But it was invigorating.

The Grand Place

There was a fantastic "light show" in the "Grand Place," Brussels' main square. This square has some magnificent architecture, and the light show mimicked the building whose facade it played onto exactly. Thus it looked as though the building were lighting up from the inside... err, kindof hard to describe. Maybe you had to be there.

I loved speaking French again in Brussels. It reminded me how little Greek I know, which is funny, because in Budapest, hearing hungarian reminded me how MUCH Greek I know. I do think French is a beautiful language and I'm thankful I studied it all through gradeschool and highschool. Id like to go back to it at some point.

Manneken Pis

In terms of sight seeing, we went to the Magritte museum, which was nice because Magritte is pretty weird and out there, but I find his work easy enough to understand. After one museum, we were museumed out, and spent most of the time walking around and eating. Of course we saw, "Manneken Pis," which is very, very small. It was rather underwhelming. 

Part of me felt like I should've taken advantage of my time there and gone to as many tourist destinations and museums as possible, but a larger part of me felt like the best way to see and enjoy a city is to just walk around. And eat waffles. 

Now, back in Athens, back to reality: I had my first full week of school in over a month this past week, and I'm exhausted!!! And I have three more full weeks to go before Christmas break. Aye aye aye.