Loosing Socks

I just realized that the laundry lady has been systematically stealing all my socks...hmm.. It's been two weeks to the day since my last post and if that means anything, since it's two weeks to the day from today that I leave, this trip is drawing to a fairly quick close. The week after I arrived back from Cyprus I spent mostly on chill mode, trying not to spend too much money since the Cyprus trip pretty much cleared the piggy bank, and so, much of my time was spent reading at the local coffee shop, a place surrounded with an aura of relatively mystic obscurity that happens to illusionistically appear out from behind a thick venire of foliage, the Odeon. A friend mentioned to me the other day that every trip and every living experience has its center point, from where everything else seems to be a periphery. The Odeon, he mentioned, is my center. Odd to think, but it puts into perspective that while I may sleep in my apartment I most definitely live at the Odeon. So, that said, week seven of this ten plus week project should forever be known as "Week Odeon", and all the better for it, as the place seems to be a natural nerve diffuser, a kind of safety from the outside reality of bills, tuition, school, the paper and increasingly failed to respond interviews. A place where the shade of the sidewalk-vined trees and the wall-length windows open to the breeze beat off the penetrating sting of the Aegean sun. True to form, an Athenian oasis.
The following week I caught up with the Belgian beauties again as they have come to be known. And it's hard to describe the impact speaking French can play on not only how someone structures their sentences but also how those words can put structure to one's lips. I've spent time in France before but seeing as I had a girlfriend at the time I didn't spend many of those afternoons sparking flirtatious conversations with Parisian women. It may be slightly nuancical, but added with a quintessentially French broken English it's hard not to find yourself transfixed and momentarily negotiating your career to include an address change near La Champs Elysee. After a brief stop over in my flat to shower (apparently that's a group activity in Belgium.... and no, to my ever most extreme disappointment I was not let in, even as a researcher;0) and drop off their luggage for the evening we set off for Plaka and Gazi districts. Shuffling through crowds, bar stops, Periptero (kiosk) drinks, roof-top patios, outdoor clubs, taxis and eight hours later I'm standing once again in Syndagma Square smoking a cigarette and waving goodbye to an X95.
The following few days could be known as Odeon la deuxième partie. Beau arrived shortly after and gave some much needed company from home. Having similar temperaments, afternoon drinks and backgammon over tourist destinations, we quickly started proving the superiority of Beer to Water and then spent the rest of the day retesting that theory. Although the following morning was Water's revenge we were able to pull it together by noon and head to the beach, hot sun, warm water and cold beer. Before his trip was up we had gone through back ally bars and cheap pita joints, patio bars and patio cafe's, the top of the Acropolis and the bottom of the Porcelain Queen, Vespa'd all around the island of Aegina and ferried over the Aegean. And all on the cheap, as is the ultimate concern of every university student and borrower of mass debt. The trick is to find the quaint most days and do the unadvertised the rest because experiences like these that ultimately go on the resume are far and few between and a few days of fun in the sun with friends between headaches would be an unforgivable regret.
Beau left yesterday morning and last night me and a couple friends on the program decided to go to a movie, the first one of the summer. We went to see "Hangover" which is, to me, and I know I'm going to catch shit for this, but on par with, and at times better than, Wedding Crashers. Yeah, I said it, but shit was pretty funny, the one liners were lacking so Wedding Crashers is still more quotable. But even more than the movie, the theater was the prime event, it was an outdoor theater in the middle of Plaka, a hugely dense tourist dining district. Just out of nowhere, coming out of what looks like a shop front selling posters is this easily missed entrance. Up two flights of stairs, with a bar at your back, your looking at rooftops to the right and to the left an upfront view of the Acropolis. Even though I see that massive rock every day, something about sitting rooftop, having drinks and watching a movie on a normal size theater screen with the 'lit-up for postcards' Acropolis is an experience I won't be forgetting anytime soon.
The next few days are going to be la troisième partie odeon and then Colin Nelson for a week. Then, after a few days, I'm catching my own X95 to the airport and landing at MSP on August 5th at high noon! (Anyone not working or free should join me for drinks at the Kity Kat Club at 1pm) I'll be writing again at least once or twice before leaving, and as always, thanks for reading!

Greek Cypriots, Turkish Cypriots, and French Speaking Belgians

So last week I left for Cyprus, complaining about an early flight and hesitant about couch surfing I rode out to the airport on the X95, window open and an H1N1 masked man tailing me all the way to Larnaka. Leaving the gates I quickly found my host, tired from an all-night shift and surprised the American spotted him while he was still eyeing all the non-Cypriot arrivals. Humid as all hell, as hell most presumably is humid, we got into his oven-ready, preheated for making bricks, black Mercedes. In Cyprus! I made it, which seems quite obvious, but when approaching a big project with travel involved it's easy to think of all the things that can get in the way and cause a quick halt to your plans and soon your itinerary starts looking like a to do list with sub-categories of ifs, if nots, god i hope nots, and god willings. So, there I am, at least now the project is half in the works and unless the island decides to go for a submersed swim it's a done deal.
My host was a really cool guy, with no intentions to murder me and ironically enough told me his friends had assumed the same desire for travel homicide of me as mine did of him. We spent the afternoon drinking corona and chatting in the back yard and getting to know each other a little better. That night we went to one of his friend's beach parties, for a birthday I would guess but he wasn't particularly good at introductions and my Greek is only slightly better than my Russian. Still, I noticed the glitter show at midnight and unless they were partying on my behalf for the internationally celebrated US independence I'd guess it was for someone else there. But regardless, I spent the evening patronizing both beer barrel and beach and later a beachside night club where slightly over-intoxicated foreigners danced and juggled drinks and tiki torches into the sea.
The next day George (my host) and I went to the capital Nicosia and into the Turkish occupied area, fittingly known to the occupiers as the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus. I'd explain the reason and history but that's pretty much the entire reason I was there and would take about fifty pages, the same length as the essay I've been sentenced, so I'll spare both of us the history lesson. A crazy experience overall though. Guarded by military patrol and UN peacekeepers it's a de facto border crossing, passport and all. Run down and economically un-stimulated (albeit better than ever before since they opened the border) we made short of it and left after about an hour. Again, the rich to poor divide is not easily explained but it is easily noticed, if not by the eyes at first the olfactories help the process.
The rest of my trip was a back-and-forth to Larnaka and Nicosia to stay at his parent’s beachfront flat and visit the must-sees of the Island. Agia Nappa (pronounced Ayia Nappa) is one of the biggest tourist attractions. Dominated by a British seasonal population, it’s the quintessential summertime club district, stretched with outdoor clubs, where the floors are less used for dancing than they are for getting to and from the dance cage or the bar-top to get their chance at ‘Britain’s Got Talent’. Fights and ambulances are as common as drink specials and since everyone is fronting a testosterone filled stare and no one is without a group it wasn’t among the most inclusive of party atmospheres I’ve ever been to. Interestingly pointed out too was that my host George was one of a handful of Cypriots there as they are usually not let into clubs, a kind of foreigner-native segregation.
For the rest of the trip we ate well and with locals most of the time, had my interview, cruised the island and saw the old as well as the new Cyprus. Malls and old city walls, foreign built mansions and small village shops. When I finally got on my flight back to Athens my five days in Cyprus felt more like a two-week excursion and a much-needed break than an overwhelming research trip.
I arrived back in Athens sometime around noon and grabbed the returning X95 regretting the trip back to the apartment. Just then, 1, 2, and 3 girls sat sown next to me speaking French and toting not much more than beach handbags. Seeing one next to me looking tired, hungry and with a slight cough I offered her a fruit biscuit and started up a conversation with them and soon came to find out they were vacationing from Belgium for a week. On their way to Mykonos and some islands for the week they were in town for one night. They asked me if I had any plans for the day, well had I then I didn’t think to remember and my better half quickly said, “no”. They asked if I wouldn’t mind hanging out with them for the day and showing them Athens, well, again, sometimes things are just handed to you and regrets are a bitch. They did pause though, “well, there are two more of us though if that’s okay with you”, so I turned around to see two more Belgian beauties waving hello. Hhmmm. And more than that, they were thanking me for hanging out. Walking, laughing, pictures and drinks, completely innocuous but…who cares, when’s the last time you did that? So, I’m supposed to meet up with them to show them the Athens nightlife next week. If that says anything, when a group of girls sits down next to you speaking French, make sure you packed biscuits…or something like that.
I’ve got my friend Beau coming in from the TC this week and I can’t express how much I’ve been looking forward to the next three weeks! In a lot of ways I’m on my own most of the time here so although it’s been a summer of many new experiences it’s also been one without old friends and company that know me well enough to joke and chill the way I do. So it’s a great way to cap off the trip. I’ll be writing another blog within the week I think so again, thanks for reading! Looking forward to seeing everyone when I get back!

At Half Way Point and Going to Cyprus

I won't go as far as to say that the past few weeks have "flown by" as that would incorrectly characterize them as a non-stop binge of stimulation, rather they seem to have taken on a homogenous feeling. The lack of change in the weather from 90 and sunny is numbing and can become like a run-on sentence, without commas, exclamation points, or stops with which to pause and reflect. It's interesting how the overuse of any climatic induced emotion can wear and cause the wishing for its change. In my case, I miss the rain and Athens seems to have negotiated an atmospheric embargo on such indulgences. In any case, as Tome Robbins' character Switters states in his book: "Fierce Invalids Home From Hot Climates"; "Weather should either be praised or ignored", and I enjoy the absence of winter too much to ignore the sun so I should praise it instead, even in its five week superfluousity. I don't want to sound as though being in Greece for the summer is a pain so I should at least first say the daily things here can become quickly the most enjoyable parts of temporarily living abroad. The neighborhood bakeries and coffee shops that seem to grow organically out of the corners of streets, as if there was no premeditated purpose to putting them there, but rather is a matter of course, which can explain an entire street lined with both, all equally busy and without worry of invading the other's space. It's the time of day where I can escape to these places and read, write and study that I think I get the most out of this experience. I have been fortunate in finding a local oasis where I've become friends with two fellow foreigners, a Brit and a Canadian, who love to do the same thing I do, talk philosophy, have drinks (coffee, beer, wine or coke) and just enjoy each other's company for no pre-designated period of time. The Brit moved here for a Greek woman that he won over while on vacation in the Bahamas, a feat that is about as rare as a non-smoking Greek. And the Canadian, a wealthy businessman on quasi vacation, sporting a seemingly attached pair of black shades and a never too far away glass of red wine. Considering the fact that I tend to be the only person in my "group" that will make a day of this instead of...well, I don't know what they do...I feel lucky to have had at least the past few weeks to enjoy that release.
Okay, so living abroad, well, for me here it's kind of a misnomer as I can't really say I'm making a living abroad. I'm more continuing to try to keep my living in the US while being absent somewhere else. I can't even begin to explain the stress of trying to keep bills in order and deal with the exchange rate with a dauntingly evaporating budget. Surprises of flight taxes of two hundred dollars and miscalculated costs of living (i.e. 10 euros a load of laundry.. etc) can throw a budget off by weeks and leave a perfectly beautiful day completely unnoticed and make a run less of a an enjoyable exercise than a health necessity. At the same time it can cause you to be creative and possibly bring about some amazing experiences. I leave for Cyprus tomorrow and was unpleasantly surprised to find hostel and hotel prices in Nicosia flooring at around 45 euro a night at the absolute cheapest! Even in Temple Bar in downtown Dublin hostels were averaged around 20 euros a night. So, I knew that I had to go, it is half my project, but to avoid getting financially stranded on an island where my local friends consist of dead political figures and ex-pat authors, I decided to check out couch surfing. I've always thought of couch surfing, but never really thought I'd get the chance to do it, and if I did I'd probably still default on hostelling my way through as a last minute decision. The idea of leaving all my travel obligations in the hands of an unknown benevolent was about as comforting as trusting a brake job on my car to a 6th person removed "facebook friend". Needless to say, necessity can cause the words, "fuck it" to jettison out of your mouth a lot more than you'd prefer. In my host's defense though, he's my age and seems about as normal as anyone I tend to associate with....okay, hopefully more so. And obviously extremely welcoming. Thanks George. As for my friends and family reading this, I'm flying back to Athens Tuesday morning and I'll be writing another blog shortly after to tell you all about it! As always, thanks for reading!

Adjustments, DCMs, and Hospitals

Since coming to Athens I've realized that Greece is not a place that you can equate to other places that easily. I have tried explaining it as a cross between Italy and Israel but that just seams like a painful analogy to try and comprehend. A better one is like an overgrown Malta, but other than that I think its best to say Greece is its own thing altogether. I've been struck by the family atmosphere here and how community oriented everyone seems to be. Athens really is as if a sea of small communities just happened to grow into each other. Lacking a metropolitan downtown and skyline it’s quickly noticed that the tallest structures are still the oldest ones dominating the top of the Acropolis. I think because of the neighborhood feel that permeates through the city, Athens is a place that becomes casually underwhelming and if you're not one for quaint esthetics it could even become boring. Athens can also be a place of literally endless pubs, coffee shops and conversation, windy streets, mesmerizing traffic flows and Greek style piazzas. So, the past few weeks for me have been an adjustment to a new country and an experiment in figuring out how to approach this city and ultimately my project.
My project has been going extremely well, I recently went to the Cyprus Embassy and asked if there were any Consular Officers available to speak with as I am going to Cyprus soon. After a long conversation with a collage of front desk personnel I finally was able to convince them that I first was not there for a Visa and second I didn't need a visa to visit Cyprus. Glad I helped inform them on that trivial piece of travel knowledge. So they sent me to the Trade Office for Cyprus, like a commercial office, which has nothing to do with politics but I think the front desk thought that I'd give up after that. Located in what looked like a converted apartment I found a few Commercial Officers hanging out and we got to talking, they said, "you know, I think you probably want to be talking with a Consular Officer at the Embassy." Yeah, I kind of thought so too. He goes over to the phone and starts chatting with someone and tells me to grab the phone, he says it’s the DCM, the Deputy Chief of Mission, which is the second highest diplomat in the country for Cyprus. Needless to say, no one gets to have an interview with the DCM unless you jump through a lot of hoops and red tape, this guy practically just handed me my top interview in a matter of minutes. A couple days later I was at the Embassy again, being asked if I needed a visa....lol... This time however, after saying who I was therefore, I was quickly ushered inside with smiles and an escorted elevator ride for a simple flight of stairs. The DCM was waiting for me and was more than warm in receiving me. Over two and a half hours later he had answered every one of my questions both on and off the record, brought in one of his Press Officers and gave me an entire bag full of books and literature concerning my project. Shaking hands at the end he handed me his card and said, "call me if you ever need anything or have a question." Now, sure I've heard that before but to have an open invitation to simply call the DCM is a pretty validating experience, especially when you got that interview through pure people skills and zero name recognition. One down, I don't even want to think of how many to go, but it will include a flight, a passport and a lot of unknowns.
So off the project path, I got my first taste of a Greek hospital. I developed a slight varicocele from running in the heat and walking everywhere. Becoming concerned about the pain and not sure what it was and still having a month and a half left here I decided I better go in to see a doctor. Well not having health insurance back home (besides catastrophe insurance which is mainly to cover the cost of shipping my body back if I die, very comforting) and not having anything here I wasn't sure how this was going to shake out. But aware that its universal care in the EU I was hoping any co-pay would be cheap. Well, cheap it was, free is a better word to describe it. I mean I had to pay 8.30 euro for the ultra sound but the actual visit is government paid. You know, a lot like the US.... Still, you have to put up with an ER style hospital in every hallway and in every corner and that means seeing a lot of blood and gurneys and coughing and sores while you stand for two hours by a door with a group of thirty possible H1N1's unknowingly waiting by the same but wrong door along with 30 other IMpatients, all looking at each other like, "you touch that door you're dead, don't you know I'm next?!" Well, of course not because apparently no one ever thought of putting a # system option in the suggestion box. You want to see a doctor, put your game face on and you sleep on that door.
Wrapping up, I'm hanging out in Pagratti having a coffee and sandwich on a couch outside surrounded by palm trees, chatting Greek-Cypriot politics with the shop owner's son, reading and virtual journaling, aka blogging. Ups and downs for sure, but overall, not a bad gig.

First Impressions

So after a long and turbulent flight extended by luggage lifting, bus rides and taxi cabs I finally showed up at the Athens Center! Which is just sick gorgeous, and yes, it has that ridiculous view of the Acropolis from the roof top with tables to chill and stare. So the surprise was that I'm actually not living in the Athens Center but rather in an apartment two blocks away with a rap-around balcony overlooking the streets just the way they do in Italy. 
so I'm sitting on that patio write now typing away to wireless internet with mediterranean trees, and beautiful breezes and a divinely blue sky. the architecture is really just like a cross between Israel and Italy. Above me, levels of apartments built as though the designer was playing a loosing game of jinga and trees somehow growing on every floor. I'm actually surprised at how much Athens reminds me of Italy. From the seemingly impossible number of mopeds and motorcycles, small cars and none, absolutely none of them appearing to know or care where they are in space and time relative to every other object around them. But, that's my kind of city an my first evening was a good intro to my temporary home. After arriving with a fellow friend from the program I needed some jake time to feel this trip as my own, so i went for a walk down the street expecting to find a local shop and grab some stuff to something for the fridge but only had to make it two blocks before stumbling into a nameless quasi Euro-style bar (meaning pop and beer in coolers with a convenience store like feel at the counter but with an extended sidewalk patio for beverage consumption and chain smoking. Met by a close-to toothless Sicilian named Ilia and the shop keeper Marco slaving over an unregulated array of grilling mystery meats I quickly found my spot on the patio and started the non-verbal/verbal dialogue in order to start making friends. It took about 2 minutes till Marco and I settled on Italian. He said he hasn't spoken italian for close to 20 years which apparently is around the same time he moved to Greece from Sicily. My Italian is nothing to write home about, no pun intended, but after a couple insanely cheap Euro-forty liter Heineken's (second one on the house), and a two-fifty euro grilled steak that would rival Morton's the conversation flow seemed a little less strained. There's always someone who knows a word in English and a kid passing on the street that knows this or that word and before you know it you have the whole damn UN sitting down smoking cigarettes, having a glass, and talking about all of the above.
I went for a run this morning and it's possible, but it's like running in a Manhattan populated San Francisco, dense, and Everything is on a hill-very steep inclines- it's all good though, that's probably just my neighborhood.