Tag: travel

What’s in a home- A journey of finding a place of my own.

A Home is Where We Can Be Ourselves.

I always saw myself and often describe my life as somewhat rootless. A friend recently described me as somewhat bohemian, (a term I don’t particularly care for). Despite the romantic idea of moving around from place to place as being appealing, the logistics are often cause for reflection. I’ve moved house over 30 times; worked, loved and lived in three different countries. I’ve set up and taken down so many homes, it’s become a distorted hobby, and with every move I’ve made, and through my staunch defense of impermanence, I deeply long for a place to call home. The feeling of moving my life, my memories and my base once more is becoming a more daunting experience than I thought in the past. Every move, every packing of glasses, and books, and precious personal items, becomes more and more difficult.

With every move to another home, another apartment, and another space, I pick up new memories, new stories and new pieces of the puzzle. This idea that my childhood home would always be my home really was never a concept I subscribe to, and neither does my family. We are nomads, travelers, explorers of sorts; each a part of the never ending puzzle. Athens to Massachusetts to New York to London to Athens to New York to…. It’s a circle of connections one more interesting than the next.

2001 Leaving South London

I arrived in London from New York in September 2000, and while I had a soft spot for this great metropolis since my early childhood, living and studying there was an eye opening experience I would recommend to anyone. London is a city deeply rooted in history, art, music, theater, and cultural revolutions; it oozes tradition, yet the same stuffy London is host to the most progressive dance parties and groundbreaking art scene in all of Europe. Going toe to toe with Berlin, and Amsterdam; London is a pretty crazy diverse, interesting, experimental city, with some rad royals. Some of my closest, truest friendships were born there, my passion for the arts and culture was cultivated there, and my 20 years ( plus) yoga practice was minted there. Some 20 years on, I still connect with people I love and cherish in London. Their lives woven with mine, creating a tapestry and a life spanning more than 25 years.

Athens wasn’t and didn’t feel like home at the time. I had been away from Greece for over 10 years; moving as a family the first time in 1991 to live near my American Grandmother. A crazy experiment my family thought prudent at the time. I would stay a year, and go to an American School and then come back in a couple years for high school.

Returning to Athens 10 years later as a 23 year old was a like a punch in the face for this starry eyed idealistic Greek kid with an American upbringing. London served as a happy medium for “freaks” like myself. There are many (too many to count) Greeks living in London and like the countless Greeks who live abroad for many years, we think, maneuver and live differently. As a Greek American I felt more normal there than I did in Western Massachusetts, New York or Athens.

After living and studying in London for nearly two years, I packed my boxes for what seemed like the millionth time, while preparing to leave a friend’s apartment in North London. (My third move in almost 2 years.)

I moved from North London, to South London (Oval), back to North London (Angel) and even further North east; while frantically trying to finish my dissertation for my Masters Degree. I worked odd jobs to make ends meet, practiced Ashtanga Yoga at an amazing school and was living my life London Style. Which means flat broke but loving it, getting experimental hair cuts and dye jobs at the Vidal Sassoon School and hanging out at some of the best dance clubs in Europe.

One of my many homes at the time was the home of a still dear friend in North London near Angel. I spent the bulk of my year there, writing my dissertation, falling in love with a hot guy, who liked me so much, I thought he was crazy, and going to seedy underground clubs in Shoreditch and Hoxton (before it became popular).

When my studies were complete I packed up my life, with not the faintest idea of what I was going to do upon returning to Athens. Going back to New York seemed like a bad idea after September 11th, so in October 2001 I was on a plane back to Greece for what seemed like a permanent stay. I was leaving everything I had focused on in London to return to Athens; with no better excuse other than this deep need to be back near my family and my birthplace. After 10 years away in America and London, I was deeply changed, but eager to embrace my roots anew, and figure out the next step. Truthfully, I had no idea what I was getting into; but I was open to pure adventure, chaos, disappointment, new beginnings, and of course many many more apartments, houses and more houses where bits and pieces of my life’s puzzle were created. I don’t regret moving from place to place. I find that each place has something to teach us, but sometimes the lessons are harsher and harsher.

A House is Not a Home

The picture will be complete when it is ready, each piece so significant and unique in its own way. A home is where you can be complete, a home is not only where your heart is but where you are. The journey of discovering where is your home takes time. For some it is exactly where they started, and for others a journey to a whole new place. What remains true through every move and every journey is the mantra ” όπου γη και πατρίς.

The idea behind this Greek nugget of wisdom is that wherever you may find yourself on this earth/land, that is your home. And you carry your home wherever you may be. I take my home in my heart in my memories in my family. The ones I love who are closest to me are my home. Greece is my home, America is my home, New York is my home, Brooklyn is my home and this apartment I will soon leave from; was my home.

The next home awaits and the chapter begins. Boxes, memories, stories are packed carefully, so as to not break and the journey continues.

Please feel free to share your story:

Where do you feel most at home, and have you left your home to find another?

Day 23&24. The Art of Letting go

How to live and thrive in permanent impermanence.

Some people, never leave their childhood home, their street or their country. There are thousands more, who blissfully spend their lives, gathering memories, living in the same neighborhood they grew up in since childhood, and never have an impulse or desire to go anywhere else. I unfortunately (or fortunately) am not one of those people. I have moved into and out of almost 20 houses and apartments, 3 countries, and two continents, ( and counting) since I was a child, and currently call New York my home. After arriving here and sleeping in and on every bed and couch I could find; I settled in (it found me) a place I could really call home. This to a person who lived out of suitcase for almost 2 years upon arriving in New York was like an oasis in a real estate desert.

I’ve made my home here, I’ve made and lost friends here and after six years I realized (again), that absolutely nothing is permanent. Much like nature sheds its winter coat and welcomes spring; newness, renewal and re- calibration happens in our lives every day whether we notice or not. There will be moments (too many to count) where what was; is no longer and the more accepting we are of that reality, the less painful transitions and changes will become.

Yet we know that impermanence is allusive. Within our understanding that nothing is forever, we still get attached, connected and dependent on the idea that what is here today will absolutely be there tomorrow. Having grown up in Greece, where impermanence is our “soup du jour”; as part of our national identity we’ve learned to deal with massive and often destructive changes in our lives, and most recently in the last 10 years. What comes to mind when grappling with the lack of permanence in my life I tend to consult sage Greek sayings.

Greeks often sum up the permanence of impermanence with this phrase: ουδέν μονιμότερον του προσωρινού (nothing is more permanent than impermanence) . I find that for the uncertainty that has become the norm, keeping a healthy understanding of Non- Attachment, while enjoying what we have in the present moment, can alleviate the idea of “forever”.

Till then enjoy what you have now and don’t take anything for granted.

Featured Image by Filmmaker/Photographer: Alexandros Maragos

Day 16. – A Nomadic Life

How to roam the world and still build roots.

If there is one thing that captures my attention more than anything else; it’s travel. Traveling is my drug of choice. Ever since I can remember my family and I have lived a very nomadic life. I grew up in Greece, left as a teenager for studies in the U.S and London, and went back as a young adult, only to leave again 13 years later and reestablish a life in New York at the age of 35. Something tells me I’m not done moving around… yet.

Setting up a life in another place no matter how familiar or routine it sounds; takes a mixture of guts, stupidity, throw caution to the wind bravery, thirst for adventure, and insanity. Yet, I’ve done it 3 times.

This life I’ve chosen, first chose me. Anyone who gets out of their familiar place, packs up their life and moves to a completely different place; is a nomad. I will not get into the discussion of our current state of global refugee crisis, because that is a choice no one should have to make. That being said, all of humanity was built upon the idea that we wanted, needed, aspired to explore other places, live a different life than the one presented to us, and just GO.

My mother boarded a boat in 1972 with my father, and left the only life she knew to be real; only to land in a country under dictatorship in one of the most tumultuous times in Greece’s history. My father, seven years earlier got a scholarship to go study Architecture in western Massachusetts at age 18, never having left Europe, let alone Greece before. My mother was 27 and my father 25, and looking back on it, I am quite certain the bug was in my DNA way before my father and my mother met.

My Greek ancestors were a mixture of cultures and traditions taking them to Turkey, Albania, and possibly even Northern Africa. My American ancestry leads me to villages in the UK and Germany and now I live in a city comprised of every culture under the sun, only to want to explore more of this world first hand.

Discovering new places, and our inexplicable attraction, adoration and love for lands far from our birth, is what is exciting about leading a somewhat nomadic life, yet with each place I live in, I find that it can’t give you what you seek unless you fully commit to living there. Transience isn’t something I felt comfortable with, no-matter where I lived. In Greece we have a phrase for those who’ve emigrated, to other parts of the world (and over the years it’s been millions): Whatever land you find yourself on, that is your country, that is your home. (Όπου γη και πατρίς).

With that in mind I’ve always urged others to take a leap of faith, explore, travel, live somewhere else if you can, risk comforts and familiarity because we leave our old selves behind when we have to embrace a new way of life. If we return to our place of birth; we do so with a much larger picture, a global view, a different story.

Enjoy !

The Art of Not Giving A Fuck


Photo by: R. Valenzuela

A small manifesto on truthfulness.

Looking back at the inception of this online writing platform 6 years ago; there was no predicting where it would take me. While reflecting upon the sixth consecutive year of writing online, I was reminded of my sixth anniversary living in New York. One absolutely undeniable thing I’ve realized about this city is :

New York doesn’t give a fuck what you think of her. (Sorry Sex and the City- New York is no boyfriend) Shes a badass, loudmouthed, Italian, Latino, black, Jewish, Irish, Dominican, African, Indian, Pakistani, Greek, Mexican, Chinese, Japanese, Lebanese, Dominican, Puerto Rican, Jamaican, Korean, Russian, Romanian, Chilean, Israeli, Palestinian, Ukrainian, Brazilian, Armenian, Syrian (I could go on and on) and every other American Woman.

I realized early last year; January 2018 to be exact, that speaking my truth, expressing my writing and poetry honestly and conveying my point of view without reservations, is my greatest challenge and biggest goal for the years to come. (Yes I stole a little attitude from one of my writing heroes and badass traveler, advocate, explorer and all around truth teller Mr. Anthony Bourdain). For the first time after starting this writing project; I don’t give a fuck with people think. I’ve spent countless years, (as many women do) side stepping, avoiding, cleaning up, self editing in order to fit a particular mold or idea of how I should express myself publicly or privately. I’m not trying to grab or hold anyone’s attention. If you follow my writing and care to share your point of view with me, It is welcome. If you don’t care for what I’m writing about, and think its shit, make a valid point, and give your point of view.

On January 1st 2018, at about 6 am, on a very cold bright morning; It hit me: Nothing of who I am and what I’ve done so far with my life fits any ,constructs or ideas of what a woman my age living, loving creating, and writing in 2018 should be like, look like or act like. I was never one to submit to conformity. Whenever I tried to fit in, my life would always swerve away from it, one way or another. Should have been, should have had, should have accomplished, often slaps me around from time to time.

We all go through moments where we are faced with the stories other people like to tell about us. Inevitably as we get older (not necessarily wiser as I’ve come to discover), some of us find our own true voice, allowing us to be exactly who we want and can be. Others predictably, stay stuck within the confines of an identity formed by others, society, parents, or heritage; forming an idea of themselves with personas or masks that really don’t quite fit. More still never really take the risk to flourish into something far more beautiful and unique that may not quite fit the narrative we’ve been fed.

Time has shown me that spending more time alone, with myself has given me ample opportunities to really know who I am, shed any prét a porter personalities and embrace how I want to live my life. Yet every year that closes, I spend a few moments wondering what would have been if I took a different path.

The shoulds- A list

On the eve of a new year, I narrow down the list of shoulds that apply to where someone like me should be according to society, my own made up standards, and how very famously stated in Greece, according to what “people say”.

Here’s my top 5 so I don’t go to crazy down the rabbit hole.

1. I should have had kids by now. Well to be fair I almost did, and although I do think about that possibility often, I’m thankful everyday I decided against it. It’s been a strange feeling to know I came close.

2. I should have my own business by now. I did at some point and for a good 10 years, I did run my own business as a yoga teacher and massage therapist. I’ve taken a detour so the possibility is still there.

3. I should be settled somewhere and have a beautiful home. I also had that at one point in my life, but the Greek crisis forced many of us to leave the life we knew and the home we had along with all its comforts; and find new paths in new counties. Now and for however it lasts, New York is home.

4. I should be more successful in my career and make more money. Well this is only up to my efforts so stay tuned 😉

5. I should drop everything I’m doing here in New York and move back to Greece… Well this one I left for last because it’s as complicated and simple as all the others on the list. For the simple reason that I’m not someone who likes to drop something in the middle before I’ve seen in through; staying in New York although a difficult journey, has and still does inspire me. My writing and poetry has developed over the years here, and the same would not have occurred in Athens. So I take the inspiration and wherever it takes me I’m willing to go. All the risks we take lead us somewhere magical.

On to the next chapter.

Happy New Year to all.

Athens- Heroic City

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My sister my mother, my friend.

She’s a wife not a girlfriend.

She a heroine…

She’s my heroin.

She’s my muse

Don’t confuse my love for her it’s unending.

Bending all the rules for her

She’s my soul sister.

She’s my soul forever more.

and despite her plight, shes mighty and strong.

 

She will overcome.

 

I walked through your streets

Like a little girl, reborn.

My heart is worn, for my love for you 

Because you’re alone in the battle of existence.

Lost in pretense.

You’re not a whore. 

 

Your suitors, full of tenacity 

pursued you over and over again,

Leaving you wanting for so much more.

But who’s giving a fuck about you now?

 

Your lowered tired brow. 

That somehow, still shines through these dark times.

I take a bow to you oh wise Athena.

You are divine, despite your hardships.

You will survive and shine.

Oh sweet city of mine. 

 

 

 

Αθήνα Ηρωίδα – Athens is a Heroine

Η Αθήνα είναι σύζυγος όχι γκόμενα…

Έχει ταλαιπωρηθεί λίγο τα τελευταία 8 χρόνια. Έχει υποστεί τραύματα που δύσκολα επουλώνονται, αλλά ακόμα παλεύει. Παλεύει γιατί είναι πόλη που έχει περάσει και χειρότερα.

Παλεύει για τα ιδεώδη, και την αρμονία, τη τέχνη και το κάλλος.  Ως Πηνελόπη που περιμένει τον Οδυσσέα της… αλλά καλά κρατάει και δεν δέχεται κανέναν πάνω στο σπαθί της.

Έχει ραγίσει η καρδιά της αλλά είναι ηρωίδα, είναι πολεμίστρα είναι γυναικάρα.

Το έπαιξα τουριστάκι, στη πόλη μου. Σχεδίαζα βόλτες και περιπάτους,  και την άφησα να με πάρει μαζί της. Γελούσαμε σα μικρά κορίτσια και τρώγαμε μαζί παγωτό. Πέρασα από την Πρωτογένους και διέσχισα την Αθηνάς και βρέθηκα στο Μοναστηράκι να παρατηρώ τη παλιά αρχιτεκτονική μαζί με το χάος της νεόδμητης πλατείας.

Βρήκα καινούργια στοιχεία στην Αθήνα που αφήνουν μια ευχάριστη γεύση στο στόμα. Σίγουρα έχει αλλάξει, έχει κουραστεί από τα τελευταία χρόνια των μεταρρυθμίσεων, της οικονομικής κρίσης, της συναισθηματικής κρίσης, αλλά έχει επίσης δώσει πνοή σε καινούργιες φιγούρες, σε καινούργιες τέχνες, σε μια νέα φωνή.

Υπάρχει οργή ακόμα. Τη νιώθεις στα σπασμένα πεζοδρόμια. Υπάρχει στεναχώρια. Τη βλέπεις στα πρόσωπα των φθαρμένων πολιτών της. Υπάρχει αγανάκτηση, την αισθάνεσαι στους τοίχους, αλλά… σιγά σιγά, δειλά όμως… ξεπροβάλλει μια Αθήνα πιο δυνατή απ ότι θα έλεγαν οι πολιτικοί, οι παλιοί, οι βολεμένοι,  η κομπάρσοι, οι περιστασιακοί γκόμενοι της πόλης. Αυτοί που πραγματικά δεν την αγαπούν… τη χρησιμοποιούν όπως οι μνηστήρες… ως διέξοδο, ως πουτάνα.

Αλλά η Αθήνα είναι κυρία… με λίγο φθαρμένα ρούχα, με λίγο χαλασμένο το μακιγιάζ… είναι όμως κυρία.

Η Αθήνα δε μασάει. Μου ψιθύρισε ότι γουστάρει τη νεολαία που την αγάπησε ξανά. Μου έδειξε ότι η τέχνη είναι στους τοίχους της, οι γεύσεις στα πεζοδρόμια της, τα αρώματα καινούργια, πρόσωπα με χαμόγελο.  Μια νέα δύναμη τη στηρίζει σιγά σιγά όλο και πιο πολύ.

Θέλει χρόνο όμως. Θέλει υπομονή γιατί είναι ακόμα φοβισμένη. Δεν εμπιστεύεται εύκολα τον κάθε κόλακα και ομορφάντρα που θα τη πλησιάσει… έχει ακόμα δρόμο μπροστά της να φανεί η ομορφιά της. Αλλά οι μνηστήρες βαρέθηκαν και σιγά σιγά αποχωρούν.

Τα αγόρια και τα κορίτσια της γειτονιάς την υπερασπίζονται είναι με το μέρος της, την ακούν.

Αθήνα πάντα γοητεύεις και ας μην το ξέρεις ακόμα.

Privilege–Crisis and Migration

One invaluable lesson the financial crisis in Greece taught me, is that one can’t take anything for granted.

There are few incredibly wealthy Greeks who remain untouched by the financial crisis. I am not going to talk about them in this blog post.

Countless young Greek professionals like myself, have had to leave their lives, their homes and their families behind for a another and very uncertain life elsewhere. I uprooted my life, (again) and migrated to another country, not only for a better life but essentially to survive. If all goes well and I’m able to build a life here in the U.S, or anywhere else; I hope to move beyond surviving, and to ultimately thrive and succeed.

Going back to Greece to live and work; is not a viable option for us who left. 

At least not yet.

I am far luckier than most.

With all the strides, that I have made living in New York the past five years; it has not been without its challenges. I attribute the general malaise of my fellow country men and women, not only to nostalgia or missing our homeland, but to the crude realization of having to prove ourselves somewhere else AGAIN, after having fought very hard to establish a life in a far less conducive and accepting environment.

I built a successful career in my field, and was afforded a relatively stable family and personal life, but most importantly Greece was my home. I LOVED living there. I had in general terms a good life. Despite all its craziness and complete chaos; I love Greece. Yet….most young people, (myself included when I first moved back after my studies), are endlessly discouraged by Greece’s pure lack of any provable organization, shitty public services, corrupt governance, disorganized and badly outdated infrastructure, nepotism, greed … rampant sexism, and most recently a newly emboldened racism and nationalism; the list is endless.

We all have complained, and continue to do so about how badly everything runs, how our corrupt politicians are stifling growth, entrepreneurship,  and innovation. Many of the people who left, wanted to make it work in Greece. We wanted to bring our knowledge back to our homeland. I like many of my contemporaries, have had the privilege of being educated in good schools, have had contact with some amazing minds in all the fields I have worked at;  (the Arts, Dance, Wellness and beyond), and have had the good fortune to be able to choose where I would like to live, but above all…. I had the ultimate “golden ticket”; an American Passport.

My privilege is not lost on me.

It has afforded much needed headway when coming to the United States to work and live after living in Greece for most of my adult life. Yet…. I am still seen as a bloody foreigner. Despite my many difficulties proving myself again as a yoga teacher, arts administrator and overall capable professional; this little title “American Citizen” protects me from far worse treatment and marginalization that many of my compatriots feel having never lived in the U.S, or any other foreign country for that matter.

When observing the difficulty my friends face when coming to the U.S for the first time, I feel immensely grateful to be able to navigate through “the system” as well as having a better understanding of the intricacies of living, operating and decoding how “the little things” work in the U.S. This is an obscure list of unwritten rules; it’s handed to us upon arrival and, we all have to follow them.

A rude awakening, to a new life.

Whatever life I left behind in Greece; losing the comfort and ease I was used to, was quite daunting at first glance. What I learned upon arrival to the U.S is that nothing of what I knew or was used to is applicable here. If I am going to survive, I must play the local game and all but forget how things worked for me “back home”. I had to go through the same “schooling” when I moved back to Greece at 22, after my studies in the U.S. The American way of life does not apply to Greek chaos… so I was called to re-calibrate how I worked “the system”, in order to survive and ultimately thrive.

This I find is the biggest gift, no matter how hard of a transition it has been. I am now fortified with the tools to be able to negotiate a productive way of life both here and in Greece. The local rules and “how things are done” are no longer a mystery, because doing things by the book in New York is only the first step to a long education about making it here, or anywhere else.

And the story continues….

The Long Way Home

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I must confess; I’m in love with Brooklyn.

There is something enchanting about Brooklyn evenings that few other neighborhoods in New York City possess.

My bias is not with out an excuse; I’ve lived in the same neighborhood in south Brooklyn ever since I moved to New York from Athens five years ago. Except for a brief stint living in Manhattan in the East Village and the Lower East Side (which I still love), most of my time has been spent south of Prospect Park.

I owe my love of this part of city to my original host and friend from college who introduced me to this multi- ethnic, multi cultural and multi layered microcosm few (thank goodness) still know about.

Simply put it’s a gem.

Nestled in between Prospect Park and the Greenwood Cemetery, this still unspoiled part of Brooklyn is a place where you can say hello to the corner bodega owner, chat with your neighbor while they walk their dog, and see familiar faces walking around the streets on a lazy, Sunday afternoon. I wave to the store owners catching a glimpse of the action in the street every morning when I go to work, but I never think of taking the time to truly explore further.

From what many locals tell me, the neighborhood hasn’t changed that much over the years. Originally an Italian immigrant neighborhood, it is now peppered with a spectrum of nationalities, languages, cultures and religions. A true cultural crossroads. But I needed to know more.

Summer nights are a perfect excuse for a long walk.

One evening after an event in the Greenwood cemetery I took this rare opportunity to take the long way home.

As the sunset burst into a beautiful tapestry of colors; shades of pink, salmon, purple and yellow adorned the early evening sky. The aroma of evening primrose and soft wet soil wafted through the air… I was transported. For a moment I was lifted away from the worries of my New York life and felt like I was walking through the streets of my old neighborhood in Athens. I instantly felt carefree; but the real treat didn’t arrive until the sun set; revealing thousands upon thousands of fireflies signaling to each other in their own mystical code.

I closed my eyes took a deep breath and floated with the sounds of stories being told of the families living in these neighborhoods, of meals shared, travels taken and lives changed forever. This was the first time in my years living in New York that I was absolutely in tune with my surroundings.

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Living in such a high strung city, we are used to boxing ourselves in. We end up shielding our bodies and minds from the cacophony of noises, lights, tall buildings, strong aromas; all  of which accost our senses in invasive ways.  We choose to be numb to the big stuff and forget to take a moment to really observe the more subtle aspects of this city. During my walk through my neighborhood, all of that outer noise instantly vanished, and I was able to just enjoy the long walk home.

10 Things I love about Greek Summer

It’s drawing near… the sun is getting warmer; the skies are bright blue and the air is crisp. Summer is just around the bend. Islands are preparing for the season after a long, harsh lonely winter. The fresh influx of tourists; will bring work and inevitably their income with them. A whole country relies on the summer season to sustain it since tourism is Greece’s biggest ally.

There are plenty of blog posts about summer in Greece. Too many to count, but the side that we locals get to see, the secret side is what keeps us coming back for those precious moments with friends near the sea.

Summer in Greece is not only concentrated on the islands of course; which is sometimes the only thing most visitors either get to or care to see. Athens is not a place to be avoided at all costs. The open air concerts, the festivals, the art, the bars, and the hustle and bustle of the beautiful magical Athenian summer night, can’t be described in words; it must be lived!

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7.30am at Sweet Water Beach in Sfakia- Crete

Here is my list of 10 things that make a Greek summer complete.

  1. Go to the beach early, and stay after sun down — always. (on those rare occasions that you sleep at a beach… wake up at dawn and take refreshing morning swim)
  2. Go with friends, leave with more friends.
  3. Eat at a small tavern, preferably overlooking the sea. Pick the small unassuming places not the ones featured in Conde Nast Traveler (sorry but it’s true).
  4. The secret beaches are usually the best ones.
  5. The secret beaches are the hardest to get to — for that exact same reason.
  6. Leave your fucking mobile phone off and enjoy the sea, dive in, stay in and live in the moment.
  7. Athens by night- The capital at summer time is the most beautiful sight to see especially from above… (I’ve featured a picture of this before but I’m going to do it again since I love this shot taken by a dear friend last summer. 7.b See some art, go to galleries, walk around the city and see some up and coming street artists. Go visit some of the theaters in Athens, and see some wonderful dance and theater at the Athens Festival , or go to a play in the ancient  Greek theater of  Epidaurous . img_3733
  8. Leave your ideas of what you think Greece is at home, and come with an open mind, an open heart and a lot of extra free time, cause we do things slow and at our pace here; so don’t rush us. And above all make sure you see it with the guidance and the eyes of a local. You will miss a lot of you come and leave as a tourist.
  9. Learn to listen… and use all your senses. The deafening sound of cicadas, on a hot summer day, the sound of the breeze at the top of a mountain overlooking the sea, the sound of coerce sand underneath your feet as you walk on the sea shore, the sound of seagulls flying along with you on a sailboat, the crackling of freshly caught fish on a grill, the taste of real sea salt over a sweet ripe tomato.
  10. Last but not least. As much as it pains me to say this, and fight me on this particular part. Mykonos (even though I have a home there) especially between the months of July and August, is not Greece. As much as I love that place, summer transforms it into a virtually unrecognizable version of itself.  It becomes what tourists want in order for the locals to make as much money off it as possible.                                          Way too much of its market, is targeted towards rich tourists with absolutely no love or understanding for the island itself. Mykonos and Santorini are not the only islands of the Aegean. We have over 2600 of them, of which roughly 200 are inhabited! (dare to take a road less traveled). Explore smaller islands, with less amenities or five star hotels, or all in one spa treatments or expensive sailing boat trips or overpriced gourmet meals. Dare to go to places that are quiet, serene and not about how much money you spent on the same hotel that the Kardashians stayed in. Go on a sailboat and find out about the wonder of the Aegean sea through its secret alcoves and abandoned villages. Eat locally, buy from local shopkeepers and find ways to support the local economy.

Greece despite what the tourist, travel and lifestyle magazines tell you, has a lot more to offer than a western experience with a different language. It is a country with rich traditions and hidden treasures. Island hoping as glamorous as it sounds doesn’t benefit most local economies, and leaves the hotel owners richer and the locals much poorer. So if you want to really explore Greece this summer; visit it as a traveler not as a tourist, and you will experience a much richer country than you might think.

 

7 Hours Difference — A life

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-What time is it there ?

-2.35pm

-I never remember the time difference.

-7 hours difference, it has been my whole life.

Time zones have been a part of my daily life ever since I can remember. My mother would contact her relatives in the United States when we lived in Greece, long before social media of course, or even a steady phone line (for those who remember a time before smart phones). I would call my American grandmother (at great cost for international calls) once a month, and all other communication was with letter writing and post cards. (yes letters; remember those??)

At 14 my parents and I moved to the United States, where maintaining communication with friends and loved ones back in Greece was an exercise not only in keeping up with daily life, but also the Greek language. I distinctly recall my friend sending me spelling corrections in my letters to her when she would reply. (thanks Georgia after all those years).

At 23 I moved back to Athens, and communicated  weekly with cell phones and regular calls and emails with my friends in London, Paris and the U.S.  I would stay awake in the very late hours (12- 3am) to talk to my friends in New York, and try to catch up as best as we could with cheap international calling cards just to fill each other in on our lives.

Now back in New York with chats, Viber, Whats-app, Facebook messenger, Instagram, time is relative. Time difference almost doesn’t matter. I talk to my close friends after they have put their kids to bed. They stay up for a night cap and a quiet moment, and I text back and forth at 5 am in the morning with my cousins and best friends before I go to work. I live between two time zones, always carving time to connect, talk, share our lives whenever possible.

It’s somewhat easier to stay connected with technology on our side; but still that phone call once a week, once a month, or even once a day; happens between those seven hours difference. I feel like a double agent, calculating, managing time in a split world between the one I live here in New York and the one I live with my friends and family back in Greece. We steal moments from our present lives to share stories, gossip, news, family pictures, and most recently most of my writing here.

What time is it there?  5.30am–

What are you doing up that early??

Taking time to talk with you…

What time zone are you in?

 

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The Persistence of Memory– Salvador Dali