This post is Made in China.

And I'm trying to negotiate firewalls. Photos may have to come later Betsy tuned!

Finding the Sun

I had a French teacher in high school, Madame Barlow, who grew up in an Italian neighborhood, practiced Catholicism until just before I met her, when she had converted to Greek Orthodox Christianity. I called that a lateral move. She assured me she had explored nearly every other religion, and what swayed her in the end was the sensory experience: the rites are accompanied by sounds and scents, and it was familiar to her. Easter was this past Sunday, making this week Bright Week. Though I am spending the majority of it in hazy—and even rainy—Beijing, I have managed to find moments of brightness anyway, Beijing cabs notwithstanding.

Today, we split up for the morning. Marlene was making an appearance at Ernie’s school, while Kendra paid a visit to the foundation. I was interested in visiting a temple—and coincidentally something unrelated to Mao (though I saw him, twice, later).

My way in from the train was an experience in itself. I came up from the subway--where I was the only non-Chinese--and headed to what seemed to be the entrance. I was rerouted by a young, kind-faced man, to the side street, only about 500 meters away from the main entrance. Along the way, I passed all kinds of vendors, most of whom were selling packs of incense that looked like shrink-wrapped packs of spaghetti. Old men in Tibetan robes, with pointy hats and pointy beards to match, called out to passers-by. I of course had no idea what they were saying, but could well understand they were vying for the attention of the young ladies just in front of me.

I knew I was getting closer to the entrance when I started to notice a greater number of beggars. There were several who were typical of what I had already seen elsewhere in the city. And then I began to see others: a dwarf with a deformed back; a man, wearing thick, black-rimmed eyeglasses but no shirt, exposing his bare chest with only one limb attached to it; another man played an instrument, his young son dancing behind him, while he looked up baring only whites in his eyes; and then I saw a man’s head—lowered, motionless and still—sitting on top of what looked to be a pillar rising out of the cement below, until I realized it was his torso, and only his torso.

I could not look. I could not gaze. I simply and silently expressed gratitude and made way to the entrance as quickly as I could. I don’t know if I’ll soon forget the images from those 500 meters.

I write this as I sit in a square within Lama Temple, a Tibetan Buddhist temple where people still come to worship, and according to the guidebook, the only place where people still come to worship. A long, tree-lined walkway awaited me after I paid admission. I made my way through the first gate. Each gate was elaborately decorated. I wound my way through the grounds that have been there since the mid-17^th century through a string of courtyards. Worshippers surround me. They light their incense, raise it high above their heads, and bend or kneel, sometimes repeating the motions in every direction.

The sweet smell of incense greets visitors at each entrance to each smaller temple. Plumes of smoke obfuscate their maroon and gold porticos. Just beyond, a golden smiling Buddha awaits those who pay homage. (If you can make it to the end, you'll find a 28-meter tall Buddha, listed in the Guiness Book, as it's cut from one single piece of sandalwood.) What I smell isn’t the same as Livani—what Mme Barlow and I have come to know in the Greek church—but it’s enough of a reminder to trigger thoughts of my own experiences of home and what I know to be familiar.

I wrote the above from the Temple grounds. After a brief walk in the surrounding area, I left there to meet up with Kendra and Marlene in the Forbidden City. We spent a couple of hours there, walking and catching each other up on what we had done earlier in the day.  We made it all the way into the Imperial Garden, and left just before closing—a great time to snap some shots with few people around. The rain teased us al afternoon, and finally the sun started to break through. We wound our way through the hutong (alleyways) to dinner and some leisurely shopping. We capped the day with foot massages.

As I enjoyed the luxury of having someone else rub away my day’s knots, I recalled the day's events, from being the only Westerner on the metro, to the walk to the Temple, to the sensual experience of watching others worship, to the simple joy of passing time with close friends. And once again, I find myself so thankful for all I have—and have had—for so long. One more full day here before we head home, and it's going to be 80 degrees. Bright Week indeed.

Be sure to check Kendra and Marlene's blogs (they have photos!):https://sugarflour.wordpress.com/
http://kmjtravels.wordpress.com/

More to come...

Final moments in Shanghai

As we gear up for the final evening in Shanghai, first I must wish everyone a Happy Greek Easter (or Greekster). It's been wonderful here. Shanghai is a rich, cultural city with a lot to offer. We anticipate missing its tree lined streets when we hit Beijin (though I am SO excited to take a high speed train tomorrow). Like any big city, it has its tourist side and its everyday side. I have more to write on this topic, but in the meantime I will say this: I'd come back (my Nouna was right!).

PS We did manage to squeeze in some foot massages today, which was well worth the effort. And a drink in the sun on a rooftop deck. So we're fine. Do not worry.

More to come... 

Daydreaming in Shanghai

Today, Jeff took off early and went his own way. Mar and Kendra went out to find Chinese breakfast while I hit the shower. They came back with scallion pancakes and dumplings (they really are the best friends one can travel with). We planned the day, which included hitting the Urban Planning Exhibition Center, a sculpture park and hitting the streets to wander.

The exhibition center was off the hook. While there were exhibits that showed Shanghai then and now, the entire second floor consisted of a 1:500 scale model of the city of Shanghai. I posed to Kendra: how’d that meeting go over? Because I’d be the one in the back saying, I’m sorry, boss, I thought you just said we’re going to build a scale replica of the entire city (at roughly 600 sq km). Not only was it a scale replica, but it also lit up to show it at night! There’s an exhibit on another floor that shows you how they can repair circuitry and keep it clean. The museum was great, but it had just so much content that it bordered on overwhelming.

We walked through People’s Park north to find a little place that was mentioned in all of our guidebooks. All you need to know that 20 dumplings (and good sized ones) and drinks cost us $7 US total. And it was delicious!

We headed over the sculpture park and rested for a bit. We enjoyed the art and made our way back to the French Concession. On our way, we literally stumbled upon a former residence of Chairman Mao. A free museum, we went in. It was small, but what I noticed is that the photos of him showed him smiling, which I hadn’t seen before. Somehow, it made him a bit more human to me. We spent a little time there, and I finished first so I went out to the street to watch the world go by.

Big cities are great because there is always so much to see. So many little kids were on mopeds with their grandparents. Taxis buzzed back and forth. Pedestrians of all types made their way. For many I saw today, I am sure they call Shanghai home, and they just were getting through their day. They live their life, not thinking about people elsewhere living their lives. Of course, I am guilty of the same when I am home, and because I have the luxury of time and space here, I can reflect on what doesn’t even occur to me in my daily life in Seattle. I was able to recall the times when I have had this moment when I have visited other places, be it New York, Sydney, Paris or Rome. I realize how fortunate I am to have the ability to rattle off such a list, knowing in my heart that over time it will grow, too. Like so many times before on such trips, I find myself stopping to watch the world go by, and instead find myself counting my blessings. And like so many times before, I always wind up losing count.

More to come...

Xi'an to Shanghai

My final morning is Xi'an began with a high energy phone call from Ernesto. The call was welcome, but the ring was a little jarring. I had woken up at 5.30 and was unable to go back to sleep so I was ready for a change. He asked if anyone was interested in seeing the mosque. We met up about 40 minutes later and off we went.

We walked through side streets and wound up where we had been the night before. I remembered it from the streets, the vendors, and sadly the litter. We were tempted to stop for street food, but wanted to get there. It was a nice day, a little overcast but not raining and a little warm. We paid the entry fee into the mosque and spent some time enjoying the surroundings. There were trees and birds singing. Bees pollinated fragrant jasmine. Few visitors interrupted the serenity.

The mosque was founded in 725 AD. It was pretty incredible to see the marriage of Chinese architecture and Islamic characters. Symbols of good luck, turtles shaped of stone held up structures and provided resting places for weary feet. The prayer hall was cordoned off, but one could look in to see mats lined up one after another; the schedule hung by the door. It was peaceful. It was unlike anything I had seen before. And in the middle of that bustling city, I couldn't hear a car horn or a raised voice, just leaves rustling now and again.

We left there and steps away we found a flea market. Mont Blanc pens, North Face backpacks and Louis Vuitton bags were being offered at rock bottom prices. We didn't spend much time there, and instead made our way back to the hotel. We meandered, letting our noses guide us, and they didn't disappoint. We found some sticky buns filled with your choice of pork, potato, or greens. Ernesto also bought a pancake stuffed with egg, bacon and veggies--a Chinese breakfast gyro!--for us to share.

David came back for us promptly at 11.30 to whisk us to the airport. Once there, Ernie and Jeff said their goodbyes. Jeff was joining us in Shanghai for a few days before his vacation comes to an end.

By the time we boarded the plane I was ready to pass out, and did so promptly. I wasn't asleep long--according to Kendra--and however long it had been was long enough to get my energy back up. Before I knew it, we were ready for the descent into Shanghai. (I am so happy this is my last plane ride until the one that takes me home!)

Shanghai is China's New York. It's built on a river, and its population is about 16 million. Marlene had found us a place using Airbnb in the French Concession, a charming part of town, with tree-lined streets, small shops and boutiques, and low buildings. We met the owner. We are the first tenants, as they just finished building the apartment. We got our stuff settled (Kendra and I fully unpacked as we are here for a few days), and we took off for our next adventure!

We left the apartment and nearby found a Russian Orthodox Church (worth at least a mention as it was Holy Wednesday). It was closed, so I could only assume the Holy Unction service, my favorite of the year, was earlier in the day. We were in search for food, and Marlene had a place in mind. After declining a couple of offers of “Hasheesh?” we found the place. And it was closed due to the holiday. Curses, National Holiday! So Marlene took a moment and—as the GPS says—“recalculated our route” and off we went. We landed at a hipster noodle bar with a mix of locals and Westerners. My beverages (400 ml of Kirin and 250 ml of water) actually cost more than my food, roast pork rice. The price of food here is crazy low. We took off from there and headed for the Bund, which is the central part of town. It was a zoo of people. We came up from the subway and found ourselves in a pedestrian only version of Times Square. We headed for the promenade along the river, which meant battling our way through the crowd.

It was a sight to see. I can’t describe how massive it is. The buildings are enormous, and because of the river, there are actually vantage points from which to see them (unlike parts of New York where all you can do is look straight up). At the top of the tallest building that is still currently under construction, Shanghai Tower, Marlene spotted the lights from welders. It was just so massive. I was completely awestruck by what I saw around me. We took the Bund Tunnel tour to the other side (that was an experience) and were able to gaze at the city from a different vantage point. It was still awe inspiring.

We went home, after missing the last train, and having to take another one. We walked a bit father than we anticipated, but it sure was worth it.What a day!

More to come...

Terra Cotta Soldiers and Muslim Quarter

Last night I crashed. And I crashed very hard. I hit a wall at dinner, and I think Marlene caught the moment as she asked me if I was going to be ok. A little while and 450ml of Tsing Tao (the Budweiser of China) later, and I was ready. Aside from some knee pain that woke me a couple of times, I slept pretty soundly. It was what I needed to get me over the jet lag hump. I realized that the only time I was truly jet lagged was when I was well-rested before departure. This time, that was certainly not the case.

We got going about 9 this morning. We actually got a good cup of coffee at the coffee shop attached to the hotel, and then went to, where else?, but Dunkin Donuts for a quick snack. We passed on the Baskin Robbins that was in the same storefront. The sun came out--as did the thousands of people who are on holiday. We walked to a bus stop, boarded a double-decker, and went to the end of the line. On the bus' second level, I couldn't stand up straight (I was one of few who had this problem). The terminal was a mob scene. The national holiday on Wednesday May 1 (Labor Day) made for a very short work week for some, and that meant many others were interested in doing the same thing we were. As Ernie was leading us (he's a take charge kind of guy), we were hit up by a man. Long story short, Ernie had planned on us taking public transportation the whole way to see the Terra Cotta soldiers, and thankfully, negotiations were positive, and we ended up hiring David instead. David--a local--not only helped us get to the sites we wanted to see, but also was able to take us via a nice van, see a couple sites we probably wouldn't have otherwise, and made time for us to grab lunch at a local place he knew well.

The first site--about 90 minutes out of town, by air conditioned van and not by packed public bus, hooray David!--was full of small figurines that were discovered within the last 20 years. The reason it was found is that the government was building a new expressway, and it came across the ruins while digging. The expressway was rerouted to accommodate the find. The Hanyangling Museum is an underground museum that displays the finds of the Han Dynasty beneath your feet, still as part of the archaeological site. It includes many small figurines of men, women and interestingly enough eunuchs  There are also many types of animals featured, as well as ceramics and very small copper and bronze stamps with TEENY characters etched. They made so many figurines so that the Emperor would always enjoy prosperity. It was fun to see, and a nice warm up for what was to come. The highlight was the film that was provided, which included a set that rotated on a cylinder and holograms that moved and told the story. The narrator, an older man dressed in a bright blue western style suit, described the story of the dynasty, which included the tale of the Empress. Though she came off as a gold-digger, he urged us, "For those of you emotionally sympathetic to her, you can visit her tomb and pay respects." It was an odd turn of phrase.

We got in and out of the car a few times, and didn't mind because we weren't on a packed, public bus and it was sunny out. The second site wasn't eventful, as it was a collection of what was unearthed from the site we had just seen and simply put on display. We got back in the car, drove for a while, and David got us close to the Terra Cotta site. We stopped for lunch, and then walked through a market selling, what else?, Terra Cotta figurines.

The site of the Terra Cotta soldiers is massive. This archaeological find was discovered in 1974 by a farmer who was digging for water. You can still meet the farmer, as he sits in a pagoda surrounded by books he'll autograph once purchased. There are many souvenirs and huge photos that show him with dignitaries from the time. He's aged quite well.

By 1979 the government opened the site to the public. David suggested that we see the movie and then see he three pits in reverse order as they get better, pit 3, pit 2 and then finish with pit 1. Because we had gotten here late in the afternoon crowds had subsided significantly though there were still a lot of people. This is China after all. There's no English anywhere and the only map--we later discovered--is on the ticket stub taking up one square inch. We hit and missed a couple of times, stopped to ask a volunteer who recognized Marlene saying 'movie' in English rather than in Chinese, and found the cinema. In there we found a huge round room, with no seats, just bars against which to lean. We caught the tail end of the Chinese version, and the English version was next in the queue. There were eight screens surrounding us, giving us a 360 of the film. The film reels had a 70s feel to them. The movie described the tale of the Qin dynasty's beginnings, how the first emperor waged war with 6 countries to unify China. The claim was that this same emperor built the Great Wall. The story of the Terra Cotta soldiers is that these were to be part of his tomb. Each one is different, and they were all painted. They are life size, or bigger than life size as they are close to 6' tall. And there are thousands of them.

We moved from pit to pit, each one inspiring more awe than the one before. The site has not been totally unearthed, so there's no way of knowing how truly expansive it is. After seeing pit 3, Ernie and I had our photos taken with replicas. The people running it were not happy with how long we took...

Pit 1 is enclosed by a hangar (I'm hoping that gives you a sense of scale). The site of the farmer's well is marked, and you can see the rows and rows of the soldiers below. There are archers, officers, foot soldiers, generals and cavalry complete with horses. It is truly amazing to witness. But you've got to summon your 'inner Chinese' and jockey for a spot in front. We took our time with each and just enjoyed strolling around the site. When we finally got outside again, the crowds had diminished even further and we enjoyed the breeze as we went to our meeting spot. We and back through the plaza that sold the souvenirs. It was empty with few people, mostly sellers tying to get you to buy their replicas. One of us bought one set for 50Y, the second sold for 30Y and the last one, bought just because it was a deal, went for 10Y. They were all the same. 

We got back into town after 8. David dropped us off near the Muslim quarter. We slowly entered a part of town that was riddled with narrow, windy streets, smells of charcoal and various meats grilling over them, and the sounds of an outdoor bizarre: yelling back and forth, honks of mopeds cutting through pedestrians, and the loud hum of so many people collected in one small space. We turned down an even narrower street. Quail eggs, six to a skewer, sat in the open air, their bright orange yolks contrasting so well against the whites. Lamb and pork aplenty, with calamari too, was served up at a moment's notice. Nuts, nuts and more nuts, dates and dried fruit were abundant. Ladies, with their scarves framing their faces, smiled sweetly to encourage potential customers to approach. Men, with their covered heads, worked the grills and took a more vocal approach to entice. Every smell you can imagine--spices, meats, cigarette, and the occasional fragrant sweet--wafted above the densely populated streets. If you didn't move, you got pushed to, and if not, looked at. Bright lights illuminated the walk. Neon signs blinked overhead. Occasionally a traffic pattern would be disrupted by a moped or small, three-wheeled vehicle carrying as many passengers trying to get through. A tall, lanky man with dark hair, dark skin, and protruding teeth took a bite from a sweet bread, its crunch so loud it pierced through the hum. Empty skewers and paper cups littered the street on either side. Children with no diapers with slits in their pants clutched to their parents as they nimbly moved through the crowd.

It was lively. We stopped to eat pancakes made by a man surrounded by his sons and nephews. One boy would throw two flour pancakes (thin, round layers of some sort of bread), and he'd wet the circumference with water. He would top with meat or veggies, people pointed to what they wanted--all options were before the crowd under bright light. He'd fold the second cake over the first, sealing the edge all the way around. Into the fryer they went, where a second boy would cook them to perfection. When it was done, back to the first boy it went, who would cut it and serve. Kendra and I opted for a vegetarian version, while Jeff, Ernie and Mar split one with meat. They were crispy and delicious. Mar also ordered a bowl of dumplings and these handmade noodles that were about 3" wide and a few feet in length. They were prepared with meat, beans, veggies of all kinds, with a little hot sauce added in for kick. This being the Muslim quarter, beer was nowhere to be found, so we settled on sodas. All in all, that was 49Y or about $8 for 5 people. After dinner, Jeff peeled off to the hotel, and the four of us took our time. We strolled through town, enjoying the temperature and clear night. The pagodas on top of the wall were all lit up, and Kendra and Mar went off to capture them.

Though my legs tell me to stretch and rest, my reflection on the day reminds me what a great day it was. We got lucky with a great driver, we didn't get caught up in sightseeing traffic (which was crazy--the line for the return bus was 2 hours), we saw things that most people read about only if they know to, and we had this amazing cross-cultural experience. AND IT'S JUST DAY 2. Seriously: how lucky can I be?

More to come...

Initial Impressions

I write from China. I had a hard time believing I was coming here before I left. I am here with Marlene and Kendra, the best travel buddies one can I ask for. The trip was borne out of the desire to see China while Marlene's brother, Ernie, or Ernesto for those of you who remember Italy posts, was living and teaching here. 

Marlene and I traveled together, and we were to meet Kendra in Beijing, as she was coming from Abu Dhabi (check out her blog kmjtravels.wordpress.com). Marlene and I were wiped by the time we boarded the plane. We still didn't believe exactly what was happening.  It was about a 12 hour ride, and we slept a lot. We opted for the Chinese food option on principle but as Marlene said, "It was terrible and satisfying at the same time." Delta should outsource that to Panda Express (at least). 

We landed, got through immigration and customs swiftly, and the first thing we spotted in the airport was...wait for it...a Starbucks! Cuckoo, I know. Our first win came when we talked to a couple of ladies about transportation to the hotel, where we were meeting Kendra. They quoted 150 yuan ($25) for a car service. Mars--doing a wonderful job of communicating--asked my opinion. I said let's roll the dice on a cab. So we did. About 15 minutes and 14 yuan later ($2.25) we arrived. 

I have to say the first night didn't feel like we were anywhere special. I was in a hotel room with two of my closest friends with whom I've traveled many times over. It was fun, just not any different.  The next day we traveled to our first destination, Xi'an, again by plane. Sadly, Marlene and I had the worst cup of coffee we've ever had at the airport (Italy, you take the cake in quality airport coffee). Happily, Kendra and I all had shrimp wonton noodle soup, while Mar opted for beef noodle. 

The city of Xi'an is southwest of Beijing, about 90 minutes by plane. It's population is about 10m people, or by comparison 1.3x Washington State or the entire population (sans illegals) of Greece. 

A highlight of the arrival was getting a taxi driver from the arrivals area (a no-no). So our driver loaded our bags but didn't close the trunk, and we wondered because it was raining. Once we got out of the airport, he hopped out and shut it. Off we went! Because May 1 is a national holiday (Labor Day) and lands on a Wednesday this year, most have Monday and Tuesday off as well. So we hit some traffic. And he was AWESOME! I felt like I was in Greece again. Xi'an is a walled city, and we were staying within the walls. He crossed multiple lanes of traffic multiple times, negotiated pedestrians, and even traveled down restricted bus lanes. I have two favorite moments with him: the first is when he unbuckled himself, got out of the car in the rain, yelled at a bus driver he was cutting off *in the bus lane.* The second was when he used an oncoming white Audi sedan, which was trying to make a left, as a pick, crossing all lanes of traffic to get around it on the outside to eke out a few extra meters of travel! He was amazing. I felt very at home. We got his business card for a potential return trip to the airport. 

When we arrived here, we found Ernesto and his friend, Jeff. It was a fun reunion, and because Ernesto is involved, high energy. We checked into the room, which has a "fashionable guest room" status. What that means is the beds and the shower are separated by a wall of partially frosted glass. I can explain later... 

We decided to use our first evening to see the wall. The wall is a out a 14 km (~8.5-mile) perimeter, and you can walk it, bike it, or as the guide book states for the "truly lazy" see it via golf cart. We opted for bikes--rain be damned!! 

There's something about being on a bike that makes me really happy. And being with friends only enhances the experience. The rental period was for 100 minutes so we didn't dilly dally. There are two long sides and two short sides. The outer perimeter was lined with red flags and classic Chinese music was piped in. The terrain was made of brick, so watching for missing ones was critical to the comfort of the ride. 

The duality of China can be seen in its grandiosity balanced by its poverty. The wall is 12m high (~40 feet). It was about 4m wide up top. From time to time we paused to overlook the views, huge and multiple condo complexes being built beyond the city walls while aging complexes made up the interior. I'd see a brightly painted pagoda rooftop that would lure me to the inner side to peer at what it was. At the overlook, I could see it surrounded by old cars and piles of trash. At other points, all I could see to the inside were trees. The outside is completely industrial, with cranes dotting the view as far as the eye can see. 

The rain subsided and we kept moving. It was fun. It was just pure fun. It helped to acclimate me to my surroundings. We went to dinner in a setting that reminded me of the dim sum restaurants I've visited in New York. We strolled back to the hotel, and stopped for ice creams on the way. I can't tell you how many times I turned to my friends or they to me to say "We're in China." With each mention of it, the idea takes a stronger hold. The delivery is changing from being matter of fact to showing excitement. Now, I believe I'm here. 

More to come...

Welcome 2013

"The secret of a full life is to live and relate to others as if they might not be there tomorrow, as if you might not be there tomorrow. It eliminates the vice of procrastination, the sin of postponement, failed communications, failed communions. This thought has made me more and more attentive to all encounters, meetings, introductions, which might contain the seed of depth that might be carelessly overlooked. This feeling has become a rarity, and rarer every day now that we have reached a hastier and more superficial rhythm, now that we believe we are in touch with a greater amount of people, more people, more countries. This is the illusion which might cheat us of being in touch deeply with the one breathing next to us. The dangerous time when mechanical voices, radios, telephones, take the place of human intimacies, and the concept of being in touch with millions brings a greater and greater poverty in intimacy and human vision." — May 1946, Anaïs Nin

This is my wish for 2013: to reduce my hasty rhythm in order to be present in the moment.

I hope you join me. All the best for the new year. And to those far, I hope to see more of you!

Sandy Toes

Sandy toes are a sign that life is good.

I love water. I love getting my feet wet and making my way in. I love getting to know the beach by letting my feet dance on and in the sand. Usually, I watch the waves for a bit to get a feel for their pace, sometimes from my safe perch away from the water's edge, and sometimes from as I wade in. Here, the sand is a fine grain--and actually when it's wet, it's sparkly! Little specks of bronze break up what might otherwise look like a muddy mess.

Sayulita is a surfer's haven, so the waves here are a bit larger than what I would ordinarily prefer. It's fun to watch the surfers from our condo, at any time of the day. From up here (we're probably about 100-125' up), we can see how the paddleboarders and surfboarders fare, and whether or not any swimmers are alongside them. The last couple of days have been windy, and the waves a challenge for a recreational dipper like me. Yesterday, Marlene, Kendra and I headed up to San Francisco (aka San Pancho) where the waves were brutal and the undertow strong. It was blissfully hot and sunny, and not a soul around when we arrived. I kept running in and out. The waves were large and frequent. They broke twice near the shore. But today, the water was great. The waves came often enough to add a bit of excitement while allowing me to play.

In fact, I giggled. I was giggling alone in the water. I giggled again when I caught myself giggling. Kendra was on the beach, while Marlene was enjoying a siesta back at the condo. I twirled, spun, dove and played in the water like a little kid. And it was fantastic.

Triumphantly I returned to dry land, feeling good about the moment I was in. I was wet, drying in the sun, surrounded by families and tourists enjoying themselves too. Surfers continued to battle waves for bragging rights. Kids raced to build sandcastles. And I simply relished my sandy toes.

How Lucky Can One Gal Be?

I'm a party-crasher. Not ordinarily, but this week I am. Marlene was headed to Mexico, found a place that was "too big" for just her, and invited me to attend. OUCH! You're hurting me from all that arm-twisting!!

We arrived just in time for Easter (sorry Mom), and that also means just in time for Bright Week, the week that follows Easter in our faith. Spent in Seattle, Bright Week draws from its metaphorical roots. Here, it's much more literal. A glance at the photo attached to this post shouldn't make you feel sorry for us. I write to you from our terrace, with that view before me, listening to waves crashing, while in my swimsuit.

You might remember from previous posts that I have learned "wherever I go, there I am." Coming to a place I have never been has reminded about a particular moment that I want to share--the moment of initial discovery, that you can neither prepare for fully nor replicate as hard as you might try. It's the "Wow -- look at THAT!" moment.

Our modern day age of interwebs and digital images cannot capture this moment for us. No amount of photos seen in advance can prepare for the full sensory experience that "that moment" gives you. It's the "I've arrived!" moment. It's the "How did I get here?" moment. It's the stopandtakeabreath moment. Listen to the waves crash against the beach. Taste the salt on your tongue as you breathe it in from your nose, ever so slightly expanding your lungs to take in as much as you can. Feel the heat on your skin, even the sweat drip down your back. Notice the color around you. Touch weathered surfaces, and grin at the prospect of waking up to this in the morning.

This moment can only happen once. It comes after all those trips to Bartells, to department store dressing rooms, and to banks. It comes after sorting through magazines and novels. It comes after finding your passport, and holding it in your hand, feeling its weight, knowing it shall be required again soon. It comes after sorting through long since forgotten summer clothes. It comes after talking about it with your dear friend with wild excitement. It comes after all those arrangements are made. The byproduct of anticipation and realization, the moment bears the sweetest fruits around: discovery, exploration, relaxation, salt water, sunshine, tan lines, and fresh fruit popsicles shared with a dear friend.

Thank you, Marlene, for sharing this moment with and allowing it to happen for me. And Kendra, I can't wait for you to join us and watch your moment.

Back Inaction

My dad has many sayings, one of which is, "A clear sky is not afraid of storms." He obviously hasn't been in Greece recently.

I caught a cold. Actually my back caught a cold. In medicine, I am used to Western meeting Eastern ideologies, methods and practices, trying to find the balance between both mindsets. Here, it's more like Western meets Old World.

Last Thursday I met a family friend for coffee in the neighborhood she used to live in, Nea Smyrni. We met early, before noon, and I awoke to find blue sky. I did my daily routine, turn on the hot water heater, make coffee, enjoy it while overlooking the sea, and finish with a quick mopping of the inside and the veranda. (There is a lot of dust that accumulates, and depending on the direction of the wind--clouds can move in a different one each day--I've even cleaned up red sand from the veranda. They say that's the stuff that comes from Egypt.) I got dressed and made my way across the street for the 20 minute tram ride.

The main square or πλατεία in Nea Smyrni has overtime become pedestrian only. It's a lovely scene. The noise you hear is from people or the rare μηχανάκι making it's way, but never cars or their horns. It's tiered; the steps add their own dimension to the layout. In the center are aqua blue pools with working fountains, surrounded by seating areas of different cafes. Of course I love the free wifi (why is this not everywhere?). I also love that I see all ages here; there's something about that quality in a neighborhood that I really like. And there is lots of shopping nearby. I was urged to return at night to take in the lights (light show? light show?). All in all it's a great little city center and a perfect place to meet. We found a cafe overlooking a fountain, ordered our coffees, and started in on my favorite main course--good conversation.

And suddenly, we weren't sure what hit us. Neither was anyone else who was nearby. Frantic servers started flipping chair cushions. Older people scrambled for cover. Younger people, well they really didn't change their behavior much. We huddled over our table a bit closer as we watched the sky close and the rain beat down, straight down. I was wearing a white scarf, a black dress, red lips, and thankfully closed toe shoes. I did not remove my sunglasses.

As we continued to talk, what I hadn't realized was that my back was getting wet due to an opening in the umbrella. The rains would come in waves, pouring more down and then less. We wrapped the conversation. As soon as a break came, we bid each other farewell and off to the tram I went.

But I had plans for that day. I made them while on the veranda sipping coffee (that's also part of the routine). I was to walk home. It only takes about an hour, and I get to learn a new part of the city. I decided to hop the tram to escape the weather and get off early, weather permitting. At least I could stop by the grocery store and still get in a short walk. Athens isn't Paris, meaning that whatever amount of time you walk, you're bound to go up and down some hills. So I did. About an hour later, I got home, changed, and had lunch. And that night the pain set in. You'll pardon the pun, but that wasn't in the forecast.

It's now six days later. I'm lying on a bed with an electric heater between me and the sheets. I've never known the pain I've felt over the last several days. I cannot move easily. I cannot stand from being seated without pain and time. Σιγά σιγα is my only pace. I tried going for a walk on Saturday in the park behind my cousins' house. Uphill wasn't happening, so I threw it in reverse like a college tour guide to get myself to the nearest bench. Oh if only Athens had the poop scoop laws we have in the States--but I navigated expertly. My niece doesn't understand why I can't put her on my shoulders like we both enjoy; though she had no problems climbing on me while I lay prostrated on her couch (her dad called me her victim, but I was really just a sitting duck). Should I step uniquely, should the car I'm riding in come to a quick stop without my preparation, should I try to move as I am accustomed, I feel like someone is putting a dagger in my lower left back.

All because my back caught a cold.

My Does-It-All-Auntie took me to the doctor. In his 50s, Doc has liquid brown eyes and grey hair that had more salt than pepper. Showing grave concern for a young lady with no health issues, he performed tests. When he checked my reflexes, I actually giggled. He reassured me there's no problem with my central nervous system, but a set of local nerves have been agitated due to a muscle spasm. The muscle was the one that got wet last Thursday. He prescribed drugs. I'm taking them. I feel better. A few more days and I'll be at 100%.

I am reminded that my health is the most previous thing I have. I am lucky that this too shall pass. I am grateful that the only chronic condition I have is laughing too loud (my niece has reminded me of this more than once). I am blessed that this happened now and not in Paris, and that Do-It-All makes time in her day to make me comfortable. I know I'll be back in action soon. I guess dad was right. A clear sky really isn't afraid of storms.

Rhythms

Ever notice your own heart beating?

My uncle couldn't make it to his car from the house in the village. He's currently in the hospital waiting to have his pacemaker replaced. His daily rhythm was interrupted by his physical one. He passes time by completing crossword puzzles. Ever get a rush from unlocking that key word in a crossword? The one word that puts a spark in your brain setting off the rest? I delight on such a moment, so much so that I tune out nearly everything else.

Ever sit silently somewhere and just listen?

Bus doors slam open just after brakes scream. Cars rev out of first and into second shortly after lights turn green. A yiayia's gait is measured by the turn of the wheels on her shopping cart rolling behind her. Papous conversations are punctuated by the click-clack-click of a komboloi.

Ever notice the beach has it's own rhythm?

Waves hit the shore. Pickleball paddles talk to each other. Pop! Pop! Back. And forth. Foreigners try to sell you things. "Ne-rooow parka-looow. Ne-rooow parka-looow." "Mah-saz?" (Up on "Mah," down on "saz.") "Mah-saz?" It's The squeal of small children as they run in and out of the sea.

Ever consider your own rhythm?

My rhythm isn't so fine or granular. It starts with morning coffee on the veranda overlooking a sea (of cars) while contemplating the shape of the day. It'll include some writing and thinking. A midday "volta" allows me time to enjoy the sights, sun, or company of a relative--best case brings all three. A nap is ideal but not a given. An evening outing is always welcome. Remains of my day are weighed on the veranda, car-spotting, while enjoying the twinkling lights of Piraeus in the distance, the smell of salt water, and the moon overhead. It's reading myself to sleep.

My rhythm at home is very different from the one here (lack of a veranda is just the hors d'oeuvre). I'm just now beginning to see how my rhythm affects my mood. I like knowing that a pattern to my day makes it richer. And I like how I am coming to realize that getting back into my desired rhythm, regardless of locale, might be easier than I thought. Probably because now I'm aware of it.

Though that veranda sure does help.

I No Longer Mind Weird Looks at the Grocer

Ladies who visited in '04, this one's for you!!

Imagine my surprise when I stumbled across this incentive: purchase coffee and get a sleeve of Oreo's for free! (BTW Oreo's are pronounced oh-REH-oss, like the Greek word ωραίο, for good/beautiful.) Πως μ'αρεσει να ξοδεβω τα λεφτά μου στην αγορά! Αφήστε με παρακαλώ!

Free gifts are commonly found in supermarkets here. Buy 5 cans of Coke, and get the 6th free!! But the coup of all such purchases was in 2004. Somewhere, Kendra has a photo of me making my way home with a case of Alfa beer--and a free backgammon board! Now if I could just find a suitable opponent....

"Το Φεγγάρι Κάνει Βόλτα..."

GeoTagged, [N37.92857, W23.68835]

The moon is full. So full in fact and so wonderfully bright that I can make out the horizon with no difficulty. Tonight's evening breeze swept away any clouds. I marvel at the clarity of Aegina's twinkling lights across the way. I sip Drambuie as I delight in this moment.

My dear cousin Vicky came down from the north end to meet up for dinner. I smile in anticipation of seeing her, because I know we are always going to have a good time. Tonight it was just the two of us. Αγκαζε, we checked out the marina. The boats--yachts rather--rocked gently in the bay. We wondered who can afford such extravagancies in a time of crisis. After touring our options, we settled on an Italian place.

Antonio seated us. And soon thereafter he joined us with his own seat, getting up from time to time to help other customers. He learned our names though he was partial to Vicky's ("Vicky, how is everything?" "Vicky, where do you work?" or "Vicky, don't go, I'll be right back..."). Vicky learned that he is from Torino. I learned that I could leave whenever I wanted.

What's wonderful about being here is the connection I feel to the people I know. Though there are many other great reasons, this is the lure that hooks. I saw this connection so many times over in the relationships my mom has, and now I am beginning to see it for myself. Vicky is good for me and to me because she listens, asks, and encourages in the absence of judgment. She helps keep me accountable to what I say I want for myself. And we laugh. This is what makes this relationship so special. Because for me, when we met as adults in 2000, we started as family and have since become close friends. As I become closer with other family members here, I delight in knowing what lies ahead: a friendship borne of blood and matured by will.

More to come...

Panic at the Parko

GeoTagged, [N37.92758, W23.68950]

One of my favorite things to do is to have coffee on the veranda. The world goes by. I get to search for cars I like or look for ferries coming into Piraeus. Sometimes I'll spot a sailboat changing tack. It's a delight. And on nice days that also fall on a weekend, it's downright entertaining.

Everybody comes to the "paralia" or seaside. Families come from all over. Across the way from us is a huge park that has lots of play areas for kids, an outdoor cinema, and is close to a newly updated marina that has cafes and shops. Oh sure it's fun when you're in there but for me, I just love watching the people try to park.

All over Athens, and in other major cities, are posts that have been placed along the sidewalk so cars don't park on the sidewalk. During the week down here, this law is followed. But on weekends, mass mentality sets in and they all park--not on the sidewalk--but on a very busy thoroughfare. Taxis continue to stop wherever they want, buses cannot access those who wait for them, and traffic builds quickly. Honking ensues.

This year, however, Greece is in a crisis. The change I've seen is that these illegally parked cars are now getting ticketed. You'll kindly notice in the above photo a double parked car on the far side on the truck. That car belongs to the police. While one officer writes tickets, the other one is just waiting in that car. Ahh, Greece, the more you change, the more you truly stay the same.

More to come...

When You Face the Sun, You Can't See Shadows

My goodness is there something to be said for basking in the sunlight. And I mean basking in it. I don't mean sunbathing (though I did get a little bit of that in too), but I mean basking in it. Just letting the goodness of that bright yellow orb wash over me was a luxury (hoping I can get more in for my Seattle peeps!). It does wonders to boost mood and spirit. Sunny places have typically friendlier residents and better music. And after seeing this old friend again, I am reminded why.

Though it's a bit early in the year to take a dip in the sea, others ventured. I simply sat. I watched the boats. I said no thank you to the peddlers (ability to buy nail polish on the beach was a first). I thought, "Really?" as the 65 yo man, flip phone tucked in his speedo, gazed longingly at the single women lying nearby. An Adonis did pull ups and then laps along the shore (he wasn't that attractive, but I'd bet a euro his name was really Adonis. Just yesterday, I was served by Orestes, and at Easter I met a five year old Aphrodite.). It's the rhythm of beach life that I love so much. It's as predictable as the sound of the waves washing ashore. And no matter where I go, there I am, so I might as well enjoy it.

When It Rains, It Pours.

(Seriously. Take a close look at that photo.)

In physics, momentum is mass multiplied by velocity. Velocity is speed with direction. These are important concepts for me right now. I have gradually been building momentum on the work I've been doing on myself. And when I stop to assess where I am, I find the direction has shifted. I see there are more things to unearth. This pleases me. Actually this excites me. As momentum builds I have more to learn and more to explore. (Do me a favor and read the title if this entry again, just to sum up really.)

I would like to give am early Mothers' Day shout out to my mom, who couldn't be any more supportive of me as I try to pave my way. She truly is one in 6 billion.

More to come...

Mediterranean Diet

Though the label above says " Daily Drink," I think what is essential to the Mediterranean Diet is pace. There is a wonderful pace that comes here (the exception to this rule is waiting for the bus). And it doesn't include eating at your desk.

Enjoying ouzo in the afternoon while coming out of nap and transitioning into evening is a treat. Here it's made all the more enjoyable by the accompaniments, like the sun, lightly seasoned fresh octopus, and of course the company.

Today I took a walk above the beach. Today was the first day where I could smell seasalt. And today I realized the importance of pace in my life--how important it is to carve out time to do what one wants, including loving the one you're with and not looking at your phone for a better offer. So if you find that I say no a bit more often when I return, you'll know why. But don't fret. I'll be happy to talk it over with you. Come to me and I'll have the ouzo waiting.

New Acropolis Museum

Live restoration work below your feet is just the beginning of this fantastic place. More to come!!

Our Local Favorite

"Never trust a skinny chef" couldn't be truer at one of my favorite cafeterias here, where I think Mom and I are now familiar faces. When I showed up for lunch, the chef asked if it was for here or to go. I told him I'd be eating in. He told me I'd have to wait, as fresh calamarakia were on their way. I told him I do whatever he says. And if you met the man, you would too.

They were hot. They were crunchy on the outside and chewy in the inside. They were delicious.