It has come to my knowledge what Greeks think of Californians. The Three B’s: Blondes, Beaches, and Bay Watch. Yes, that’s right Pamela Anderson represents California to the Greeks. I am officially mortified.
Married to a Greek
The taxi driver and I spoke the whole way from the bus station to my hotel in Greek. It was the first taxi driver to be wonderfully welcome. Most merely ask where to and tell you how much once you arrive. After the simple pleasantries (hi, hello, how are you, where to?, etc.) all in Greek, he had to ask if I spoke it fluently. I said no, but I understand a lot more than I can speak. Without any delay he informed me that in order to learn Greek fully I am going to have to marry one. I asked if there was any other way. He replied, not if you actually want to learn it.
I must say, if this is true, I am going to marry a lot of guys with how many languages I want to learn. Or, a guy who knows every language hmmmmmm. Must ponder.
I hate laundry date in San Diego. I normally wait as long as possible before I do it, as if to think it will get done without me. So when it comes to traveling laundry day, ugh. I would rather be doing so many things right now.
Getting a Tan
One thing I noticed is how I am getting a wicked tan. I don’t think my skin has ever been this dark. I love it. I have only spent a couple hours by the water. I cannot imagine what it would do to someone who actually tans.
I love how the notice in my hotel room states, “Breakfast served on the First Floor” in 4 languages. The best part is, breakfast is served on the second floor. In Greece, like most European countries, one enters on the ground floor to ride the elevator to the first floor.
I thought I was being so smart packing an aluminum water bottle. My thoughts exactly- “Its going to help save the environment” AND “It is going to save me money in Greece”. I go downstairs in the hotel to ask for some water, only to have someone open up a water bottle and pour it into my reusable one. The odd thing is I would be charged if I asked for a bottle of water.
I am not an author. To be quite honest, I always hated English class. I write so I may share my experiences and remember the man I met on a bus who treated me to dinner with his family, paying and booking a hotel only to find out its out of business, fake crying in the Athens airport to get a ticket home, or remember the strangers who looked out for me on a bus. Some live, experience, and are fulfilled by what’s in their backyards. I find there is something truly exhilarating about cramming as many possessions into a bag as possible, only to complain you brought too many. This is my life out of a suitcase, hope you enjoy.