Friday, June 10, 2005
Picture the scene. You're on a date, everything is going great, you really like this guy/girl, and suddenly to your horror you realise you can't remember their name. Nightmare eh? Not in Greece. If your date is male, his name will either be Kostas, Yiannis, Yiorgos, Dimitrios or Yiasonnas. If your date is female her name will either be Konstantina, Elleni, Ellena, Mary or Katerina.
Greece is by far the best country in the world to be a child in. Every child dreams of more than one birthday per year. Well, in Greece you get just that, your birthday plus your 'name day' the day of the saint after which you were named, involving a party, presents, cake and all the trimmings. Hooray! Poor me, then, who has a distinctly foreign name not connected to a saint. No name day parties and presents for me!
Image: My edited creation from http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5567/1146/1600/20050403-names%20copy.gif
Monday, June 06, 2005
The thing that always amuses me about Olympic Airways is how they give you all the disaster related safety information first, and leave the seatbelt till last. I've never come across that before in my 23 years of travelling. Dear Passenger, everything that could go wrong probably will, but just in case your ride is a little bumpy, here is how not to fall out of your seat. Useful.
This blog is dedicated to my summer in Athens. Hey, I'm living the life of a millionaire on a shoestring budget, gotta share the love, right?
It all began not so long ago when I was a hapless volunteer at the Athens 2004 Olympics. Long story cut short I fell in love, and it's been back and forth between London to Athens since then. It seemed only natural to take up the challenge of three months in another country, so here I am.
I arrived with a 25kg suitcase containing all the crap in the world "just in case" because three months is a long time and a girl just never knows if she will actually get a chance to wear those shoes she bought years ago "just in case". No harm done, the fun begins when I am left alone for the day to sleep off my journey and the phone rings. I give a groggy hello, and as the haze of sleep lifts it dawns on me that the caller is talking to me in Greek. Just about all I can say in Greek is "I don't speak Greek" which is certainly going to get me far.
It really is very odd. How is it that I can talk to perfect strangers, go dancing all alone and enjoy karaoke, but not have the guts to practice a language? People like me should be deported immediately for being lazy imperialists. Oh well, it's only day one. I have until September.