In Athens
I am in Athens! It is 12:20 a.m., so I'm heading to bed shortly, but it feels good to be back in Greece. Returning to Greece is always a strange feeling--half homecoming, half entering a strange land in which I'm only a passing visitor with a strange Kariotiko accent decorated with old-fashioned words--when I can find the right words.
My friend Andy and I are teaching a class in cross-cultural aging again this year. We'll visit Athens and Kalavrita--and spend a lot of time in class--between now and Sunday, when we'll head to Ikaria, the island my family is from, the place that feels most like "home" to me besides my little house in Morris, MN. Visits to the "gerokomeio" in Ikaria are an important part of this service-learning study abroad class. Two years ago, we painted a mural, planted a garden, created a brochure to recruit more volunteers, and created a scrapbook of stories based on interviews with the elders. We also planned daily activities, from teaching the elders to make chocolate chip cookies to dancing the macarena along with traditional Greek dances. It will be easier to teach the class this year because we know the staff and know the literature--but I am sure this year will prove to be a different kind of adventure in one way or another.
I didn't sleep on the flight, even though we met at 8:15 a.m. in Minneapolis, traveled to Atlanta, where we had a four hour layover, and then headed to Athens on an 11 hour flight. I don't know why; I'm usually a good plane sleeper. But once I got into my little private room at the Hotel Parthenon, I sat on the balcony and had a beer, then fell into a deep sleep for four hours. I met up with Andy for dinner later. We went to our favorite restaurant from two years ago, called Platanos. It was comforting to see the same waiters who had waited on us before and great to catch up. Later, we sat in the hotel bar and prepped for the first couple days of class. Our students wandered into the hotel; they'd all gone exploring and already had stories, which is a good sign.
Soon I'll get to see my family members who are in Athens--cousins, aunts, and uncles--albeit for a brief visit. In Ikaria, I'll get to see Theo Aleko, Thea Mary, and Theo Foti, who live there year-around; the others on my dad's side have homes in Athens now. I have family on my mom's side that I'm going to try to reconnect with--but we're here for only three short weeks.
Returning, as I said, is bittersweet. I love the smell of the city, love the Plaka, love the surprise on people's faces when I respond to their English questions in my semi-functional Greek. I love seeing the excitement on students' faces who are in Greece for the first time, watching them click photos through the moving bus window on the way home from the airport.
But I will miss my cousin Lia's wedding, the oldest of my younger second cousins with whom I'm very close. Two years ago, I met up with my partner at the end of the class to explore Athens, Olympia, and Skala Erasou in Lesvos with her--returning to Greece is another reminder of the break up, but I think it may also be the last passage through my mourning. I feel torn about the decision not to stay longer on this trip, not to continue research I started two years ago (interviewing women elders who had been activists during the the civil war), not to spend more time with family--but I am focused on the adoption process and focused also on saving money and paying off my debts, so I know I made the right decision.
I remember, too, those I've lost--my Thea Agglaia who died while I was here in 1998, my Thea Sophia, Theo Harlambo, and Thea Bethlehem, who died soon after that trip. I feel so grateful that I got to spend a lot of time with them before they died, but again, returning is a reminder of those losses. I am sure when we arrive at the gerokomeio we will discover that some of our beloved elders from the trip in 2005 are also dead now. And yet our project--to create lasting supports to the elders at the nursing home, as well as to improve their daily quality of life while we are in Ikaria--continues. It feels right to go back, and I am grateful for the opportunity--for Andy's willingness to give it another go, for my friend Deb's willingness to serve as a second translator (since cousin Dean is in the U.S. for his sister's wedding--he'll be missed!), for the willingness of the nursing home staff to welcome us back, and for the willingness of our 12 students this term to take the risk of studying and serving on this trip.
I'll keep everyone posted, at least while I'm in Athens, where I have e-mail/blog access while in Athens for free from my hotel. Two years ago, I couldn't seem to get access in Ikaria, but we'll see...
My friend Andy and I are teaching a class in cross-cultural aging again this year. We'll visit Athens and Kalavrita--and spend a lot of time in class--between now and Sunday, when we'll head to Ikaria, the island my family is from, the place that feels most like "home" to me besides my little house in Morris, MN. Visits to the "gerokomeio" in Ikaria are an important part of this service-learning study abroad class. Two years ago, we painted a mural, planted a garden, created a brochure to recruit more volunteers, and created a scrapbook of stories based on interviews with the elders. We also planned daily activities, from teaching the elders to make chocolate chip cookies to dancing the macarena along with traditional Greek dances. It will be easier to teach the class this year because we know the staff and know the literature--but I am sure this year will prove to be a different kind of adventure in one way or another.
I didn't sleep on the flight, even though we met at 8:15 a.m. in Minneapolis, traveled to Atlanta, where we had a four hour layover, and then headed to Athens on an 11 hour flight. I don't know why; I'm usually a good plane sleeper. But once I got into my little private room at the Hotel Parthenon, I sat on the balcony and had a beer, then fell into a deep sleep for four hours. I met up with Andy for dinner later. We went to our favorite restaurant from two years ago, called Platanos. It was comforting to see the same waiters who had waited on us before and great to catch up. Later, we sat in the hotel bar and prepped for the first couple days of class. Our students wandered into the hotel; they'd all gone exploring and already had stories, which is a good sign.
Soon I'll get to see my family members who are in Athens--cousins, aunts, and uncles--albeit for a brief visit. In Ikaria, I'll get to see Theo Aleko, Thea Mary, and Theo Foti, who live there year-around; the others on my dad's side have homes in Athens now. I have family on my mom's side that I'm going to try to reconnect with--but we're here for only three short weeks.
Returning, as I said, is bittersweet. I love the smell of the city, love the Plaka, love the surprise on people's faces when I respond to their English questions in my semi-functional Greek. I love seeing the excitement on students' faces who are in Greece for the first time, watching them click photos through the moving bus window on the way home from the airport.
But I will miss my cousin Lia's wedding, the oldest of my younger second cousins with whom I'm very close. Two years ago, I met up with my partner at the end of the class to explore Athens, Olympia, and Skala Erasou in Lesvos with her--returning to Greece is another reminder of the break up, but I think it may also be the last passage through my mourning. I feel torn about the decision not to stay longer on this trip, not to continue research I started two years ago (interviewing women elders who had been activists during the the civil war), not to spend more time with family--but I am focused on the adoption process and focused also on saving money and paying off my debts, so I know I made the right decision.
I remember, too, those I've lost--my Thea Agglaia who died while I was here in 1998, my Thea Sophia, Theo Harlambo, and Thea Bethlehem, who died soon after that trip. I feel so grateful that I got to spend a lot of time with them before they died, but again, returning is a reminder of those losses. I am sure when we arrive at the gerokomeio we will discover that some of our beloved elders from the trip in 2005 are also dead now. And yet our project--to create lasting supports to the elders at the nursing home, as well as to improve their daily quality of life while we are in Ikaria--continues. It feels right to go back, and I am grateful for the opportunity--for Andy's willingness to give it another go, for my friend Deb's willingness to serve as a second translator (since cousin Dean is in the U.S. for his sister's wedding--he'll be missed!), for the willingness of the nursing home staff to welcome us back, and for the willingness of our 12 students this term to take the risk of studying and serving on this trip.
I'll keep everyone posted, at least while I'm in Athens, where I have e-mail/blog access while in Athens for free from my hotel. Two years ago, I couldn't seem to get access in Ikaria, but we'll see...
Comments
Hope it all goes well.