I really wanted to wrap up the last of my adventure blogging while I was still overseas, but my madcap final days kept me so occupied that I didn't get that chance. I've had many chances since returning to Canada to finish the tales of my overseas adventure, but I found the thought a little bit too depressing in my re-adjustment to Canada. However, I have far too much dedication to the several, possibly dozens of, people that are avid readers of my blog. For you, dear readers, I shall endure the heartache of talking about adventures past while I sit in frozen Canadian present. As always, I'll begin where I left off.
The 4-hour express train ride from Athens to Thessaloniki was a real spectacle to behold. Taking a morning-midday train was definitely the best of plans because I had a well-lit territorial show to behold through the smudged train window. Greece, like Spain, contains a schizophrenic assortment of visual wonders. The sights switched up every few minutes, so though I quickly got tired of sitting still, I never got tired of staring out the window. Arriving in the afternoon on what turned out to be a cloudy and miserable looking day, I hastened to the beautiful ancient Roman Kamala archway in the centre of the city. There I met my couchsurfing host Stephania, a tiny and vivacious University student who is fairly new to couchsurfing. We waited at the arch to meet a few of her friends, then walked en masse to "the squat" where Stephania lives with two of her friends.
On the way over I learned the history of where they live. "The squat" is not a clever name, it is in fact a building that they are squatting in. Because there are many people who can't afford to rent or buy their own houses in Greece, they have fabulously lenient squatting laws, and under such laws Stephania and her friends came to occupy their current dwelling. They live in what was once a portable classroom housed in a complex of like buildings, all of which are covered in graffiti from nearby art students. The University where Stephania goes to school owns all of these buildings, and they are similar to our "portables" in Canada, only bigger. Many are still used for classrooms, but most are either abandoned or inhabited by squatters. Stephania and friends converted their squat into a half-living space (2 bedrooms, one common room, one small kitchen, one bathroom) and half juggling studio. Oh, did I mention that all of Stephania's friends are jugglers? I probably should have said something about that.
The squat was designed in the hopes of giving local jugglers a free place to practice, trade tricks, hold shows and lessons, and crash if they need to. Everyone I've told about this place has asked me if I learned to juggle while I was there, so I'll address that now in saying that no, I don't know how to juggle. I did learn to toss and catch one pin with something resembling skill, but Ivan the Chezch fire-juggler told me that it's not juggling until you have at least three of something. I'm a long way away from juggling, it seems. W arrived at the squat and there was already a large crowd of locals assembled. Some juggling, some talking, most smoking. I never could really get used to the constant chain-smoking of many Greeks. Noxious fumes aside, everyone I met at the squat was amazingly friendly, incredibly skilled, and no two seemed to come from the same country. Welcome to the international house of juggling!
Because of the miserable weather and fact that little goes on a Sunday night, I spent most of my first night hanging indoors, but I did go out for a walk down to the famous Thessaloniki harbour to see sunset over the water. On my way back to the squat I stopped for a vegetarian souvlaki, then barely got lost on the way back (for me this is a big bonus). After a night of talking and then watching a Chezch mime film, I fell into a heavy sleep along with a handful of friends that were crashing in the living room that night. The next morning I woke up, and after hanging at the squat for a while with everyone who had crashed there, I went with Stephania and Ivan to the food hall that they called "Big Mama". The University food hall gave free lunch and dinner to all the students and they never checked to see if people were really students of the school. Needless to say, this was severely taken advantage of. Who cares, free food!
After eating I went to quickly check my email and update my blog at the school library, then Stefania took me to a square surrounded by the ruins of the ancient city wall where she and her friends always go for coffee. At that point Stefania had to go to class, so after a quick frappé, I headed off on my own. The first thing I did was walk to the Aristotle square, where there are many little market stand selling everything from fresh spices to tacky clothes. I continued walking around the downtown core, then hopped a bus to the train station so I could buy a return ticket to Athens for the next day. For some reason you can't buy a return ticket to and from somewhere in Greece, you have to buy the two tickets separately. Strange.
After making my purchase at the train station I took a bus back downtown, then followed the old city wall up the large hill that sits in the middle of Thessaloniki and to the top where there is a large castle-like fort belonging to the wall that is very much intact. climbed up the wall and onto the fort and sat looking out at the mind-blowing view of half the city, then water as far as the horizon. It was amazingly intoxication to sit on something so ancient and take in such a view. I then went to a cafe in the old village that sits atop the hill, then watched the sunset over the city before I began my descent. I returned to the squat, and Stefania was still at school, so after we went to Big Momma for dinner Ivan took me with him to a store his friends own downtown that sells all juggling supplies. I had never before given much thought to the life of a juggler, but now I was completely immersed in their world. It was an amazing experience, and a great new perspective. When we got back to the squat the place was bustling with people and I spent a great deal of time learning to juggle one pin. Needless to say, I am not a prodigy when it comes to juggling. Stefania got word from some of her friends that there was a good ska band playing downtown, so we headed to a ridiculously small bar downtown that was completely overflowing with people to hear the band play.
Although most things are cheap there, drinks aren't, so I abstained from drinking on account of having no resources left. Irregardless, it was a lovely time spent watching the Greek ska band, then heading to the outdoor area of the bar (which was actually just the alley outside filled with people drinking) and talking with Setfania's friends until the early hours of the morning. One thing that is of fantastic note about Greek people (more significantly those up North) is that they heavily use "Malaka" as a familiar term. Malaka basically means wanker, but they use it as a familiar term, as a term of endearment, as an insult, anything! Conversing with all the people in Thessaloniki really was a treat because of this. After the bar a friend of Stefania's gave me a ride back to the squat on his motor-scooter. Whee!
The next day the sun was beating down with all the powerful Mediterranean heat that I expected of this part of Europe. I spent my last day in Thessaloniki walking around the Uni. campus and the downtown core in shorts and a tank top. It's so incredibly liberating to strip down to your small layers in early March. I went back to the squat to say my good-byes, then I took a late evening train back to Athens where Giorgos met me at the train station around midnight and took me back to his and Eleni's flat for my final night in Greece. Lucky me, he picked me up on his motorcycle and I got two motor-rides in two days! I love how common motorcycles are in Europe compared to Canada. Of course, with their climate and limited space it's the perfect vehicle to get around in.
I spent a few hours hanging out with Eleni, Giorgos, and the cats before hitting the hay. The next day I ran into some more of that fabulous traveler luck. It was a Greek holiday celebrating the first day of the resistance against the Turkish occupation, as well as being a Christian Greek holiday celebrating the day Mary received the news about the holy bun in her oven. On top of these two holidays they have a tradition in Greece where everyone has a birthday but they also have a day to celebrate their name. Every name is assigned a day, usually with many names on one day, and it was the name day of Eleni's mother and brother. Because of all of these things Eleni and Giorgos planned on going to her parent's house outside of Athens for a traditional Greek feast and they invited me along. What a way to spend my last afternoon in Athens! It was like I died and went to food heaven! Even though I don't eat meet there was lots of dips, salads, breads, vegetables, cheese, and wine for me to eat. And, of course, like all the food at Eleni and Giorgos' place all of the food was homemade and most of it was homegrown! Fantastic!
After hours of eating, drinking, and talking the time had come for me to head to the airport for my evening flight back to England. My hosts drove me to a metro station so I could take the train out to the airport, stopping first at a fancy bakery so I could get some baklava for the trip. I'd had baklava before and not liked it, but I guess the Greek honey makes all the difference because it was positively sinful.
The flight to England was pleasant enough, but I was a little nervous because I wasn't actually sure whether or not they would let me in the country again, due to the fact that I had been kicked out at their border before. I had all my papers from when I was deported from the border, and from when they finally stamped me through, I also had the papers for my flight the next day leaving from London and taking me back to Canada. I showed all this to the customs lady and explained my situation. After leaving to check my file and make sure that there was nothing I was hiding, she not only stamped me in with all friendliness and courtesy, but she sent a note to her superiors requesting that the file on me be destroyed seeing as I'm not some crazy fugitive or terrorist. Hooray!
I took the bus to the train to the tube to the bus to Nikki's place, arriving after many hours and too many transfers. Nikki and I hung out with one of her roommates, for a few hours, but they both had early starts the next day, so they went off to bed. My flight was a 9:30am flight, but I had to take the 5am bus from Nikki's house to get to the train station in time for a train to the airport that morning. So, in my usual reasoning, I decided that it would be a much better plan to stay up all night than to try and sleep for only a few hours, plus I was hoping that this would make it possible for me to sleep on my 8 hour flight home. Lucky for me, another of Nikki's roommates came home after she went to bed, and he and I watched cartoons until I had to leave at 5. It was definitely a lovely way to end my time in London!
Bus to train, train to plane, plane to Canada. In the airport I knew my luggage was overweight, so I countered this by wearing 3 pairs of pants, 5 shirts, and filling my pockets with my heaviest things before they weighed my bags. This worked, and they let my few kilos over slide by. I de-robed of my ridiculous layers and got on the plane with no problems. I managed to nod off for about a half hour of my flight, and spent the rest of the time wishing that I was sitting next to a man with narrower shoulders that would take up less than half of my seat. Looking back, it was probably naive of me to think that I could sleep on the way home, for though I was apprehensive about coming back to Canada, I was excited as hell to see my friends.
After going through customs and receiving a cheerful "welcome home" from the woman at the desk, I retrieved my luggage and bounded through the terminal to find... absolutely no one. I looked around for the friends that were supposed to meet me, checked the time, looked around, and finally got tired of holding my bags and sat down to wait it out. I had no money for a payphone call and I didn't really have anyone's number anymore, so I consigned my fate to the airport gods and after waiting for about half an hour Amanda, Ryan, and Sean came to get me. Apparently they had been waiting at the wrong terminal. Many hugs and profanities were exchanged, and after not even knowing how many hours I had been awake for I was really too tired to worry about a little thing like that.
I spent the next 4 days in Toronto catching up with many of my friends and making some horrible realizations about the ugliness of that city. My god, it is so incredibly ugly. Modern buildings are just a disgrace to the architectural profession, and the human life form in general. Yes, apparently along with many fantastic cultural experiences I also gained a fair share of European snobbery whist being abroad. I've almost whittled it away to being a bearable amount, though, so hopefully I won't annoy anyone too much with my haughty tastes.
After Toronto I went to Gravenhurst to spend a few days with Dad and Rita, and visit a few friends to boot. Gravenhurst was quite a slow-down compared to London or Athens, but the joy of seeing my loved ones did make the difference. Then, for the weekend, I went to Carlye and Mike's house and had a nice visit with them. The unfortunate thing, though, is about the same time as I arrived at Carlye's house so did the snow. Canada had a big laugh over my idea that I had escaped winter and literally shat down snow in a fury of pure, white hate. It was winter 2: the redeadening. I was not amused.
My Mommy came over on the Saturday, and after having a little celebration in honour of Carlye's birthday, Mom drove me back to her and Ian's place on Sunday (Last Sunday) and I have been here since. I know this is no longer a European trip at this point, but I have to paint this picture for you, just so you can see the contrast. I went from densely populated ancient cities with large parties and theatre shows, to the cabin where I now sit. You drive 4 hours North of Toronto and hit North Bay, then a 25-minute drive down a dirt road (completely recovered in ice and snow at this point) takes you to the cabin where Mom and Ian live.
Bedroom, kitchen, living room, and dining room, all huddled together with no doors to separate them. Only the washroom has a door. On one side of the cabin is a frozen lake, and on the other side is a forest. Because of the re-freeze they couldn't put the water back in (the pipes freeze in the winter here) so there is no running water. And here is where I've been for over a week. Is it great to spend so much time with my Mom and Step-Dad? Of course. Is the seclusion in nature beautiful? Definitely. Am I going kind of nuts in here? You bet!
The first few days of my visit it was freezing outside and I barely left the cabin, unless we went into town. About halfway through the week the daily temperatures took a bit of an upturn and started poking their heads out above the zero mark. Now we are finally seeing a promising thaw and the snow is slowly disappearing. At first I was overwhelmed with the joy of seeing my mother and the depression of being trapped in the snow and so far from Europe. Feeling bi-polar and cooped up was kind of crazy, but I have been doing lots of reading, writing, talking, and have watched a lot of films. Once the weather started getting warmer I began going for long walks during the day, and this combined with some morning yoga every day hopefully will balance out all the unhealthy food that I ate in England. Canada has also stopped punishing me with snow, and is now courting me with wildlife. I've seen deer and many birds every day. I've also seen a wild rabbit, a wolf, and a gorgeous eagle that flew right over-top of Mom and I.
After all of this, I still feel pretty emotionally muddled. I'm happy to be visiting everyone, I'm glad that to be here in time to see all the springtime animal activity, and I'm excited for Canada in the summer. On the other hand, I desperately miss Europe, I miss all the friends that I made overseas, I bitterly hate every speck of snow that I still see every day, and I have absolutely no clue where I'm going to go or what I'm going to do. I have been treated to an onslaught of questions regarding myself and my plans for the future, and though I know they're asked with love, I have no answers for any of them. I have no plans. I'll try to make some. I know that I need to live somewhere and work somewhere and maybe take my stuff out of my backpack and put it in something crazy like a shelf for once. I should probably do this, and I most likely will... at some point... until then, ADVENTURE!!!
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