It's Greek to me

Let's get Greece-y.

Better late than never, but I had a very important chowra to snuggle up with the past almost week - miss you already girl, times a milly. There was no time for such abstract concepts as "blogging" when apparently I live in an awesome city with a trillion places to eat slash drink slash be merry. It was glorious. But I will save that for the next post, so as to travel in a somewhat chronological blog-order.

So, Greece. My trip (which lasted from November 26th to December 1st - thanks, Kurban Bayramı!) was mostly good, and rarely bad.

Essentially I will look back fondly on this mini-vacation to Yunanistan (Greece to the Turks) as a vacation from getting hollered at. I realized while chatting with Moira (whoops already incorporating the future blogosphere into this one) that while getting hollered at definitely happens elsewhere, in the here and now I live my life just waiting for the next bout of unwanted attention. Elsewhere (read: previous living locations), the disrespecting happens far enough between for me to rather forget that it even exists, to a certain extent. Too real?

What I'm trying to say is that I romped about Athens, was chatted to in Greek on the regular, and was straight up locals-onlyed. On the train from Thessaloniki to Athens, this old woman scream-asked me the time in Greek and was shocked/offended when I could not answer. Surprise surprise, someone thought I was Greek. So that moment was definitely a preview of my Athens-experience to come, yaheard? Getting ignored has never felt so sweet, seriously so.




Above is my first view of Greece proper, as I was jolted out of the sleepzone during "PASAPORT KONTROL! PASAPORT KONTROL!" The second picture is the next morning when I woke up for real and we were cruising through the countryside, en route to Thessaloniki. It was so bright and glorious not only that morning but every day until the foggy ass day that I left! Finally in Thessaloniki - another case of "better late than never", thanks to taking FOREVER at the border (we stopped for over an hour on both the Turkish side and the Greek side) - I entered the crowded station only to learn that I could either pay 50 plus Euro for a train leaving that second or wait five more hours for a train that would cost 20 something Euro. I chose the immediate one because I had no way of communicating with Devin and I was already in go go go mode! Why was it 50 plus, you may wonder? Because of first class, yeaaaah! I got served the best coffee of my life (aaight aaight my standards are a bit lower) and some supremely delicious cake!

When I rolled up to Athens at last, I was greeted by Devin and we were essentially wearing the same thing. This twinsie-ness will maybe be even more hilar when I make the Moira Mems post. By the by, it really didn't matter that it took forever because not only was the Turkish sleeper train heck of lux, but it was also so empty soooo I got hooked up with a cabin all to myself! There was even a mini-fridge! Too bad I didn't have the insight to purchase some brews. Next time, next time. The luxuriousness of the Turkish sleeper train was sure a sharp contrast to the Greek sleeper train on the way home. The Greek ones were way older, and the cabin was so significantly smaller that the sink folded away (?) and there was a huge hole in the floor, covered by soggy carpet. Well, beggars can't be choosers but once I tasted the baller life I was a little grossed out.






1. Twinsies. Totally fine.
2. Always sick graffiti! - this one snapped in a, uh, poorer neighborhood that I was lost in for a lil bit.
3. Gnarly hunger strike camp!
4. Me on top of the world, or at least Athens, am I right here people?
5. Parthenon and on and on!

The first night I got a taste of some Greek beer and ate a Greek salad...I bet it wasn't called that there, huh? My memory is failing me in my old age, but anyway. The second day my expert tour guide and I peeped the Parthenon and then later I did some solo-exploring. I ended up at some mysterious camp where there were four bros hunger striking. After circling the camp for like ten minutes, I finally mustered up the courage to waltz over and see what was up. I chatted with one of them for a spell and learned his life story (he was from Iran, and had a perma-refugee status card that was now getting rejected). I think the biggest impression that whole thing had on me, aside from the dude's story of course, was the fact that there was no police supervision at all anywhere around them. And they were camped on the GD lawn of a major government building! All of my time in Greece was spent comparing my surroundings/experiences to Turkey, and this was obviously no exception.








1. What?
2. Dev Mc. I will steal this shirt from you.
3. The Parliament building and 1,000 of our closest tourist friends.
4. Feelin' your outfits, babies.
5. Graffiti for days!
6. Traipsing/tromping/etc. over some ruins.
7. No big deal, just my favorite chips in the world.

The next day, Devin and I woke up early-ish to go see the major changing of the guard at the Parliament building. Let me just say: their outfits are too cute to be believed. Totally down. Afterward, I went and hung out in a gorgeous park for a bit, and then went to a couple of more sweet museums. Somewhere during that I found and ate salt and vinegar chips (my favorite flavor of chips, obvi) until I couldn't feel my lips. Gelato! Salt and vinegar chips! Mineral water everywhere! Weird doughnut things! Dankest "apple pie" (see below)! Beer at every kiosk opened all night! Pork!: you really can have it all...in Greece.

The following morning I woke up and caught my train to Thessaloniki. But not before a parting gift from Athens: sweet mosquito bites all over my face, one of my eyelids included! As a bonus present, the bathroom light at Devin's was broken that last morning so I did not realize until I entered the elevator that it looked like I was on the losing side of a fist fight and/or a doorknob (May House reference). FYL 4 Life, mosquitos. I caught my train in time, and then had a chat with this girl who was sitting in my seat. And by had a chat I mean, she chatted at me in Greek and I stared at her and sat in a different seat, while she and this other bro played footsie for the four or five hour long trip. Vom. I started and almost finished the book Sangeeta sent me for my birthday (smooches, girl) which was way good.

I had one goal in Thessaloniki during my layover: peep Ataturk's house of birth. I stowed my bag in a locker at the train station (not before I was asked for assistance, in Greek) and got walking - in the wrong direction. I saw some crazy gorgeous churches and am now quite familiar with the industrial area of the city. Finally, I hailed a cab and am now quite thankful that I wrote the address down in Greek. With my few Euros remaining, I nervously watched the meter and got a nice little mini-tour of Thessaloniki from out the taxi window. The taxi bro abruptly stopped, and I got out and walked in the direction he pointed. Definitely not there and time was running out! Luckily, I found it finally and did a lil dance when I did. The house is now within the same gated area as the Turkish Consulate. Two for the price of one! I finally found the gate and buzzed in and had a conversation like this (in Turkish):

Bro: Welcome.
Me: Uh, hello, is the museum open?
Bro: Yes.
Me: Okay, can I come in?
Bro: Yes.
Me: ...
Bro: ...
Me: Uh, how do I go about doing that? (thinking: do I need to scale the fence or what here people?)
Bro: (5 minutes later) I'll be right out.

Anyway, essentially Atatürk's house was the craziest "museum" I've ever been to. The dude finally came out and told me he needed my passport. I didn't feel like digging into my secret pocket for that so I handed him my Turkish ID card, which worked just fine. Simul with that, some other Turkish bro (ends up he's a captain who just got in for the night) is walking by, sees that it's okay to just provide the ID card, and joins me. Cost: free dollars. Our IDs are confiscated, our bags checked, metal detector, and then we're told to meet our guide in the garden in five minutes. A different guy comes out, unlocks the front door, and rather hastily gives us an explanation as we romp up and down the stairs. So completely unlike any museum experience I've ever had, but awesome never the less. Now I have officially been to Atatürk's place of birth (Thessaloniki), place of death (Dolmabahçe Palace), and resting place (Anıtkabir, Ankara). Things are getting wild.







1. Hello, gloomy Thessaloniki.
2. Atatürk's house!
3. & description
4. Thank you, Turkish sea captain, for this sweet picture. Note to self: buy clothes that I am not taking a swim in.
5. Atatürk was born here, mmmmk.
6. A dank as ffff way to end my Greekness.

I romped around Thessaloniki for a little bit, before finding some hole in the wall restaurant to spend my last couple Euros on dinner and, as it turned out, dessert. Dessert was wow wow wow wow WOW - the dude translated it to me as "apple pie", but it was so much more. Perhaps thanks to all of the layers of powdered sugar on it. Nom nom nom. Still dreaming about it. Essentially, I ordered it because the 500 pound Greek guy in front of me ordered it and I thought, "I bet he knows what's up". He did. Chased it with just one more brew and rolled over to the train station to head back "home".

On that note: traveling to Greece made me realize just how much Turkey does in fact feel like "home", to the extent that that's even possible. I can operate here, I can have lil conversations, and I sometimes even know my way around. I went into my Greece trip blindly - I could not, and still cannot, say even one word in Greek...that's real talk. I had no maps, no nothing. It was an adventure of the best sort (okay maybe not knowing one word of the language isn't necessarily the dream but all the other aspects were kickin'), and it offered me clarity in a major way. I came back, went straight to work (as you can imagine, the train was also 2+ hours late on the way back), and am already dreaming and scheming for the Next Big Thing.

Kisses,
!