Our First Week in Athens

I have learned a few things about myself over the years. One of those things is that I do NOT do well on little sleep or with any type of illness, not even something as simple as the common cold. When I’m tired, I tend to be a little down in the dumps. When I’m exhausted, everything is bad; there is nothing good about anything, anywhere in the world. When I have a cold, I am both exhausted and dealing with the added indignity of not being able to breathe easily or quietly. It is not pretty.

I was unable to sleep on the flight to Athens, and I developed a cold on the plane.

I arrived in Athens primed to hate everything about it. And I did: my house was too dark, the rooms were too small, the split pack air conditioner units were placed inefficiently, the stairs were too steep and too circular, the handrail on said stairs was too high, and don’t even get me started on the ridiculously ineffective European washer and dryer in the basement (okay, fine, the dryer; the washer is actually fine). Luckily, there was no need for me to leave my house for a full day after I arrived, so my hatred was confined to the house while I slept off most of the jet lag. Jeff brought home medicine from the exchange at the embassy, so the cold began to resolve fairly quickly as well.

By the time we’d been in country 48 hours, I was feeling a bit better. That was a mighty good thing, because by then, I’d had to leave my house. We were at the embassy on Wednesday morning, getting photos made for our diplomatic ID cards and going through the in-briefing for newcomers (in which we heard from Human Resources, GSO, and the health unit). I was still a little ambivalent about everything, though I tried to think and act more positively than I was feeling at the time. After a morning at the embassy, I was more than ready to come home and take a nap.

On Thursday, I woke up feeling almost normal. Alexa and I puttered around the house all day, and amazingly, it seemed brighter than the previous days. The rooms were indeed smaller than what we’ve had in the past, but I recognized that they are a workable size. The air conditioners still weren’t placed efficiently (they really aren’t; we may invest in a fan or two next summer), but the stairs felt more manageable (if still steep, circular, and with a shoulder-high handrail). I managed to do two or three loads of laundry, without getting annoyed that the clothes came out "cupboard dry" rather than "ready to be worn dry"; I even recognized that hanging them for the last little bit of drying is going to result in much less ironing for me, and that's never a bad thing.

Thursday evening, Alexa and I headed out to meet Jeff and some of his coworkers. There were TDYers in town (Temporary Duty-ers, here on a short work trip), and they were being taken up to the Acropolis to see the sunset. It was an opportunity too good to miss.

We took the metro to the stop just behind the Acropolis, then walked up and up and up some more to the top of the mountain. When we first came out of the metro, we walked through a shopping area that reminded me of a cleaner, more high-end version of the Khan el Khalili in Cairo, and I made a mental note to check that out when I have a little more time. There continued to be random stalls here and there almost all the way up, though most were clustered at the bottom of the mountain.

After the long walk up, we climbed some stairs and found ourselves on a rocky outcropping. The Acropolis was just one outcropping over. There were amazing views down into Athens. I had not brought my camera, so I had to settle for a few pictures on my phone. I’ll definitely be making the trip again—probably several more times—with a real camera ... and possibly a taxi.

Once the sun had set, we continued walking around and back down the mountain. We stopped for drinks at a wine bar, then went to a local restaurant for a very late dinner. We talked and laughed and all around enjoyed ourselves and the food: Greek salad, fried sardines, roasted pork (or was it lamb?), and some kind of greens. It was very late when we returned home, close to midnight, I think.

The next day, while Jeff got up and went to work, Alexa and I slept until 11am. Just a few hours after we got up, we met up with Jeff and some others at an apartment downtown for a happy hour. It also was a nice time—a great opportunity to get to know some of the other people from Jeff’s office and from around the embassy. We didn’t stay too late, though, as we thought it better to get Alexa back on something resembling a normal sleep-wake pattern.

Yesterday, Saturday, one of the people in Jeff’s office took us to Ikea. It is so incredibly nice to have a resource like Ikea here! We bought several odds and ends that we needed—lidded trash cans for the bathrooms, a soft topper for Lexa’s hard mattress, a new drying rack to pair with that European dryer downstairs. The availability of familiar stores where we can get lots of different needed items from one place (rather than going to several smaller stores) is a definite plus to being in a more developed country.

Today we had intended to go to church, but Jeff woke up with a scratchy throat. He made the executive decision to turn the alarm clock off and go back to sleep to try to get over this quickly. He has all day today to rest, and he can rest tomorrow too, if needed, since it’s Labor Day. We’re hoping to spend at least part of tomorrow walking around with our neighborhood sponsors, though, getting familiar with what’s near our house.

I did have a rocky first couple of days in Greece, thanks to jet lag and illness. I’m thankful that I know myself well enough that even then, in the midst of the “I hate everything” attitude, I recognized it for what it was and knew not to take it too seriously. The last few days have been much better.

I’m pretty confident that we’re going to love living in Greece.

Catching Up

We are almost 5 months into 2015 now … and I haven’t written a single blog post this year. Pathetic, I know. Rather than explaining and justifying and apologizing, let’s just catch up, shall we?

January started off with a bang—we’re in Kosovo: the New Year is celebrated with countless not-so-mini family fireworks displays. I continued enjoying our last true winter for the next few years, while Jeff continued looking forward to its end. (I can’t blame him; he has to drive in the snow and ice, whereas I stay home and enjoy the winter wonderland.)

Toward the end of January, we finally made it out to Gadime Cave, not too far from Prishtina. The Community Liaison Office organized a trip. We decided not to go with the large group—caves plus large groups equals lots of echoing noise, which would not be a great introduction to caves for our sensitive girl—but we did take advantage of the reservation to go a little early with a smaller group. It can be difficult at times to know when the cave will be open, so this opportunity was not to be missed. It was a great morning! The caves were much larger than we anticipated, and Alexa loved exploring them. She didn’t even notice that she also was learning, as she asked question after question about the cave, its features, and the life it contains. I found myself wishing I had an age-appropriate book about caves that we could have read before or after the trip. I’m hoping to correct that oversight and then find another fun cave to explore with her within the next few months.

We spent most of February in the United States. We traveled to Washington, DC, for some appointments and to see some friends. Unfortunately, we only saw about half of the friends we wanted to see—as we landed, my ears grew pillows where my ear drums should be; the next morning, my ears were better but my sinuses were awful, and it only got worse from there. I became so congested that my entire face hurt, even my teeth! After a week, I gave in and went to an urgent care doctor, because I was afraid of what would happen if I flew again 10 days later without treatment. I was diagnosed with a sinus infection and a double ear infection. The antibiotics started helping immediately, so I felt much better for the rest of the trip, but we’d already missed out on visits with a few friends. We hope to see those friends this summer instead.

We arrived back in Kosovo on schedule in late February, but a week later, Alexa and I were back on a plane. There was a medical situation back home with a close family member, and my help was needed. Jeff was needed at work, especially since he’d just returned, so he remained in Kosovo. I am thankful that the medical situation was not as bad as it easily could have been, and my family member seems to have made almost a full recovery. Alexa and I spent our time in the United States helping with everyday tasks and transportation, but we also were able to do fun “America” things like celebrate my sister-in-law’s RN pinning, go to my niece’s football soccer games, and entertain random passersby with Alexa’s TCK questions and comments (for example, “Does everybody in America know the name of that store is Wal-Mart?” and “Why is there more than one McDonald’s?”). We returned to Kosovo just after Jeff’s birthday, at the end of March.

After our second return to Kosovo this year, I realized just how close we are to the end of our time here. I spent a few days getting over jet lag, then dove in and finally started preparing for packout. So far, we’ve rid ourselves of almost all of Alexa’s baby clothes, most of our “we severely overestimated how much Kleenex we’d use” consumables, and several bags of my ill-fitting or unflattering clothes. We’ve sold the elliptical machine for which we expect to have no room in Greece, and we’ve made arrangements to sell our second vehicle once we can get the paperwork in order. I’ve organized several full drawers of small items into labelled gallon-sized Ziploc bags. Now I need to start focusing heavily on my list-making, which has been sadly neglected due to all the travel earlier this year. We’re leaving in less than a month, and I’ve never been so far behind on my preparations.

At some point during and between all these other activities, we completed the Sonlight P4/5 preK curriculum. We ended up dropping a couple of workbooks that were too advanced for Alexa at the time, and there’s still one book in which she has shown no interest whatsoever. I left that book in South Carolina back in March, assuming we could try it again this summer and see if she’s interested then. She’s still working through her Mathematical Reasoning workbook, which she does not do every day—but when she does do it, she wants to keep going and often does 10 or more pages! That is quite the change from when I required her to do it daily, when she resisted and often did no more than 2 pages. We intend to continue working through this book over the summer until it’s done, as well as continuing to “play” Reading Eggs and Math Seeds. I’ll have to do another post about our plans for homeschool next year, as I never finished that series, and we’ve changed our plans for language arts. 

That’s for another time, though.

Right now I have some lists to make.

Albania: We Did It!

When I was a background investigator, my main job requirement was to gather information. Subject and source interviews, of course, were key components of my investigations. Unlike records checks, however, the people whom I interviewed did not have a standard, unchanging presentation of information—the information that they provided would vary with a multitude of factors: their mood that day, their goals for the interview, their sense of comfort and rapport with the investigator. I quickly learned to evaluate my source and change my self-presentation in order to increase the likelihood of the source feeling comfortable and unguarded with me. For example, when I interviewed a formerly successful businessman about his financial difficulties or a proud man about his moral failures, my best option was to be professional and detached, so there was no hint of judgment or pity; these men were not speaking with a woman, only with an unfeeling government drone little different from a computer or the forms on which they originally had disclosed their problems. Others in similar situations telegraphed that they felt more comfortable opening up to a sympathetic witness, so that is exactly what they got from me. When I interviewed a young soldier about his record of misbehavior while under the influence of alcohol, I smiled and laughed at his antics along with him, all the while discreetly taking copious notes and encouraging him to tell me more. When I left these interviews, I reverted to neutral—to myself, unchanged from my brief metamorphosis into whomever I needed to be for that interview.

One of my investigations involved a young man, a first generation American; his parents had immigrated to the United States from Albania. He was highly involved in an Albanian cultural center, and many of my source interviews were of others who were passionate about Albania, Albanian culture, and the welfare of the Albanian people. The day I interviewed the leader of the cultural center, I came into the room cautiously, ready to figure out whom I needed to be for this interview, but expecting that I would need to show some interest in Albania in order to help this man feel comfortable with me. I had extra time in my schedule that day, so I assumed that my best course of action would be to allow him to extol the virtues of Albania for several minutes before guiding the conversation to the subject of the interview. I was right in that assumption, but I was wrong in my assumption that I would be able to speak with this man about Albania and leave the room caring as little about it as I had when I walked in. He was so eloquent and descriptive in his praise of his beloved homeland—he made it sound like a fairytale land full of friendly people, stunning natural beauty, and rich historical sites that simply begged to be explored. I did eventually work the conversation around to my subject and got the information I needed, but I left that room with more than just information about my subject: I left it with a burning desire to visit Albania.

That night, I asked Jeff what the possibility was of us being able to travel to Albania one day. “Slim to none.” I sighed and set about my business of doing interviews, putting Albania out of my mind.

Yesterday, we visited Albania.

Part of the castle from which Skanderbeg defended Albania from the Ottomans

  

It was a simple day trip. A 3-hour drive from Prishtina to Kruje. A drive on a good highway through the stunning beauty of the mountains separating Kosovo and Albania. A short drive on a well-maintained highway through the plains, skirting the mountain range that rose majestically just a few miles away. A steep and winding drive on a narrow road from the plains high into the mountains. A walk along a rough cobblestone street lined with souvenir shops and continuing up a steep, slippery path to an ancient fortress. Lunch in the most picturesque of locations—under a canopy, with a view of the mountainside dropping away into plains, and the sweetest outdoor playground I’ve ever seen nestled safely in the courtyard of an ancient stone building that has been converted into a restaurant. Then a walk around a surprisingly small ancient fortress situated atop the hill, with stunning views in every direction. A short tour of a beautiful museum featuring a gorgeous terrace. A slow walk back down to the car, stopping in multiple shops and picking up some new treasures … and some ice cream. A drive back down the mountain—with some exploration of a few narrow, steep, dirt “roads” before we decided to ignore the GPS until we made our own way back to the main road down. Then a three hour drive back to Prishtina, where we capped off the day with an indulgent meal at the best Albanian restaurant we’ve ever visited: Tiffany’s, in case you’re ever in the area and want to taste Albanian food at its finest.

A depiction of Skanderbeg and his army

And the refrain running through my mind now, as I reflect on a day that seemed so unlikely all those years ago when I first asked Jeff if we could visit Albania one day? Well, my daughter is watching Dora the Explorer right now, and her song seems to fit the situation: “We did it!”

Our new treasures: a Kosovar woman and an Illyrian soldier

Be Our Guests

But bring your own chairs … and steak knives … and look out for the birds. Really. I’m not kidding.

On Memorial Day, Jeff and I hosted guests in our home for the first time since we’ve been here. We had not received our HHE yet, so we had only basic home items, but Jeff has a new grill, he wanted to try it out, we wanted to have our sponsors over, it was Memorial Day, and we knew that after that weekend, we wouldn’t be hosting anyone else until August. (Our HHE was delivered later in the week, and we are busy unpacking it, trying to get it done before we take our home leave in the United States this summer.) We figured that we have the necessities: a grill, grill utensils, a few Pyrex dishes, and some beer; we’d buy the rest of what we need—plastic plates, utensils, and cups. It shouldn’t be a problem, right?

Yeah …

It started out easily enough. Jeff put the frozen ribs down to thaw and found a recipe online for grilling them. I made a list of the ingredients I needed for the macaroni and cheese and the brownie pudding cake I was making for dessert.

Then I realized that we have seating for four on our patio, and we were inviting four people over, in addition to the three who live here. No problem. Jeff sent a text message notifying our guests that our outdoor seating options are limited, and it would be appreciated if they could be lawn chairs.

Then I got overconfident. I didn’t want to go to the supermarket on Sunday afternoon, when it was sure to be crowded. I wanted to wait until Monday morning. I’d have plenty of time if I got up at a reasonable hour and got moving instead of being lazy.

Then we had a later night than expected on Sunday. And then Jeff got a phone call around midnight and had to go in to the office for a couple of hours to fix some problem with the computers. So it really would have been unreasonable of me to expect him to get up early enough for me to make an early run to the supermarket—instead, I watched Alexa while he slept late, and then he woke himself up early enough for me to get a shower and still make it to the supermarket shortly after 10.

Then, while caring for Alexa and waiting for Jeff to wake up the morning of Memorial Day, I realized that we should have appetizers, too. It’s not really kosher to invite people over and then say that they can’t eat anything until the ribs are done, especially when you’re grilling for the first time and therefore can’t say with certainty when the ribs will be done. So I added chips to the shopping list.

Then I got ambitious. I looked through my recipe books and found one—and only one—recipe for an appetizer for which I thought I probably could get all the required ingredients: backyard bruschetta with feta and tomato toppings. I added the necessary ingredients to the list.

Then I realized that the only kitchen knives currently on the premises were two steak knives, a santoku, and a paring knife—we found out on the first day of our packout that Cambodia has a strange restriction on the transport of knives, so we couldn’t put any in our UAB; those few came with us in our suitcases. This shouldn’t be a problem; it’s a strange request, but our sponsors will understand and probably think it’s funny, so … send another text message notifying our guests that it would be helpful if they brought some steak knives, too.

Then, after I had pre-prepared the macaroni and cheese (I had cooked and assembled it, but was waiting for the appropriate time to put it in the oven) and the bruschetta (I had made the two topping layers but had not sliced or toasted the bread) and as I was getting ready to pre-prepare the dessert, I realized that Jeff’s grilling activities also required preparatory work … and dishes … in the kitchen … in the galley-style, sized-for-one-person kitchen where I needed to be. And he needed my two-cup measuring cup … which I also needed. So we bumped shoulders while he used the measuring cup to make the rib sauce and I did Step 1 of my 4-step dessert. Then he finished with the measuring cup and cleaned it out. We bumped shoulders some more while I did Step 2 (the step requiring the measuring cup) and he prepped the meat for the application of the sauce. We danced around each other collecting ingredients, used whatever work space we could find that wasn’t full of person, dishes, or supplies, and generally made a big mess.

Then, while we were still in the process of making the mess (in our wide-open-to-and-clearly-visible-from-the-dining-room/playroom/pathway-to-the-patio kitchen), it was time for our guests to arrive. Oops.

Luckily, they were a little late. I had time to add the dessert to my growing pile of ready-for-the-next-step food, do a quick clean up of the worst of the mess in the kitchen (it was still embarrassingly dirty), slice the bread, and put the bread in the oven to toast—there was no room for it on our small grill with the big rack of ribs that Jeff had on there.

Then the doorbell rang. I rushed downstairs to welcome our guests and ushered them upstairs into the play/dining room … and the open kitchen (where the bread had started burning in the two minutes I was downstairs). The kids and men went outside to play and grill, and we women went into the kitchen, where my guest took it all in stride and jumped in with the food preparation.

Finally the appetizers were ready and the macaroni was in the oven. I stepped outside—and realized that although our guests had been there for about half an hour at that point, we had neglected to offer them anything to drink (an unpardonable sin to this Southern girl), because I was caught up in kitchen work and Jeff was caught up in grill work. Oops. That situation rectified, I settled in to relax for a few minutes until it was time to pull the macaroni out of the oven, boil some water to pour over the dessert (Step 3), and then put the dessert in the oven (Step 4).

Finally, dessert in the oven, I could really settle in to relax with our guests.

Then the meat was ready, so we set up a buffet inside on the dining room table—there wasn’t nearly enough room on our small patio table. We all relaxed during the meal … although Jeff did have to get up every once in a while to baste the second rack of ribs (which turned out to be unneeded) and check the chicken (also unneeded).

After dinner, we relaxed on the patio for a while longer. Then I reminded everyone that we had dessert too. We ate all of one brownie pudding cake … a surprisingly easy, surprisingly good fudgy brownie on top of a layer of pudding, plus ice cream. Alexa had three servings (small ones). One of our adult guests had two—a welcome surprise, as I’d pegged her for a healthy eater (if a healthy eater eats two helpings of dessert, it must have been good!).

Later, when it got late enough that we were concerned about children undergoing the “it’s past my bedtime” transformation from sweet little people into little monsters, we were moving things back inside the house when Jeff came in carrying a plate of leftover bruschetta.

“I’m not sure, but … I think a bird just stole a piece of bruschetta.”

The perfect wacky ending to a not-so-perfect wacky, but highly enjoyable, time with friends.