My Life in Ruins Part 9: Looking Back

Alright...there should be a bunch of blogs on the way now that I am home. I've had a lot swirling about in my head, but haven't had time to type them out. Something about my Mom wanting emails from me and being too busy to do emails and blogs. Go figure.
First off, a quick rundown of my travels...There will be some more detailed blogs about specific things I did, people I met, and thoughts I had. Those will come when I get a chance :~)

Most of you know that I went originally to do some volunteering in Greece. I was going to be doing knitting classes with refugee women in Athens, then going out to Lesvos. Yeah...was is definitely the key word on that first part. It didn't really happen.

I tried to do the knitting. I most certainly tried. There were supposed to be plans in place for the classes before I arrived in Athens. But when I arrived, I learned that no plans had been made. It kept being "Tomorrow...We'll get something figured out tomorrow." Or "After the weekend". And finally, we were told that we didn't have permission to do the classes. The person who was trying to get permission for us told the manager of the refugee camp that one aim of the classes was to give the women a safe place to spend time together and talk, and share if there were any issues such as domestic violence that they were dealing with. He claimed that there was no domestic violence in the camp, and we were not needed, so we would not be allowed in. Basically, he would rather not risk finding out that there were any issues in his camp. So the main reason I came to Greece was blown up.

I tried to find other things to do during my time in Athens, but felt like I had come just a little late. No one seemed very interested in new volunteers. I tried to go to the port, where everyone said they were in "desperate need" of volunteers, and was sent away because I'd not read their volunteer manual. Read it later, and it was literally the same thing as every other volunteer manual I'd seen. I was going to read it and go back within the next few days, but looking around, I didn't see a point. There were loads of volunteers, sort of in the late high school/early college range, and they were mostly sitting around playing on their phones. I asked if there was anything I could do to help with the boredom of the people hanging out in the camp. There were no activities happening, and I know that I can't stand sitting around with nothing to do all day. I offered to bring my some of the knitting things that I'd brought to Greece, and set up a knitting class/group for the women in the camp. Just to give them something to do. But I was told that the women stay in their tents all day (the reasoning was that there was nothing for them to do, so I didn't really see why that was an argument against starting a knitting group...), and the knitting needles were too likely to be turned into weapons, and therefore, were not wanted in the camp. I disagreed with that logic. Using that, a pen is just as likely to be used as a weapon. But they were adamant. Knitting needles were dangerous.

I wanted to do something useful, but didn't think that going to the port and sitting around just to say that I was at the port was all that great.
Asking around with other groups, I found a similar theme. Very few people wanted a new volunteer. Church groups would not accept anyone unless they were already affiliated with a church in Athens. Even Samaritan's Purse, who I've worked with in the States said that they would not allow me to work with them in Athens even if I was already in the city.

I did some things with the Melissa Network, the group I'd originally gone to work with. They had a poetry workshop, and some activities with the migrant women who are in their organization. It was fun, but I still didn't feel like I was doing anything. I agonized over what to do. Should I leave Greece and go home? Should I leave Greece and go to another country? Should I leave Athens and go to Lesvos? I was so discouraged by this time, with all of the dead ends I'd reached, that heading home was actually looking the best. I didn't have specific plans for the rest of my time in Europe, and I didn't want to deal with things anymore.

So I decided to enjoy my holiday in Athens, as it was turning out to be. I'd spent the money on the plane ticket and I was there. May as well enjoy my time, do what I could, and not waste the trip. It was sort of a situation of lighting a candle or cursing the darkness

I spent time wandering about Athens, exploring and getting to know the city. I also got connected with the Central Athens Irregular Volunteers and visited a shelter in the city with them a couple of times to play with the kids and do activities.

Wouldn't you know, they had an opportunity for me to help teach knitting to the kids. I do wish I'd been able to do more, but the visits were only twice a week. There was a little boy there the first time though, and when I first got there, he had some serious issues with anger and aggression. He wouldn't do any sort of activity without hitting the other children, or even the adults. Against possibly better judgment (remember, they're weapons...), we gave him a pair of knitting needles and some yarn. And he loved it. He continued to knit for the rest of the time we were there, and showed no signs of aggression. The next time we came, he smiled warmly at us, took his knitting, and sat down to work on it. It was what I came to do, and I only wished I had more time to do that, and to see the longer term effects.

Then came the debate about whether to go to Lesvos. The EU deal happened right about that time, and a lot of volunteers were coming back from Lesvos because the refugees were being sent to the port, and the government was making it difficult to work with refugees. It took me a while to get in touch with The Hope Centre, the organization I was thinking to work with. I had a very hard time getting a straight answer about whether I should come or not.

I finally decided to go. If nothing else, to get out of Athens. I booked just a couple of nights at a guesthouse, because I didn't want to pay for 2 weeks and end up not having anything to do with the Hope Centre, and deciding to leave.

After being on Lesvos for about a day, I'd rented a scooter and decided that even if I had the same experience as I had in Athens, and didn't have any volunteering to do, I would enjoy myself. I was on a Greek island, I had a scooter, the weather was gorgeous. I was going to stay for the 2 weeks I'd planned, and be happy about it no matter what.

But as it turned out, I didn't need that decision. They were happy to have me at the HC, and even invited me to stay there. It was good for me, because I had free lodging, and good for them because they had someone there overnight to keep an eye on the place. I had bonfires on the beach and did some hiking. Most evenings I'd take the scooter out for a drive. The island felt a lot like Ooty, but with the sea around it. It was stunning, and I enjoyed my time thoroughly. Enough that I toyed with the idea of staying there longer. But it was beginning to feel like I'd finished the jobs I'd started, and it was time for me to leave.

Oh, and I'd seen the Pope while I was on the island, so that was a cool experience.

I went to Athens for Easter weekend. It was part good and part bad. Probably more on that later.

Then was Romania. I flew in to Bucharest, and took the train to Baia-Mare, where I stayed with a girl named Eva. She was my first host for Helpx, and she was a good one. Her place was up in the mountains in the middle of nowhere. It was a gorgeous area, and I enjoyed spending time with Eva and her dogs and cats. I did some jobs for Eva, took the dogs out hiking quite a bit, and hung out with Eva. I stayed there for about a week, then left on the train for Melk, Austria.

I was supposed to be in Austria for 2 weeks. I almost left after 3 days. And ended up staying for 5 weeks. It was mental. I worked at Austria's first camel riding school, in a tiny village called Eitental. I have plenty of experience with horses, but none at all with camels. I'd only been there for a couple of days when Salome, one of the bactrian camels, tried to bite me. I decided I was not a fan of camels.

Part of the problem was the other helper that was there with me. He had no interest in working together or even answering my questions. He made it a lot harder for me. But eventually, I learned what I was supposed to do, and I was told to check on the other helper's work (he'd been there for a week when I arrived...I don't think this sat well with him).

At the end of my original 2 weeks, I took a small trip to Vienna. I'd previously purchased tickets for a performance at the Spanish Riding School, and wanted to also see a bit of Vienna.
I tried to couchsurf in Vienna, but my host didn't show up. Found out later that he'd gone to a bar while waiting. Go figure...But someone else in his building offered me his bed. He said he'd be working all night anyway, so I may as well use the bed.

I had a few moments of wondering if I was going to end up in trouble if I accepted, but I was already in trouble. It was 2 am, and I didn't have anywhere to sleep. So I stayed there. I was thinking to stay just one night, then do a hostel for the 2nd night, but he told me I could stay both nights, so I did. We got along pretty well, and it was only a little bit awkward.

So I spent my weekend in Vienna, and returned to Eitental. I planned to be there for a week, and then it ended up another week  and another week til I was there as long as I could be before going back to Athens for a few last minute things and my flight. Ended up there for 5 weeks total, and was sad to leave.

I had a couple of scary moments health wise during those weeks I was at the camel school. Still not really sure what it was, and hoping it doesn't happen again. It seemed a little bit like a migraine, which I used to have when I was younger, but haven't in a while. This was different though, with some weird memory and speech issues that really freaked me out. They mostly stopped, though I do still have weird dizzy spells and headaches.

Went back to Athens for 2 days, and was a little moody about being there. I didn't want to be away from Austria, and I am not a fan of Athens. More on that later...I especially didn't want to just chill there waiting to get home. But I made the most of it, wandering around the city and having falafel and this random sweet that I found in a bakery and kind of got hooked on :~). It ended up not being too terrible.

And then I was on the plane coming home. An hour or so from Athens to Istanbul, a 2-hour layover in Istanbul (the gift shops have free samples of Turkish Delight, so I enjoyed that during my layover.), and nearly 11 hours from Istanbul to Chicago. In which I watched a bunch of movies and scarcely slept at all.

Customs was more of a hassle than usual, with the officer being incredibly suspicious of why I travel as much as I do. He let me through though, and I got my bags, got on the bus, and met Mom at the Clocktower in Rockford.
The dogs pretty well freaked out when I reached home. Cosette usually does, but even my emotionally distant Leaf was jumping and whining with excitement to see that I was home. Marius was thrilled to see me as well, and Scarlet ignored her babies in favour of getting some attention from me.

 It was a good trip, despite things that didn't go as planned. I'll put more detail in future blogs, but just thought it may be good to get a quick post with the basics out there.

My Life in Ruins Part 8: Kyrie Eleison

Good Friday...a day of mourning in Greece far more than it is in the States. In Greece, it is not only Easter day which is important, but everything leading up to the day. 

Bells toll throughout the day on Friday, and with the number of churches in Athens, you are pretty well unable to miss them.

Even the city seemed to join in the mourning as the skies grew grey this afternoon and a drizzle fell on those walking through the city. It was the first actual rain I've seen in Athens.

I went and bought candles for the services, according to tradition. A fat tan candle for tonight's Good Friday service, and a white candle for the service tomorrow night. I also, on impulse, bought a small wooden egg, painted red as Easter eggs are in Greece (representing the blood of Jesus), and decorated with a hand painted rabbit. It made me think of the ceramic eggs my Grama used to make for us every year for Easter, and felt like a good buy.

Walking through town once again, on the way to the evening service, the sun broke out from behind the clouds, brightening the afternoon as though wanting to reassure the mere mortals on the ground that everything would be ok, and we didn't need to worry, because the sadness of the day has already been made right.

The bier sits at the front of the church on Good Friday, representing the crucified Jesus. As worshippers enter, they light candles and kiss the icons, then make their way to the front of the church to kiss the icon of Christ that rests at the head of the bier. 

As with most services, you have a variety of responses from the church-goers. You have your highly respectful people, those who come in, do the candles and the genuflecting, then sit down in silent contemplation and payer. You have those who are there and respectful, but sit and chat with their friends when "duty" is over. There are those who come because it is Easter, and they're supposed to.  And there's the girl watching everyone, and jotting down a blog on her phone so she has it all while it is fresh (in case you're dumb, that last one is me...).
Then general feeling though, is one of solemnity. There is no pre-service music, only the sound of the bells, coming more frequently as the service time draws near.

There's something about attending church in a language that you do not understand. You may have a general idea of what is being spoken about, especially if it is Easter, or another holiday, but you don't get most of the actual words. Meaning that you have the opportunity to hear from God without the middleman.
There is a lot of activity in the church during the service, despite the respect given the day. People come in throughout the service, walking up to kiss the bier, they answer their phones, which loudly ring in the middle of everything. There's even a woman going around, spraying the icons, which everyone is kissing, with disinfectant. I swear, I thought it was windex at first and nearly cracked up...
They even change the candles on the top of the cross mid-service, using one of the creakiest ladders I've ever heard. And I've heard my share of creaky ladders...

40 minutes into the service, and people are still walking in, coming to kiss the bier. The group that is singing the Bible reading is gorgeous. In sound...can't see them, so I don't know if they're gorgeous in looks. Not a huge fan of Greek men so far though...
Anyway...
It has become standing room only, but no one seems too bothered. 

I gave my seat up for an elderly lady who didn't look like she could stand the whole service. I believe I am now standing by an icon of St George, this church's saint. Who, quite honestly, I think was a jerk for killing the dragon. Maybe the dragon just needed a friend. But I'm sure George did plenty of good too.
People are crowding the aisles as the jingle of the bells on the censer join the voices of the chanters. Occasionally, the rest of the congregation joins in with the songs, but only for a few measures most of the time. They rise and sit according to some tradition that is familiar and comfortable. Even a language barrier does not make one feel like an outsider so much as a tradition that is known by everyone but you. But you can't feel too much like an outsider while celebrating the event that caused the curtain in the temple to be torn, bringing man into the presence of God. When you are connected by that, the things like language and tradition cease to be such a big deal.

As the service continues, the extra noise dies down. People talk less and focus on what is being sung more. I'm curious about one song, because the lady in front of me turned to her friend with a huge smile when it started, an expression like, "here it is!", and things went very quiet during that song. It was stunning...one of those that makes your chest ache while you listen. I took a video of it, but I doubt the video will come close to doing it justice. 

People are dripping sweat, the service has been going for an hour and a half and the front of the church has a haze of incense smoke through it, but no one seems to mind. All but a few people are on their feet, joining with the singing more now. There are still people coming in and weaving their way up to the front to kiss the bier.
The music is pretty easy to pick up (the tune at least), and I find myself humming to it, which is what a lot of even the Greek speakers around me are doing.
A song starts, and it's like Silent Night during the Christmas Eve service. Everyone knows it. Flower petals (and one random bouquet...I think someone messed up...) fall from the ceiling into the bier, then the priests walk down the centre aisle, throwing petals into the congregation.
The indoor part of the service ends when the choir leads the procession out of the church. Men carry the bier, like pallbearers with a coffin, and girls walk beside, showering it with more petals. A band joins with, and the band and choir take turns as everyone walks around the neighbourhood. The procession is supposed to symbolise a funeral, but takes on the feeling of a parade instead. Traffic stops, and people line the sidewalks to take pictures of the group passing by. I stopped at one point, to take a couple of pictures, and as I stood there with my camera up to my eye, people came up and casually lit their candles from mine.

I kept trying to stay with the bier, instead of trailing behind, because that's where the music was. With so many people talking, the sound of the choir doesn't carry that far. Plus, it's better to be up with them, where you can see things like the tallest member of the choir (probably around 6'7") grab the hand of a girl I'd guess to be about 4 years old, and walk down the street, holding hands with her, and singing. Daughter? Kid he knows from church? I don't know, but it sure made her happy. 

Returning to the church, we stood outside as the priest spoke a little while longer. I have no clue what was said. Then the men holding the bier took it just inside the church doors, then held it up so that everyone who was still there could walk underneath it to go back into the church. Some people crossed themselves, or kissed the bier, while others simply ducked underneath. 

The service wrapped up pretty quickly after that, with just a little more singing as the priests gathered up the fabric from the bier, careful to collect the flower petals that were on it. I don't know if they're used for something, or if they're just trying to not make a mess on the floor. 

The singing stopped suddenly, and people began clearing out of the church, scattering in all directions as most walked toward their homes.
And here we are, one step closer to Easter and the celebration of the resurrection.

My Life in Ruins Part 7---Jaded

I feel like every once in a while, I have to do something to sort of prove that I am not jaded. Prove it to myself, that is. I have no idea if other people think that I am jaded.
I have become very good at saying no to beggars and homeless people, even if it's a lady with a baby. I hate it when the rose seller ladies come up to me, saying that they'll give me a free rose, but if I take it, then they put a hand on their belly and say that they need 5 euros, and it's for the "baby". It's from the whole idea that you shouldn't give money to beggars, because the money may not even be going to them. And even if they get the money, it will often be used for drugs or alcohol, or something unwholesome, rather than food.
So when a man came up to me and asked for money for food, I told him no. However, we were across from a little cafe, and I'd been debating getting some food there anyway. I've been meaning to try it, and it just didn't happen. So I told him that he could go over there with me, and I'd buy him some food.

 He said no. He said he didn't like the food there. So I told him that it was too bad, and if he was hungry, he'd eat wherever.
He seemed like he was going to walk away, then asked if I would buy him a danish and milk at the cafe. I told him I would, and we walked over there. He ordered what he wanted, and I got the same pastry, and a cappuccino. He didn't want to stick around and chat, but took his food and juice (they ended up not having milk), and left after thanking me profusely.
It wasn't much. Less than $3 for both of us (I'm gonna have to go back there when I'm back in Athens. Good food, and cheaper than a lot of places), and a super easy thing to do. But it still would have been easier to leave it at "No" when he asked me to give him money in the first place, instead of inviting him to get food with me. Did I change his life? Probably not. He wasn't starving, and we didn't have a meaningful conversation as he didn't really want to talk and his english wasn't great. But did I do something good, and was it something I felt like I should do? Yeah, definitely.
So maybe I've not simply grown used to human suffering. Maybe I am being intelligent when I refuse to give money to beggars, rather than being lazy or cheap. Maybe I'm not completely jaded yet...

My Life in Ruins Part 6---Do You Believe in Ferries?

My ferry, waiting to leave. I never quite realize just how big they are til I look at the semis that look like little
toys sitting there :~)

Sitting on a boat on my way to Lesvos, and realized I should probably get a little caught up on blogs. First things first...I'm going to Lesvos. Yeah...I suppose I could have written about that before actually leaving...

Leaving just at Sunset. Wish we'd left a little earlier. By the time we started out, sunset was nearly over. 

It was up in the air a bit whether I was going to go at all, due to the Turkey-EU deal that you've probably heard about. Though, if you're in the States, there's no guarantee that you've heard about it, because if it's not about politicians, the news stations don't seem to think it's important. Good thing the rest of the world goes on hold while the US has our elections...
Ok...Sarcasm aside...
One of the groups I have been talking to was still looking for volunteers. Actually, there are still several groups in need of volunteers, but this is the group I'd connected with previously. They're in the midst of converting a hotel to a shelter, and need help with that. According to their facebook page, a lot of volunteers left with the announcement of the Turkey-EU deal, but there is still work to be done. Who knows what will happen when I'm there. I've given up planning (in case you couldn't tell from my trip so far...).

Blue Star ferries

The plan is to type a few blogs, and then post them every couple of days when I don't feel like writing. Or don't have the time to write. However, there may be a slight glitch to that plan...I always forget how sleepy vehicles make me. Not so much cars, but airplanes, buses, trains...Boats are apparently included in that. Oh man...give me a hammock right now, and I'd be out in 2 minutes...

Ready for bed with Mr Greenfeather

It's funny, because as much as I've been ready to leave Athens these last few days (I like it, but it's too city...Too many people, so I feel like I always have to be paying attention), I had a bit of sadness upon actually getting ready to leave. Wandered around, took a ton of pictures, etc. I don't know why I felt so weird about it. I guess it happens with any place where you get comfortable. Which I was starting to do. I recognize places, and I can make my way around, often without a map. I can use the public transportation system, even when it's messed up and I have to find a new stop. I like it, though I don't think it's somewhere I'll be desperate to return to (though I may be back there for a few days at the end of the month, and a few more mid-June...).

A view of Athens a few hours before I left

Anyway, super duper sleepy, but I'm gonna work on some blogs. By the time you read this, I'll be on Lesvos (because I don't have internet on the ferry, so I can't post it til Lesvos...).

Trying to not lose my hood in the freezing cold wind this morning.

My Life in Ruins Part 5---The Worth of Art

I love art. Well, I love art that appeals to me. I know nothing about art. I visited a few art museums while I was in Australia, and it basically made no sense to me.
But I like to find random paintings and whatnot. I was super excited to find a bunch of original paintings at Salvation Army one night. One day, I am going to have to live in a house with a lot of wall space so that I have room for all of the art that I have. I guess I could just have the walls of my tiny home covered with art. That would work :~)
Anyway, on that topic, I was near the Acropolis today, and there was an artist there with a variety of his paintings. There was one that I really liked, but I was debating because of the price. It was actually pretty fairly priced for a piece of art, but bear in mind, a lot of the art I own came from Salvation Army or garage sales, and therefore, has been really inexpensive. I looked at it for a little while, and almost walked away, but knew it was something I wanted. So I bought it.

The artist was so happy to sell me the painting. He excitedly offered to write my name on the back in Greek, then wrote the date as well. He was explaining the different bird paintings, and how one kind cost more because the birds were more plump, and it takes so much more work to get the rounded shape. He talked about the type of paint used.

Then a woman came from the apartments behind him, and started talking to me about what a spectacular painter he is, and how good it was that I was buying a painting from him. She told me about her apartment, and that she is happy with a small apartment, because she wanted a view of the "eternal beauty" (meaning the Acropolis, which is directly in front of her apartment). I said that I was jealous of her view, and she said it was ok, because I am a person who has to keep moving around. I thought that was an interesting way to look at it. You can handle a place with a ho-hum view or whatever when you know that you won't be there long. But when you plan to remain somewhere, you want beauty, and a place that will bring you joy.

I walked away with my painting, thinking that I got so much more for my money than just a painting (though I love the painting, and would have been happy with just it). Those random experiences that you don't expect are what make life fun.