Sometime during week two I went to Sklavenidis, the local grocery store, for a few things. I’ve already been there more times than I can remember. The store is only one block around the corner from my place so I’ve adopted the European approach of buying for a few days versus the whole week. Sklavenidis. The local grocery store. I’ve learned there’s no good lane at Skalvenidis. So on this day I went for familiarity. I’ve had this woman before and I appreciate that she takes

I’ve written at length about my name and the story behind it (See What’s My Name). You would think with a name like Themi I would be hard to forget. Yet for as long as I can remember one of my insecurities is that people won’t remember me. My memory is uncanny. I joke with friends never to tell me anything they want me to forget. One friend even refers to my memory as a steel trap. But my memory is selective. I’m not great with dates but I’m decent with names and I rarely fo

My first week in Athens was an absolute test of wills. At first it felt like me against Athens but as the week progressed it became a test against myself. Could I handle the challenges I faced against my comfort, my body, my faith in myself? My first night I went to bed questioning my decision to come. And yet I knew not to trust that tired, overwhelmed, and scared voice that was spiraling. I told myself to wait a week before making any decisions about my stay (See Stuck In A

I got exactly what I wanted. I wanted immersion. I wanted to be out of my comfort zone. And now I question if I made the right decision. My first week in Athens was a real test. Almost immediately it pushed me past comfort and very quickly I got good at being uncomfortable. Day one felt like a slap in the face. I arrived at the doorstep of my Airbnb and pressed the wrong button. A man came out and started yelling at me in Greek. I may not have understood what he was saying b

I love a novelty coffee mug. They are one of my preferred souvenirs to remember my travels by but I don’t buy one everywhere I go because I don’t have the cabinet space to support that habit. So I buy one when the mug finds me. I have a mug with my Greek name on it, Efthemia. I got it on the island of Tinos a good 15 years ago. My mom found it because lord knows I can’t read the Greek alphabet. I wanted it immediately because Themi was never a name you could find on a license

I’ve wanted to be a polyglot for a long time. There are two dreams wrapped in that one desire to be multilingual. I want to become fluent in Spanish and I want to learn basic Greek. The second dream was reignited during a recent trip to the Netherlands of all places (see Being Funny in a Foreign Language). I met an Athenian cafe owner in Alkmaar. I cobbled together a conversation in Greek using the few words and phrases I know. I floated out of the cafe and told my travel co

I am a self-professed word nerd. I love words in all their forms: spoken, written, sung. It’s one of the reasons I’m such a reader and rabid music fan. I love their ability to take me places and make me feel deeper than I already do. It’s also why I love languages. I love learning words in other languages, like calcetines (my favorite word to say in Spanish) or dentifricio (my favorite word to say in Italian) and learning how mundane things such as socks and toothpaste sound