Stuck In A Moment You Can't Get Out Of: Week One Athens

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 but I felt his intention and replied “Sygnómi” (excuse me, sorry) and keyed in the door to find my next surprise, a staircase. 

I booked this apartment because it had an elevator to my fourth floor unit. I did not think to ask about entry stairs. There were 15 to get to the elevator. I can do stairs. Whenever possible I prefer to avoid them to eliminate a fall risk. I was grateful for the railing and my strength training. My upper body strength got my bags up one at a time. I reminded myself it was the only time I’d have to do that and it was done. 

After unpacking, I headed out for my first discovery, the local grocery store. My experience at Sklavenidis made me realize just how out of my depth I was in Athens. I couldn’t move beyond “Hi” and “How are you.”  I couldn’t even understand “Would you like a bag?” I just pointed. I was humbled to be in an everyday situation and be rendered speechless. 

I underestimated just how much of a buffer my parents as Greek speakers provided on my previous visits to Greece. Also, on all my other visits I stayed in touristed areas and hotels. Both of which provided an additional buffer against my monolingualism. Having all my buffers stripped away at the same time was a rude awakening at Sklavendis. I wanted Immersion. I got it. 

I wanted to be outside my comfort zone like I was on Remote Year. I wanted everything to feel new. Wish granted. I forgot that in Greece you can’t flush toilet paper. It has to be thrown in the wastebasket like in Cape Town. Not a big deal, but a hard habit to break. I flushed it twice the first day and began to curse my small bladder because each bathroom trip felt like a mental test as I was jetlagged and not operating at peak performance. 

Another thing I forgot was how unforgiving the ancient streets are: uneven, inconsistent, and slippery due to being made of marble versus concrete. The assistance of a curb cut is not guaranteed and all together it made the streets feel like an obstacle course. 

The first time I crossed a busy street at the end of my block, I put my foot down the curb like I was testing the temperature of bath water, tentatively. I lost trust in my body amidst the newness of my terrain and the increased spasticity from a long travel day. Travel impacting my body is nothing new or surprising but it added to my feelings of discomfort. I’m used to being painfully stiff after travel, but this was the first time I felt painfully stiff and that stiffness was so noticeably impacting my mobility. I’ve never felt more disabled than I did that first day.

I went to bed questioning if I made the right decision to come here. Did I make a mistake? Did I spend money to make myself uncomfortable? As much as I questioned myself, I knew so many of the voices I was hearing were day one voices: tired, stiff, and acclimating to so much newness. I told myself to give it time and wait a week before making any decisions. 

Well I went to bed questioning my decision and I woke up to what felt like an answer. No power. I woke up jet lagged in the late afternoon, so when I first hit the light switch next to the bed I thought I was just groggy and didn’t press hard enough. After repeated attempts I got out of bed to assess the situation and sure enough this was a blackout situation. 

I alerted my Airbnb host and then moved to the next problem, my very angry body. Morning is always my hardest time of day but this was stop-me-in-my tracks stiff. My body was moving slowly but for the first time I had my travel cane with me to help move around the apartment as my body woke up. Last year in Istanbul I realized how useful a cane would have been since I felt less steady than usual fresh off a foot procedure. I was grateful I remembered to pack it.

My body progressively felt better as the day went on (which is typical) so I made the best of my powerless situation. Luckily the sun doesn’t set until well after 8PM here so I spent the early evening on the beautiful balcony writing out all my feelings to one of the few albums I had downloaded to my phone. I felt victorious. No setback was too big for a little Tracy Chapman and a blank page.  

With my feelings flushed out I got ready for dinner and headed for my reservation at Dylan. When I got home to a dark apartment I was beyond grateful for both my phone flashlight and the incredible battery power of my Pixel, which was still going strong. I was holding out on using my powerbank until absolutely necessary so I did the only thing I could, with no tv or light to read by, I went back to the balcony and wrote by the blessed backlight of my laptop. I wrote about why I decided to come here, as if to remind myself of my reasons and that I had my guardian angels looking out for me (see Right Now).

Throughout the day I had been venting via voice note to my dear friend Mary about all the things: my discomfort, my questions, my lack of power. Mary was the friend I needed when I needed her most. Her responses got me through my hardest travel day in ages. I went to bed with her voice in my head, reminding myself,  “It’s not the wrong choice even if it’s a tough choice.” 

The next day I woke up to power being restored. Let there be light! The thrill of victory was short-lived when I realized the internet was still down and the power had been out long enough to spoil the groceries from day one. I headed back to Sklavenidis to refill the fridge. One thing at a time. 

I had power. I had food to eat. And I was feeling more confident on my feet each day. Things were turning a corner, now if I could just sleep through the night I’d be right as rain. I called my mom that night to tell her about my bumpy beginning and we had a good laugh. It was just what I needed: to hear her voice and laugh at the absurdity of the situation. She was like you’ve already got a great story. Fact. 

And she reminded me, “You’re on an adventure!” I came for adventure and it was a good reminder that this was all part of the plan. I ended that call with so much love for my mom. For understanding me and laughing with me through it all.  

The next day I waited all afternoon for the internet provider, Cosmote. My window was 1-3:30PM. When I hadn’t heard a word by 5PM on this Friday evening I swallowed the realization that I would go the rest of the weekend without internet and without any tv. Lack of tv normally wouldn’t bother me that much but being alone and not having anyone to hang out with in the evening (oh how I missed my Ohana right now) it felt very isolating. Normally I’d plunge head first into a book but I was consciously tempering my reading rate since I only had two books with me. 

It was my first Friday night in Athens so I decided to shower and wash my worries away. Then I headed out for my first walk just to walk, not to get somewhere. I found my way to the main pedestrian drag, Fokionos Negri. It felt like the whole neighborhood was out with kids playing soccer in the square, live music, and so many people dining outside. Restaurant after restaurant line both sides of the wide street with trees and fountains dotting the middle of the thoroughfare. A green space in the middle of bustling city life, it reminded me of Avenida Amsterdam in Mexico City. 

This was the furthest I had ventured from home, thanks to my cane, and it felt great! I had dinner outside and to my delight found a bookstore with books in English. Even more exciting, the bookseller could order the book I was looking for and have it next week (so much for tempering my reading rate). 

Along my walk I saw a shirt in a shop window that said “You’re doing great bitch,” and I thought yeah, you are. I told Mary via voice note later that night that no matter what happens, I’m staying put. On that fourth night I realized these things I saw as problems were actually inconveniences. “American Woman Goes 6 Days Without Internet.” If your situation can be an Onion headline, you’re doing alright. 

Buoyed by my Friday night mindset shift, I felt confident enough to navigate the train on Saturday. I found my neighborhood stop, Aghios Nikolaos, and rode the green line to the Plaka. My first trip felt like a victory! I was so glad I had my cane because it was raining as I exited the Monastiraki station, the stairs were (what else?) marble, and even without a railing I felt confident stepping down with the assist of my cane. It was so satisfying to be like, whatever you throw at me Athens, I got this!

As I stepped into the square I surrendered to getting lost. I wasn’t hungry for dinner yet and I had the time, so why not wander for a bit. I picked a path forward and let my eyes take in the oldest neighborhood in Athens. When most people think of Athens, they’re  probably picturing the Plaka, home of the Acropolis and many more legendary landmarks of antiquity. 

The Tower of the Winds in the distance.

I got a strong sense of déjá vu a few blocks in. Instinctually I followed the curve in the road and when I turned left I found myself at the Tower of the Winds (one of my dad’s favorite landmarks). I looked up at the street sign to see Andrianou. As if by lunar gravitation I found myself on the only street I know by name in the Plaka! I know it because my parents' friend Theo has a business on it and they talk about him and The Loom often. 

It’s been eight years since I’ve been in Athens, so call it muscle memory or instinct, this felt like another victory. I immediately called mom to brag about my directional prowess and ask for a restaurant recommendation. Mom was able to give me the name and dad, the human map that he is, gave me the cross street. I hung up realizing how awesome it is that I have parents who can give me on demand recommendations. I also realized how much of travel is instinctual and if I keep tuned in to my instincts, I’ll be just fine. 

I had an incredible meal at Kosmikon while looking out on a lively night in the Plaka. The ladies next to me pointed to my food and I said “nostimo” (delicious) assuming they were Greek due to their dark hair and olive skin. Turns out they were from Mexico City. I was elated to speak Spanish. It felt like the freedom of running after my slow crawl of Greek all week. When I got up to leave and said good night the ladies asked if I was alone and then pointed to my cane. I said yes and yes. One of the women told me I was very brave. As I fell asleep that night I thought about her comment. I don’t see myself that way. I do the things I love as I am able. So I may not have the internet yet, but I have what matters, the ability to do what I love. 

Speaking of things I love, on my sixth day, I got my first night of continuous sleep! Each night I am exhausted as I get in bed. Then I turn the lights out and lay there for hours. I doze for an hour here or there, because I’m constantly checking the clock, hoping the hands of time have moved further along. It was the longest block of sleep I’ve had all week from 7AM to 1PM. Later than I’d like but as I’ve learned many times over this week. A win is a win. 

I had a lazy day of doing laundry and writing. If you’ve ever done laundry in Europe, you know two things: wash cycles can be interminable and a dryer is a luxury. The cotton cycle on my machine is a whopping 3 hours and 46 minutes. But I have a dryer so that’s a win when most people hang their clothes dry. It’s the norm here as clotheslines surround my balcony view.  I love the picture it provides but I’m not going to kick a gift horse in the mouth here. 

I returned to the lively Fokionos Negri for dinner. I had Neopolitan pizza at a charming spot with an even more charming waiter named Stratis who told me my wine and pizza picks were his favorites (orange and pepperoni). He asked my name. When I said Efthemia, he said “you are your name. You know it means very happy.” I smiled and said yes because this was the second time this week someone told me this about my name and my happiness (see What’s My Name?). He said every time he looked over I looked happy. Pizza will do that every time as will the kindness of strangers. 

On my way home along Agias Zonis I walked past the jewel box of a bar I noticed on my first night. All the outdoor tables were taken and people were spilling out of its tiny confines as was a whiff of a song. The song caught my ear. First thought: is that a U2 song? I lingered past the door, straining to hear. Finally I decided to settle it and walk to the door for a better listen. It was “Somewhere Down the Crazy River” from Robbie Robertson. The song is an absolute  vibe. He pulls off spoken word as if it’s epic poetry and the video looks like an outtake from Twin Peaks, but it’s actually the first music video Martin Scorcese directed. Regardless, the song would sound at home on stage of Lynch’s fictional Roadhouse bar. 

Well this wasn’t the Roadhouse. Welcome to Iznogood and Nephew. If bouncers wore second hand looking silky shirts with floral prints, then the man standing at the door was a bouncer. I asked in Greek if he spoke English. He said a little. So I pointed to the ceiling and said Robbie Robertson! He said yes with a smile. I excitedly said “Great album! Awesome song!” merely wanting to share the moment with someone else. I turned from the door and  said out loud “I can’t believe it??!” as I walked away with the song in my head and a smile on my face. Maybe this was going to work after all. 

I told myself to wait a week before I made any decisions. My seventh day in Athens came on Monday. I still had no internet and no revised service date from Cosmote. Yet I had my first meet up. I hit it off with Danche, one of my Ohana, the very first day of Remote Year when I noticed her evil eye coin purse. She is a Macedonian woman living in Madrid with a cosmopolitan friend group, so she connected me with a friend here and we arranged to meet at the Acropolis metro stop. I was so excited for a coffee date and a chance to transfer train lines. 

I felt like a master of the metro after successfully making it to the Acropoli stop, which is like a mini museum featuring artifacts excavated while building the red line for the 2004 Olympic Games.

I told Sophia what I would be wearing, including a cheetah cane. After greeting me with two cheek kisses she told me the cheetah is her favorite animal and I knew we were off to a good start. Sophia showed me around the Plaka and had so much to share that I felt lucky to have her as my guide. We had a leisurely coffee in a picturesque pocket of the Plaka. 

We had a lovely afternoon. Sophia was so very gracious for doing the heavy conversational lift in English. Yet I was worn out and ready to head home after all the incline and unpredictability of walking the Plaka, not to mention the mental strain of trying to communicate for comprehension.

As my tiredness sunk its teeth into my bones on the way home I started to feel hopeless about the internet situation and what I was doing here. The whole ride home I questioned how much longer to wait it out. Each day that passed I felt further from what brought me here. 

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