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In the movies, people who come to Greece are always greeted by blue skies, warm days, and endless hours to spend lazing about on the beach and be sensually awakened by sun, wine, and exotically attractive Europeans. This is not quite my life.
As I write this, I am sitting in the office of the Anatolia dorm; outside, the snow is falling in big white clumps, painting the sort of fleeting fairy tale picture that only a heavy snowfall can create. Inside, there are seventy-four adolescents in my care, all rejoicing at the news that school has been cancelled for the day and carefully examining the sky for hints of future precipitation. "Do you think school will be cancelled tomorrow?" they ask me repeatedly. "I don't know, " I tell them, "just enjoy the day off today." This answer proves universally unpopular. "But what do you think?" they plead.
Sometimes I think one of my major duties is to answer questions. These range from the predictable "Do we have to have study hall?" and "how do you say that in English?" to the more difficult "So, can you explain the structure of the American government?", and "Why is English like that?"
I'm amused by these questions, as they remind me of the days when I, too, pestered adults for information that they didn't necessarily have. Some of the younger dorm students are on the constant lookout for anyone to interrogate about, well, anything. "Why did my mom decide to send me to this school?" one eighth grader asked several times, even after I explained that his mother might be better equipped to answer that one. A sixteen-year old recently informed me "You're the most beautiful, nicest dorm advisor we've ever had. Can I please stay out late tonight?" Another student seems less impressed by my appearance; 'Why don't you wear more make-up?" she asks me regularly. "And why don't you pluck your eyebrows? You should dye your hair red, because now you are young!' "I'll think about it," I answer diplomatically, and she sighs and announces "why think? Just do it."
My personal life seems to be a particular source of curiosity, as I've received a large number of inquiries ranging from "What do you do while we're in school?" to "Do you have a boyfriend?" to "Don't you miss your family?" And of course, there's the ever-popular, persistently asked "But why don't you know Brad Pitt? You live in New York!" Several students have already informed that, if they were in my shoes, they would definitely know more famous people than I do.
Fielding constant questions is fun sometimes, but difficult as well, especially when I realize that some of these students, far from their families, seem to be more in need of a parental surrogate than the answers to random questions. One girl routinely sits with me in the dorm office during my duty hours, usually in silence, with the occasional sigh and "I want to go to my family." I try encouraging her to talk about other things, but going home seems to be her constant focus. Though she has now learned the verb "to miss" she used to simply lament "I love my mother very right now. Are you loving your mom too?"
Homesickness doesn't attack me the way it does these kids, but it does afflict me fairly often, tugging at me sporadically and unpredictably. It's surprisingly nice to realize there are so many things I appreciate about my home, (Family, friends, diversity, the Sunday New York Times, used bookstores, cheap coffee to go) and I find myself longing for the strangest things sometimes. Last week, when I came down with an awful cold, I angrily lamented the difficulty of finding good take-out soup in Thessaloniki. Several days before, I spent hours scouring the shops downtown for an affordable filter coffee maker; the Greeks have an affinity for instant Nescafe that I simply don't understand.
All of this must make me sound quite unhappy, but I assure you, the opposite is true. Greece continues to charm me with its lovely weather, friendly people, colorful markets, and even its stray animals; I've taken in one of the ubiquitous street cats. She's gone from scrounging through the trash to lounging on my bed all day, spoiled rotten with treats and attention from adoring students.
Travel is, of course, one of the most exciting things about this fellowship, and I have been trying to take advantage of my opportunities during my free weekends and breaks. Over the holiday vacation I spent a wonderful four days in Istanbul with my visiting family, soaking up the atmosphere; the mosques, with calls to prayer sounding out over the city; the piles of clothes, shoes, jewelry, pottery and myriad other wares for sale at the Grand Bazaar; the rug sellers clamoring to make a deal; the women in headscarves and merchants with their vivid array of spices.
Athens too proved to be a memorable city; I had steeled myself for some unpleasantness, as the capital has a reputation for being dirty and overcrowded. However, I was pleasantly surprised to find myself in an attractive, vibrant place with lovely old streets, charming tavernas spilling out over the sidewalks, and stunning ancient ruins. It's surreal, looking up from the bustling modern streets to the Acropolis, poised above the din like a place from another world. In fact, that's pretty much what it is. When I finally walked up to the Parthenon itself I could hardly believe my surroundings. It's strange and thrilling to see the world of eighth grade history class suddenly become a reality.
As I continue to absorb the life and culture here in Greece, I do find that there are many things I miss about my home; but I suspect the opposite will eventually be true as well. I've grown so used to the relaxed pace of Greek life, the cheap, delicious seafood, the friends I've made and even the language, although I can't pretend to be fluent. Most of all, I enjoy the day-to-day adventure of living in a foreign place. Here, even a trip to the grocery store can be a lesson in culture or language. Every month brings new and strange customs, holidays and experiences. Though it will be nice to return to familiar territory eventually, I know that I will miss the fascinating unpredictability of life in Greece.
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