Little Lavatorical Luxuries

(Okay, maybe I made that word up, but only for the oh-so-worthy cause of alliteration!)

But anyway, it really is kind of true that it’s the little things in life that end up making a huge difference…

Now, I knew when I came to Greece I would find a lot of marble (they are the producer of like 10% of the world’s marble, after all—as a friend kindly informed me before I got here, wanting me to be armed with the most useful of facts J).  However, I didn’t think I’d find so much granite so soon—or rather (and really, more precisely), I didn’t think I would so quickly find so much that I took for granted.

Okay, cheesy word play aside, there really are some serious and humble lessons from which we (or at least I) can learn and remember to be thankful in.  The way I see it (or have seen it these past few days), these lessons come wrapped and poured out in little luxuries I never really saw as luxuries before. 

First: FLUSHING

Now wait—stay with me here.  Don’t think this blog is going down the tubes or anything; just hear me out.

In Greece, and in many other places around the world and even in history and on boats (as some of you might already know), you really aren’t supposed to flush toilet paper.  It’s just the way it is.  There’s a trashcan in which you are to deposit it and it’s really not that big of an issue.  Just a matter of tweaking a habit you’ve had for two decades.  A minor inconvenience. 

Disclaimer: I fully realize that this is not even close to an inconvenience or near the size of obstacles many other people around the world face when it comes to a human function so necessary and seemingly simple.  I’m really not trying to blow it out of proportion or complain or claim to be inconvenienced/put out.  The fact that flushing toilet paper seems now like a luxury means I’ve grown up living a really fortunate life and may need to rethink some things just a bit.  It’s another humbling example of how I need to look beyond just me.  For too long I’ve taken for granted little things—these little luxuries that seem silly when you think about them, but here we are…

Anyway, let’s move on to number two (well there’s no helping that terrible and pun-ishing unfortunate arrangement of words…)

Second, we have: SHOWERING/HAVING A FAUCET/HAVING AN ABUNDANCE OF READILY AVAILABLE (AND HOT) WATER/ETC.

Join me now, will you, as we relive my morning.

Wake up about 8, shake off the jetlag, debate whether to get out and run, try to convince yourself there’s not enough time and you’d be better off catching a few more zzzz’s, realize yourself is lying to you (or you are lying to yourself???), change into running clothes and shoes, and hit the pavement.

4 miles later you are about half an hour away from needing to be ready and presentable to meet some of the people you will be working for/with at this new school and also spend the day with 12 other people  you’re still getting to know (and in relatively close proximity).  You walk up the stairs , brush out your curly, down-to-your-shoulder hair (if you don’t happen to have the good fortune of having this type of hair, just take my word that when you brush it out it’s really not so pretty and the only thing that can save it is a good dousing of water and some curl care conditioner…), and head toward the shower. 

It’s a new shower to try to get used to already, as in it has a handheld shower head and isn’t affixed to the wall so you have to work and move more to make sure you get clean (another silly little luxury I never thought about before now—and, I realize again, not near as bad as it can get).  But today when you turn the handle of the faucet, ready to take a quick shower and get ready to go, there is only a trickle.  Your stomach sinks just a little but you tell yourself not to panic.  Six girls have showered already, maybe one is as you speak, maybe it just takes a while.  So you wait—wait for the trickle to make some major gains in pressure and level and temperature. 

But it doesn’t. 

Instead, the opposite happens as it peters out into a stream of nothingness that still somehow manages to steal all your calm.  Try to rein some of that calm back in and check with your housemates about the state of the water.  Learn the lack of water is house-wide and that you aren’t the only one left stranded in your towel.  Flip through your options: (1) run down the street to the other on-campus residence and hope they have water and that you have enough time, or (2) use the residual water in the water bottles of two of your helpful and wonderful roommates, as well as your own, and try to make it work.  Concerned about the lack of time, I opted for option two.

Needless to say, I thought very carefully about my shower routine this morning.  Every drop was very deliberately poured in order to be the most effective.  The name of the game: conserve water to the max. 

It ended up working out fine.  I was ready to go in time and nobody had to see my tangled mane (and I didn’t smell too bad either—I mean, nobody said anything so I assumed I was successful in my conservation/cleanliness endeavor).  If nothing else, I learned a valuable lesson about the tremendous value of water and the importance of conversation.  And it makes for an okay story, too.

Hopefully the next time I’m tempted to take a fifteen minute shower, I’ll remember this incident—and that there are so many people for whom this “inconvenience” is an everyday reality or who may not even have access to (clean) water at all.

So another little luxury I’ve taken for granted.  Another humbling eye-opener.  Another gentle nudge to look beyond myself and tweak my thinking.  Another adventure in Greece…

(also: window screens—but that’s another story….. J)

First Impressions...

What are your first impressions? Initial thoughts? Primary reactions? However you want to phrase it doesn’t matter because no matter how you cut it, it’s still hard to decipher/take in/encompass/a-whole-nother-list-of-synonyms just everything and all that this experience in Greece is. 

There’s so many thoughts, emotions, reactions, ideas, ideals, expectations,  (shall we continue the trend? ;))—so much to take in, so much swirling around inside, so much trying to get out…

But it’s AMAZING.  If amazing can even come close to adequately representing these first impressions of Greece.  It doesn’t seem quite sufficient but it is doing a pretty darn admirable job of trying to fill the shoes of the elusive word that could possibly encompass all that is Greece.

Since I posted the last blog from a new wifi connection you can probably surmise we made it off the runway in Rome.  As the minutes of that flight clicked by, I was brought closer and closer to my new home.  Anticipation bunched in my stomach.  There was nothing I could do to speed up the trip nor slow the time before we landed.  I was literally moving ever closer to this new opportunity. 

I watched as mountains and islands and hills began to break up the blue waters with increasing frequency.  The mountains and hills looked almost freckled as if by the sun from sitting in her wake day after day, spotted but not covered as they were with trees and brush.  The coast of the islands were a sandy skin tone with a blush of aqua blue jetting out into the deep blue beyond.  We were getting closer.  A block of houses and buildings here, a cluster there, two separate communities on that island.  Then….Athens—a big bunch of white-ish rectangles concentrated and jutting back in toward the mainland from the coast.  The plane dipped and turned as we made our approach and soon we were landing. 

Then stepping off into the airport, finding luggage, trying to find a Euro for a cart because according to the machine my card was “not ok”, stepping into the taxi that brought us home.  Wide-eyed staring out the window at the buildings and trees and signs and people and everything we passed.  Driving down the street that led up to the school, driving through the gate then up the drive to Darbyshire—the building to make home this coming year, walking up the path lugging bags, meeting more of the people who will help make this home.

And suddenly it wasn’t just Greece who was seeking to make a good first impression.

Settling in, exploring, just seeing and experiencing everything we can…

Awe at the splendor and the beauty that surrounds, intimidated and exhilarated at navigating this new place, marveling at the sounds and smells and tastes that are familiar to those you meet here—that you want to become familiar to you—, sheer intimidation at trying to swim through the sea of letters and tones of a language that is foreign, thankfulness for those in the same boat so you don’t have to swim alone (and especially those few who have swum these waters before), utter determination that it won’t all stay foreign forever.  Because you’re not just visiting.  You’re living.  You’re making this a new home.  Seeking to create and share new experiences with new friends and also connect and share this experience—this new home—with your old heart and home.  Catching up on sleep while wanting to keep your eyes open to take in absolutely everything…

And so much more.  More than can fit on this post, than can be described with words.  How did they find the words before?  The words, they must be hidden in the Earth here, waiting to be found and discovered—waiting to share the beauty and purpose and wonder of Greece.  Search them out.  Discover.  Make this home.

When in Rome...

When in Rome (or at least, when in her airport), just do what the Romans do (and try not to look too lost or awe-struck like the wide-eyed American puppy you are… J).  Just keep following the signs (with those familiar English translations underneath—thank goodness!).  Have your passport ready and your flight number memorized.  

And take it all in.

Oh, and don’t forget to keep checking the board for the gate from which your plane will depart.  They might change it on you—and then you’ll have to venture back into the mire of terminals and gates and croissant-sellers and duty-free shops from whence you barely (I mean skillfully and like a pro....) navigated before.

As I write this, I am sitting with my seatbelt buckled (though it doesn’t need to be),  on the plane that will take me to the place I will call home for the next 10 and a half months, the place that will teach me lessons I can’t even begin to fathom yet, the place my footsteps are leading me, the place where my adventure awaits (though I’m getting a small glimpse of it on this bout of plane rides and security screenings and airport scramblings).  

My final connecting flight from Rome to Athens is delayed for some reason I couldn’t quite fully grasp as the captain repeated in English following the initial burst of Italian to explain.  It is a strange and humbling experience to be surrounded thusly by so many different tongues—to try to tune your ear to a tone or phrase familiar and finding none, giving up listening—to struggle still even when the words are spoken in the language you know, but in an accent altogether different.  And this is only a sampling of what is to come, and only a small fraction of what some hear everyday.

For now, I write and I think.  And I listen in wonder.  And I wonder if this must be what students learning English must feel, at least on some smaller part.  And I want to take this continued experience--this opportunity to listen to words I don’t know, to be the fish swimming upstream in the pool of strange and beautiful words, to better inform my instruction of English to my students—to better connect with and help my students.

Another announcement—but I have a few seconds before I need to tune my ear J

We’ve taken flight now, and every moment takes me closer to Greece.  I look out the window and see the rugged mountains donning their dark hues—see the windows sitting atop them as gods and goddesses gracing their thrones.  I listen to the hum of the airplane, the whirring of the engine, the faint conversation happening a few rows up, and a couple rows back.  Look out into the blurred and awesome blue, shades of sky that could be shades of sea.

Something stirs in my stomach—excitement, anxiousness, that in-flight snack, perhaps J .  What possibilities await—as endless as the sky appears now.  My heart is full—of the bolstering words of love, support, confidence, and faith I read in the airport—words that brought a smile to my face and a reassuring peace to my journey.   

The journey has already begun, but when this plane lands….

So, when in Rome: enjoy the layover, look back where you’ve come, look forward where you’re going, and seek meaning in each moment.  Don’t close your eyes, or your ears, or your heart---there’s so much you might miss………

Oh, sing to me, Muse....

I suppose if this were the beginning of the epic adventure of Odysseus or Achilleus, we might very well kick off this blog with such an invocation of the muses.  But they've had their chances and the words of their exploits continue to live on in the pages and minds of time.  Now, I'm not going to put myself or my own adventure on par with these Greek legends (but if someone else wants to connect those dots in that way, well, I won't protest too vociferously... ;)).  Indeed, I've spent my share of time reading and exploring those heroes' tales--and I may even borrow a page or phrase or two from their books.  <<*cough, cough*--just look at the title of this blog: I'm going to wring every ounce of usefulness out of that phrase I can; those of you who have read or heard my presentations in the last year may recognize it. And you can better believe it found its way into my Fulbright application :) >>

But now it is time for my own epic adventure to begin.

A year ago, Greece was only a hope and a prayer--an application sent on winged words with fingers crossed.  Two or three years ago (or even as a young girl playing school in the basement) I never would have dreamed my life would be taking a turn down this new path, that I'd be boarding a plane that would take me halfway across the world for the adventure of a lifetime.  But God has a plan bigger and better than I could ever imagine, and He's been directing my steps to lead me here today.  I look back at the events and moments that have marked that path so far, and now I look forward with eager eyes, ready to see where He will direct my steps next...

I'm ready.  Sometimes I wonder if maybe I'm not ready, but I think those doubts stem mostly from the fact that I truly am ready, but it's kind of scary to be ready.  And maybe they stem a bit, too, from the two suitcases sitting in my room, bulging with clothes and books and such, waiting to be officially packed..

But here we are.  The moment I've been looking forward to since March, but which has seemed so far off, is now here.  So, here's to squeezing everything I can into my suitcase; to the hardest "see ya laters" I've ever had to do; to old friends and new; to airport security and a layover in Rome; to great ruins and blue waters; to learning and teaching; to making memories to last a lifetime; to living every moment; to this next adventure--here's to Greece...

On winged words and with a prayer in my heart, my Fulbright year in Greece begins: Lord, you promised "You'll guide me along the best pathways for my life--advise me and watch over me"---so let's start walking.  I'm ready....