Farewell to my little "nest"

Books, CDs, souvenirs from trips, clothes, everything put in "I'm strong enough to carry 30 kilos" IKEA boxes. Almost midnight. This is it... Early in the morning I'm stuffing a track's belly with my (not that few, after all) belongings, moving out of the little studio I called home for almost two years now. It's a little sad. It is. I'm one of those privacy freaks, one of those who prefer to spend most of their time alone, and a good deal of their time at home, reading, listening to music, surfing the web, in my case... planning some next trip, enjoying our own company. A boring one? Maybe. But that's not the point. The point is that people like me, grow a special connection to our home, because it is our "private kingdom", or simply our "nest", if you will.
What am I going to miss from this place, other than the fact that it was my quiet refuge? I'll miss the fact that for almost two years I used to work for a newspaper which was 50 meters on my right (this is actually the reason why I moved here from the other side of the city, so as to avoid the hassle of driving through the chaos called "Thessaloniki city center", every day). I'll miss the view from my balcony, from where you can see pretty much the whole city. And I'll definitely miss the sound of the trains coming and going... The train station is a three minutes' walk from where I'm writing these lines. Lying in bed, watching TV, all I had to do to see trains coming and going was turn my eyes a little on the right. I loved it... I loved watching the gentle slide of the trains, and most of all I loved the sound of them sliding on the tracks. :-) It just came to me... Will I miss the fact that every second night I would wake up in the middle of the night because people on the same floor were having (loud) sex? (thiiiin walls). I don't know... I guess it's one of those things that when they happen, you find them funny at first, annoying then, and funny again, after some time, when you look back...
Yes, I'll miss this place...
BUT, it's cases like this that I bring in mind some Angelo Branduardi song, "Dopo Domenica é Lunedí" (or something like that). I don't really speak Italian, I don't know what the lyrics of the song are exactly about, huh, I haven't even heard this song for a long-long time, but it does cross my mind often, given the appropriate circumstances. "After Sunday comes Monday", which in my head means that... life goes on, no matter what. Everything at some point gives its place to something new. The day after tomorrow I am flying to Vienna, I'll be back early April, and two weeks later I'm off to the US, before settling down for several weeks at Guatemala. "Sunday" was nice, "Sunday" felt secure (relatively well-paid job, staying in a nice studio, comfortable living), but right now "Monday" looks way more tempting... Uncertain, but doesn't "uncertain" go hand in hand with "adventurous", even "thrilling"? Yeeeah, "Monday" definitely looks "woo-hoo" promising...

Operation "six capital cities in two weeks"

As a kid, I didn't need every single expensive toy found in high-profile toy stores to be happy. I would just quietly play for hours with my few soldiers and little cars, or kick around the house a tiny football (being extra careful not to break anything and have my butt spanked). As a teenager, I didn't lose my sleep over becoming the best footballer in the world, or kissing as many girls at school as possible, or scoring high grades at school. I was happy with playing football just for the fun of it, from the moment I'd finish school until it was time to have dinner, hours later, and equally I was happy with secretly being in love with a girl I never got to kiss, and scoring grades just high enough to keep my parents satisfied. As a young adult, I didn't set out on a "have sex with a hundred women before I die" expedition, and when I started working I didn't have not even in the back of my mind any thoughts about becoming some hot shot of a journalist, let alone making a fortune. I was ok with having a job I liked, and that was pretty much it. You could say I always set the bar low. I say I was never greedy. The truth, most probably, is somewhere in the middle. But... Yeah, there is a "but"...
But when it comes to traveling, I'm the Greek impersonation of Obélix. I can never have enough of my "potion magique". I've been abroad 45 times already (trips to Greek destinations aside), in less than a month I'm leaving Greece for the longest trip I've ever made, one that may last several months, and yet, here I am, unable to say no to the temptation of making another shorter trip, for two weeks, starting this Saturday. Back in July I took advantage of some amazing SkyEurope offer, I bought Thessaloniki-Vienna-Thessaloniki plane tickets for 10 euros (one euro each way, plus a process fee of eight euros), the tickets are for March 21-24, but... told ya, when it comes to traveling, I'm greedy, someone could say I already have more than enough travel stories to tell my grandchildren one day, but... do you remember Obélix ever acting indifferent while standing next to a cauldron full of that irresistible "potion magique"?...
So, am I going to Vienna for three days? Eham, not exactly... I thought, since I will be in Vienna, and since I don't have a boss waiting for me back to work, why not go to Bratislava as well? It's "right next door"... Then I thought, I haven't been to Budapest for more than three years now, I have never been there alone, so... why not stop buy and bring back in my mind some fond memories? Then I thought, there is someone in Croatia I would really like to see, maybe for a last time, so... why not? After Croatia, where? Well, Belgrade is a city that has a special corner in my heart, I would need a separate post to explain why, I would love to go back even for a single day, and... it IS on the way from Zagreb to Thessaloniki, so... Finally, I thought, these last two months I had so many things happening to me, stuff that turned my life upside-down, stuff that made crazy scenarios become reality, stuff that "reminded" me I should never take ANYTHING for granted, and NEVER rule out ANYTHING, so... I must stop by at Skopje as well. What's so special about me stopping by at Skopje? Well, no big deal... Let's just say I had promised myself NEVER to go there, even though it's a stone's throw away from where I live, Thessaloniki. For my own reasons I always ruled out the possibility of a trip there, but... what the heck... Yeah, never say never...
SO, that's it, six countries, six capital cities in two weeks. Someone could say it's too little to squeeze in so many places. I say I have already been to most of these places, and I see this trip as a good opportunity to refresh in my memory beautiful moments of the past, and also as a "farewell" to Europe, before flying next month to the US and then on to Central America. Unlike Obélix, I don't have a Panoramix to put a grip on my greed. Two Romans (actually Greeks, the owners of the newspaper I used to work for) kidnapped Panoramix (my job obligations), while he was preparing his yummy drink, and now I find myself alone in a hut with a big enough (some money I had set aside) spoon, free to quench my greed. That is... until annoying Astérix (the editor of my closed newspaper) liberates Panoramix (starts up something new) and asks me to behave myself (come back to Greece and start working again)...

Damn thin lines

What do you call someone who thinks he is really-really good in something? "One who has his nose high up, and a big idea of himself", or "one who is passionate enough about something and rightly believes he can produce something extraordinary if he really gets his butt down to working on it"? What do you call someone who deep down believes he is really-really good in something, but is never satisfied with the outcome of his efforts? "One who should finally listen to that little voice that keeps trying to bring him back to planet earth, make him see the disappointing reality", or "one who simply needs to hang in there, keep believing in himself, for in the end he will be proven right"? And what do you call someone who, after struggling with himself for a long time, finally accepts he's no special, he's not, after all, that good in what he thought he was good at? "A wise guy who finally let go of his mega ego and can now enjoy his little every day -but not extraordinary- talent in something, just for the fun of it", or "a pathetic loser who lacks self-confidence and deserves to live the rest of his life with the torturing thought 'what if I had a little more faith in me'"? If you ask me, the lines are damn thin, and this comes with... a good deal of anxiety and excitement, if you think about it... It's like applying for a dream job, for example. You file in your application, and you wait to hear from your potential employer. Waiting for your phone to ring, you think about the best case scenario, and also about the worst case scenario, one moment you dream of getting the job, next moment you feel you are free-falling and there's no safety net to ease your landing... Until the moment you hear the news, you are free to dream, and... who knows, maybe your dream will come true... If not, you patch up your broken wings, and take your time before trying again, no?...
Hm... These last ten days, after losing my job, I have been spending 23 hours a day alone, over-analyzing stuff in my mind. Not necessarily the best possible thing someone could do, right? Right...

I guess I needed a little slap

After spending countless hours online, going through websites of dozens, literally, Spanish schools in Guatemala, I finally came close to a decision, I chose a school, but before submitting my registration, I dropped the owner of the school a note, writing her all about my concerns that had to do with the level of the teachers at her school. I kind of... asked her to guarantee me that the teacher I will be given once I arrive there, will be qualified enough to meet my high demands, and by "high demands" I explained her that my intention is to leave Guatemala with my Spanish being as good as my English. She sent me back an email in a really polite tone, but writing a couple of things that felt like little slaps on my face, delicate ones, but slaps nonetheless... She wrote me that I should go to Guatemala with a positive attitude, not worrying about the level of the teacher I will be given, and definitely without the expectation to learn in a few weeks/a couple of months Spanish that could match my English, which I studied YEARS as a kid and teenager, and have been using non-stop ever since. She wrote me more, and I admit I finished reading her email with... mixed feelings. She was right in everything she wrote me, she made perfect sense, and that made me feel well, feel confident about going to her school, possibly because I like people who are down to earth and don't overdo it with promising things. On the other hand, I felt bad, no, scrap that, I felt like an idiot! How on earth did I write her that I have the expectation to leave Guatemala speaking Spanish just as well as English?! What a stupid thing to write... How did I even think that in two months I will be able to write 1,000 words' emails in Spanish in half an hour without making more than just a few mistakes? What a moron... Me and my big stupid mouth... My only excuse is that I wrote her that email after a sleepless night, having had three coffees in about six hours, so I wasn't in perfect control of my mind and fingers... (you have to admit that's a pretty decent excuse, but be fooled not, if it wasn't, I would just come up with another one. When it comes to finding excuses for stupid things I do/say, I outdo myself). Anyhow, I got my slaps, I definitely needed them, and two minutes later I was filling in the registration form to book a place at her school. What can I say? Maybe deep down I am hiding a little masochist...

Who said you can't travel back in time?

Before the end of the month I need to empty the tiny studio I have been renting the last couple of years, and since my flight to London-USA is not before the 14th of April, I'll need to spend two weeks at my parents' place (hush! Don't even dare laugh at this 33-34-year-old who is going back to his parents' place! Only for a couple of weeks I say! Didn't you read what I just wrote?!) My parents will need to do the dirty job of putting up with me for two weeks, and with all my stuff all this time that I'll be gone. Problem is, they don't live in a villa, they own a modest typical Greek middle-low class apartment, where space IS an issue. So, getting -finally- somewhere with this paragraph, I meant to say that yesterday I went to their place for lunch, and got to spend a good two hours going through my ooooold room's drawers, drawers full of stuff I left behind the holy day I finally moved out of my parents place, four years ago. I found stuff I hadn't seen for a really long time, stuff I hadn't laid my eyes on for 10, 15, even 20 years, stuff from my childhood I had no idea my parents had kept all these years. First I saw some ridiculous red shorts I was wearing as a member of an amateurs' football team during my teen years (from all colours, my team HAD TO wear red, γαμώ την τύχη μου... -that's me cursing in Greek, don't mind me...). That's when the time-travel began... I found ridiculous old t-shirts, even more ridiculous old swimming suits, "ancient" notebooks with details about the girl I was secretly in love with ever since I was 10 and until I turned 19, a scarf my grandmother had knitted for me in the colours of my favourite team (black and white), and sparing you more of my memories diarrhea, soon I forgot that my goal was "throw away as much as possible so my parents can make room for my new stuff", and I just embarked on a really sweet journey back in time... That was nice... And deep down I was not surprised that my parents had kept all that stuff. They love their only kid almost... pathologically, I cough they cough, I smile they smile, I'm happy they're happy, I'm depressed they're depressed, I live they live, and every single time I travel to risky (safety-wise) places, I try to remind myself that I need to get back home one piece, or else my parents will just stop breathing, because they won't have much of a reason to go on living without me. I sound melodramatic and you're definitely thinking I'm exaggerating, but... you don't know my parents...
Of course, my needy eyes had to see another sign confirming how right I am in not trying to find a new job, but fleeing to Latin America on a long trip... As I was going through the drawers, I found a 2005 National Geographic Traveler magazine I had no idea I had kept. Page 93, "Enter Our 17th Annual Photo Contest, WIN a trip to GUATEMALA", accompanied by a close-up picture of the cutest ever 5-year-old Guatemalan little girl. From all the National Geographic Traveler magazine issues I got via mail, I kept THIS one. And from all the places the magazine could be sending the winner of its photo contest to, it had to be Guatemala, the country I chose to learn Spanish at. A sign indeed? As I wrote a couple of days ago, probably not. Still, it drew a big smile on my face...

How can a doctor smoking preach you about not smoking?!

On a totally different note, this morning I had to fill in the papers for my unemployment benefit. I'm a journalist (well, technically, I was, as I am not working anywhere at the moment), we journalists have our own insurance organization, and we get our unemployment benefit from a totally different "pocket" than the rest of the unemployed people in Greece. Can you believe I had to fill in five different papers, writing my name, date of birth, blah-blah-blah, in ALL five papers?! Talking about bureaucracy at its best, which is an irony, because journalists in Greece keep telling the government off for being so bureaucratic, for asking someone a dozen papers to get a job done, "while everything could be taken care of with one single paper, having less people mingling, saving time and peace of mind", as you'll hear high-profile TV news people say. And yet, we, ourselves, make our own people fill in half a dozen papers repeating the very same things over and over again... It's like having a doctor telling you, all serious and pompous, how stupid smoking is, while at the same time he is llllloving the feeling of holding a cigarette in his hand... Whatever... I'm getting an unemployment benefit, and if I had to fill in not half a dozen but a full dozen of papers, I would still smile and do it. Yes, I'd do pretty much anything for money that would help me make my upcoming trip last as long as possible... Hm... Why do I suddenly feel like a whore?! (No offence to sex-workers, really).

Next time I'll ask for Monica Bellucci

You know which is possibly the... funniest thing about losing my job a few days ago? Two days before the "we are closing down" bomb exploded, I wrote a two pages' piece in my newspaper, explaining how someone can actually fly around the globe with less than 1,000 euros (no kidding. London-Kuala Lumpur-Australia-USA-London can be done with less than 1,000 euros on plane tickets). In the intro I "admitted" that in our difficult times, in a period of global recession, "announcing" to your readers that they can really fly around the world for less than 1,000 euros is... almost provocative, is like mocking all those thousands of people who lose their job every single day. Still, as I wrote, for someone who can take the time off and has the money to afford, now is an absolutely amazing time to make the dream trip of his/her life, now that the airlines all around the world are offering seats at shockingly (in some cases) low prices. When I wrote that piece, I had no, as in NO, idea, what would happen two days later. I honestly thought my job was secure. The idea of losing it, didn't even cross my mind. The possibility of a huge meteorite hitting earth, destroying our civilization, looked more probable in my head that me losing my job... Well, 48 hours later the unthinkable had happened. What I had subconsciously dreamed of while writing that piece, having the freedom to make such a huge trip, had happened... Next time I dream of some really crazy scenario, I'll make sure it'll be one that will include opening my eyes one morning, only to find Monica Bellucci lying next to me, smiling at me...
On another note, yesterday I went to see "Slumdog Millionaire". Made me smile, got my eyes wet a couple of times (don't you just love internet and how you get to admit embarrassing stuff that the whole world can see, hidden behind your holy anonymity?!), and also gave me goosebumps more than once or twice, so all in all, I left the theater highly satisfied with my choice. What was funny was something I noticed in the end, while everyone was leaving, as the end titles were falling on the screen. The end titles are "accompanied" by a song and a typical Bollywood scene, dozens of dancers dancing. In the second half of the song, I noticed some of the lyrics were in Spanish(!), even though the song was, of course, Indian. In December 2006 I was in India, I went to watch "Dhoom:2", and in one of the movie's songs there were lyrics in Brazilian Portuguese... Six months later, I was in Brazil on my next big backpacking trip... :-) Last night I considered it a sign, as if the Spanish lyrics in the song were a... confirmation of how right my decision is to go to Latin America for some months, now that I don't have any job obligations. Is it really a sign? I seriously doubt it... But, you know, when you really want something, when you have decided to do something with all your heart, your eyes/ears spot/capture images/sounds that you welcome as signs... They say the world is full of signs, our everyday lives are full of signs, and we just need to spot them, not overlook them. I say this may be true (I don't know. Who does for sure?!), but sometimes we just see what we want to see, and we accept something as a "go ahead" sign, because deep down we want and need it to be such a sign...
Gosh, these last lines exhausted me... My little brain is not fully equipped for deep (rrright) thoughts like these... Maybe I should just hit the bed early tonight (it's 10:30 pm here, in Greece), and work on that... Monica Bellucci crazy scenario in my sleep...

I am James Earl Jones in "Field of Dreams"

It's what they say, "careful what you wish for"... A year ago, last time I wrote for my other blog, I admitted to getting somewhat excited at hearing that I could lose my job, I and everyone else in the newspaper I used to work for. For the rest of the guys I felt sorry, of course, but for me, for "how-I-wish-I-had-the-balls-to-turn-my-life-upside-down, quit-and-flee-to-Latin-America-for-a-few-months" me, losing my job could be a God-sent gift. I didn't (lose my job). I kept working for the same newspaper, kept feeding myself with false promises of realizing my dream on a later date, until... until fate decided to take things in her own hands... Early January, right after I got back home from a three weeks' trip to Australia and New Zealand, I got a call-job offer. I could go work for a new newspaper, getting 10% less money than what I was used to, BUT, having the freedom to be gone for more days, satisfying my ever-growing greed for traveling. Hey, we all have our priorities, and making 1,200 euros per month instead of 1,320 seemed like a lousy sacrifice, given that I would be allowed to travel more. So I said yes. Less than two months later, the moment we "speak", I find myself unemployed. The newspaper closed down. People with families and mortgages are left without income, people I have known for years (we used to work together for my previous newspaper for some eight years), people I honestly hope they'll get back on their feet as soon as possible. As for me, for half an hour after receiving the news I was sweating, this is the first time in my 15 years in the business that I am left unemployed, it's all new to me, it feels scary, or at least it felt scary for a while, but as time passed by, I started to realize that this... drama could turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to me! I kept moaning for years how unsatisfied I felt with my life, how I needed a shock to wake me up and do what I always had in the back of my mind, leave Greece for a few months, travel, travel for a long time, not for 2-3 weeks on a leave from work. There you go... I got my wish...
A month ago, having no idea that the newspaper would only last a few weeks, I bought return tickets to the US, flying from Greece to Louisville, Kentucky, and back from New York City. I was to fly out on April 14, and back on April 30, be at work on May 2. Eham, I don't think so... I AM flying to the US on April 14 alright, but early May, I am flying from New York to Mexico City, and on May 10 I will be at Quetzaltenango, Guatemala, to start my Spanish lessons. How excited I am? Try "E X C I T E D"... But kind of scared too, scared because I am dealing with a situation unknown to me, and I guess it's in our (at least in mine) blood to get nervous when we are dealing with something we don't know exactly how to handle. I'm talking about being unemployed. I'm not rich, I just happen to have 5,000 euros set aside, plane tickets to the US already paid for, and an American friend who is generous enough to let me use her "buddy pass" (she works for one of the biggest airlines in the US), facilitating my travel plans. I know one day I will have to come back and settle, once again, for a little life, going to work every day, maybe even starting my own family (IF I find a woman silly enough to want to commit long-term with "difficult" and too damn grumpy me). But now, now I can enjoy the moment, super excited and somewhat scared. Which brings me to the post's title... If you've seen this 1989 movie, you may remember James Earl Jones as "Terrence Mann", in the end, being invited by "ghosts" to join them in their own world. He's standing at the far end of a baseball field, right on the "border" with the surrounding corn field. He's standing there, smiling and all, with the curiosity and the excitement of a little kid, but kind of scared as well. He reaches out, he pulls his hand back quickly, nervous indeed, but... you know what he did if you have watched the movie, he made that step, he did step into a world he knew would be totally different to what he was used to. Well, I decided to do the same...