The Acropolis, Orange Trees, and Greek Children

Believe it or not, there's more to Greece then good food and shopping. There's also these big collections of old rocks. I think they're famous or something? 

 

On Saturday, while the rest of my family was exploring the market, Clare and I ventured to the Acropolis, which was conveniently located down the street from our apartment. We stopped at Hadrian's Arch on our way to the Acropolis. 

Hadrian’s Arch was constructed in 131 AD by the Roman Emperor Hadrian as part of a wall separating the old and new cities of Athens. On the side of the arch facing the Acropolis is the inscription, “This is Athens, the former city of Theseus” while the other side reads, “This is the city of Hadrian and not of Theseus”. The 18 meters (59ft) gate was made of marble from nearby Mount Petelikon and decorated in the Corinthian order. Hadrian was known for his peaceful reign and for being an extensive builder. He was very fond of Greek learning and had traveled in Archaea. He also rebuilt the fortification wall around Athens which had been torn down by Sulla and changed the Acropolis into a fort which it had been before. Athens became somewhat of a second capital during Hadrian’s reign. You will find Hadrian’s arch at Amallias Avenue at the entrance of the site of the Temple of Olympian Zeus, just south of the National Gardens.

At the Acropolis, Clare and I both got in free, me because I am a student, and Clare because she's under 19. The view was absolutely incredible, even before we got to the very top. It took a half hour to get to the very top, because we had to keep stopping every five minutes. I stopped to take pictures, Clare stopped to re-tie her shoes. 

At the top was the Parthenon, and I made Clare take a lot of obnoxious pictures in front of it. We weren't the only tourists there though. There was a guy who was attempting to take a jumping picture, attempts which resulted in him making a complete fool of himself by jumping up and down in front of everyone. I felt for the guy, especially because we discovered (through evesdropping) that he had only just met his camera woman, who clearly had no idea what she was doing or what he wanted. I almost offered to help, but it amused me to watch him jump around like a fool.

After we were done with the touristy pictures, we headed back down to the main area to find something to eat. On our way down, I saw a cluster of orange trees. By the way, there are orange trees in Athens. Whowouldathunkit?? For some reason I was totally fascinated by this, and wanted a picture of me picking an orange. Clare and I had a little photoshoot in front of the trees, just us joking around and being silly. I picked an orange and showed it off, but she went the next step and actually climbed the tree. 

With our oranges in hand, we headed back to the market to get something to eat before we had to meet the rest of the fam. I had just gotten a new watch the day before, and I was entertaining Clare by constantly telling her the time in Dutch. She loved it. She loved it so much that she wanted me to tell her every five minutes. So of course I did. I also taught my whole family the Sinterklaas song, and one of the first Dutch songs we learned. They all loved them too. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aJv4Rs-euGM&feature=related

We stopped in a little bakery for a quick snack, and ate our pastries outside. I got a pizza-type thing, and Clare got a chocolate croissant. We were looking at the pictures on Clare's camera when the bakery owner came outside, and warned us to keep our valuables in our bags. He said that there are people who will steal them right off the table. A few minutes later, a little girl and her younger sister came over to us, playing the accordion and singing in Greek. I knew they wanted money but I didn't have anything to give them, so I just shook my head politely and turned away, assuming they would get the hint and leave. Nope, Greek kids are stubborn, and the girls got really close to us, almost touching my arm, tapping on the table and singing in my ear. The bakery owner was still outside, and he tried to gently push the older girl away. While my head was turned, the younger girl grabbed my half-eaten sandwich off my plate, and ran away. I whipped around, completely shocked. The bakery owner admonished me, saying "I told you to not leave anything on the table." Well I'm sorry, but I didn't think that anyone would take my food off my plate! I wasn't angry, because that little girl needed the sandwich much more than I did. The owner was more upset than I was, and started yelling at the girls in Greek (the older girl was still by our table, playing the accordion and the younger girl was a few feet away, smirking at me as she ate my food). Clare and I decided to leave, to avoid causing more problems. 

We met up with the rest of the fam, and got accosted by desperate restaurant owners, promising us a 10% discount if we ate in their restaurant. I had grilled octopus and my dad ordered moussaka. Alaza branched out, and got calamari instead of a hamburger. We split up after dinner, because I was on a quest for postcards (which I could not find, not because there weren't endless souvenir shops, but because I'm too picky and couldn't find ones that I liked) so my mom, Clare and I wandered around Athens for a bit, before getting hopelessly lost and almost eaten by vicious street cats. There was one street that was full of them, waiting along each side of the road, taunting unsuspecting tourists to walk through and become their next meal. We eventually got home, and spent the rest of the night packing and eating the rest of our leftovers. My flight was at 8:30 the next morning, so we had to leave the apartment at 6am. I got two hours of sleep that night, and I was able to sleep more on the plane back to Leuven.

Only in Greece

Athens reminds me a lot of New York City; rude, pushy people, no traffic laws, and aggressive homeless. Growing up in a small town in Pennsylvania and even in Leuven, I’ve never been exposed to these types of things that are characteristic of a large city. It was definitely an interesting experience. I already talked about my adventures getting to Greece, so let’s go on to the rest of my trip.

Thursday was my first day to really explore Greece. So after I woke up from my first good night’s sleep in three (drie in Dutch) weeks, I let my family show me around Athens a little. We walked the ten zillion miles to the open market, passing the Olympic Stadium, the National Gardens, and a whole lot of scary Greek politie. As we walked by the National Gardens, my mom told me that the day before, my dad had decided to take charge and take my family to the National Gardens. As they were walking through the gardens, my mom, a professional garden designer and complete snob, couldn’t help but criticize. “Um, Dan, I don’t know if we’re in the right garden . . . It smells like dog crap. Like really bad.” My poor dad tried to defend himself for a few minutes, until my youngest sister pointed out a sign that said “Athens Dog Park”. Needless to say, that was the last time my dad was allowed to lead the pack.

I was shocked at the number of homeless people that lined the streets, some of them just children. At one point, I saw a group of four kids playing the accordion and tambourine along the side of the shopping street. It was really sad to see that and acknowledge the fact that there are some people who are really down on their luck, and begging is the only way for them to survive. There were also some very aggressive people. One woman walked up to my sisters and handed them each a rose. Then she hounded my mom for payment for the flowers, repeating “mama” and touching her lips. My mom gave her what spare change she had on her, and when the woman complained, politely handed back the flowers and walked away. There were also stray cats and dogs everywhere, minding their own business and sleeping on the sidewalk. Clare made eye-contact with one of the dogs, and it followed us almost all the way home. Alleyah named him Ruffles, and I think she would have tried to sneak him up into the apartment if my mom didn't shoo him away. 

As I’m sure everyone has heard, there have been some issues in Greece. Walking along the sidewalk, we saw an armed officer every few feet. The politie themselves weren’t too intimidating, but the massive weapons they were casually holding were terrifying. There were large trucks filled with officers, and they all held the clear riot shields, protecting the city from the protesters. Luckily, there were no problems while we were there, and my dad reassured us that the worst was over. That didn't stop me from convincing my sister that the rioters were after American girls named Alaza. Don’t judge, it’s part of the job requirements of being the older sister. Gotta keep them in line!

We finally made it to the outdoor market, where we lasted for about .5 seconds before Alaza was bored and tired and hungry and cold and just wanted to go home “because I have to talk to my man! My man misses me! He has to tell me all about Elizabethtown and what’s happening there and I have to rush home from touring Greece so I can sit in the apartment by my computer.” (I know, judging, and I know, I can’t do that because I was just like that when I was her age. Didn't take advantage of the opportunities presented to me, just focused on my own little world of myspace and the SIMS and the internet.)

We stopped at McDonalds so that the youngest two could eat their American food, and then Clare, my mom, my dad and I went to a gyro place across the street from our apartment. The tzatziki sauce was fantastic. It’s always my favorite part of the gyro, the delicious cucumber sauce. The gyro was pretty good too, but it was an odd mixture of pork and other meats, instead of just lamb. Gyros are my favorite Greek food, so I was glad to be able to have one in Greece, even if it wasn’t completely perfect. The meat was cut from a large, turning triangular slab, so that was pretty cool. It’s all about the experience, and I got to eat an authentic Greek gyro. The rest of the evening was pretty uneventful, with us just snacking on the most delicious humus and olives I’ve ever tasted. The point of our Greece vacation was to just relax, and that’s what we did. I knew that I still had plenty of time for touristy things, and I just wanted to relax with my family.  

The next day Clare and I walked down to the market again, so we could do some serious souvenir shopping. On our way there, we got distracted by a huge street market selling all sorts of food, and a man selling rugs out of his van. Nothing sketchy and weird about that.

We had some good sisterly bonding time and I got a lot of great homemade souvenirs. I didn’t want a t-shirt that said I Heart Athens on it. I wanted the authentic Greek jewelry. We left the market in the late afternoon, and went out for dinner that night at a little restaurant called Meta’s. Alaza complained the whole time about how gross the food was, and Alleyah got a plate full of mashed potatoes, but it was a good meal. I got homemade gnocchi, potatoes in tomato sauce, and my dad got a Greek salad. We chose Meta’s because my dad didn’t have any cash on him, and it was the first place that took credit cards. Unfortunately, their credit card machine wasn’t working. The owner was fantastic, and told my dad that he could come back in the morning to pay the bill. Then he gave us a free slice of rum-raisin cake to make up for the inconvenience. Only in Greece!

The whole time, I was wearing a sweater, my going-out clothes, and ripped tights

Thanksgiving. A holiday where American families gather together, eat a lot of great food, and talk about how thankful they are for each other. This year, I flew to Athens to meet my family for Thanksgiving. We got an apartment, because my family doesn’t do well in hotels. We’re too crazy to be contained like that. I’m the oldest of four, and if we are cramped up in a small hotel room for five days, we would kill each other. Literally.

 My family

Top picture: (from left) Alleyah 17, Alaza 15, and my mom 

Left picture: my dad Dan and my mom Frances (yes, she is trying to escape)

Right picture: Clare 19 and I in front of the Parthenon

My flight was at 9:50am on Wednesday morning, so I had to catch the train from Leuven to Brussel at 7. So it only made sense that I went out Tuesday night, ran home, grabbed my stuff, threw on a sweater, and headed out to the train station. Hear me out. On an average night, I go to bed about 12:30, 1ish. Then I would be tossing and turning all night, worried that I forgot something, panicking, not being able to sleep. And if I could eventually fall asleep, it wouldn’t be a deep sleep. And I’d have to wake up by 5 anyway, so I could double check my belongings and walk over to the train station. So I would only be getting 4 hours of sleep, at the most. Not even worth it right? Plus my friends are the worst peer pressure-ers in the world, always convincing me to go out when I know I really shouldn’t. But I always do, and I always have a fantastic time. So Tuesday night, I stayed out until 5am, then went home, made three Speculoos sandwiches, and left for the airport. I didn’t really get tired until I was sitting on the train on the way to Brussels. I awkwardly half-slept for the 20 minute ride, then followed the crowd of people up to the airport. Once I got there, I was directed to the counter, then my gate. The airport was surprisingly crowded for 8am, but I had no problems getting through security or finding my gate. There was a heart-stopping moment when I arrived at my gate and it was closed, but I stuck it out until I saw the electronic sign for Athens pop up. I snoozed on and off for the hour before boarding, waking up when I felt like the entire airport was staring at me. Of course no one was. 

When our flight was called, I showed the woman my boarding pass, and saw the sign that said you could only take one bag. I tried to hide my second bag behind my back, but the woman didn’t even say a word. We got on a bus that drove us to our plane, and I stood next to an assassin. There is no way that that man was anything other than a hired hit man. I was slightly terrified yet fascinated at the same time. I figured that of all things, I was pretty safe next to him. I lost him once we got on board, and I passed out the second my seatbelt clicked. I didn’t even stay awake to hear the safety instructions. I woke up an hour later, teeth chattering, and very disoriented. The flight attendant was walking by with drinks, and, noticing that I was finally awake, asked if I had eaten yet. When I said I hadn’t, he went to the back and got me a little breakfast burrito and waffle, along with a coke. What a wonderful thing to wake up to! He also saw that I was shivering, and got me a blanket. Which I may or may not have shoved into my bag . . .

The rest of the flight was uneventful, and I arrived in Athens at 2pm. My mom had told me that she wouldn’t be able to pick me up from the airport, so I was supposed to look for a Greek man named Nikolas who had a sign with my name on it. I found him easily enough, and he threw my stuff into his cab, and we were off. About five minutes into the car ride he called my parents to tell them that he had picked me up, and that’s when things got really sketchy. This is how the phone call went:

Nikolas: “Ahh, hello, this is Nikolas. You don’t know me, but I have your daughter.”

Who had my parents sent to get me?!?! Luckily, I was completely exhausted and not thinking straight, because I saw nothing wrong with the situation. Nikolas also brought me back to my Loyola days, driving with the crazy cabbies. He got at least nine thousand phone calls during the 20 minute drive to our apartment, was swerving in and out of traffic, and attempted to make awkward small talk with me. I played along until he agreed that my name was “weird”, and then I got quiet. Luckily, we were at our apartment, where my dad and youngest sister were waiting. It was so good to see them! I didn’t realize how much I missed my family until this trip. Sure, they drive me crazy, but I really do love them.

My first day was spent unpacking and resting before we went out for dinner. I have three sisters, all younger, and the youngest two (15 and 17) are at the age where they refuse to eat anything but hamburgers and chicken fingers. My youngest sister Alaza was ignoring all of us until she saw a couple making out in the booth next to us. That freaked her out so much that it was all she could talk about for the rest of the meal. "They're making a porno!" "Why don't they just expose themselves already??" "Eww is that tongue?" She moved seats to come sit by me, so it helped to break her shell. My second youngest sister is Alleyah, and she's 17. She got a hamburger. That's pretty much all she eats. I feel like sometimes she gets pushed to the side, because Alaza demands so much attention. I made it a point during the trip to try and spend more time with her. It was a little difficult when she was glued to the computer the entire time, but I tried my best. My third sister is Clare, and she will be 19 on December 3rd. My dad was honestly so surprised to find out that she was only 18. Love him, slightly clueless. So that's my family. Four girls, from 21 down to 15. We're a mess, loud and obnoxious, we fight constantly, and I know we're an extreme embarrassment. My first meal in Greece was spent at the TGI Fridays in the mall across the street from our apartment. Not even an attempt at Greek food. Such is a day in the life of my family.

Amsterdam Adventures

I'm not sure if I've mentioned this, but I love Leuven. Hands down, we have the best program at Loyola in terms of traveling around Europe. When we first arrived in Leuven, we were whisked away on a week long trip to France, completely paid for by Loyola. We have a Loyola sponsored trip in the Spring where we go to Rome and Florence for Easter, and this past weekend we went to Amsterdam. It started off with a few of us going on a NATO open-house, where I paid 10 euro for a nap.

The second we got off the bus at NATO, I was regretting my decision to come. The only reason why I signed up is because I'm trying to be more politically educated. It was awful. First of all, I was exhausted, and when I'm exhausted, I tend to get a little cranky. Second of all, it was cold, and when I'm cold, I tend to get a little cranky. Third of all, I was hungry, and when I'm hungry . . . you got it, I get cranky. Also, I think the guy in charge of the session and "tour" (I use the word "tour" loosely, because we weren't allowed to go beyond the main area, where there was an ATM, a gift shop, and a post office. Wooo. Exciting. I've never seen any of those things before,) went through his staff, and chose the least charismatic person to give the speech. And he told her on the morning of the session. She was a fiesty woman who clearly hated her life, refused to speak into the microphone and didn't care about NATO or our entertainment. I fell asleep within the first 5 minutes, after I saw our director Elke dozing off. My whole row was snoozing. It was an informational speech about things that I could have easily read in a text book. After my expensive nap, we boarded the bus back to Leuven, and grabbed our bags for Amsterdam.

Amsterdam is the one place so far that I've felt it necessary to put on my to-do list in the spring. It was a city with an identity crisis, one block a beautiful, historic place with elegant architecture and picturesque bridges, and the next street full of coffeehouses, street performers and graffiti. The disorganized and chaotic nature of Amsterdam made it all the more interesting. It's much different than I thought it would be, but in a good way. I only envisioned the sleazy part, but it was actually quite lovely. Our hotel was called Hotel Nadia, and our director Dr. Hughes had warned us about the deadly staircase. It literally went straight up, but luckily, my room was on the second floor, so I didn't have to go very far. I roomed with Steffi and Katie, but we weren't in our room very much. We spent our time exploring the city, going to places like the Rijksmuseum, the Van Gogh Museum, the Anne Frank House, and a hidden church called "Our Lord in the Attic".

Dr. Hughes gave us an art assignment before we arrived in Amsterdam, so we could prepare for it during our excursion through the different museums. We have to find two paintings, one from the Rijksmuseum and one from the Van Gogh Museum that we would like to hang in our house. We have to explain why we chose these paintings, and the historical relevance behind them. I think that this assignment really helped me focus more during the museums, because I was forced to carefully examine the paintings, and take note of the ones that really stood out. It made my experience more enjoyable. In between the museums we walked around the city, checking out the cheesy souvenir shops and peeking into the Red Light District. We may have only seen part of it, but the Red Light District was surprisingly disappointing. We saw the sex shops and peep show advertisements, along with the girls in the windows.

Sinterklaas Kapoentje

Sinterklaas is coming soon! Sinterklaas was a Spanish bishop who saved three children centuries ago, and was made a saint for his actions. The name Sinterklaas comes from Sint Niklaas, which is a variation of Sint Nikolaas (Saint Nicholas). On the evening of December 5th, all the children sing Sinterklaas songs, and put their shoe by the fireplace. In it, they put a letter or drawing for Sinterklaas, along with some carrots for his horse “witte schimmel”. During the night Sinterklaas and his helper “Zwarte Piet” ride over the rooftops, bringing gifts for the children who have been good. They enter the houses through the chimney, similar to the American Santa Claus. Sinterklaas and Santa Claus look alike as well. 

Sinterklaas is very old, with a long white beard, a red gown, and a long staff. Instead of elves, Sinterklaas’ helpers are black servants dressed in medieval clothing. The Zwarte Piet appearance is controversial and was a huge shock for me when I first saw them. They are men and women that have painted their faces black, and put bright red lipstick on their lips. It would be completely unacceptable in America. When the children wake up in the morning, they will find candy and other small presents in their shoe. I’m excited to get to experience this tradition this year, because I’ve never heard about it before. It reminds me of Santa Claus, but to a smaller degree. Just another Belgian tradition!

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0xJkzj9yMUc

Some Belgians in our huis told us that we have until December 5th to learn this Sinterklaas song. It's simple enough, and I almost have it completely memorized. I'm excited for Sinterklaas to come! 

I May or May Not be Writing This in Class . . .

Panic mode has officially set in. Finals are rapidly approaching, and I'm freaking out slightly. In Leuven, the finals are in January, after Christmas break, but it's still too close for comfort. I'm nervous because I know I'm probably not going to study over break. It's the first time I've been home in almost four months. I definitely don't want to spend my time indoors, studying. A few minutes ago, my Media Ethics professor (who's class I'm currently falling asleep in) reminded us about our final paper, which is to be 10 pages about the importance of ethos and the media's influence on this concept. This wouldn't be a problem if I had any clue what ethos was, or if I had paid better attention in class all these weeks, but I didn't, and now I'm panicking. I have the attention span of a flea (clearly, if I'm blogging during class) and I'm suddenly feeling extremely overwhelmed. I have this huge paper to write, plus two more 15 page papers, plus a group project for Anthropology, plus a Dutch final, plus an oral final for Persuasive Communication, and my Travel Reporting blog analysis. I have time, but it's all piling on at once, and I know that I have to get motivated to get things done. I'm the worst with procrastination. I'm that girl who will do absolutely anything to get out of studying or writing a paper, including cleaning the bathroom or watching paint dry.

On a positive note, talking about finals reminds me that I have six more beautiful months in Leuven to look forward to. When I first thought about studying abroad, I was a little apprehensive about being gone for an entire year. That's a long time to be away from home! I talked it over with my adviser, and Loyola Alumni who only had positive things to say. They all mentioned the fact that adjusting to a new country and culture takes time, and the problem with only staying for a semester is that by the time you finally get used to everything, it's time to go home to America. Lucky for us, we get six more months to play around Europe, where we don't have to worry about getting adjusted. Coming back to Leuven in the Spring will feel natural, and, while I'm sure there will be some adjustment issues, it will definitely be a lot easier than it was this semester.

This was just a quick little blog to vent for a moment, and make me feel like, in the midst of absolute chaos and stress, that I accomplished a little something. I'm going to go to my favorite little sandwich place after class, treat myself to my regular sandwich, and watch Pocahantas while writing my blog critiques. I have the rest of the day to myself, and I'm determined to get cracking on my endless to-do list. I might even call my mom today. It's been awhile.

A day in the life

Leuven. Leuven, Leuven, Leuven. If it's possible, each day I fall more and more in love with this quaint city, full of hidden gems. The Thailand kids come home today, and that's got my group talking a lot about the fact that we only have a few more weeks here. As excited as I am about coming home for Christmas, I can't wait to come back to Belgium. I've really connected with this city, and I consider it home. It's absolutely perfect. It's not big enough to be overwhelming, and it's not small enough to be boring. I'm always discovering new things, and, as cliche as this sounds, every day is an adventure. Even things as simple as spending a Saturday in the huis is different from Loyola and home and America. Yesterday I woke up at 2pm and went grocery shopping. This might sound like a normal activity, but the Belgians have to make it complicated.

Similar to my France complaint, stores here only stay open until about 7. I don't know why, maybe the winkliers have strict bedtimes or attention-demanding children, or secret second jobs or something. All I know is that it's something that I still haven't gotten used to, and I've found myself living off a loaf of bread for a few days. Oh yeah, and did I mention that everything is in Dutch? Occasionally I'll get lucky and English will be one of the four languages on the label, but more often than not, I'm stuck guessing. There was one embarrassing moment when I had to ask random customers whether or not this was butter. They nodded, and gave me a pitying look. I was mortified, but I knew if I didn't ask, I would be putting vegetable spread on my bread. Oh Leuven.

After grocery shopping (where yes, I bought more bread and brie, don't judge me) we went across the street to STUK, a student center-type establishment with wi-fi. There's no wi-fi in the huis, and we have a limited percentage of downloads, so we use STUK's wi-fi to download shows and movies. That's right, the huis is old school and we have an internet cord that we plug into our computers. A cord. Leuven, get with it. It's 2011. Luckily, our wonderful director Dr. Hughes has reassured us that we are indeed getting wi-fi, hopefully by Christmas-ish. It's a slight hassle, but we're getting used to the inconceivable, and, to be honest, it's probably helped me in the long run. Without having endless download capabilities, I'm forced to socialize more with my huismates, American and International. Speaking of, quick update on Virginia, my Spanish roommate. New favorite person. Her family was here this weekend, and they were the nicest people! Virginia has gotten used to my terrible Spanish, and I've learned to talk slower around her, but her parents were completely overwhelmed. Virginia had to be our translator. They were really sweet people though. My friend Megan and I are hoping to go to Spain in the Spring after Rome, and possibly stay with Virginia's family. PS Mom, Virginia's coming home with me for the summer. Thanks!

What else haven't I mentioned? There are so many things that I do on a day-to-day basis that I tend to forget about, because they seem so normal now. It took me awhile to get adapted to Europe, but now it's second nature. One of the reasons I love Leuven so much is because it's just different enough to be interesting, but similar enough to America to be familiar. The majority of the people here speak English, and although Dutch can be frustrating, people are more than willing to switch to English or help me translate. Besides missing some major necessities (kraft mac and cheese, Hershey's chocolate,) the food is the same as home. I still eat a ton of pasta, but I've tried branching out a bit and adding some fruit to my diet.

This post was part procrastination, part homework, my way of filling you in on my daily life. We haven't gone on any major trips recently, so I wasn't sure what to blog about, but then I realized that I don't need a big event to write a post. My life is interesting enough on a daily basis that I can just write about whatever I want. I have a lot of work to do for this week, so expect another procrastination-post in the near future.

Tot ziens for now!