Safe, Happy, and Exhausted

I suppose I should have known when I saw the cutoms officer stamp our passports, cigarette smouldering at his elbow, that I was in for a bit of a cultural baptism by fire. But I suppose before I delve into my musings on Greek culture (all 12 hours of culture that I have thus far experienced) I should bring you up to date on the trip.

Our flight from Denver to London lasted about 8 hours, Griffin slept for 6 of those hours...this child is an angel. Sleeping on a plane has never been one of my talents, nor Landon's, so I'd say we got a few hours in if you add it all up. We landed in London at noon local time where we had a 9 hour layover. Instead of finiding a cozy corner of the airport to sleep, we left the airport and headed out to see the city. I'm glad we did because Landon had never been to London and who knows if/when we might get the chance again. It was a crash course, to be sure, but well worth the effort.

Griffin's First Train Ride

Buckingham Palace

After Lunch in St. James' Park

Big Ben

Our flight to Greece left London at 9pm, and we hoped that Griffin would once again sleep through the majority of the 4 hour flight. This time we weren't so lucky but Griffin was still a really good baby on the flight and only really lost his patience with the whole process as we drove to our hotel from the Athens airport at 2:30am.

To answer your burning question: yes, it is all Greek to me! And yes, Landon and I have made that joke with surprising regularity and we have yet to find it unfunny. We are staying in a bed-and-breakfast-type hotel just down the street from the ritzy Greek shopping district. I discovered today that it would be possible for me to spend our entire savings on a few pairs of shoes and couple of handbags if I had the mind so do so. Thankfully, I've no intention of doing anything of the sort.

I also have decided that I need to learn the words for "cute baby" in Greek because I'm pretty sure that's what all of these people eyeing Griffin are saying, but I can't be sure. I just hope they aren't saying, "weird Americans."

This afternoon we went to lunch and then to the supermarket a few blocks away and it was definitely a testament to how laid back Greeks really are. At the sandwich shop all of the outdoor tables were full of mostly mustached men, none of whom appeared to have ordered any food, but all of whom were clearly enjoying taking in the afternoon and talking about very amusing-sounding things, but it was all Greek to me. (See, it's funny when it's true)

The supermarket was also quite an experience. This was where we got the most "cute baby" type comments. One Greek grandmother told us our baby was adorable, but that he was so fair skinned that he needed a hat in this sunshine (We only understood this because a younger woman there stepped in and translated for us). Anyway, so far everyone has been really kind and friendly and they don't seem to even be peeved about the fact that we can't speak Greek. I'm hoping though that in three months I'll sound at least a little less clueless when I go to the supermarket. But for now it really is all Greek to me...ok, maybe the joke is starting to get a little lame.

Friendly Woodland Creatures

When we first moved to our neighborhood I was excited to see all of the wildlife in our area. Furry little bunnies and jittery squirrels scampered about our yard; the trees seemed to be teeming with cheerful little songbirds; and the fields a few miles away are bustling with a city of roly-poly prairie dogs. I imagined a two-year-old Griffin peering out the window and giggling with delight at a bushy-tailed squirrel shimmying up a nearby tree. It is a sign of goodness, is it not, to adore small woodland animals, at least according to all of the Disney movies I've seen.

.....ah, blissful ignorance.

It turns out that the prairie dogs in the area carry the bubonic plague. Woodpeckers, unlike the mischievous and lovable Woody Woodpecker, bore holes into the side of the house. The songbirds wake Griffin up at 5am. The bunnies eat our grass, but not our weeds. All of this I could handle and still take a stance of mutual respect, if not willing admiration, for the nature that surrounds me. I can understand when animals, in the great outdoors, behave exactly like animals: singing, pecking, eating, pooping, scampering, etc. As long as it stays in the great outdoors, I have very few complaints.
But the squirrels, oh the squirrels ruin it for me. They are now at the very top of my black list. Recently, we've heard some scratching and scampering noises up in our attic. Though we tried to pretend otherwise, both Landon and I knew that we had a squirrel nest up there. As the weather has gotten warmer, we decided on Wednesday that it was time to turn our swamp cooler on for the summer. Unfortunately, when we went to turn it on, there was no power to the unit. Hmmm, a short in the cord? After trying everything else, Landon at last decided to brave the attic (as a side note, Landon hates tight spaces and so this was a very chivalrous move). In the attic he found evidence everywhere of our furry little housemates: droppings, chewed wood, clumped insulation. The most infuriating evidence was, of course, the chewed electric wire that runs to our swamp cooler. It's a shame we weren't running the swamp cooler when the little guy started chewing on the cord, that would've at least solved the squirrel infestation. As is, we're planning on spending the afternoon chasing squirrels out of the attic and repairing electrical line. We are assuming the risk of both electrocution and squirrel bite, wish us luck!

Gathering no moss

A friend asked me the other day if I was nervous or stressed about moving to Greece for three months. While there are a few things that make me nervous (a long flight with a baby, for example) I'm mostly just excited. Not even my growing to-do-before-we-leave list has me wigging out. Yes, there is a lot to get done, yeah it's becoming ever more apparent that I will travel with an inordinate number of suitcases, but I still feel like this is nothing I can't handle.
Upon reflection, I suppose this has been a pattern of my adult life. Since my freshman year of college (nearly 8 years ago, yikes!) I have not lived in the same place for more than a year at a time. In college, I was always returning to Arizona in the summer and switching apartments every year. After college I lived in AZ for four months, then moved to Washington, DC. I lived in DC for two years, but in three different locations. After Landon and I got married we moved to Salt Lake City for one year and then to Denver, where we currently reside. The point I'm trying to make is that in the last eight years I have moved no fewer than 14 times.
This could be a testament to my lack of focus, or perhaps just a symptom of the fact that I get bored very easily. But I prefer to frame my wanderlust as a drive for adventure, or a hunger for a challenge, or an example of my adaptability. Frame it how you will, apparently this rolling stone isn't done tumbling yet. Although, it's nice that Landon and Griffin have joined the ride now.