Dishes

The jet lag was setting in. I could feel exhaustion weighing me down, and the thought of manning up and going out to face those Greek people didn't have me jumping out of bed. Eventually I got up, got ready, and headed over. But al the shades wer drawn and doors closed, so I went back to my room and laid down.
After awhile, they started woking up and the doors opened, so I made myself toast with some peach jam G had found in the back of the fridge for me. I sat down at the table with my coffee, but the children were watching something different than Zeke and Luther, so my day was pretty much wrecked from the beginning.
I can't really blame the kids for their, hmm...ability to do things for themselves. For every meal, G would prepare whatever they wanted and ring it to them on the couch where they would sit watching the Disney Channel. When they were finished G would pick up their dishes and wash them. If they wanted more juice or another piece of toast, they simply yelled the order to G and she brought it to them. It irked me to no end to watch G run around at the beck and call of a couple of children. To see this wonderfu 40 year-old woman taking orders from a bratty ten year-old.
And this morning G was off doing laundry when they finished so Mrs. Crazy lectured me about how I must wash their breakfast dishes as soon as the kids were finished before the ants came.
I didn't really care, I kind of like handwashing dishes. I find it relaxing. Especially when as long as I washed dishes I oculd be busy without having to interact with DC.

Greece Would Have Gotten It

It was my mom. She was hysterical.
The last time she had heard from me I had just found my Greek family at the airport. And then she hadn't heard from me or been able to reach me for over 4 days. We didn't know these people, I had met them over the internet. I didn't know anyone else in Greece.
Obviously there were a million things that could've been wrong. They could have been human traffickers and I could have been sold to a Serbian man by now. I could be dead.
So I found the country code and after about 5 tries finally got through to my mom. Who answered on the second ring. I could hear the relief in her voice followed by the tears. Which immediately started me crying. It felt so good. The first English speaking voice, pretty much the first English, I'd heard in days.
It was impossible to explain all that had happened to me so far. I tried to tell her about the family, stressing that things weren't that bad, they were just still new.
She told me she had been one day from calling the cops and turning this into an international incident. Which I believed.
Eventually I had to go, promising to call as soon as I ccould again, which I wasn't really sure when that would be.
I pocketed my cell phone and made my way through the dark in between the houses and ht mountains.

Mixed Signals

I guess we were pretty far out in the, well, in the beach? Islands? Mountains? My phone in my room was showing some weird No Service. And when I went outside it flashed Emergency Calls Only. Everyone else got signal pretty much everywhere. And I had seen Bert take his phone down by the tennis courts to find signal.
So I pulled on my hoodie, filled both my pockets with chocolate, grabbed my cellphone, and went to try and find service.
I snuck out the back of the houses with the mountains rising up one side. It was beautiful. And awesome. There were stars everywhere. I snuck in pitch balck around the backs of the houses until I came to the final one and circled around towards the tennis courts. There were a couple lights turned on now, and I started pacing aorund the tennis courts with my cell phone in hand.
There was a Greek family sitting outside right on the other side of some thin shrubs, talking loudly and having dinner.
After about 15 minutes of walking and staring at my cell phone, and praying desperately that God would let there be signal, the cell phone lit up with some sort of weird Greek service message. I had 8 new voice mails. And I knew who all of them were from.

Chocolate

So they were gone when I got back. G and I chatted a little, and then I sat down to eat with DC.
Eventually the parents came back...so they could get ready and really go out for the night. Once again, they didn't tell me anything. I didn't know where they were going or when they'd be back.
G had me go up with her to help her give DC a bath before putting him to bed. Everyone would have me help with DC so I could learn to do things myself. Except that DC wanted none of it and would scream and push me away. So my helping usually meant I stood right outside the door and watched. G put him to bed and sent me downstairs to peel the eggs off of some hard-boiled eggs for the kid's dinner.
Once she comes back she serves the kids dinner at 10:30 and lets me leave. But before I go...
I had brought a hospitality gift with me. I knew in other countries, or countries I had been before, it's been polite to bring a small gift with you when visiting a family. So I had brought a box of little wrapped Dove chocolates for the family. Yesterday I had discovered they were kept in the fridge and the kids got like two a day.
Now, not to overshare, but it was that time of the month, and I had had almost no sugar in the psat four days. That was probably also the longest I had gone without sugar. I really hadn't eaten much at all since I had been here.
So before I left to go home for the night, I snuck to the fridge and grabbed a handful of chocolates, shoving them in my pockets and slinking back to my house.

Houses for the Seasons

Apparently all rich Greek people have multiple houses. There's their usual city house. They have a summer house by the sea that they spend the summer in inbetween visiting the islands, and then there is the winter home in the mountains so they can ski and do other rich winter activities. Mr. Crazy had been absent from my days because he had been at the winter house "getting things ready".
He was one of those rich fathers that was never there, but would sweep in loudly, picking up the children and spoiling them, rolling through the house like a hurricane so everyone knew he had arrived. He apparently noticed the unease settled between me and DC, and recommended we both take him down to watch the other children play tennis. Once down there, Mr. Crazy attempts to leave, thereby leaving DC with me. Well, DC would have none of this, he started screaming and running after his father.
So then we ALL go back up to the house. But once there, Mr. Crazy realizes he's left his iPhone down at the tennis courts. He "asks" me to go back for it, and I go willingly if only because it allows my eyes a little more time with the Hot Tennis Instructor.
So I get back to the house again, now with the iPhone, and...Mr. and Mrs. Crazy are gone. This would happen frequently. They would just disappear into the night. I had no idea where. No idea when they would be back. And no one seemed to care because G was in charge. I realized this made sense because G knew all the schedules, and knew what do for the kids, but I felt pretty useless. All the time. They didn't even bother to try and help me be in charge of their children. I know they didn't make me feel useless on purpose, but it was still pretty disheartening.

Sludgy Water

I finally had to leave the water and come back to the children. So much screaming Greek child. All the kids running around screaming in Greek. It would be a sound that would haunt my dreams.
Luckily the tiny boys had taken over. I pulled my shorts and t shirt on and discovered they had taken the sand bucket and filled it with a combination of water, icee, sand, cigarette butts that were littering the beach, and some waxy pink substance that I would later find out was my Cherry Chapstick that must have fallen out of my pocket while I was out swimming.
This was a lucky break beacuse I am a 12 year old boy on the inside. So I helped them mix more disgusting things in it, and dared them to drink it, and I finally felt like I was making some progress. Which was when we left. So I packed up all their beach toys and towels, grabbed the tote bags and moved them to the car, then from the car to the house.
Mrs. Crazy lets me go back and shower and change, and in my jeans and UK shirt I feel the most normal I have in days. And while the rest of them have dispersed, I was left with DC. But the ocean must have tuckered him out, and with that sapped all the fight right out of him. He appeared to relent, and let me sit next to him and help put number puzzles together. Eventually he fell asleep on the couch next to me, and I felt relief that I might actually be making progress.

I Love the Ocean

So we came to the beach, and I unloaded all our bags from the car and carried them over to lounge chairs and umbrellas. All over the beaches there were two lounge chairs with an umbrella between them. And Mrs. Crazy and her friend would sit next to each other, and me and the kids would occupy at least two spaces somewhere behind them. The kids were there with a bunch of their friends and I tried my best to hang out and talk with them. But the thing is a bunch of twelve year old kids don't want to hang out with some random American girl. And they certainly don't want to have to stop and explain everything in English every two seconds. I completely understood this, and tried to just be near them and ask questions whenever Mrs. Crazy appeared to be paying attention.
I wasn't exactly sure what she wanted me to do. Was I supposed to make them all speak Emglish? Some of them didn't even know English. SO I went over and tried to play with DC. Big mistake. He was having none of me. I sat in the sand in front of him and picked up a shovel and began digging. I tried to hand him a shovel and he would take it and throw it at me. Then he ran off screaming and sat down next to his mom. After trying some variation of this for over a half an hour, the mom took him and went out to swim with him. She told me I should go swimming, so I quickly pulled off my shorts and t shirt and ran for the water. It was cold.
I guess summer was pretty much over by this point in time. THat was why the beaches were never very busy. But the Crazies were trying to eek out every little bit of beach time they could. But I swam out as far as I could and just started treading water.
I love the ocean. In Egypt, we went to the Red Sea and I swam out on my own and just tread water for about two hours by myself. I think it's the most calming place on earth. I think it's the ebb and flow I like best. So I swam out there and just stared all around. On one side was a little hillside was a little hill area with craggly long limbed trees I think I had seen in a video in Sunday School once. And to the other side was some sort of city with a bunch of building.
There was a little bit of sand, but most of the shore right by the water was gravel. And small stones. But for the moment, I was in the middle of the Mediterranean Ocean, and it was quiet, and I was alone, and I felt the most calm i had in days.

No, It's OK. My Skin's Supposed to be This Color

The man finished the lock and Mrs. Crazy came to collect me to go to the beach. I carried all the bags and loaded up the car.
G had tried to explain the Greek poepel to me. They worship the sun. She says that all Filipino people try to avoid the sun because they want lighter skin. But the Greeks live outside and want to be as dark as possible. So everyday, they lather their kids up in sunscreen and take them out to the beach for most of the afternoon.
Almost every kid has beautiful olive skin. And apparently the darker the better.
But then you start to notice the mom's skin. I don't really know what their sun education is like. But the women are some wonderful after examples. The skin, expecially on their chests is all leathery and freckled. Apparently dark olive skin doesn't age well. But the Greek people love brown skin and sun and don't understand anything else.
Which is why they were all very confused by me. If you've seen me you know I am very pale. Like transculent. Like my veins shine bright blue through my skin. As it has been covered before I hate the sun. It has given me nothing but freckles, heatstroke, and third degree burn.
And I use sunscreen religiously. So my skin is kind of reminescent of a vampire's. And the Greeks were continually fascinated by me. One girl I was hanging out with poked the inside of my arm in wonder, "It's like milk."
I continually had to reassure people, "No, I'm fine. It's ok for my skin to be this color. This is normal." That was the thing that confused them the most. The fact that I was unbothered, even happy with my pale skin. I got the impression that my pale skin was some sort of disease, or abnormality that I should be concerned about.
And anytime we went to the beach, Mrs. Crazy always became very worried about me burning, staring disapprovingly at my skin and shaking her head. I guess she had probably been hoping for some very tan blond blue-eyed American thing. And then I stepped off the plane. And would never stop disappointing her.

I Break Something Else

After breakfast Mrs. Crazy wanted to go see my luggage. This is when she discovered that I had apparently nroken the lock.
If you've never used a European door, the knob is in the middle of the door, and you stick the key in on the side, turn it and push at the same time. Well, around the second day the door wouldn't really open when I turned the key. It took a few times of going back and forth. I didn't think it was a big deal, I just assumed I was doing it wrong. Yes, even opening a door is an ordeal. But when Mrs. Crazy noticed this as she waited for me to open the door she started flipping out that the lock was broken. So when we finally got inside she instructed me to wait while she went to find the maintenance people.
I sat down and a man eventually came up and worked on fixing the lock. Mrs. Crazy instructed me to wait there while this was going on and she left. Assuming it would be about 15 minutes, I sat there at the table and let my mind wander.
About an hour later the man told me he would have to go and get a new part and would be back.
While he was gone Mrs. Crazy came back over and I tried to explain what was happening. Mrs. Crazy is one of those people who always makes you feel like you're doing something wrong. Or that you're dumb. The looks she gives and her response to anything makes you feel guilty and confused even when nothing's happening.
So Mrs. Crazy instructed me to keep waiting and to get ready for the beach because we'll leave as soon as the lock's fixed.
So I go spray down my entire body in sunscreen, pull on my swimsuit and my shorts and t shirt, and shove some chapstick and sunglasses in my pocket. And sit back down at the kitchen table to wait.
I sit there for about two hours until the locks finally finished. Just sat at the kitchen table. I didn't fall asleep. I'm incapable of just napping like a normal person. So what was I thinking about? Hutch Dano. By the time my Greek maintenance announced himself finished two hours later, my head was in my hands, and in my head Hutch and I were dating and I was thinking about how much he'd like Kentucky.

Zeke and Luther

I go through all that yesterday so you can understand the deep connection and obsession I would develop with the Disney XD show Zeke and Luther. I watched every Disney show known to man in Greek, which was fine becuase then I didn't have to interact with them.
Zeke and Luther is a show about two guys who are obsessed with skateboarding. Zeke is the cute leader and Luther is the dumb and goofy redhead. And even though I couldn't always understand what was going on it was always hilarious. Once, we were all sitting there watching, and all of a sudden Luther was beating up a giant banana man in a public restroom. The kids giggled, but I fell off my stool laughing. And happy little Hutch Dano, who played Zeke, was just so cute. Watching Zeke and Luther would be the bright spot in my day. I tried to memorize the times it came on.
Usually in the morning I would get to sit with my coffee and watch it. But if the kids slept late we could miss it, and I couldn't just turn on the television myself and watch it.
And one night the kids were up late, I had just gotten out of the shower when I heard the theme song. So I honestly pulled back on my dirty clothes and ran out into the living room nonchalantly to watch it.
None of the Greek people knew how much I looked forward to it. Or that everytime they would change it I would get really stressed out and a little part of me would die inside.
So I had just finished an episode of Zeke and Luther, and my coffee, when a super awkward stressful Greek experience happened.

A History of My Media Comfort

I did not sleep as easy. I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't get back to sleep. That was why I fell back asleep after my alarm went off at 8.
I made my way over at 9:30 and G taught me how to make instant coffee. And then she offered me toast. Which I then became confused when a grilled cheese sandwich was set in front of me by Mrs. Crazy. I would later aske G about this and she would explain that toast WAS grilled cheese. If I just wanted the bread I had to ask for toasted bread. Good to know.
So I sat there at the table with my coffee and grilled cheese. The kids sat in front of the TV with their breakfast like they would every morning. And they were obsessed with Disney XD. All the shows in Greek, but they were the bright spot in my day. Let me explain about my relationship to the media in far off lands.
When I was in California for the summer, the DVD for High School Musical had just come out. And many nights when everyone else was doing their homework and I was bored and lonely, I would climb up to the roof with my laptop and watch HSM. It was just plain comforting.
Then there was Egypt. I was sick. A lot. The first weekend there everyone in the flat got really sick with Montezuma's revenge. But when everyone got better I never really did. Oh, I could function, but I couldn't eat any food without throwing up or getting sick. And every other week I would get so sick I was in bed for days again.
It got so bad that I remember one morning that the sweet girl I was sharing a room with was a nursing student, and she was trying to get me to eat yogurt. She had educated me on the good bacteria and all that junk and was literally holding the yogurt and coaxing me like a 2 year-old to eat. So I finally just broke down and starting crying because I was so hungry but I didn't want to eat because I knew I would get sick if I did.
The first weekend when we were all sick we got the movie Batman Begins (with Arabic subtitles) and set up a projector in the front room. Luckily our bunk beds were in the living room, so I laid in bed, and we all watched Batman Begins, and I ate the soup they had brought home for me. I fell in love. I always liked Batman the best, but that was when I developed an obsession with Batman that would last till this day.
And anytime after that, whenever I was sick, they would find the missionary's laptop and set it up on a table next to my bed playing Batman Begins before they would leave.
And Russia. Well, Russia just illustrates a crucial point. When you're in a foreign country and going through culture shock and life's stressful, the littlest things pull you through the day. When you're in Russia, and you haven't seen an attractive guy in a month, you might be able to watch Supernatural in Russian everyday. You may not understand a word of it, but if you've been in such a situation you know Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki need no translation.
The roommates would come in from preparing their lessons and I would be laying on the couch, watching TV in Russian. When they asked what I was doing, the only explanation they needed was, "Look how hot they are. They're American."

It's Dark

So by the time I had heroically rescued the kids from Ramone, or Ramone from the kids (however you choose to look at it) Papouli had made his way down to watch The Boy' lesson. I went over and sat down next to him.
Papouli was an easy person to talk to. So we talked about Greece, and Greek, and he and a couple other kids tried to teach me Greek. None of it would stick. With us was my favorite of the kid's friends. He was like the surfer version of a Greek boy, with shaggy sandy brown hair and freckled lighter brown skin. And he was funny. It was near impossible to get any of the kids to talk to me, except for him.
So we sat and talked and watched the kids' tennis lessons.
After their lessons, around 9:30, we all headed back up for dinner. I tried to bow out stating I wasn't hungry, but Yaya and Papouli would have none of that. They sat me at the table with a piece of Yaya's cheese pie. It was really good. It was the best thing I had eaten sisnce I had been there.
See, I hadn't really been getting any traditional Greek food. Mr. Crazy was never there, and I had never seen Mrs. Crazy eat, and G prepared the kid's meals, which pretty much consisted of Nutella sandwiches and eggs. So this cheese pie was awesome.
I finished it, and exhausted, headed to my bungalow. European things are all different. And the simplest things can be annoyingly frustrating and make you feel stupid and helpless. I couldn't figure out how to flush the toilet. I knew how it was supposed to, but it wasn't working.
And I could not for the life of me find the light for the bathroom. And the most annoying thing is, European lights are on the outside of the bathroom door by the wall. In theory, this makes sense. You turn on the light before going in which allows you to not have to grope along the wall trying to find it. But for an American deeply in 23 years of habit, every time I would go in the bathroom, shut the door, remember, open the door and turn on the light with an exaspereated sigh.
And there was no bathroom light. I found some I assumed were the bathroom lights, but none of them were turning on a light in the bathroom.
But I knew I would have to go to the beach tomorrow, and I just needed to shave my legs. So, I did. I shaved my legs in the weird European shower in pitch black.