June 24

So here I am again in Europe. This makes my third time. That’s three more trips than I ever realistically thought I would make. You know, I talk to people all of the time about traveling over here and people act like it’s such a big deal. Now I know that the money can be a big deal. I assure you, though, the hardest part to doing what I’m doing is actually doing it. The mouse click that points to “Buy Now” on the Travelocity website feels about 10 minutes long and a mile deep, and it probably will take you longer than that to decide to do it. But, you know, it’s kind of like jumping into a pool when you believe the water to be too cold. At some point you just have to jump into the water. I promise you, there may be more at risk, but it’s the exact same feeling. You might scoff at that, but I’ve actually done both–several times now–and I’m telling you… they are the same.

I really don’t understand why more people in my circumstances (youngish and without children) don’t travel.

But you have the summers off, Jeff. People in the real world have to work the three months you’re off.

Well, first of all, it’s not three months during the summer, but I will admit that two months off in a row is more than most others get. Still, if you have a career, many will let you build up vacation days. You can do a simple trip in 7 days. Most 5 day weeks of vacation can be stretched into 9 when you bookend them with weekends. As far as money goes, just save up. You can skip going to Panama City Beach one summer and put that money away for a trip to Europe the next year. The round-trip tickets this summer were under $900 to many European cities. They get cheaper the better you get at watching prices and being choosy with departure dates and what not. I’d say you could do it well for $2000 for the week. The more you go, the better you get. I’ve budgeted about $2,000 for the whole month (including airfare). Admittedly, it helps to have friends who live here and will let you stay for free.

Anyway, I guess I bring this up because as I was riding the metro (subway) back from downtown Athens yesterday, I was overwhelmed with that sense of euphoria one gets when traveling. I could not for the life of me explain why I had not done this every summer since I moved back. I know I bought a house and all, but I waste so much money going out to eat every week, that I think I could have made this happen at least twice more than I have in the time since my year living abroad. I felt almost… ashamed I guess. Maybe remorseful is the better word. I hate to say regretful.

If I’ve never told you about Tony and Elle Karalambous (my friend Geoff’s uncle and aunt), let me remedy that right now. They are the most lively, wonderful couple ever. They have been missionaries for several decades and now reside in Greece. They technically are Cypriots (from Cyprus) and not Greek, but they are ok with the confusion. They do, however, take every opportunity to remind people that they hail from the great island of Cyprus. The best comparison I can make is to say they remind me of Texans. I think of all Americans, Texans are the most proud of their home state. Tony and Elle are the same way.
This really shows up in the way Elle cooks. She constantly fills the table with wonderful homemade dishes and takes special care to point out that the way she made them is the Cypriot way and explains the minute differences like “Thees wan ees made weeth meent and leemoan like you know wee used to do eet in Cyprus.” I’ve found that no matter what is on the table, you should always pay the highest compliments to the most Cypriot elements of it. It means you get treated like a genius and are rewarded with more food.

I say “rewarded with food” in a hesitant manner. You see, Elle’s cooking is top-shelf. And thank God for that because she NEVER lets you finish eating. The first time I was in Greece with Geoff I gained 10 pounds in as many days. I think Elle could tell because toward the end of my stay she began placing diet coke at my seat for meals. and after moving it away and finishing my real coke instead she would say, “Oh Jeff! You look so thurstee, have more diet coke.” I wanted to look at her and ELLE! This is your fault!

Here’s a prime example: today we went to swim in the sea in a town called Lotraki (Lo-TRY-kee). At about three o’clock we ate a fairly large meal for lunch. At four o’clock we left and returned here to Athens. We got back at five and Elle asked, “Oh, deed you eet sometheeng already?” We told here that we just finished lunch not more than an hour before to which she responded, “Oh, ok, so I weel go heat up some leftovers.” It was all we could do to convince her that we were indeed completely full. This is how it goes every day. Three thousand calories for breakfast, five thousand for lunch, 6 thousand for dinner. At least I’ve been able to go for a run the last two days. If I don’t, I’ll be buying new clothes on my way out of the country.

In other news, Geoff began his trip to Europe in England with his girlfriend. He arrived in Greece a few days later with his fiancée. He took her in the chunnel to Paris where he proposed and she (I’m sure) felt more than obliged to say yes. I mean, it’s just plain rude to refuse a proposal beneath the Eiffel tower. I think the video is on Facebook or something.

This all leaves me in an interesting predicament. You see, the last time we were here, it was just me and Geoff. And Elle, being the attentive host that she was, spent her time plotting both of our betrothals to a bevy of Greek beauties. Obviously, that didn’t work. Nevertheless, we have returned. Since Geoff has recently left the market, the lot has fallen to me to marry one of Elle’s many “prospects” as she calls them. So tonight Elle invited her favorite over to eat dinner with us. This girl is apparently leaving tomorrow for some evangelism work over the next week. Why Elle believes it likely that I’m going to meet a girl and decide to marry her in one night before she goes away for a week just in time to see me leave for Prague, I’ll never know. But I do know this… you don’t bite the hand that feeds, and feeds, and feeds, and feeds…