Reflections on No.28

A new year began yesterday!

At least, arbitrarily anyway – I turned 28.

For the first time, this year I’m feeling a bit….strange. A bit more ambivalent and unsure, a bit less excited about entering a new year. Part of this has to do with that number – 28 feels a lot more solidly ‘adult’ than even 27 or 26. The other part of this is life in Greece.. It’s becoming harder and harder to be excited about the future (This seems like it may be an increasingly global trend, but that’s a topic for another time).

In an effort to refocus on the positives, I challenged myself to gather 27 of the best moments from the past year.


Wedding tourism to the island of Kythera

13690855_10206907108062907_7597681142399982592_nWatching my oldest friend get married in New York

image-uploaded-from-ios-1My tiny (but growing!) garden of succulents and herbs

Writing for theTravelPorter, and challenging myself creatively

image-uploaded-from-ios-5Athens Half Marathon

image-uploaded-from-ios3First Thanksgiving in the US in ten years

P3263551Treasure hunts, literal and metaphorical

Greek Easter in the mountains of Pylio

image-uploaded-from-ios-2Athens Eating – discoveries are never ending!

Finding (& loving) a new Athens neighbourhood – from Kolonaki to Mets

image-uploaded-from-ios6Adventures in the kitchen, facilitated by various new kitchen gadgets

image-uploaded-from-ios5Diving into family archives

More reading – always more reading!

Palia Fava Finding our real ‘spot’ – a local taverna where they know our order and throw in lots of extra lemons because we’re ‘such good kids’

5Becoming a local – making friends with the butcher, becoming first-name friends with the proprietors of the neighbourhood ‘whole foods’/organic shop

Discovering Sherlock

Making things. Not as much as I’d like, but the creative gene has come out to play a little bit this year

Bookshelves; my books have a home!

Instagram – I’m embarrassed to admit how fun I find it..

Writing for theTravelPorter taught me a lot, including how to use SEOs. Life skills!

Prioritising good shoes – super sturdy hiking boots, etc, to prioritise adventures

Ancient Delphi (Re)visiting ancient Delphi

image-uploaded-from-ios1A visit from my best friend from university, and explorations on the island of Aegina

image-uploaded-from-ios-4Wedding tourism on the island of Kea/Tzia

Attaliotika Easter Baking
Family time – not enough (never enough), but good family time. In this picture, pre-Easter baking.

image-uploaded-from-ios2This view (morning or night) is a daily dose of perspective (spot the sea on the far left!)

That person


Ready for 28 – let’s do this!Kythera




A round up of this week’s:


The Detective of Northern OdditiesOutside Online
Loved this quirky portrait of an Alaska scientist, just as much about her as a person as the disturbing environmental trends her work reveals.

Refugees are already vigorously vetted. I know because I vetted them, The Washington Post
This piece was written by a former US immigration officer, who intimately describes the process refugees go through when applying for resettlement in the US.

U UP?The New Yorker
Miss you Obama.

How a Photo of Jewish and Muslim Kids Protesting President Trump Went Viral, Time
Yes America. ❤

This week’s more lighthearted ‘WTF’ moment, Business Insider


Global girl power, via Saudi Arabia (from NPR).

Something a little heart-warming – maybe we do have more in common than we think? Good job, Denmark.

I didn’t do the ‘love’ them on purpose, but it seems like a good one for this week.


John Lewis – the Art & Discipline of NonviolenceOn Being with Krista Tippett
These words seem more important than ever. ‘So you try to appeal to the goodness of every human being and you don’t give up. You never give up on anyone.’

Anti-Semitism in America, Fareed’s Take on Trump’s Travel Ban, ACLU vs. President Donald TrumpFareed Zakaria GPS
Great conversation, but also a telling example of a voice of reason drowned out by hurt indignation. (Thanks Theia!)

Busted, America’s Poverty Myths, Radiolab/On the Media
This series methodically tackles (and dismantles) America’s poverty myths. Worth listening to

Fortress America, Hidden Brain
Nuanced discussion of what we can (and can’t) learn from history, examining the case of the SS St Louis, the ship full of Holocaust refugees turned back from the United States in 1939.


Plotting when I can make these brownies.

Currently drinking a lot of this before bed (with my most recent kitchen experiment, homemade almond milk!).

Just realised there is a lot of subtext going on in these links. I’ll add just one more here – basically sums it all up: How to #StayOutraged without Losing Your Mind.

Extra hugs to everyone today, just because.

Around Athens in January

What a month. I can’t say I’m sorry to see it go, though it flew by a little fast for me. Some highlights from the first month of what will be, I’m sure, an ‘interesting’ year: I celebrated New Years in Greece for the first time this year, eating plenty of vasilopita (though without finding the lucky coin..), did a lot of wandering around a rainy and chilly city, and enjoyed some unseasonably warm days too. Time, though not enough, with friends and family, and an adventure to a botanic garden near Athens that I will devote a full post to later. Though things sometimes feel like they are spinning a little out of control, overall there’s a lot going well in my little microcosm – lots of be grateful for, but ready for February!

2017-01-01 15.08.33-1

Aunt’s incredible new year’s table

2017-01-02 17.19.41-1

A Christmas tree in the wild! 

2017-01-02 17.09.53

Sunset over Athens, view from Ymittos

2017-01-20 10.36.11

Kolonaki views

2017-01-06 10.45.52-1

Stumbled upon a procession for Epiphany.. 

2017-01-06 10.44.06-1

2017-01-08 16.14.15-2

Brunch at Zampano!

2017-01-08 15.53.01-1


Still pinching myself that I walk past these sights everyday.. 

Vasilissis Sophias

2017-01-09 21.50.11-1

Snow in Athens! 

2017-01-10 07.57.38-1

Waking up to a snow-covered city.

2017-01-10 14.45.27-1

Snowman invasion in the National Gardens

2017-01-10 14.49.08-1


A rainy night in Monastiraki

2017-01-21 12.58.55

Summarises January pretty accurately I think

2017-01-15 14.22.46-1

New yummy discoveries in Koukaki – Fabrica tou Efrosinou

Women's March, Athens

Athens’ representation for the Women’s March on Washington

Women's March, Athens

Women's March, Athens

Women's March, Athens


2017-01-07 19.31.34-1

Adventures in cyber land at ‘Hybrids,’ Onassis Cultural Centre

2017-01-07 14.54.45-1

An adventure to the Attica Plant Park – stay tuned! 


Evening Kolonaki colours


Rain rain.. 

2017-01-15 13.53.01-1

Not all grey skies! 


End of the month walk along the sea


Alimos Bay

Sea Alimos

Happy February! 




The Year of Conquering Negative Thinking, NYTimes
I actually read this article a few weeks ago thanks to our shiny new NYTimes digital subscription (hooray independent journalism!), enjoyed it, nodded along emphatically, and then promptly forgot it. I just rediscovered it today, and am glad I did. Maybe nothing groundbreaking, but a good reminder that there’s no need to spend so much time overthinking.

read this if you feel like time is running out for you
A gentle reminder in the same vein as the NYTimes piece above. ‘The pace of a life is not a reflection of its substance.’

12 Books to Read in Your 20s, NYTimes
Why not add to the ever-growing ‘to-read’ pile? This list includes some I’ve heard of and some totally new ones. The only ones I can already cross off are Persepolis (though it deserves a second reading), Beloved and half of Catch-22. Where to start..? (Apparently 1984 is also ‘a 2017 must-read‘).

A Greek tragedy: how much can one nation take?, FT
“Everything is getting worse. Next year will be more so. Old people will die. Young people will not stay. We need help.” Heard throughout Greece, with no sign of letting up.

Beyond Lying: Donald Trump’s Authoritarian Reality, NYTimes
An alarming but very resonant piece that urges us to get past the ‘truth/lie dichotomy and watch out for the authoritarian fondness for attempting to redefine reality. Pairs well with this piece by Masha Gessen, a Russia expert who knows a thing or two about authoritarianism: Autocracy: Rules for Survival.

A Vermont Town In The Eye Of The Refugee Resettlement Storm, npr
I had no idea that little Rutland, Vermont had become involved in the controversy over refugee settlement. The city’s mayor (with Greek grandparents) wanted the city to become a host for Syrians, seeing opportunities for growth. Maybe the Greek villages should watch carefully and see if they can learn something about reviving dying communities?


This is sweet and uplifting – Obama narrates the origins of the ‘Fired up! Ready to go!’ chant.

This is heartbreaking – the Oscar-nominated documentary short by Daphne Matziaraki, depicting just one day of the refugee crisis & the island of Lesvos. A must-see in the truest sense.


On Point’s 100 Day Spotlight Kickoff

The Revolution Starts at Noon, This American Life

Bombshell, foreign policy & security by War on the Rocks

Suitably wintery, suitably rainy, but not too dreary.

Me, Elsewhere

Greeks And The Refugee Problem – research study by diaNEOsis, translated by me.

The language ‘question’ and the refugee crisis, Solomon (check them out!), translated by me.

11 Surprising Facts to Get Inspired by Ancient Greece, theTravelPorter

2016 Post-Election Musings from an American Voter in Greece


I saw this coming.

Well, at least, I felt this coming. Throughout the final months of this election cycle, I’ve had a bad feeling about things. I am devastated by the results, but not completely stupefied or shocked.

This reaction is slightly unexpected because I am, deep down, an optimist. Really. I believe that things will work out for the best – that good intentions eventually bear fruit, that good will prevails, that love triumphs over hate. I was hopeful until the end, but still, I hedged my bets and tried to lower expectations.

I don’t know where this inherent reticence and caution comes from. My everyday existence is a battle between heart and head – I am instinctively exuberant, enthusiastic, emotional, empathetic. I like to think these are positive qualities, though I have learned that they also set me up for disappointment. I set expectations high, and (optimistically and/or foolishly) feel let down when reality strikes. Despite knowing this rationally, I still seem unable to fully control the impulse, so have developed a logical check, or maybe just a skeptical inner voice, that constantly tells me that, in general, things are too good to be true, and the bubble has to burst at some point.

Last night was the third time I’ve found myself awake in the middle of the night watching as things fall apart.

The first time was the Greek referendum in July 2015, where I stayed up until 4am refreshing Twitter and livestreaming Parliament until they eventually decided to put EU membership to a popular vote.

The second instance was Brexit – friends assured me there was no need to stay up all night to find out how the country voted, since the polls assured all of us that ‘Remain’ would win the day. Some internal uneasiness woke me up at around 5am, when again I refreshed BBC in disbelief.

This morning was the third time I’ve had that feeling – glued to the news as it feels like the rest of the world is asleep/oblivious (because at 6am this morning in Athens, of course they were), with a sinking feeling in my stomach that the unimaginable is actually happening.

I voted in two out of three of these contests – both times for the losing side. (The Greek referendum was basically ignored, but the feeling of unreality and uncertainty is familiar.) It does raise the question of whether there is something wrong with democracy or if I’m just out of touch. I think it’s neither and both, at the same time.  Obviously claiming that democracy doesn’t work because I disagree with the opinion of the majority is no argument at all, but when the majority is swayed by emotional appeals and entrapped and entranced by empty rhetoric something else is amiss.

Thought I personally agree with this passionate editorial in today’s New Yorker, the assertion that ‘It is impossible to react to this moment with anything less than revulsion and profound anxiety’ seems like a step too far. It seems unlikely that the people who chose to vote Trump into office are feeling anything akin to revulsion right now.

Globalisation’s side effects cannot be ignored – and the growing inequality in the developed world is a clear problem that needs to be addressed –  but we know this and others have said it much better than I can.

What I can say is that it feels like the earth has moved under my feet.

Brexit didn’t hit me right away, but as Friday, 24 June progressed, and I found myself out of Athens near the sea (which always helps clear my head), I realized why my stomach was in knots. Somehow I had finally understood that everything I had been raised to expect, aim for, and frankly take for granted was actually not a given. The great gift of growing up in America – in a prosperous family living the ‘American dream’ – was that I was unconditionally raised to believe that if I studied, worked hard, and tried to be a decent person, everything would work out well.


The two halves of my family exemplify the two complimentary (in my mind) pieces of the American dream. My mother’s family came to the English colonies (pre-America, in other words), to find religious freedom after persecution in Europe. Hard work, frugality and stability are engrained in that DNA (with the unfortunate result that I have to finish whatever food is on my plate, regardless of hunger cues).

My dad represents the other side of the best America has to offer – he came to the US to study, on a scholarship, from a Greece that was then under military dictatorship. Hard work, more hard work and of course some luck transformed that American dream into a reality.

Growing up with this background, I benefited both from incredible opportunities and a classic ‘American dream’ mind-set: the idea that if you set your mind to it and work hard, things will be fine.

The naiveté of this is apparent enough, and over the years I have learned enough about privilege and systematic inequality to know how lucky I am. The fact that I even felt I could hope for an eventual return on my hard work is an opportunity afforded to far too few, including within the United States.

Of course, it’s given me the luxury to choose to live outside the United States – and it’s also made me wonder whether I am so out of touch or even have the right to comment. I got into my very first political Facebook spat on Monday, when a friend of an old family friend criticised me out for posting a pro-Hillary article:


The words hurt, though I told myself that this was just one guy with a fringe opinion, and I wrote it off. Friends from all over the world came to my defense, calling him out for hypocrisy and narrow-mindedness. Rather than get too deeply upset about the whole thing, I felt affirmed and impressed by my remarkable friends, and indeed encouraged that no matter what might happen in the election, those people were on the ground spreading acceptance, diversity and love.


The question of my right to comment is not, in my opinion, such an open one – we’re all entitled to an opinion – but being abroad gives me the luxury of avoiding the day-to-day consequences of Trump-style rhetoric, and in general being white means I don’t actually have to fear for my safety like so many of those Trump has identified as ‘Other.’ At the same time, being abroad thrust me into the position of being an awkward representative of the United States, which I have always been uncomfortable with.

Nearly every time I meet someone new here in Athens – the inevitable question comes up: ‘Why are you here?’ People assume that because I have two passports, including one in that globally-coveted blue, I must be crazy not to be taking advantage of my right to live and work in the United States, especially when the alternative is crisis-stricken Greece.

When I first went to England to study, Bush was still in the White House and Americans were not especially popular abroad. I was still in my adolescent phase of infatuation with the UK, and felt self-conscious and conspicuous about my accent. In my first year at Cambridge, I often deliberately lowered my voice to avoid the immediate judgement that came as soon as people heard how I spoke.

In my second year of university, I voted in my first election and felt incredibly proud to be from Ohio. Students gathered at the Cambridge Union to watch events unfold on the big screen, and when Ohio was called for Obama and everyone cheered, I screamed along with everyone else, adding ‘That’s where I’m from!! That’s my state!!’

Being labelled as an American abroad is complicated by my own weird understanding of my identity – when I was younger I was always proud to be half-Greek, feeling like this made me ‘more special’ and interesting than the ‘average’ American. I have certainly understood the obnoxiousness of this, but I haven’t fully resolved the problem. I don’t feel like I identify as 100% American (just like I’m definitely not 100% Greek), and this crisis of diaspora identity is only compounded when I try to comment on either one place or the other.

In non-election years, the rest of the world forgot about Ohio, and America’s image abroad slowly began to recover, thanks to our endlessly charismatic and classy new President. I still didn’t broadcast my origins with pride, but America’s rebranding coincided nicely with my growing up, and (beginning to) come to terms with my own relationship with the US.

At a party just this weekend, multiple people commented on how ‘sweet’ my American pronunciation is – and I smiled and took the compliment, rather than squirming and feeling awkward. Just on Monday in the queue at the supermarket, a fellow shopper asked me about my accent, and then said ‘America is great though right? What state are you from? Oh, Ohio, I don’t know much about it. But America is really great.’


Talking to my best friend in the states this morning, I realised that living in Greece has already prepared me, to some extent, for the feeling of having the rug pulled out from underneath me. As she told me she now doesn’t feel like her future is secure, I realised I’m well-acquainted with what that feels like. At the same time, I realised that having the option of going back to the US – if worst comes to worst – has helped me deal with the utter unpredictability of trying to make a life in Greece today. Brexit, and now this result, have made it clear that there is no real ‘safe haven’ to retreat to anymore – the idea of moving (immigration restrictions aside) anywhere in order to find that safe future I thought I could expect is fading very quickly indeed, as it becomes more and more clear that this is the world we’re living in, and it’s not going anywhere soon.

At the end of the day, I’m not sure if I’m more angry, scared or disappointed. Angry that the next four years could have incredibly negative and irreversible repercussions, reaching far beyond the borders of the United States and far beyond just the presidential term.

Disappointed that the best of America just wasn’t good enough to overcome narrow-mindedness, intolerance and distrust, and indeed disappointed that we’ve allowed the situation get so bad that so many felt this was their best option.

I’m scared because I don’t know what’s coming. I want to grow up, have a family, explore the world and make it a better place for everyone. I’m scared because the future I thought could be mine if I wanted it badly enough, might not actually exist.


Where to now? I have no idea. I’m trying to gather myself, and my loved ones, and put my faith in the incredible people I know who work, and will continue to work, ceaselessly to make this world a better place for everyone.

After the referendum result was announced, I shared this:

While last night at around 4.30am ( 9.30 EST), that feeling in my gut was back with a vengeance, and I started to despair, I shared this:

Both seem appropriate now.

Moving forward, I hope with all my heart that Dr King was right:

‘I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant.’

Martin Luther King, Jr.

Around Athens in October

Although a week of this month was spent adventuring around the Peloponnese with my dad, and then the rest of the month mostly spent at my aunt’s house where my dad recuperated from the fall that cut our adventures short (he will be fine!), the changing seasons here in Athens have made for some glorious skies and scenery. Also, staying home and keeping dad company has been a good excuse for some cooking, so there are a few more food photos than usually, I apologise. Still can’t quite believe October has come and gone already, but Happy November everyone! 




P.S. Previous Around Athens posts from June, July, August, & September!


Tour du Péloponnèse, Part II

Image credit to Scuderia Triskelion

Continuing on from where I left off describing our Tour du Péloponnèse, we left the Temple of Epikourios Apollo, 1131m up in the Arcadian mountains, for a 70km drive down the mountains and back up to the village of Dimitsana, where we would spend one more night with the team. After some aforementioned mechanical troubles, as well as some ominous clouds, we were  a little bit anxious as we set off, but we only had to make two stops, and zoomed through the regularity test section with precision.

Panhard 24BT

Our first stop was an unplanned encounter in the village of Andritsaina where we encountered two massive trucks attempting to navigate the narrow village streets. Miraculously there was just enough space for us to manoeuvre in and let them past, but it would not have been a good place for the car to decide it didn’t feel like starting. Had Pierre (the 1965 Panhard 24BT we were driving) been just a little wider, we might have had a not-so-amusing adventure.

Village driving

On the road

On the road

The second stop was also an interesting one – we met an ostrich. We were actually stopping for fuel, but the guy who owned the service station also kept an ostrich (‘Why?’ ‘For the eggs. They’re 2 kilos each.’ ‘Oh. What do you do with them?’ ‘We eat them.’ ‘….’) While giving Pierre a little bit of love, in the form of WD-40, we also met up with the Italian contingent of the tour – Enzo in his Fiat 850 Spider and Rosita and Antonella in their Porsche 356. Lovely cars and lovely people. They left us in the dust, of course, but we did make it home to Dimitsana where a lovely dinner with the group was waiting. During the evening, somehow Pierre was resuscitated and we were on track for another day of adventure.

Enzo and the Fiat


The second full day of the tour began with clearer skies than the day before, ideal for just a little bit of exploration on our way from our hotel down to the ‘Parc Fermé’ where the cars spent the night. The village looked even more lovely in the morning light. (Spot the Alfa and the Porsche ‘blending in’ in their village habitat!)









From Dimitsana

We took in that incredible view while setting up for the day – our first stop would be Mystras, the Byzantine capital of the Peleponnese, and then onward to Monemvasia where we would spend the night. We also got the chance to check out the rest of the cars.

Waiting in Dimitsana

In Dimitsana

1974 Porsche 911s 2.7

In DImitsana

1967 Mercedes Benz 250SE Coupe

Cars in Dimitsana

1969 Alfa Romeo GT 1300 Junior, followed by 1975 BMW 1502

Descending through the mountains, we followed the cars that had set off before us, and passed through villages where locals stopped to stare, open-mouthed (and many waved!).


On the road

On the road

On the Road

We stopped at one point for more fuel, as well as a sneaky cheese pie, and were reassured to find a number of our team members passing through at the same time. The whole adventure was much more fun when we weren’t left behind on a mountain side waiting for a mechanic. Lots more camraderie – and everyone cheered when we arrived, as the Panhard was definitely the underdog.



Panhard 24BT

Hello Pierre!

As we approached Mystras, the weather threatened and Pierre complained.. Did we make it? Stay tuned for the next installment..!

Image credit to Scuderia Triskelion