i love my mother, i really do…

A typical little cobblestone street in Old Parikia, Paros

But seriously…

This is how conversations with her go:

“Have you seen Yianni yet?”

“Which Yianni?”

“Your cousin Dimitris son. He works at the bar next to the chemist owned by Fragisko’s daughter.”

“No. I haven’t had a chance to see him yet.”

“The poor thing. He’s suffered so much these last few years.”

“Who, Yianni?”

“No, Fragisko. His daughter got married and divorced and her aunt got sick and now they’re all living out of town. But he’s lost all his money you know.”

“Who? Fragisko?”

“No. His aunt’s son.”

(names have been changed to protect the innoncent)

The Evinos bar overlooks the water

How on earth am I supposed to follow an entire conversation with the woman?

Firstly, she knows everyone on Paros. Secondly, she’s related to half of them by blood and the other half through marriage or divorce or proximity. Which means I’m related to them all and therefore I should not only know them all, remember them all, but care about what they’re doing, what their children and grandchildren and cousins and neighbours are doing.

While some houses have been restored, some are falling apart

Sigh. My father had his own way of dealing with it. When out with mom and she’d start her extensive explanations:

“Did you see that guy over in the corner with the blue cap on? That’s Anna’s husband. You remember Anna, she brought us some figs last week. They live on the same street as Marina, opposite Vassili and Filio, you know, the big house with the blue windows and the palm tree in their yard. Well… Strati, Anna’s husband had heart surgery last year and he was forced to retire. Now he spends his days fishing. He gave Artemisia the biggest fish to cook for dinner last night. You remember Artemisia, she’s the one you met when we got married, of course she was only a girl then, now she’s got grandkids. Two of them are studying in university now. I think one is studying to be a lawyer, like his father. Artemisia’s oldest son. He’s the one that helped my brother Nicko with his troubles with the land he owned. The land on St Peter’s, next door to the area where my 2nd cousin Stellios grows olives. And they’re such great olives! I must remember to ask his daughter Maritsa for some. She works at the bakery on the top road. The one next door to Babi’s shop…. you know the one…

Dad would say “may god be with him” before mom could get too far into her ramblings and cut her off. Yeah, rude, but I think I get it…

The Castro in Parikia

I swear I can’t keep track of the people and its impossible to follow cause she jumps from one subject to another, from one person to another without warning.

I’ve always been able to talk “woman”. That’s when you get together with girlfriends and you talk incessantly, changing subjects back and forth as you go. No problem. But even I can’t keep up with mom.

Taking the boat across the port to the beach

But… she IS my mother and I love her. And she makes me fried red peppers, which I love, and she bought me the best home made cottage cheese (mizithra) in the world. I really wish she hadn’t. I just ate a ton of it on Elite rusks (a greek brand) with honey. I’m so full…

Sunset at the Meltemi Bar on Paros

My favourite beach, Krios

And another thing. Its been 5 years since my last trip, and 8 since the one before. My blog from that first trip has disappeared cause it was with Shine and I wasn’t able to save it. But there was a whole section on that about the clothes being on the line.

Mom loves to remind me about things. Like the clothes I washed and left on the line to dry. She’ll tell me to put them on the line. Then she’ll tell me to take them off the line later. At least 5 times.

“Don’t forget to take the clothes off the line” must be one of her favourite sentences in the world. Well, at least it was 8 years ago.

I’m happy to report that its still her favourite sentence. I washed one load of washing yesterday and heard the sentence at least three times.

Good to see mom is still in fine form!


syros for 3 days

This is not a pool, its the mediteranean sea!

One of the best things about coming to Greece this year is that I’ve been able to catch up with my old school friends from high school. I’m one of the luckiest people in the world to have gone to Campion School (an English school in Athens) and that our group has been having reunions once every couple of years on the greek islands.

How many high schools do you know that do that?

Galissas beach on Syros

Of course, living in Australia (and Tasmania no less) I’ve only been able to make it to 2 of the reunions so far. I believe the first was in 2007 on Egina, and its been a different island for each one since. I first found out about the reunions on FB just in time to miss the one on Paros. Bummer.

But I was able to put in my 2 cents worth and the next one was on Naxos where my cousin Zefi (the non-Famelis one) had the Mojito Bar. We had the best time ever. We spent our time on the beach out the front of the bar, or in the bar. I remember one particular night, drinking mojitos and dancing on tables with a bunch of Norwegian guys. Actually, I don’t remember all that much about that night, but I do have photos…

Anyway, when I found out there was a reunion planned on Syros this year, and that I’d be in Greece at the time, it was GREAT! I’m there!

Saint Stephano – a church built in a cave

I’d never been to Syros before and I was curious. Syros is a unique island for one of the Cyclades as its half catholic and half greek orthodox. Its also got the most amazing history and architecture in the old city of Ermoupolis as it was settled by the rich who built beautiful venetian style mansions. Ermoupolis is the capital of the Cyclades islands.

Despite that, getting here was a whole lot of trouble. Since I’d booked the hotel well in advance – like 5 or 6 months ago – I figured I could get ferry tickets from Paros to Syros easily. I mean you can see Syros quite clearly from Parikia, how hard can it be!

Well… turns out there are only 3 direct ferries from Paros to Syros a week. Even in summer. And not on the day I needed to travel. Naturally.

See the blue rocks? Its called Serpentine. Click on the image to read about it.

Syros is the seat of the local government, where the big hospitals are, where the court is… you get the picture. Yet, if you want to go to Syros from Paros (1 hour trip by ferry) you have to take a ferry to Mykonos or Tinos (the ferries stop at both, its up to you where you want to get off and wait to catch another ferry) and from there to Syros. A one hour trip, which would cost you about 7.5 euros direct, ends up costing a minimum of 32 euros (cause we found the cheapest option) and taking a minimum of 4 hours including your stopover.

Only in Greece.

Maybe. I can’t speak for India, Egypt or Uzbekistan.

Speaking of Uzbekistan… I did an Ancestry DNA test! I was so excited cause I’m convinced that my mother is a decendant of Ghengkis Khan. (I’m not talking about her child rearing methods, mind you, just her ancestry). And I was right! But I’ll tell you more about that in another post…

So, back to the fun in the sun and crazy antics of middle aged high school buddies.

Firstly, I was joined on the reunion by my good friend Inge from the Netherlands. And her daughter. They have now been given honorary Campionite status and are welcome to join in future reunions, which is great cause they really enjoyed it.

The best part of the Syros reunion (apart from seeing friends and all the catching up) was the day we chartered a boat to visit some of the beaches only accessible by boat. We had a floating bar and a BBQ on the beach. What more can you ask for?

The incredible blue waters of the Aegean Sea.

The hotel we stayed at was great, really pretty decor, great breakfast buffet and a lovely pool where we spent quite a lot of time.

Unfortunately we didn’t get a chance to explore Ermoupolis due to bad timing and forgetfulness (mine) so I’ll have to visit another day. Quel dommage! (showing off my high school French…)

Oh, and you know how the world is going to hell in a plastic bucket? Its true. There is so much plastic rubbish in the sea that it seems that even on the most pristine beaches, you’ll fish out the odd bit of plastic bag. It really sucks. It makes it so much more obvious that we really need to make an effort to recycle and consider our choices.

One of the bars on Paros is using spaghetti with holes in it instead of plastic straws. What a brilliant idea. You can drink your cocktail through it, then eat it… We bought ourselves a packet and carried it everywhere with us.

We found there’s one minor flaw in our plan. You actually have to remember to order your drink without a straw. Otherwise you may as well just use the plastic one they give you and save your pasta for another time… We’ll get better at it, I’m sure.


chicken rolls and other beach stuff

This is a photo of my view as I sat here this afternoon, after a nice lunch with the ‘oldies’. That’s the aunts and uncles, though now they don’t feel as old as they did when we were all younger… when they were my current age and younger.

I’d done my ‘auntie’ dip – an hour or so in the water swimming and meeting people, cause of course you strike up friendships in the sea. Or at least I do. Then I came home, had lunch and sat a while to enjoy the view. After that I went to bed to read again and fell asleep…

And woke up at 8.30pm.

Just in time for dinner.

I’d had plans for tonight, but I was still feeling too dopey to go into town. Its about a 3klm walk which is great exercise but I’m still feeling zonked and now its fully dark and the view is still great with all the glittering lights of town and distant Syros visible. I think I might just stay here…

So much for going for an afternoon swim. I mustn’t ever go to bed in the afternoon again!

Meanwhile I’m sunburnt and itching like I have fleas. Thankfully I didn’t get the painful sunburn, I skipped straight to itchy. Its really annoying as scratching hurts but oh man, I need to scratch badly.

I got a call from my cousin, Zefi* this afternoon saying “Hey Fuzz**, next time you blog don’t forget to mention chicken rolls”. Well, I’m nothing if not responsive to the demands of my readers. At least it proves that someone reads my blog, even if it is just family and people I guilt into it…

But before I tell you about chicken rolls and what on earth they’re doing on the beach, let me deal with the pesky asterixes.

*There are only 3 Zefis in our family, unlike the amount of Peters, or the amount of Nicks in My Big Fat Greek Wedding. I’m the original Zefi, there’s one living on Crete currently who has a different last name, and then there’s the little usurper, aka newspaper reporter, aka Little Zefi. When we lived in Griffith, NSW, I was THE Zefi till the little usurper came along and took over my name and peed in my shoes cause we wouldn’t play with her.

A few years later she came to live with us in Athens and earned the nickname ‘newspaper reporter’ cause everything she heard or saw she’d report back to my mom. As you can see, she really knew how to make friends and influence people.

**Two Zefi Famelis sharing a room (and two Peter Famelis sharing a caravan on the roof (that’s a whole other story) in the house in Athens got a bit confusing. So I was big Zef and she was little Zef. I never liked what big Zef implied, but what can you do?

Anyway, we played around with our names, as you do, and for a while I was Ifez and my brother was Retep. In the spirit on backwardness I went through our room while little Zef was out reporting on some other unsuspecting person and played a joke on her.

I went through every single thing she owned and every bit of her side of the room and switched things around. The order of her drawers was swapped. The sides of her desk were swapped. Her books were reversed on the shelves. I even went through and undid all her neatly folded socks (cause she was an annoyingly good little girl) and did them up again with unmatched partners. I left a note saying ‘beware, Ifez was here’.

She was still finding mixed up things months later. Best practical joke ever.

Anyway, Ifez morphed into Fuzz and my aunt still calls me Fuzz now. In fact when Zefi and I get together we call eachother Fuzz and Fuzzywuzzy. I love that girl.

Now back to the beach and who put out the chicken rolls.

While in Athens Zefi took me tankini shopping cause I don’t wear bikinis any more. As you may remember if you read a previous post on the subject. During that time she introduced me to the strappy bikini, aka, the chicken roll.


You can see the similarities.

Anyway, rest assured I did not get anything like that. Though now I’m thinking about getting a bikini. Those tankinis are nice but they sure take a long time to dry! And they’re so hard to change when you’re wet.

I am now convinced that there are three stages in life: 1. when we’re young and pretty and wear bikinis, 2. when we get older and care what people think so we hide our imperfect bodies with full swimsuits (or burkas), and 3. when we no longer care what anyone thinks and go buy another bikini.

I’m at stage 3. I think. Its a close call.


Good question

Efidice Absidal?

I’ve puzzled over this sign for many years. What does it mean? Is it some foreign language? Obviously ‘Efidice’ isn’t an English word.

Give up?

Its obviously a sign created by a dyslexic person. Obviously its meant to say “Edifice Apsidal”.

Or even Apsidal Edifice.

That sorts out the non-englishness of the matter, but what is absidal or apsidal you ask? I didn’t know either so I looked it up:



In architecture, the apse (Greek ἀψίς (apsis), then Latin absis: “arch, vault”; sometimes written apsis; plural apsides) is a semicircular recess covered with a hemispherical vault or semi-dome, also known as an Exedra. In Romanesque, Byzantine and Gothic Christian abbey, cathedral and church architecture, the term is applied to a semi-circular or polygonal termination of the main building at the liturgical east end (where the altar is), regardless of the shape of the roof, which may be flat, sloping, domed, or hemispherical.


Aren’t you glad you read my blog? You learn something new every day!


my uncle’s portrait

My uncle George, pastel on paper, now hangs on the old fireplace.

A few years ago I promised my uncle George that I’d paint his portrait. I took photos of him sitting on the back porch at Souvlia (his home on Paros, more like a village than a home really) and lost them all when my external hard drive crashed.

This year I found an old photo of him and me taken years ago, and a photo of the house as it was back then. I removed me and the others in the photo and created a portrait.

Closer up

Not too bad considering I hate doing portraits of people. They aren’t as furry as dogs. Or as forgiving if you show their wrinkles.

I think he likes it. He’s at least 40 years younger in the painting… He now wants a portrait of the four brothers, 2 of whom are no longer with us. The Dynasty as he calls it.

Better get my pastels sorted.

(I’ll be sharing photos of Souvlia soon!)


today it rained on paros

This morning it poured. I was sitting outside my room with my coffee and a book (Yes, a real book. My brother gave it to me so I put the kindle aside for a day and went old school.) and I barely had time to pick my stuff up before it bucketed down. There was thunder and lightning. I’ve spent about half the summers of my life on Paros and had never seen rain like this. If at all… Tasmania eat your heart out.

My cousin picked me up to go swimming and we got lucky. We went to a beach on the other side of Paros and were able to have a decent swim. It may have been overcast but the rain stayed away. Till we left. It rained so heavy you could barely see to drive. Then we got back to this side and I had another swim cause the storm had moved on.

I’m turning into my mother – slowly but surely. I used to be able to go the beach at 9 or 10am and stay till 6pm or sometimes later. Now I get worn out. The other day I was at the beach from 10.30 am till 5.30pm and I’m sure I got sunstroke. And before you ask, I sat under an umbrella the whole time. But I did swim… and when I say swim, every time I get in the water I spend at least half an hour in there. I won’t get out till my fingers go all wrinkley and turn blue.

Mom never sits on the beach. She’ll go down, get straight into the water, swim till she’s a spec on the horizon (no sharks here) and stays out there for about an hour, gets out of the water, changes into dry clothes* and goes home.

After spending a whole day at the beach, visiting a cousin and going out for dinner, not getting home till 12.30am, I was so knocked out the next day I decided to stick close to home. I walked to the beach just down below us and swam for an hour before getting out and heading home for a nap.

Delphini Beach, a 5 minute walk from my uncle’s place.

In the afternoon I repeated the excerise. Cause what’s the point of a greek island if you can’t swim? In fact I’ve been having nightmares lately that I’m on Paros and can’t get into the water! Horrible.

To make matters worse (on the ‘just like my mother’ thing) I do two types of swimming. One where I wear goggles and swim like a normal person – involves putting my head under water. The other where I wear my sunglasses and a hat and swim like a little old lady. Why? Cause till now every summer I’ve come to Paros for a holiday I get an eye infection. Apparently the sun reflecting off the water can sunburn your eyeballs. Go figure.

Another view of Delphini Beach where we spent hours as kids.

At least I’m looking after my skin and won’t get sunburn… That’s what I tell myself.

*On the changing after swimming. A lot of greek women/girls have learned the art of dressing and undressing with a towel wrapped around them. I’m at a disadvantage there. Not only am I not used to it, I’m wearing a tankini which has to up over my shoulders to put on or off. No handy clasps at the back. Try changing those with salty wet skin. I was hopping around trying to change this morning and dropped my towel to remove my bottom and mooned the entire beachfront.

At least they don’t know me…

Why you might ask again? Can’t you just dry off in the sun? Well for one, I don’t like being in the sun for too long. And those tankinis are thick – double panels in front and padded bras. And why am I wearing a tankini? Cause I’m too embarassed to wear a bikini now I’m older and fatter. Though to be honest I’m so over the cold/wet thing I’m seriously tempted to buy a bikini top and not worry about scarring the retinas of anyone who sees me.

The benefit of being older. You just don’t give a damn.

Don’t they say middle aged women are invisible? Well I may as well wear a bikini.

Now… where to get one…


a day at the beach

Its great to be back on Paros. In my heart this place is where I want to spend the rest of my life. I’ve been dreaming of living here all year round for many years – part of the live in the country thing I have going. But with me its always been the mountain not the sea, hence Tasmania inland, not beachside. I like green: trees, rolling hills, dirt not rocks. And yet, this island is a huge part of me.

In an ideal world I’d have a place here and be able to spend summer on Paros every year. One day I might be able to move back to Greece and live on Paros, on a mountain side somewhere, less trees, more rocks, less dirt, and a view of the sea with another 3-4 islands in the distance. Till then I’ll live in Tasmania, another glorious island, and dream of the greek islands.

Friends and family in Athens listen to me talk about living on Paros and say things like ‘You won’t be able to stand it, its so quiet there in winter. Nothing goes on.’ To which I reply how could Paros in winter possibly have less to do than New Norfolk in Tasmania?

I mean really.

I have my grooming work. I have my workshop and my craft room where I create things. I have my painting. We have the dogs and the horses. I have TV, books and the internet. I have friends and I go out one evening a week for drinks or dinner, twice at most but not often. I go to the odd market if I’m not working. I have the occasional catch up with friends over coffee. Sometimes I even have brunch out. I do a show on the local radio.

I could have all that here, except the radio. Probably. I have family here too. Plus the beach. And the joys of greek civil servants, politicians, laws and traffic. What more could a person want?

Ok, the family thing is a bit of a double edged sword. Living half a world away means I never get involved in the small dramas that seem to plague our family. I’m switzerland. I flit in, hear the gossip and flit out. That’s the good thing. The bad thing is I live far from my family. I’ve been living far from them for so many years I almost never feel like I’m missing them, its just how my life has always been. I’m the long lost black sheep… though not looking so black any more. Which brings me to another point:

Seriously younger generation – all you nephews and nieces with your tattoos and piercings and alternative lifestyles. Who do you think did the groundwork so you could live your life without sneaking out of windows in the middle of the night?? Huh? Me, that’s who. I was the first in our family to get tatts, pierce my nose, make sieves out of my earlobes or dye my hair pink. I was the first to break curfew and rules and the first (and only, to this day) to get kicked out of the house.

So a thank you is way overdue. I’ll also accept cocktails in lieu of gratitude.

But back to the matter at hand… Paros vs Tasmania. Its something that comes up for me every time I come to Greece and its kinda depressing. I love my life in Tassie, yet I still have this yearning. What can I do about it?

Nothing right now. The economy in Greece still sucks though things are looking up a bit since my last trip 4 years ago. Moving here to start a grooming business or even get a job would be stupid. And I don’t actually have a house on Paros. That’s a bit of a fly in the ointment too. So I’ll go back home and work hard and maybe one day… who knows? I might end up being that crazy wrinkley poodle lady on the mountain overlooking the sea.


places in athens…

My days in Athens are over. I’m on my way to Paros finally. The last couple of days in Athens weren’t too bad, we had some rain the odd cool breeze. Thank goodness. I thought I was going to melt with the heat the last few days.


Monastiraki Square with the Acropolis in the background.



My brother returned from Paros and is probably already back home in Canberrra. Three weeks in Greece is just not enough. Its ironic that I see more of my brother in Greece than I ever do in Australia… Wierd huh?

I find myself in the same situation I was in while at home in Tasmania. Getting behind on my blog posts. So I thought I’d share some thoughts and adventures while I sit in a lounge on the ferry.


A gorgeous whimsical street in Monatiraki where there are lightshades hanging as lighting in the street. I love it!


Thats it. I want to do this at home!!!

Last time I was in Greece I noticed all the dogs. It seems everyone owns a dog in Athens now, and we’re not talking pocket sized dogs. Most of them are mid to large sizes. People are always out walking them… of course they have to cause they all live in apartments. And yet, I only saw one tiny dry bit of dog shit in 10 days walking the neigbhourhood streets. I see more uncollected dog poop on the streets in New Norfolk than I did in Athens. That’s saying something!


Beautifully graffitied wall and shutters.

Am went down to Plaka and Monastiraki again. Man I love that area of Athens. Its so alive and colourful and there are so many gorgeous bars and cafes. This time I went down with my beloved cousin Zefi yes, there are three Zefis in the family. Give it time. There’ll be more once their kids start breeding…)



We had a drink at a bar and art gallery called TAF which is located in the yard of King Othona’s stables. It was lovely. But then, I adore old stuff…



We had an ice cream at the best gelato place in Athens, and they took me past a café of old floor lamps. So cute!


Would you believe these are ice creams?





How cute are the lamps?

The best thing ever was the street with the pendant lights all over the road (see photos above) and a café called Little Kook. I’m having internet issues on and off so there’ll be more photos on my FB page.



I’m in love with that place. Apparently they change the décor with the seasons. Right now it’s a pirate theme and their Christmas décor is over the top. It was like stepping into wonderland. I took tons of photos so enjoy.


the oldest parts of athens



Crumbling old building in Plaka.

Last night was a trip down memory lane with my old boyfriend, aka Petro the Punk. I met Petro at an alternative night club in Athens called The Mad Club and we spent most of 3 years going there to listen to music and pogo all over the dance floor.

I met Petro at Syntagma Square and we walked through the oldest parts of Athens, undoubtedly the best parts. First to Monastiraki where we had a souvlaki at Thanasis, apparently the best souvlaki joint in Athens, and from there on to Plaka where the Mad used to be.


Monastiraki at night with the Acropolis in the  background.

Its still there of course, a very old crumbling now, now an art studio for a couple of artists. We went in and it was amazing how small the place was, the dance floor was still there, the DJ booth, the bar.


The old Mad Club.

What was even more amazing was that its located right at the feet of Acropolis. I spent three years going there at least one night a week and I never noticed the ruins on one side of the street or the Acropolis above. My goodness did we laugh at that… we just didn’t care. It was THERE, you know, nothing special, taken for granted and not worth noticing. Amazing huh?


We had a great night, we just walked and talked, around the base of the Acropolis, past the ancient theatre at the base, going back to Syntagma Square where we sat down for a few minutes to have an ice cream.

A few minutes during which Petro’s bag was stolen!!!

We sat alone on a bench next to the stage where they’re having a gay pride festival, and chatted, no one around us, and yet someone managed to go past unnoticed and take his backpack! Unbelievable. And he lives here, he’s aware of things like that. I’d had the fear of God put in my by my aunts and I had my bag slung messenger bag style around my neck and shoulder and had my hand on it the entire time. I’d even check my wallet was still in there every now and then.


Kinda puts a damper on a great evening.

I took some photos but it was night time. Not the best but they’ll do. I didn’t bring a camera on this trip. Firstly cause my camera is big and heavy and I frankly have no desire to lug it all over the countryside, and secondly cause both the tablet and phone have decent cameras these days. I figured I’ll be taking the phone, tablet and kindle with me pretty much everytime I go out… that’s enough to carry!

Before I go, here’s a little joke my brother shared, from one of his favourite greek stand up comedians.

“People complain about the smog in Athens. Smog is no problem for me. In fact I like it. I like to see what I’m breathing!”


The local market


Turns out I’m not spending enough time sitting in cafes to use their free wifi and as a result I’ve used up most of the data allowance on my greek SIM card in two days. 1GB in two days and all I did was check FB, messenger, write a post and reply to emails. I looked at data usage… turns out Google Playstore runs in the background constantly and its usage was off the charts.

So, for now I’m trying to (being forced to) not be online till I have access to wifi otherwise this will get very expensive.


I’ve been busy and in some ways I’m already feeling like I’m getting used to Athens. After all, I did live here for 14 years solidly, then twice for one year each time, even if I’ve avoided it like the plague since then.

I worry about myself actually…


Its not the same Athens I knew however. Crime is incredible now. Friends and relatives have been robbed, some more than once, and now most houses I know are locked up more securely than the most bank vaults. I have to use a key to get out of the house. I don’t just mean the front door… I mean the gate to the tiny space that passes as a front garden downstairs. My aunt, who lives on the ground floor here, has become the gate keeper and I’m getting too old to climb fences.


Not that I wouldn’t try if I had to, but lets hope it doesn’t come to that. A broken bone wouldn’t look good with my bathing suit. Ok, a bathing suit won’t be improved with a cast, its going to be bad enough exposing my pasty flesh as it is…

So, what have I done since I last posted? I’ve caught up with some cousins and a few friends. Once I went to school with in 4th grade. I feel so old…


I’ve had a souvlaki and found I couldn’t finish it. Interesting. I remember them being smaller…

I went to the local market. That was great fun. Growing up here there was a market every Thursday and it was basically a farmers market with some homeware stalls. You know, doily type tablecloths, colanders, rugs, etc. Cheap stuff. Back then it ran for the length of a street parallel to the main road through our suburb, from the ‘town center’.
Its now fanned out from that one road like an octupus, encompassing many more neighbourhoods. Mom said it comes almost as far up as our house now. That’s 3 bus stops up the main road. Needless to say I didn’t explore that far. I was only there looking for some lightweight, cool (need I even say sleeveless) tops so I wouldn’t feel like I’m dressed for winter.


Naturally you can buy almost anything there now – and every stall has canopies over it and they even put tarps over the middle of the road so the entire market is now covered. It was amazing! I loved it.


What on earth was I thinking when I packed? Seriously. Its not like this is my first trip here! I packed 4 pretty blouses I’d bought for my trip – all with ¾ to full sleeves and none of them particularly lightweight. Cotton, but wow…

At the last minute I added a black tshirt cause, well… you always need one of those, and after all, I’ll need something to sleep in, and the only lightweight cheesecloth type of fabric top I had which I brought along to throw over my bathing suit. Demis Rousos would feel comfortable in it. And yes, it has three quarter sleeves. But its light. I’m living in it.

At least now I have choices!


On the plus side, I brought two demin pants with me, one just under the knee short one and one capri. I hadn’t worn either of those for years… they fit! Woohoo.
We’ll discuss the fear of flab at another time as I discover that my body has been one size (round) for too long to suddenly find it has curves that aren’t all convex… I dread learning just how elastic my skin is…

But that’s another subject for another time… hopefully one I’ll avoid facing… I wonder if swimming will help tone…

Anyway, lets not dwell…


I’ll be in Athens till next Wednesday, that’s another 5 days and I’m already feeling like I wont have time to catch up with everyone I’d like to, let alone should. Am I being selfish when I think that ‘hey, I made the effort to come from the other side of the world and I’m only in the city for 10 days (that’s way more than usual)… I know you work but, hey, make an effort to see ME somewhere I can get to easily. Don’t expect me to find my way around a city I haven’t lived in for over 20 years.’

Perhaps I’m just a lazy bitch. I can live with that.

The market was great and tonight my favourite ex-boyfriend (the one I left behind when I decided to move back to Australia many years ago and the one I felt I really grew up with) is going to take me to Plaka in the oldest part of Athens to revisit our haunts and the site of the old Mad Club where we spent so much of our misspent youth. Back when we were punks. I’m very excited about that! I don’t even want to think about how long its been since I was down there…

Things are good right and I’ve even stopped clenching my jaw in my sleep!