Happy New Year!
As I wrote the last post, I began thinking of that ill-fated bus trip from Athens to London during the summer of '85. It was on a coach line really called the Magic Bus and it amounted to roughly three days riding in a rotten, stinking bus mainly with junkies who were shooting up in their seats and, without a bathroom on board, peeing in old Coke bottles. We, of course, spent hours in pain dying to go to the bathroom -- especially since we shared a bottle of wine each night in an attempt to catch some shut eye.
Given that we had no running water for a shower for days prior to departure, we weren't exactly the cream of the crop during that adventure either.
We encountered our first real potential problem as we entered what was then Yugoslavia and Oliver and I were Americans without visas. The bus driver was ready and more-than-willing to leave us at the border. I'm still not exactly sure what ensued as we couldn't understand a word they were saying; however, at the last moment possible, we were allowed back on the bus and the driver was angry at us for the delay.
The next day we stopped at a gigantic, clean rest stop where we bought apples, cheese and more wine. I entered the ladies room to find Gail with her head in the sink attempting to wash her hair. The dirt was coming out in thick, dark, tar-like rivulets. I helped her get the tar out; she did the same for me and Oliver.
Minutes later, the driver wouldn't let us on the bus again. At first we couldn't comprehend why then we realized what was wrong: he didn't recognize us. Fresh faced girls sans grime. I think it was our accents that saved us.
Somehow we made it back safe and sound and headed off to Jersey, Channel Islands upon our return for a warm bed and some pampering from Gail's parents. Two weeks later, I was back in Rochester, wearing professional attire as I sat behind a desk at my internship at Eastman Kodak Company. I think, at that point, I missed the stink . . .
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Like a Rolling Stone
Hunkering down inside today given that we're having another 12-17" of snow. It's beautiful.
The other night, when the hubby's family came for Christmas, we began talking about Crete because my sister-in-law's best friend married a Greek man who now lives barefoot and begrudgingly on Long Island.
My girlfriends, sister and I were barefoot and begrudgingly poverty stricken on Crete many moons ago. After spending a few days in Athens seeing the sights, we had taken an industrial tanker to Crete and slept on bunk beds overnight just to save a buck. What we hadn't counted on was that there wasn't another cheap return to the mainland for another few weeks. So, after a number of days at the beach and nights at the disco, my sister and my roommate Bae flew back to London. I can't remember exactly when the others left. I just know that my girlfriends Gail and Oliver stayed in the little town of Malia with me until we could take the next tanker off the island.
Highlights of our visit included a) the creamy yogurt, b) the freshly made moussaka, c) dancing to "Vamos a la Playa" which was a big Eurotrash hit at the time, d) Oliver getting kissed on the lips by some Greek geezer who said, "You have such big, strong legs" (over which she was distraught for weeks -- not the kiss from an old man, mind you, but the fact that "he said I had big legs") and e) getting propositioned as we walked down the street by every guy who saw us (i.e., a crowd of young blonds and one gorgeous redhead). "Are you American?" "Will you marry me?" (Why not? Let's just skip the boring getting to know each other part.)
Once we finally arrived back in Athens, we found out that the bus we were planning to take to London was broken so we scored a fleabag hotel for approximately $1/night (i.e., $0.33/each). It had cockroaches the size of a man's shoe on the steps and the water didn't run. There was enough of a trickle in the sink to brush our teeth but no showers were to be had. We didn't have enough money to do much so we saved it for grilled cheese sandwiches each night in the deli across the street.
(Note: I'm sure our parents would have helped had they known but this was pre-cell phones and international ATMs. On a side note, the only call we did make from a payphone was to Scott Spezzano at Rochester's own WPXY because we heard "Sister Christian" one day and no one could remember the band. For those keeping score, it was Knight Ranger.)
Every time we walked in for "dinner," the owner of the restaurant would immediately play Dylan in the jukebox and call out "Three Cheese of America Sandwiches" as if he had known us for years.
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
On our last day, we were trailed through the city by some middle eastern guys and we became a little fearful. When they hopped on the bus that we took to the beach, sat a few seats behind us, jumped off where we did and followed us onto the beach, we were scared to death. As the first group of guys we passed called out to us, Gail threw her towel and bag down and pretended we were the best of friends. "Hi!" Oliver and I followed and we ended up spending the day at the beach with these kind strangers who ensured our safety and drove us back to the hotel.
The next morning, we awoke to the cops outside. Our hotel was being condemned and we were being evicted. Oh well. When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose.
The other night, when the hubby's family came for Christmas, we began talking about Crete because my sister-in-law's best friend married a Greek man who now lives barefoot and begrudgingly on Long Island.
My girlfriends, sister and I were barefoot and begrudgingly poverty stricken on Crete many moons ago. After spending a few days in Athens seeing the sights, we had taken an industrial tanker to Crete and slept on bunk beds overnight just to save a buck. What we hadn't counted on was that there wasn't another cheap return to the mainland for another few weeks. So, after a number of days at the beach and nights at the disco, my sister and my roommate Bae flew back to London. I can't remember exactly when the others left. I just know that my girlfriends Gail and Oliver stayed in the little town of Malia with me until we could take the next tanker off the island.
Highlights of our visit included a) the creamy yogurt, b) the freshly made moussaka, c) dancing to "Vamos a la Playa" which was a big Eurotrash hit at the time, d) Oliver getting kissed on the lips by some Greek geezer who said, "You have such big, strong legs" (over which she was distraught for weeks -- not the kiss from an old man, mind you, but the fact that "he said I had big legs") and e) getting propositioned as we walked down the street by every guy who saw us (i.e., a crowd of young blonds and one gorgeous redhead). "Are you American?" "Will you marry me?" (Why not? Let's just skip the boring getting to know each other part.)
Once we finally arrived back in Athens, we found out that the bus we were planning to take to London was broken so we scored a fleabag hotel for approximately $1/night (i.e., $0.33/each). It had cockroaches the size of a man's shoe on the steps and the water didn't run. There was enough of a trickle in the sink to brush our teeth but no showers were to be had. We didn't have enough money to do much so we saved it for grilled cheese sandwiches each night in the deli across the street.
(Note: I'm sure our parents would have helped had they known but this was pre-cell phones and international ATMs. On a side note, the only call we did make from a payphone was to Scott Spezzano at Rochester's own WPXY because we heard "Sister Christian" one day and no one could remember the band. For those keeping score, it was Knight Ranger.)
Every time we walked in for "dinner," the owner of the restaurant would immediately play Dylan in the jukebox and call out "Three Cheese of America Sandwiches" as if he had known us for years.
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
On our last day, we were trailed through the city by some middle eastern guys and we became a little fearful. When they hopped on the bus that we took to the beach, sat a few seats behind us, jumped off where we did and followed us onto the beach, we were scared to death. As the first group of guys we passed called out to us, Gail threw her towel and bag down and pretended we were the best of friends. "Hi!" Oliver and I followed and we ended up spending the day at the beach with these kind strangers who ensured our safety and drove us back to the hotel.
The next morning, we awoke to the cops outside. Our hotel was being condemned and we were being evicted. Oh well. When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose.
Monday, December 29, 2008
B-e A-g-g-r-e-s-s-i-v-e
Last night, after thanking God for our blessings, I asked Son #2 what one word he would use to describe our family.
Son #2: Aggressive.
Me: Huh? Aggressive?
Son #2: Yeah, dad always cross checks me.
Me: Wow, I wasn't expecting that.
Son #2: After that it would be "funny." Well, at least daddy and I are funny. You can be sometimes, too, but not really.
Son #1's response was "playful." I didn't have the heart to know if I was included in that or not.
Son #2: Aggressive.
Me: Huh? Aggressive?
Son #2: Yeah, dad always cross checks me.
Me: Wow, I wasn't expecting that.
Son #2: After that it would be "funny." Well, at least daddy and I are funny. You can be sometimes, too, but not really.
Son #1's response was "playful." I didn't have the heart to know if I was included in that or not.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Merry Christmas!
From the kids' mayhem, glow stick (turned light sabre) Christmas service at BCC last night to the peaceful, inspirational mass at St. Louis Church today, I am filled with the joy of the season.
Merry Christmas from our Star Wars Legos/Jaromir Jagr hockey house to yours.
Merry Christmas from our Star Wars Legos/Jaromir Jagr hockey house to yours.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Twas the Day Before Christmas
And all through the RAC, not a treadmill was stirring . . . so, would someone please tell me why the gym is closed on Christmas Eve?
Anyhoo, before the Christmas carnage begins, highlights of my soon-to-be-a-distant-memory birthday include:
Anyhoo, before the Christmas carnage begins, highlights of my soon-to-be-a-distant-memory birthday include:
- A cannot-stop-shoving-food-in-my-mouth-because-it's-so-good meal that my brother-in-law made complete with tenderloin that could melt in your mouth
- Awesome presents from gorgeous sweaters to a trendy salsa/chips bowl, from iDogs to iPods, from wine to kahlua, and from furry purses to giant, fluffy pillows -- once again, spoiled rotten -- and one donation made in my name to the Smile Train which somehow tempers the greed a little and, for which, I am grateful
- A fun-filled dinner at Tastings with my girlfriends where I had a beautiful and delicious (red and rimmed with gold sugar) fruitcake martini: two things that remind me of my Uncle Ed who I love and two things that, when mixed, prove that the whole can be greater than the sum of its parts
- A birthday card that addressed the manly "why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?" question with its feminist counterpoint, "why buy the pig when you just need a little sausage?"
- Getting my Christmas bonus . . . ahhhhhhhhhhhh
- Leaving work on time for two whole days in a row; OMG, 44 is empowering! I feel like Oh Mighty Isis. What's next? Commanding the forces of nature?
Monday, December 22, 2008
Twenty Two Times Two!
Yea! Today's my birthday. My acupuncturist was telling me that 44 denotes a powerful year in numerology. She also mentioned how Barack Obama will be our 44th president. Coincidence? I think not. I'm looking forward to brandishing my new found strength by dominating the world this year, too!
On an unrelated note, if you're sick of online shopping and want a few minutes of browsing fun, head over to Sleeveface which describes itself as "one or more persons obscuring or augmenting any part of their body or bodies with record sleeve(s) causing an illusion."
Inspiring, right?! Makes me want to create a photo of my own to submit over the holidays!
On an unrelated note, if you're sick of online shopping and want a few minutes of browsing fun, head over to Sleeveface which describes itself as "one or more persons obscuring or augmenting any part of their body or bodies with record sleeve(s) causing an illusion."
Inspiring, right?! Makes me want to create a photo of my own to submit over the holidays!
Friday, December 19, 2008
Marshmallow World
In honor of the local preemptive school closings, the start of our first really big winter storm this season and the fact that I watched a jogger jump into a snow bank this morning to avoid becoming road kill from the town salt truck, I decided to play one of my favorite peppy winter tunes: Marshmallow World. Nothing can beat the Phil Spector "Wall of Sound" from one of the best Christmas albums ever. I just wish I could sing as sweetly as Darlene Love (as does anyone who can hear me).
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