Thessaloniki train station has one of the last internet cafes in existence, a colorfully painted little room blocked by drop-claw machines and palm readers and fortune teller booths ala Big and similar artifacts; this is perhaps the room where old and antiquated things go, and the computers that were dumped here just decided to plug themselves in and start charging access through coin slot machines, because they are smart and capitalist like that. I found one other internet cafe on my short walk down the street today, and it wasn't working. I hear rumors that there are others around, but I haven't seen any-- only wifi hotspots, which is the sort of gibberish my phone from Zambia doesn't quite comprehend. I don't regret selling my laptop in Zambia, though-- it would have been a massive pain to carry (literally-- my poor back) and my co-worker was so glad to have it, so I'll just have to make the most of this computer while I have it (for 37 more minutes).
I decided in advance that leaving Africa would be slightly traumatic, and that I needed some sort of buffer or rest period before I started backpacking around Europe like some college student (apparently I am officially too old for this-- official travel discounts in Europe are for backpackers "under 26"-- what, like I turn 26 and it's time for me to settle down with a white picket fence and a dog? Really? But I digress...). My very intelligent stepmother apparently decided the same thing, since she rallied the troops (which consisted of my father and my cousin Connie, who is having a fabulous time backpacking across Europe as well and actually is the proper age for it) and orchestrated a trip to Istanbul for which I had to do no planning beyond buying a plane ticket and deciding what to wear each morning, which was plenty of work for me. We had an amazing week of tours through mosques and markets, hummus and stuffed grape leaves and fish by the sea (and baklava with ice cream at least once a day-- I am my father's daughter and he is his father's son), and a trip to Ephesus so I could bounce around ancient ruins like they were playgrounds, which is one of my very favorite things. It was very hot and the days were bizarrely long-- I forgot what it's like to be this far away from the equator-- and there were plenty of rug salesmen handing out glasses of hot apple tea. A fun and restful week of course ended with a long bus ride at night from Istanbul to Thessaly, and then a train from Thessaloniki to Larissa and a taxi to Anatoli in the mountains, so when I finally arrived at my destination 30 hours after saying good-bye to my family I promptly fell asleep without dinner and stayed asleep until 6 the next morning.
My own plan for a rest turned out to be more of a retreat than I realized-- I signed up online to WWOOF (world wide organization of organic farmers) in Greece, and the one place that wrote back was a monastery on Mount Ossa (or Mount Kissabos, depending on who you ask), on the outskirts of a mountain village called Anatoli, between Larissa and Mount Olympus and the Aegean Sea in Thessaly. At over 1000 meters, with one (working) truck and one laptop and no wifi split amongst a community of 30 nuns, novices, and guests, I had found the quietest and most peaceful place around. I had originally planned to stay for 2 weeks; in the end I stayed for 3.
The original Prodromus Monastery was originally built by St. Damian about 500 years ago. You can still see the ruins of the old church next to the current monastery and church of St John the Foreigner (aka the Baptist), and a 40 minute walk through brambles will get you to the cave-church where St Damian lived several years in seclusion. Today the Monastery is a work of art: beautiful rooms and patios with beautiful views of the mountains and Larissa below, extensive organic gardens free of chemicals and loaded with fruit trees and beehives, apple orchards and pastures and a farm laden with goats and sheep and cows and horses. There is a quiet little church with a loft above, so volunteers like me could go observe service and enjoy the peaceful chanting of the nuns' prayers in the evenings if we wished (I went a few times-- it was very peaceful). The kitchen was well-stocked with fresh fruit and homemade jams, cheese and milk and yogurt and honey straight from the farm, and fresh bread and lunch every afternoon. It was one of the most relaxing places I have ever been, and though I was working on the farm every day (that's the deal: free labor in exchange for room and board), I didn't feel exhausted by it, only energized. Every day it was me in the garden with my ipod and my hands: just me, music, and nature, the perfect place for me.
It is my own personal opinion, which of course no one is obligated to share or even acknowledge, that the world is full of evil deeds, and that human-run institutions such as organized religions, regardless of any possible good intentions, often become fronts for insidious and inexcusable behavior. However it is also my personal opinion that all things run in a balance, or a dichotomy, and that very few things in the universe are wholly good or bad. When it comes to religions in general, often it is the cruelest participants who are the loudest, while the nicest and sweetest and best are, by the very nature of being good and unobtrusive and not knocking on our doors to shove their doctrines down our throats, quiet, unseen, and unheard. It is reassuring and a relief to be reminded on occasion that, despite the outward appearances displayed by the loud and obnoxious, religion can also on occasion do something to make the world more beautiful.
Also? Nuns on tractors, nuns driving like bats out of you-know-where down hairpin-turn-mountains, nuns popping their heads out of rows of bean plants? Awesome. Thank you super-nuns, for a fantastic 3 weeks.
Until next time...
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
I bless the rains down in Africa...
So here it is nearly August already, and as usual I am abysmally behind on my blogging. This time I have a few semi-valid excuses, such as a dearth of internet cafes in most major cities (why didn't anyone tell me wifi had already driven internet cafes nearly to extinction? I figured they were at least still in the cretaceous period...), a lack of internet connection of any kind at all (sorry mom) while farming on a mountain in Thessaly (that's in Greece) for 3 weeks, or my personal favorite: "wishing to focus on enjoying the moment rather than capturing it," which is code for "I'm tired and my camera is out of batteries."
So to sum up how I spent the rest of June:
After I fell asleep in front of a hotel computer after my last blog post (you know, the one where I didn't have the energy to write about climbing Kilimanjaro because I'd just climbed Kilimanjaro?) I took a shuttle bus from Arusha to Nairobi, where I joined a tour group on a 2-week safari across Kenya and Northern Tanzania. Places and activities I can now cross off my list: Lake Nakuru and white rhinos (I'd seen one of the seven in Zambia, but in this fenced park there are actually more than seven!); walking with giraffes near Lake Naivasha; dancing with Maasai women in a cow pasture, and watching their men jump extremely high into the air; drinking a beer on the shores of Lake Victoria; endless driving through the Maasai Mara and Serengeti National Parks; visiting Kisii soapstone carving community and seeing how they make those little bowls and coasters and animal-shaped paperweights and candle-holders which I've been seeing strewn about from Nairobi to Livingstone for years without knowing what sort of material they were or where they came from; watching the sun rise as we descend into Ngorongoro crater, where the cloud blocks the sky like foggy icing on a cupcake; watched small groups of wildebeest give into their migratory instincts and RUN.
Other things I can now cross off my list: living with 22 people on a bus for 2 weeks; driving through a game park packed into a massive truck like cattle; watching the driver replace tires on said truck, twice; putting up an unnecessarily tough and heavy tent every day; watching tourists lean out their gas-guzzling lane-hogging windows to take pictures of normal people going about their normal lives as if they were exhibits in a zoo (Maasai people going about their Maasai lives, but still); being dragged in a broken-down minibus by another minibus; not being able to use the bathroom because a couple of buffalo are standing between the campsite and the outhouse; sitting in a room of 25 people at dinner and being the only one eating my nshima properly, which is to say with my hands (even the 3 Kenyan crew members ate with forks...they called it "civilized," I call it poor ettiquette-- Miss Manners says: always eat a dish with the proper and intended utensil!). While I was very happy to see new parts of Africa and have new experiences, this safari doesn't really compare to the smaller groups in jeeps, the night drives, walks with cheetahs, elephant rides, horseback rides, etc. that I had in Zambia. Still, I can't complain (or, rather, I can and should-- roughing it in Africa and complaining about it is the best part--it's where all the stories come from). At least I didn't get attacked by a baboon (we kept stopping in the parks to look at the baboons...I'm just not that into it).
When the 22 of us stumbled off the bus in Nairobi 14 days later, tired and dirty etc etc etc, I quickly found a lovely hostel so I could rest for a few days before my flight out of Africa. The hostel I stayed at is called Manyatta and it is a lovely little place with cheerfully painted walls (giraffes, sunsets, etc.), a friendly crew, and a bar/restaurant. When I get a chance I'll be writing them a very good review. I did my laundry, ate a cheeseburger, took a nap (I came here for a night between Kilimanjaro and my safari too, and it was the perfect place for a rest!), ran some errands in town (Nairobi is much nicer (and safer) than its reputation-- always be cautious, but don't let fear keep you away!) and paid a visit to the Sheldrick Wildlife Trust Elephant Orphanage. Yes you read that right: BABY ELEPHANTS! Some of them were so young their skin was still brown and fuzzy, and the bigger ones guzzled water and milk from bottles eagerly, and the keepers walked them all around the feeding paddock so we could photograph them and even TOUCH them. It was so cool! They were so sweet and so beautiful and so sad, and the people who killed their parents are just so heartless and foolish-- ivory just isn't worth this price. Someday when I have a job and stuff I'm going to "adopt" a baby elephant, which just means making a donation; for now I had to be satisfied with a little stuffed elephant ornament. I love elephants.
Seeing baby elephants may have been the perfect final activity for my extended stay in Africa; while I have every intention of returning someday in the vague and undefined future, I also know that life works out in strange and surprising ways, and if this does turn out to be my last visit to Africa, I'm glad it was spent here.
My flight out of Africa departed July 1st. I spent the last of my shillings on chocolate and postcards, checked my e-mail on my phone one last time (I tried to hook it up to the internet in Greece this morning, but after nearly an hour of valiant attempts the nice people at the Vodaphone store admitted defeat, so while I can make calls in Europe I apparently will not be using this phone to get online again anytime soon), and boarded the plane. I had an 8-hour layover in Dubai, where I thought about going into the city for a bit but ultimately decided to just take a nap in the lounge chairs at the Dubai airport and browse the airport bookstore-- Dubai must be pretty cool, considering how impressively nice the airport was-- and then another flight to Istanbul to meet my father, my stepmother, and my cousin for a week in Turkey. I spent most of the flight watching free episodes of Downton Abbey season 3-- omg when did that show get so sad???
tbc...
So to sum up how I spent the rest of June:
After I fell asleep in front of a hotel computer after my last blog post (you know, the one where I didn't have the energy to write about climbing Kilimanjaro because I'd just climbed Kilimanjaro?) I took a shuttle bus from Arusha to Nairobi, where I joined a tour group on a 2-week safari across Kenya and Northern Tanzania. Places and activities I can now cross off my list: Lake Nakuru and white rhinos (I'd seen one of the seven in Zambia, but in this fenced park there are actually more than seven!); walking with giraffes near Lake Naivasha; dancing with Maasai women in a cow pasture, and watching their men jump extremely high into the air; drinking a beer on the shores of Lake Victoria; endless driving through the Maasai Mara and Serengeti National Parks; visiting Kisii soapstone carving community and seeing how they make those little bowls and coasters and animal-shaped paperweights and candle-holders which I've been seeing strewn about from Nairobi to Livingstone for years without knowing what sort of material they were or where they came from; watching the sun rise as we descend into Ngorongoro crater, where the cloud blocks the sky like foggy icing on a cupcake; watched small groups of wildebeest give into their migratory instincts and RUN.
Other things I can now cross off my list: living with 22 people on a bus for 2 weeks; driving through a game park packed into a massive truck like cattle; watching the driver replace tires on said truck, twice; putting up an unnecessarily tough and heavy tent every day; watching tourists lean out their gas-guzzling lane-hogging windows to take pictures of normal people going about their normal lives as if they were exhibits in a zoo (Maasai people going about their Maasai lives, but still); being dragged in a broken-down minibus by another minibus; not being able to use the bathroom because a couple of buffalo are standing between the campsite and the outhouse; sitting in a room of 25 people at dinner and being the only one eating my nshima properly, which is to say with my hands (even the 3 Kenyan crew members ate with forks...they called it "civilized," I call it poor ettiquette-- Miss Manners says: always eat a dish with the proper and intended utensil!). While I was very happy to see new parts of Africa and have new experiences, this safari doesn't really compare to the smaller groups in jeeps, the night drives, walks with cheetahs, elephant rides, horseback rides, etc. that I had in Zambia. Still, I can't complain (or, rather, I can and should-- roughing it in Africa and complaining about it is the best part--it's where all the stories come from). At least I didn't get attacked by a baboon (we kept stopping in the parks to look at the baboons...I'm just not that into it).
When the 22 of us stumbled off the bus in Nairobi 14 days later, tired and dirty etc etc etc, I quickly found a lovely hostel so I could rest for a few days before my flight out of Africa. The hostel I stayed at is called Manyatta and it is a lovely little place with cheerfully painted walls (giraffes, sunsets, etc.), a friendly crew, and a bar/restaurant. When I get a chance I'll be writing them a very good review. I did my laundry, ate a cheeseburger, took a nap (I came here for a night between Kilimanjaro and my safari too, and it was the perfect place for a rest!), ran some errands in town (Nairobi is much nicer (and safer) than its reputation-- always be cautious, but don't let fear keep you away!) and paid a visit to the Sheldrick Wildlife Trust Elephant Orphanage. Yes you read that right: BABY ELEPHANTS! Some of them were so young their skin was still brown and fuzzy, and the bigger ones guzzled water and milk from bottles eagerly, and the keepers walked them all around the feeding paddock so we could photograph them and even TOUCH them. It was so cool! They were so sweet and so beautiful and so sad, and the people who killed their parents are just so heartless and foolish-- ivory just isn't worth this price. Someday when I have a job and stuff I'm going to "adopt" a baby elephant, which just means making a donation; for now I had to be satisfied with a little stuffed elephant ornament. I love elephants.
Seeing baby elephants may have been the perfect final activity for my extended stay in Africa; while I have every intention of returning someday in the vague and undefined future, I also know that life works out in strange and surprising ways, and if this does turn out to be my last visit to Africa, I'm glad it was spent here.
My flight out of Africa departed July 1st. I spent the last of my shillings on chocolate and postcards, checked my e-mail on my phone one last time (I tried to hook it up to the internet in Greece this morning, but after nearly an hour of valiant attempts the nice people at the Vodaphone store admitted defeat, so while I can make calls in Europe I apparently will not be using this phone to get online again anytime soon), and boarded the plane. I had an 8-hour layover in Dubai, where I thought about going into the city for a bit but ultimately decided to just take a nap in the lounge chairs at the Dubai airport and browse the airport bookstore-- Dubai must be pretty cool, considering how impressively nice the airport was-- and then another flight to Istanbul to meet my father, my stepmother, and my cousin for a week in Turkey. I spent most of the flight watching free episodes of Downton Abbey season 3-- omg when did that show get so sad???
tbc...
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