Travel Log #1 - Vrahati (July-September '12)

A standard night relaxing and singing Bon Jovi together. We were half way there.

As corny as it may sound, my spiritual journey began in a small village in the Peloponnese called Vrahati, where I studied a month long TEFL course and lived with five other students and the teacher. It was such a rewarding experience for me I am glad I packed up my old life and embarked on this one.

Over the month I stayed here, I lived with 6 such different and wonderful people, whom I still hold I high regard for. I will always have a fond memory of these people and will always cherish the experience and moments we shared together.

Hannah never had the time for my incessant photographic needs.

I will never forget falling asleep whilst watching Fight Club with the carefree Hannah and the times when she played me foreign music and told me interesting bus stories.





Never will I forget the times when I swam in the sea with fun-loving Louise and Ruth, treading water with a smile when in reality I was, pretty much, close to 'surpassing' myself for fear of the sea.

John and I sitting on our shared patio,
basking in the sun

Then there was the engimatic, John, historian turned actor turned writer turned farmhand turned teacher; forever a student of life. Our relationship was philosophical. He taught me a lot about the way America worked and showed me just how complexed the human situation could be, that you should always be quizzical and question exactly what you want from life.

Lily, being a tourist in front of grapes.

The person I spent the most time with was an American called Lily. I will fondly remember cooking fried aubergines in breadcrumb and our countless bike rides - including a 9km ride to a McDonalds so she could move closer to completing her dream of eating McDonalds in every country. I will also never forget the time we swam about 200 metres out into the sea and, after a few minutes floating on our backs, we found ourselves in the presence of large jellyfish.

There was also my teacher Sherrie. Admittedly, she was younger than me and by far more mature. She is fluent in more languages than I know. She has taught all over the world with the ambition to open her own school one day. From this I took the notion that whatever you do one day can open up to the next. Life should progress, not hinder.

I came to Greece mentally exhausted and completely bored of my life in England. My month in Vrahati amongst such excellent company was the detox I needed. It was just what the doctor ordered. It kickstarted the process I felt I needed. I wanted to find a better self. A not so bitter - better me.

TEFL Class of 2012:
From left to right: Sherrie, Colonel Strumpet, Hannah, Ruth, John
Lily and Louise.

 Other Pictures from Vrahati

A melon is the future...

Nice bit of green for ya.

Road to the beach.

A place to sit by the sea.

Just learning the ropes with my new camera.

Another bench by the sea.

Disused railway track that runs for miles along the coast.

This ain't Blackpool. It's Vrahati's funfair.

Greek beer. γεια μας!

Concept photograph. Old pipes pushing water.

A sunset splits between skeleton leaves.

Lily wielding her camera.

Me, being a tourist in front of acres of vineyard.

Today I... THE FINAL COUNTDOWN

Doo doo doo doo d-loo doo doo doo d-loo doo D-loo doo doo doo DOO DOO D-LOO DOO D-LOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!






Yes, indeedy! I can almost count my remaining days in my hometown of Arta on my fingers and toes, and - for your information - I do have the normal amount.

This is the beginning of a challenge to myself. I will post a small blog every day containing things that exemplifies an aspect of my two years living and teaching in Greece. That's right, folks, my first travel blogging this year. For those who particularly enjoy my traveling accounts, you will be in luck as it will be a chronological account starting from the summer of 2012 onwards.

The first installment is to come in an hour or so! I hope it brings some enjoyment.

Best wishes and thanks for the readership (especially to my American readers),

Jon.

Merry Christmas

I know that out of everyone who follows this blog, it is my parents and family who keep their eye on it the most.  At the risk of sounding cliché, if it wasn't for my family's support I would not have been able to live so freely as an adult nor would I have been able to have such a unique experience as living abroad.  I am indebted to them for a life well raised.

If you hadn't guessed this is one of those Christmas blogs mainly aimed at my family because this is the first time I will be away from my family during the holiday season.  So...the rest is a personal message from me to my family.

I can't be with you at home over Christmas, so let this be a homage to the experiences that I have been blessed with and my addition to the seasonal spirits...

 

Me, the education provider (playing pinball on the PC during my break)

Little Evans.  Bright kid.

Preparing for Christmas.

The little ones.  Jim and Alex are such attention seekers.

Dimitra, Billy Boy and Alex.

Me and the boys.

Alex was tired...

George and I - post-coffee by the sea.

Timos in the studio.

Marianna, George, Me, Venia and Helen.  The younger ones all took exams, so fingers crossed!

Menidi... my favourite place.

The 'Epiphany' Class.

The not-so-angelic angels.

Petro and Maria.

Vasoula and Marianthi

 

Helen and I.

Me, Alex and Billy Boy (from last year)

Chris, Timos, Me and Venia (before their exams)

Today I...Expand

Just a little update.

I am publishing a Facebook page today.  It will stand as a different entity to this blog - although it will fall under the same name.  Mainly offering discussion topics and will involve different writers.

If anyone is interested in being a content creator or would like to offer topic subjects please email me at:

theheard@gmail.co.uk


Check out the facebook page here!

Today I... Got Sand in My Shoes (Preveza pt 1)

Broken by smooth, wet rocks before drunkenly trickling onto the warm sand.

Today I made my maiden visit to Preveza and I gots ta tell yous, it's a pretty magical place. It's like an artist's representation of the euphoria that can be found on the face of a simpleton eating ice cream whilst watching a film involving Ben Stiller in a wig. That magical.

So there I was, alone, before a great expanse of restless ocean, my current track of the moment playing on repeat in my left ear (as my right earphone is broken on my iPod). Staring silently at the slight curvature of the horizon as the waves met the shore, broken by smooth, wet rocks before drunkenly trickling onto the warm sandy beach. For someone to say I seemed content would be a porjection of travest followed by a polite request to kindly ask desist from observing me in public. Especially, when I am wearing shorts.

Preveza is an amazing haven; as lush as anything a divine creator could muster and keep out of the public eye of the global tourist world. Granted, it is a hot-spot in its own right, but I am glad it is not like an 18 to 30 Greek island - predominantly Scouse and riddled with herpes. Last Summer I ventured to Zakynthos with two of my American friends. We aimed to enjoy a boat tour of the island and rest out the stresses of a week's hard study. To my surprise, the streets were plastered with red-skinned Topmannequins, dressed for a 1980s Miami cop-show, begging girls for bedside comforts whilst sipping from cans of cider in a bar subtly named BJs. As a rule of thumb, if you are in a holiday desination (outside of Britain) that supplies cider on mass, you are not truly visiting the country you say you are. The presence of cider indicated that the culture was tailored for the unsatisfiable maw of commercial Britain. Preveza does not sell cider.

My journey in Preveza began with a quick scan of the sea, before sitting for the mandatory 1pm coffee installation. Truth be told, I had a water, but coffee was present within our ranks. No sooner had we settled in the cafe, did I became restless. Staring at the ocean under shelter was not enough for me, so I broke away from my company and journeyed down the promenade alone.

The scenery on the road next to the beach was phenomenal. Even the architecture competed with the natural environment to be the most exotic. The way the buildings are structured is just amazing. The planning seems sporadic to me as a man from a country of mostly red brick and crazy paved driveways. In most parts of Greece many buildings have no set definition of a template, which makes for a lot of interesting speculation and observation.

Who lives in a house like this? A glass spiral staircase on the outside...

 

Of course, this does not coincide with densely populated town centres, with their towering high-rise apartment blocks, built to meet the clouds. This aside, the coutryard in front of pretty much every house were amazing and the greenery easily rivalled Britain's countryside. This is possibly due to the fact that the shubbery and plant-life actually looked like it wanted to be there, unlike our turgid stubborn chutes that mainly live under a ceiling of greyed sky. On top of all this, some brilliant example of man-kind had his donkey parading around his front garden; a very pleasant sight for me to come across. It even pulled a smile to my blank face. Turned out to be gas, which was also pleasant.

...my friends found me.

On many occasions I find myself in a complete dream-like state, even when I am with friends. It must be difficult for my friends at times. I tend to shut myself away in spirals of thought, appreciation and have been known to produce spells of impulsive camera-based isolation. I definitely make terrible company. It is not unusual for a conversation to simply die - much to theu tter  dismay of my friends - as I unconsciously sever my ties to reality. For this reason, I decided to explore alone for a while. Alas...  -------------------------->

A cuttlefish that has seen better days.

I had no problem with them being there, really. I got the opportunirty to share the experience with them. The silence of appreciation was one drawn from solidarity. This is an experience that I wish I had the chance to share with many more people in my life. This average report, these average pictures say nor show what I have witnessed in Preveza, let alone my travels to date. I hope that others will take the time out of their lives to really see what another country has to offer.

To be continued...

Today...I Get Sentimental

Today I realised that I can, figuratively, count my remaining days in Greece on one hand and it leaves me feeling slightly restless. There is an overwhelming excitement swelling under the surface due to the fact that I am going home to be reunited with my family and friends. There are many people to catch up with and I look forward to hearing new developments in their lives over the last year. Because a year is a pretty long time. The year that I have spent in Greece is coming to an end now, and this is met with a kind of sadness that I am not used to.

Leaving only one year of my life behind is far more difficult than I could ever have imagined. The plan was to experience a year in a different country, become one with myself and get out unscathed with a new, clean conscience. And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for these meddling kids! It's these kids, you see. These emotion factories that bounce around the room in excitable tantrums, whilst bobbing their tongues out with a mouth full of ice cream and bad words that they learnt off the television. Because that's one thing I must admit, I allow bad language in my lesson, as long as it is used in a relevant context. Swearing is a big part of phatic Greek interaction. 'Asshole' is literally another way of saying 'pal' and is as common as the word 'Reem' was in England in 2011/12. So, on ocassion, I let some words slide as long as they are saying it in English and it is in a safe context. I could rattle on about some of the ludicrous stories from my lessons, but I feel that this is for another blog.

Leaving these kids behind will be difficult. With the knowledge that I may never see these young faces again -  and that these may potentially be the only children that I teach in my life - a large part of me will remain with every single one of them as I return to England as the prodigal son (A bit much?). As much as I get annoyed in my lessons, my students are the closest thing I have had to family whilst I have been out here and they have really grown on me. I would be lying if I said that I didn't treasure every smile, every laugh and everything I have learnt from them. Those moments I will hold dear. Everything that the children have made or done for me in their spare. One student who graduated in December, went on a trip with her school in March and brought some chocolate back for me. Such a small gesture, but on a deeper level, three month after finishing my lessons, this student thought about me when she was on an outing. This sort of thing really moves me, as I must admit to myself that I am a sensitive man. I will never be a lumberjack. Other things I must admit to myself is that I will never be able to grow a beard or make a woman truly happy. Truths that can be bore.

Note: I wanted to accompany this post with some pictures of some of the gifts given to me by my students, but unfortunately I have lost them off my camera when changing over laptops. :(

Today I... Resurrect Halloween

Greek Halloween is a holiday that occurs over a two week period. It is similar to the Orthodox tradition 'The Burning of Judas' [seen here on An Idiot Abroad], Halloween in Greece is full of excitement, wonder and a heedless use of fireworks. Differing from the celebration depicted in the video, there is no real manner of organisation in the deployment of the pyrotechnics. It is simply children with a, seemingly, never-ending armoury of firecrackers. No-one is safe.

Two weeks of shid blowing up by your ankles. Two weeks of racing hearts. Two weeks closer to death? More like a year after all of the shocks that I have had over this past fortnight; it must have taken its toll on my heart. Every day at school many of my students would proudly reveal a pocket full of exploding danger laughs to me. Confiscation seems futile, as you don't know what else these kids are packing. I simply continue with my lesson and hope that a projectile wouldn't by some long shot find its way out of some boys pocket and shatters against the back of my neck.

As I write this article now, there are intermittent bangs and crackles outside the cafe, reminding us all just how close we all are to death at all times. Especially at Halloween. In Greece. Also there were costumes. But we are all used to those at Halloween, so no real use mentioning them.

*I am guessing I should put a disclaimer refering to the origin of video footage in this blog post. The rights of this video do not belong to me. I do not even own a video camera. It is the property of Ricky Gervais' media army.

Today I... Played Scrabble

Today I found myself in the midst of a life defining moment; a situation that truly showed where I was as an adult. It is the Greek holiday called καθαρά δευτέρα (“Clean Monday”), which signifies the first day of their lent - a supposed 40 days of veganism. As a part of this national holiday, most of the town is closed. It is customary to fly kites on this day, to signify just how cool kite flying really is, I imagine. The kite flying is not taking place this Clean Monday due to the fact that it is raining very heavily. I feel pretty upset that I have missed out on this occasion. It sounded very exciting to me and I was hoping to get many colourful photographs. 

As I got to the front door of my house and saw the extent of the weather, a dilemma passed through my mind. Do I go back upstairs and fetch my umbrella or get drenched; a moment that resembled an iconic scene of contemporary masculinity in Harold and Kumar Get the Munchies. Also resembling the movie, I came to the conclusion that I had gone too far to turn back and decided to fare the weather which, by now, had teetered into the realms of biblical.

After meeting a friend we went to a place called ‘Toy Caffe’, which is notorious for its wide selection of board and card games. Against my friend’s wishes I said that I wanted to play a lovely game of Scrabble. The Greek Version. I am not going to lie; it was possibly one of the most mentally challenging hours of my life. I have lived in Greece for 7 months and have had no lessons. My grasp of the language is based mainly on what I can decipher from signs, the Greek news and what my friends tell me on a need-to-know basis. All things aside, when the dust settled I lost by 17 points. 

Nikos Sfikas: 279

Me: 262

I promise you this…I will not lose again! In the meantime, I have a large mixed grill and a few games of FIFA on the cards. Glad some things don't change

Today I... Taught Taut

Today I found myself - if only for a moment - holding back tears whilst teaching a class of eight year old boys. Before you read on, may I clarify that I am not an overly-sensitive soul, but when a tiny hand reaches up and tugs those ol' heart-strings of yours...son, you have a good ol' fashioned fight on your hands. So let me explain myself...

Firstly, it was 8:30 on a saturday morning, so it was natural to have those early morning wet eyes that longed for lost sleep. Freshly rose, I sauntered into a classroom to find five excitable Greek boys, chibbering in their native tongue and splurting small showers of cheesy pastries onto the floor. Needless to say, this is a very challenging Saturday morning. Especially over a drowsy two hour period. There was something out of place, however. Amongst the rattle and shake of my students was an element of grey.

In the corner sat one of the students; vacant and silent. Usually this boy would be as vibrant as his other classmates, but he is lost in thought. His mind with his absent friend, in hospital, very ill. The gravity of the situation seemed a heavy burden on his young soul. It was this thought that I found difficult to fathom. That someone so small and innocent could be held by such a horrific tribulation. He is far too young to consider such thought; his friend too young to live them.