A Lila Pause bar of chocolate made me want to travel. It was the prize of a school geography competition of which I was the winner. Fortunately it was large enough for me to share it with my other classmates, not to say that I wanted to hide as much as possible the fact that I was a nerd, vehemently struggling to be the winner.
Drawing down the globe map in something less than 3 minutes and writing down all (and I mean ALL) countries with their respective capitals in less than an hour, is certainly something to be pride of.
Luckily, at that time USSR was one single, unified and powerful country with just only one capital, and not that jungle of train-lettered countries with equally train-lettered capitals probably all ending in -stan.
Not a chance of my winning such a competition, nowadays.
So, these are the first lines of this blogspot of mine. Ever since this general blogspot mania came to surface I wanted to do it. To talk about what being “intrip” means to me. To talk about the handful of trips I have made. And those I am dreaming of making. It is not that I am the Greek equivalent of Megan McCormick, nor the poorer version of Maya Tsokli. No, no far from it. I can’t say that I have been off the beaten track. I have mostly done all that is touristy in a destination. But I would really like to become a traveler. I want to place myself somewhere within a bigger frame. You see, within the borders of the microcosm I live, my ego grows to gigantic dimensions. And traveling makes me feel small. It’s nice to feel small. I think it helps me complain less.
I think I will be writing in English – for the most part at least. A credible explanation for this would be that I have a number of non-Greek friends who I think would like to read me. But it wouldn’t be a true one. I have not that many non-Greek friends, let alone non-Greek friends who would like to read me. A semi-true explanation would be that I am more relaxed in a language that is not mine. Words feel less “binding”. However, a nothing but the truth explanation would be that I am americanizing myself day by day. I don’t say «παίξε-γέλασε» for something that is easy, I say “piece of cake” or even worse «ένα κομμάτι κέικ».
I have also caught myself drinking milk straight from the bottle.
Standing in front of the open fridge.
In the middle of the night.
Feeling sorry that the bottle does not have a comfortable handle.
Like in the USA.
I have never been to the USA.
Drawing down the globe map in something less than 3 minutes and writing down all (and I mean ALL) countries with their respective capitals in less than an hour, is certainly something to be pride of.
Luckily, at that time USSR was one single, unified and powerful country with just only one capital, and not that jungle of train-lettered countries with equally train-lettered capitals probably all ending in -stan.
Not a chance of my winning such a competition, nowadays.
So, these are the first lines of this blogspot of mine. Ever since this general blogspot mania came to surface I wanted to do it. To talk about what being “intrip” means to me. To talk about the handful of trips I have made. And those I am dreaming of making. It is not that I am the Greek equivalent of Megan McCormick, nor the poorer version of Maya Tsokli. No, no far from it. I can’t say that I have been off the beaten track. I have mostly done all that is touristy in a destination. But I would really like to become a traveler. I want to place myself somewhere within a bigger frame. You see, within the borders of the microcosm I live, my ego grows to gigantic dimensions. And traveling makes me feel small. It’s nice to feel small. I think it helps me complain less.
I think I will be writing in English – for the most part at least. A credible explanation for this would be that I have a number of non-Greek friends who I think would like to read me. But it wouldn’t be a true one. I have not that many non-Greek friends, let alone non-Greek friends who would like to read me. A semi-true explanation would be that I am more relaxed in a language that is not mine. Words feel less “binding”. However, a nothing but the truth explanation would be that I am americanizing myself day by day. I don’t say «παίξε-γέλασε» for something that is easy, I say “piece of cake” or even worse «ένα κομμάτι κέικ».
I have also caught myself drinking milk straight from the bottle.
Standing in front of the open fridge.
In the middle of the night.
Feeling sorry that the bottle does not have a comfortable handle.
Like in the USA.
I have never been to the USA.
