Category: expat

I’m somebody else…

Saturday, 21st of November, 2020

Well, you look like yourself

But you’re somebody else

Only it ain’t on the surface

Well, you talk like yourself

No, I hear someone else though

Now you’re making me nervous

I’ve been listening to this in the morning and it hit me hard when I realised that’s pretty much the conversation happening in my head lately.

It’s been a while since I last sat down and scribbled my thoughts on (virtual) paper. Truth be told there’s been chaos in my head for the last year or so and making decisions doesn’t come easy for me, which made everything even worse (the global pandemic didn’t help either!) but now things are more settled, I can finally at least attempt to figure out what’s going on.

I loved my year in Italy despite its ups and downs and the incredibly hard work. I met amazing people, I made amazing friends and learned a lot (I’ll write about that soon, I think it’ll be helpful for newly qualified EFL teachers). But I realised I needed to try something different and I was also in desperate need for me time, which was minimal during my first year of teaching. Yeah, it’s as hard as you’d imagine and even worse if you teach for a well-respected, busy school.

I was planning to work part-time for a while and devote the rest of my time on all my hobbies and interests and then a job that seemed perfect for me came up. It combined my love of variety, my urge to help others and my never-ending wanderlust so I thought I’d apply although I didn’t think I’d get it.

If you live in Cyprus you are probably aware it’s almost impossible to land a decent job unless you know someone to recommend you but I wanted to make it on my own. Miraculously, I did. It was painful of course but it was worth it (I wrote about that too a few weeks ago).

So, what now?

I’m certain I made the right decision but I’m also still VERY confused, conflicted and not sure who I really am. I’ve written a little about it before, it’s like I’m two different people , living abroad for years does that to you and what’s worse I miss all my people, my nearest and dearest who know me well and thankfully keep reminding me every now and then who I am. I desperately need it now my confidence has taken a hit. It’s tough to be confident when you are that confused.

The truth is I feel more like an expat now I moved back to Cyprus, more than I ever felt 10 years in the UK.

I don’t know much for now, I have to find the right balance (I’ll start making more videos and posts on English and mental health and travel very soon, as soon as I enlist all my coping mechanisms!) but one thing I know for sure (thanks to my new manager who gave me such great advice during our interview I’ll never forget), moving back home comes with compromises, you’ll have to adapt to the culture again, but never lose your identity and who you really are.

And that’s my advice to you if you are in a similar situation.

I dedicate this post to all my friends who I haven’t seen for months or years (more than a year now). I miss you all and can’t wait to see you and hug you tight one day in the near future.

Namaste

Eleni

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My bilingual-expat split personality

I’ve been back to Cyprus for two weeks now and I’m still ‘adjusting’. It’s never been that bad before, maybe because I always had an end date in mind or I had somewhere and something to return to, regardless how gravely I disliked it, or maybe so much happened in the last month alone, my brain is still struggling to fully comprehend what is going on.

But it can’t explain my annoying, pretty much constant (with very brief moments of happiness, laughter and relaxation) irritableness, and no, it’s not hormones.

I’m like an upset, angry hedgehog, keeping my quills raised, prickling everyone in my way, blindly and indiscriminately.

Why do I feel like this? Why does every single thing upset me? Have I been away for too long? How long can I stick it out for? Should I just find a job in another country and leave ASAP?

Endless questions with no answers. Suddenly, out of nowhere Gaia Vince turned a shining light in this question mark shaped pitch black room.

“This idea that you gain a new personality with every language you speak, that you act differently when speaking different languages, is a profound one.” she writes in a brilliant article discussing the benefits of being bilingual. Ironically from the whole article I focused on one of the disadvantages of being fluent in two languages.

http://www.bbc.com/future/story/20160811-the-amazing-benefits-of-being-bilingual

Am I really bilingual since I was born, raised and lived in Cyprus until I was 22 you might wonder. The answer is without a second thought yes. After 10 years of fully immersing in the British culture and way of life, I think and speak in English first.

Apparently bilinguals develop two different mindsets, they are a different person depending on the language they speak at the time (when you add the country they live in AND the language they speak at a given time in the mix that’s when it gets mind-baffling) and those mindsets are always in conflict as the brain is constantly trying to decide which language to use.

My two selves are always in conflict now that I’m back in Cyprus and not just the language parts. The noise, the attitudes, the people, the culture, everything I’d normally enjoy when I’m visiting Cyprus contradict my ‘British self’ who is dominating at the moment and can’t compromise and accept the fact now we are in Cyprus for (hopefully only) a few months it needs to let my other self out more or learn how to live here. My ‘Cypriot self’ is weak though and doesn’t even have an idea on what makes it Cypriot anymore, it hasn’t lived here for 10 years and since it last lived here it was a whole other person, an immature, 22 year old Cypriot who knew nothing about life or herself. That person doesn’t exist anymore but for most of my friends and family that’s the person they knew and sometimes treat me as if I’m that person, which doesn’t help with the eternal battle in my head.

So, I finally have the answer, but what’s the solution?

No idea. Though my ‘British self’ desperately desires to flee, I’m giving it time for now.

If you’ve been in a similar situation and/or wish to share some words of wisdom, please do. In the meantime, I’ll get back into my yoga and try to bring some calmness and tranquillity in this stormy, windy sea of my mind.

Eleni

Pappou Costas

He looks different, as he suddenly grew older overnight…

Every time I go home, I make time to go see my grandpa. Not out of obligation but of love and admiration.

He is my only  grandparent still alive. I’ve never met my dad’s parents, my dad’s auntie, the legendary giagia Frosou died a couple of years ago and my favourite grandma Stella, pappou Costas’s wife died when I was 9.

Grandpa Costas was always there growing up not just on special occasions but in our every day lives. He would take us on bike rides, or down town on a Saturday morning to wander in the market and get us a freshly baked pastry and oven baked eggs for breakfast, one of my most cherished memories. I can still remember the excitement of waking up early to go with pappou Costas in old Nicosia. Everyone knew him!

A proud but sensitive man who is not ashamed to cry, so innocent and sweet he loves everyone. He still remembers some of his Turkish he used to communicate with his fellow Turkish Cypriots shepherds before 1974, when life was simple.

He is still in great form now, in his 80s but he is getting older and I’m terrified the fragility that comes of old age might take him away from us at any point.

The sudden realisation of growing old. He is getting older, I’m getting older. Such a poignant, profound acknowledgement.

I last saw him in September, on a warm Thursday morning, and it was the first time I noticed his walking. Slow and a bit disoriented. Normal for his age, but not pleasant to see.

He sometimes forgets where he is or what time of the day he is, he is categorically refusing to wear glasses although he needs them, but he still makes us laugh when we least expect it.

I was thinking when I saw him on that day whether I should take a picture of him, whilst he still remembers us and has (relative) clarity of mind but he may not want to so I didn’t ask.

And, as if he read my mind, out of the blue, he says: ‘Do you want to take one of those ‘selfies’ together?’ The rest of the family have taught him well!

I couldn’t believe it. And of course I did. He then asked to see it, checked he looked OK, although we all knew he can’t really see properly.

Pappou Costas

This recent memory, so simple, although bittersweet makes me smile when I can’t find a way out of my mind’s labyrinth.

Eleni

When in Cyprus…

I talk about her all the time. DENISE!

Denise is going to Cyprus on Wednesday. I’m thrilled for her, and a little jealous.

But mostly excited. I always get excited when a friend visits my country for the first time.

She asked me for  recommendations.

Top five things to see/do around Paphos, she said.

I started compiling a list and soon changed from top five to top eight and I stopped there otherwise I’d end up with a 500 page Cyprus travel guide. Oh my I’d love to do that. If anyone fancies to commission me to explore the island and write about it, I can start ASAP. 

[All photos I used are from Instagram and other webpages (except the feature image) and I do not own any of it, thank you to all the incredible photographers].

So, in no particular order…

1.  Petra tou Romiou/ Πέτρα του Ρωμιού (Rock of the Roman) also known as Aphrodite’s Rock. 

According to Greek Mythology, Goddess Aphrodite was born on the Rock, through the spume of the waves (Afro is Greek for foam- αφρός). It’s a gorgeous location, one of the most beautiful in Cyprus, although swimming is not recommended as sea in that region is rough.

 

2.  Blue Lagoon Akamas/  Γαλάζια Λίμνη, Ακάμας.

One of the few regions in Cyprus I haven’t been but I desperately want to next time I’m there. Mountains with a sea view. Crystal clear water, sandy beach. I won’t say more, just look at this.

 

3. Aphrodite’s Baths/ Λουτρά της Αφροδίτης. 

Situated in Akamas area, a beautiful nature path leads to one of the most gorgeous and one of my favourite spots on the island, where Goddess Aphrodite used to bathe.

 

4. Adonis’ baths/ Λουτρά του Άδωνη

Another idyllic location. Not easy to get to, but absolutely worth it.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BkTZiCkgscU/

 

5.  Tombs of the kings/ Τάφοι των Βασιλέων

A 2km underground necropolis where important people, aristocrats and politicians in 300AD were buried (no actual kings were ever buried there). One of the most significant and imposing archaeological sites in Cyprus. I haven’t been since I was a child, I can vaguely remember it, I only remember it was a hot day and it was cool and eerie.

 

6. Paphos Harbour/ Λιμανάκι της Πάφου

Near the Tombs of the Kings, you can’t not walk down Paphos Harbour and wander into the Castle, at the edge of it. Restaurants, cafes, picturesque location. What else does one need.

 

7. Kykkos Monastery/ Μοναστήρι του Κύκκου

One of the largest Greek Orthodox Monasteries in Cyprus dedicated to Mother Mary/Panagia located deep in the Troodos mountains. OK, technically is not in Paphos, is about an hour and a half scenic drive through the mountains, but when you get there, you’ll understand. The architecture, the murals, the grand church, the scenery. Breathtaking. I was always fascinated by the half covered face of Mother Mary. According to the legend, whoever sees into her eyes, will be blinded. I was always tempted to unveil it, but I was too scared as a child to even try.

https://www.instagram.com/p/Bj6esKLHI73/

https://www.instagram.com/p/BirmC17gfzL/

 

8. Kourion/Κούρειον

Ok this is not in Paphos, it’s a 45 minute drive, but is one of my favourite places. Kourion was one of the greatest ancient cities in Cyprus and the theatre on the top of the hill with the most amazing seaviews is still in impeccable condition.

https://www.instagram.com/p/xaDo40DVdf/

 

The post should have ended here but I can’t not recommend some of the local dishes and delicacies one should taste when in Cyprus. Cyprus cuisine, although similar to Greek, is much more than that. A mixture of Greek, Turkish, Middle East flavours, all within the Mediterranean cooking culture of fresh ingredients. Heaven on earth.

– Meze.

You cannot not try Cypriot meze. Dish after dish, the next more delicious than the last.  Salad, hummus, taramosalata and tzatziki dips, fresh pita or traditional bread, Souvlaki,  sieftalia, grilled halloumi, stuffed vine leaves, keftedes (our version of meatballs), olives, mushrooms, pastitsio, mousakka,  and many more it will take a while to mention. A little bit of everything. A great way to get a taste of the local cuisine. Each restaurant have their own selection and it never disappoints. Avoid the tourist areas, go for a local, traditional taverna, and you won’t regret it. Wear loose clothes, you’ll need it after the 4th or 5th dish.

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(Source: Flickr https://www.flickr.com/photos/cyprustourismch/9182493269/)

–  Seafood.

Freshly grilled seabream or prawns with a touch of olive oil and oregano dressing or fried calamari and a Greek Salad after a swim is one of my favourite things ever to do when in Cyprus.

(Source: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/539517230338352710/?lp=true)

– Pastries

Often when I’m home we are on the go as soon as we wake up. And what better breakfast than pastries from a local bakery. There is one in every corner. You can try most of them if you choose the mini versions. Sweet and savoury options available. Feta and spinach, halloumi, olives, apple, cinammon fillings and the list goes on.

https://www.zorbas.com.cy/products/bakery/item/snacks

 

– Koupes 

I actually had one on my last visit because I missed them so much. The Eastern influences brought koupa to Cyprus and my life. Made of bulgar wheat, filled with minced meat, parsley and spices (or mushrooms- veggie option), deep fried and sprinkled with fresh lemon, to die for.

 

– Lahmajoun

Another eastern influence, lahmajoun is made of a thin, round dough topped with minced meat, vegetables, herbs and spices. Sprinkle with freshly squeezed lemon juice and you got yourself a scrummy snack.

 

– Spoon sweets.

Sweet preserves made of fruit or walnuts (my favourite!) and sugar. Perfect with a cup of Greek coffee or frappe.

 

I can go on for ever, one post can’t cover all the scrumptious food you can find on this little island but I have to mention tahinopita, since I’ve dreamt about it a couple of days ago. Yes, I actually dreamed of a Cypriot pastry. The most pleasant dream I had in a while.

A sweet tahini and cinnamon filled piece of heaven.

This is just a tiny sample of my home country’s beauty and local cuisine. There’s so much more, I feel I cheated on the rest of the cities (like Larnaka and the old Nicosia town) historic sites, traditional villages (e.g. one of my all time favourite Lefkara), gorgeous locations, beach sides and delectable dishes and delicacies.

Whatever you decide to do when you are there, one thing’s for sure. You’ll love it!

OK, now is time to have a cry and sell my kidney so I can book a flight home ASAP.

Namaste

Eleni

Nothing stays the same and nothing changes… (part 2)

Thursday afternoon…

I’m ready. I put my Spotify on and After all comes up first… ‘tou tou tou tou tou tou...After all I really love you‘.  I smile. I loved this song since  the first moment I heard it, when a friend sent it to me a while ago. It never fails to cheer me up.

I packed all I need and waiting for the little one to pick me up. First stop, her Italian oral exam. Somehow half an hour later I find myself sitting with her and her course mate in the classroom. Stefano invited me in, I smiled and nodded. What a lovely man. Funky yellow trousers, cool glasses, a sweet, polite voice.

I’m surprised how much Italian I remember. I’m so proud of my little sis and her classmate. They did brilliantly.

I chat to a couple of her classmates afterwards, nervously waiting outside. I wish I could tell them that none of this really matters… Enjoy your life little ones and don’t worry about exams. But would have I listened if I was told that ten years ago when I was in their shoes?

Now… what should I have for dinner on Tuesday when I arrive back in Southampton late and exhausted? What about moving? What if I don’t find a place and have nowhere to stay, what if the agency messes up me and I have to stay another two months? (Cold sweat…) Stop it! Focus!

Now the exam is over it’s time to head to the theatre for a final rehearsal and the show.

There’s no signal in the theatre and I can’t use my phone. That’s for the best. It can be my worst distraction sometimes…

A few hours later…

Tickets sorted, all ready, it’s showtime!

It all went well minus a couple of hiccups. I feel bad I didn’t recognise the Vice Chancellor straight away. I’ve only seen a photo of him the day before and there was a mess up with the tickets… I didn’t instantly figure it out. But all well.

I’m so proud for my little sister and everyone involved in the musical. None of them is a professional singer or an actor but they put together a brilliant show. Now, let’s help pack, tidy up and go home…

 

 

I can’t unlock the car, why can’t I unlock the car?

I knew it! The long beep I’ve heard earlier when we were rushing out of the car was the lights. I told her. She thought it was the door…

Now it’s half past midnight and other than one more person, who didn’t have any equipment to help us start jump the car anyway there’s no one else left at the car park.

After about an hour, we are finally home. A friend came to the rescue and it all ended well. God I’m exhausted…

Friday noon…

I finally got some sleep. I still feel drained but there’s no rest for the wicked.

The little sis and I pop to the shops for some essentials. The guy at the newsagents starts a conversation… Surprised, I stare for a second and then I remember where I am and how people are different here. I smile and make a joke. I’ve adapted again, a couple of days before I’m about to leave…

Friday afternoon…

I’m meeting two of my oldest best friends. We’ve known each other since high school. We haven’t changed much, other than carrying our bruises and scars of the last 18 years, hopeful but more realistic and scared to dream as big…

And… a lovely surprise! A friend I haven’t seen for ten years, a friend I spent endless evenings just driving around town with, nights out and days at the beach as a naive and careless 20 year old. So happy to see him. He looks exactly the same. He talks exactly the same, strikingly honest as always but he as well more mature and pragmatic about life.

Saturday morning…

This is the only time during my short visit the five of us are all together and it’s hilariously chaotic as always. We go for a walk at the beach, still a bit too cold for a swim but perfect for a Saturday stroll and lunch. I can’t stop humming ‘tell me how to be in this world, tell me how to breathe in and feel no hurt’…

I cherish these rare moments, that’s what they are nowadays, rare and they will get rarer the older we get.

It’s funny how as a teen, even a young 20 year old, we dread family time with our parents and our siblings but the older we get, the more we realise the fragility of life and how thing may change at any minute, the more we appreciate the sacrifices they made and still make for us, their selfless love and the only thing they want in return is for us to be happy and spend time with them…

 

Saturday afternoon…

I finally get to see the only best friend I couldn’t see at Christmas. We sit at a cafe for hours chatting, with a coffee in hand, like we used to back at uni.

A few hours later we are having beers right next to the Faneromeni church with her fiance, his brother and my sister. It feels like a scene from Boyhood… but a few years later, now some 30 year olds who’ve known each other for years, sitting at a bar, just outside one of the oldest churches in Nicosia, having a beer, still troubled and  desperate seeking the meaning of life whilst reminiscing… What a beautiful, surreal way to end the day.

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Sunday noon…

No matter what you have planned for the day, there is always time for a cup of coffee and almost always the company grows at the last minute.

Sunday afternoon…

After some shopping and… a coffee with friends and sisters it’s time for my godson’s belated birthday. I’m so happy I’ve been to his first birthday last year and now his second. He’s grown so much and every time I see him our bond is getting stronger and stronger…

Pappou Costa and my aunties are here, my cousin’s little angels and her husband and relatives are here. I enjoy every moment, despite the mayhem and the noise, it actually somehow makes it better…

Monday noon…

I’m sitting at the Uni’s cafe with my mum. I’m on my laptop writing a post, the first part of this blog and she is knitting rosaries. It’s quiet, peaceful…It has just rained but the sun is out again. It never stays away for long on this island…

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Monday afternoon…

I take the little sister on an educational trip down old Nicosia. I’m surprised how little she knows about the island’s history but I’m glad I’m teaching her what I’ve known for years… Up the Siakolas tower for a panoramic view of the city, one of the few spots you can see over ‘the other side’ without having to show your passport to cross the green line, the only divided capital in the world, down the old town, the Archbishop’s place that was half burned during the coup in 1974, the house of the dragoman  Hadjigeorgakis Kornesios who, although working with the Turks, secretly helped his fellow Greek Cypriots in the 1800’s, when the country where under the Ottoman empire…

 

Tuesday morning…

My throat feels sore… typical. I’m getting a cold just as I’m about to leave. I try not to think about it.

I say goodbye to the family and this little man…

 

 

and my sister drops me off at the airport. I think I prefer it to just get dropped off rather than saying goodbye to my sisters and my mum to the gate. Still emotional but makes it easier to leave.

Time to go back, but I feel I needed a few more days… to tackle my overthinking… Remember, one day at a time…

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Remember… nothing stays the same and nothing changes…

Remember… you got this…

Namaste

Eleni

Nothing stays the same and nothing changes… (part 1)

Tuesday morning

I just woke up. Where am I? I’ve been having dreams about a friend, the same friend for two or three nights and they never end well, I can’t understand why… what is my brain trying to tell me? I wake up confused.

Two days ago I was on our amazing One Sound show, singing with my colleagues in front of 700 people and the next day knackered having a Sunday coffee with a friend and then watching Beast at Harbour Lights, a film I’m still thinking about.

But now I’m in the summer PJs my mum got me (pink floral Good Vibes written on the top, very fitting), it feels warm, no it feels hot, I must have sweat a lot last night. I remember. I remember my long day of taxi, train, flight. I remember the airport guard looking for a specific guy on my flight but he never showed up, I remember watching Schindler’s List on the plane (why I thought it’d be a good time to do that I don’t know,de-press-ing), my sisters and my mum at the airport…

I’m at home… my other home, my first home…

It always feels weird the first day or two I’m back. No matter how often I may visit, I always get this ‘out of place’ feeling every time. As if I travelled for days and I’m  now on another planet, an utterly and completely different life that’s somehow very familiar.

I guess it is. I’m a different person here, but also the same. Does that make sense? I’m not sure it does but I have a feeling that expats will get it.

Every time I come home I remember the person I used to be before I left, how I changed over the years, how I grew up, how living in the UK has changed me, but somehow deep down I’m still the same little girl. Am I a different person here or just a different version of myself?

I guess I subconsciously adapt to the environment, different people, different culture, different weather. Different but familiar… A familiar environment, everything is familiar but not as familiar as it used to be. People here are more open, more affectionate. I forget how they stare, how they start a conversation with a stranger with such ease. And after a day or two I’m more open and ‘more’ of everything myself. The wonders of human nature. How easily we learn and adapt to a different way of living… especially when we lived it before in ‘another life’.

Why am I thinking all of this now? Maybe it’s because I didn’t have any time to think for the last week or two, maybe a walk at the beach and a coffee by the sea with friends will help…

I keep mumbling Bastille’s Pompeii… But if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing changed at all? And if you close your eyes does it almost feel like you’ve been here before?

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Wednesday morning

Marios, the hairdresser remembers me and my friends in primary school. He remembers me playing my guitar… How? Why can’t I remember him? I wonder what my childhood friends are now doing… I later in the week discover that one of them is now a well known chef in Cyprus, Charalambos! I recognised him as soon as I saw him on TV. Last I remember of him was 10 year old us playing outside my grandma’s house. I have a picture of us on the school nativity play, he was Joseph and I was Holy Mary…

 

Later in the day…

I just got a message and a rainy snap from a friend back home. I sent him a snap of me in my summer attire. I finally escaped the longest winter, my longest winter in the UK. I smile… I’ve been chatting to two of my friends back… home all week. I don’t mind, I actually prefer it. I somehow don’t want to forget my ‘other’ life. It’s part of me.

I meet my little sister’s friends, her co-stars in the musical they’ve been working hard on for the last six months. I’ve heard so much about them and I can now put together faces and names. Although we just met they welcome me with such love and affection I find it moving and can’t stop smiling. They’ve heard a lot about me from my little sis and couldn’t wait for me to visit, and I’ve heard a lot about them, it feels as if we’ve already known each other for while. One of them wants to speak in English, he likes my ‘British’ accent. I giggle to myself. As much as I can try, I can never completely escape my ‘British’ self.

Later in the same day…

The three of us, again, like back in the day, in our uni years, having a drink and a cigarette, chatting, serious, deep conversations and bursting into hysterical laughs every now and then. No one would have ever guessed the turns, the ups and downs, the crazy, surreal almost things, people, events life threw at us. How we changed but we are somehow still the same.

Thursday morning

I can’t get out of bed. I’m exhausted. Ran out of energy. Completely. But I know today will be a long day. It’s the day of the show. That’s why I came home now and not summertime. I need to focus on that.

And stop thinking about what I’ll do when I’m back, decisions I need to make, what to focus on, what I can do to help the family here in case they need to move out in the near future. The condition of the flat is getting worse… the government is doing nothing. Maybe I can move in with a flatmate again so I can save and help my parents if needed? Although I hate it. Although I will worry whether they paid the bills, although I love and miss living on my own so much it hurts.

‘Do what is best for you. You are in your thirties, you work hard, you deserve to enjoy life, have your own place again. I’m sure everything will work out fine for us’ my mum said. I was about to cry but I didn’t. I knew that will set them off. I’m so blessed to have such an amazing pair for parents. They always put our happiness first. No matter what.

I feel guilt. I feel torn. What should I do? How do you make a decision like this? How do you make any important decision?

One of the reasons I need to go home every now and then (other than the sunshine) is to remember who I am, how much I’m loved, escape my troubles back home in the UK, reset and go back with a fresh mindset. But this time I find myself thinking of all the things I need to sort out most of the time. I can’t let it consume me…

A lyric from Vincent keeps playing in my mind…

Now I understand what you tried to say to me… how you suffered for your sanity…

Get ready, quickly, you only have an hour… Focus on the musical, focus on today, focus on the now. Please…

Eleni

The sweet smell of memories

I put the bread in the toaster, put the saucepan on the hob and whilst stirring I was instantly distracted… thinking of the day I had, the great people I met, friends I’m seeing this week after a long time, worrying about things, how fast time goes, life and then suddenly, the smell of the forgotten, almost burnt toast…

And just like that I was back, back in my great grandma Annou’s home. I must have been around 6 or 7 years old, I had just started school and I loved it. I loved my teacher, who had the same name as me, Mrs Eleni Iakovou, my uniform, my new friends, I loved learning, I loved everything about it. But what I loved most was my afternoons with my favourite cousins Georgia and Andreas and my dear dear grandma Stella who never hid the fact that I was her favourite grandchild.

Every day, before going to giagia Stella we’d pop to giagia Annou first who permanently lived on the first floor of her house. She was, in her nineties, too old for those old creaking stairs to be going up and down, so she stayed in this big room, full of her favourite things. She had a little old toaster right next to her and what I remember most of her was offering us toast every time we went to see her. And the toast, almost always slightly burnt, but not quite. That’s how I like my toast to the day.

My mind then wandered to my grandma Stella. I spent most of my time with her until she died when I was 9. I remember her making me chunky, delicious, greasy fries when I didn’t want to have the healthier lunch my parents prepared for me.

I remember the smell of roses. The smell of the rose water she often asked me to sprinkle her hair and face with on those hot, summer days, back when air conditioning was not common in every house. I remember how I loved to smell my hands afterwards, the delicious, sweet smell of roses, that I love so much I can’t use any other smell for my perfume, because it will always remind me my time with my grandma.

I only have an old, half-ruined from a flood picture of us together, still in my school uniform, happily, proudly kneeling next to her, smiling.

Giagia Stella

I smiled. And then I cried. I cried tears of nostalgia but also joy, gratefulness, love.

Blessed I was so dearly, unconditionally loved by my great grandma, my grandma, my cousins. Blessed I had an amazingly, crazy childhood full of smells, food, love, adventures, bruised knees, dirty clothes from playing outside, people, beautiful, pure, kind-hearted people.

I finished dinner and sat on my guitar for hours. Playing the same song, again and again.

Let these fools be loud, let alarms ring out, ’cause you cut through all the noise…Bring me some hope, by wandering into my mind, something to hold on to, morning, noon, day or night. You are the light that is blinding me, you’re the anchor that I tie to my brain, ’cause when it feels, like I’m lost at sea, you’re the song I sing again and again, all the time, all the time, I think of you all the time…

And that’s how I put all the worrying, stressful, painful thoughts aside for a night.

Whatever the future holds for me, I’ll always have the memories and I’ll always have my loved ones, the light blinding me, the anchor that I tie to my brain.

Namaste

Eleni

New beginnings-week 1: My first ever housemate.

I’ve never lived with complete strangers. I lived in student halls at Warwick Uni when I was 22 but that doesn’t really count. It was more of a communal, safe environment and I was not an ‘adult’ back then. I was still fearless and naive with ambitions and unrealistic dreams, like most youngsters fresh out of university.

I moved from living with my family, to student halls, to living with my ex-partner of seven years to living on my own for the last two years.

I may be biased because that’s my most recent experience, but I loved living on my own. Not from day one, but definitely over the last year. So moving in a shared flat was not because I wanted to, but purely for financial reasons.

I spent last week packing, a little bit every day and last Friday I moved out from my cute, cosy studio flat to a year old, bright, modern 2-bed flat, which came with a 32 year old guy.

All my belongings packed in boxes and bags

This year the move was smooth and uneventful (last year was a nightmare, alarms going off, lost my car keys, bruised knees for months, it was a disaster!) since I learned from my mistakes and saved money for a removal company. I’ll post more on that and what else I discovered over the last 10 days later this week.

It’s only been a couple of days and there is a lot to get used to. I don’t live on my own anymore so I can’t play the guitar at silly o’clock or put music really loud and I don’t know what the ‘social rules’ are when sharing a flat. Should I offer my ever so polite flatmate a cup of tea every time I make tea and he is around? Are we to cook on different times? Are we to become friends or keep stricter boundaries? I don’t really know the answer to these questions and I’m not sure he does either but I guess it will all fall into place. I’ve been talking to my brother in London and he is going through a similar situation right now. I’m glad it’s not just me trying to figure this out.

I still wonder whether I made the right decision, should I waited until a gal was looking for a flatmate instead of living with a guy? Should I went for more viewings, should picked a different area? At the end of the day, I made a decision and I won’t know if it was the right one until later, so I’m trying not to torture my mind.

It will take a while to have a good night’s sleep and feel like home, I still feel I’m a guest here and I will soon go back to my old home but we humans are incredible when it comes to adjusting to change. I’m sure it will soon feel as I’ve been here for years.

I love what I’ve done with my new room in just three days and with minimum spending. It makes a difference when I walk into my room every day and admire how beautiful it looks. I could have spent more money on getting a new bed and furniture and so on but it will all worth it in six months time when I finally repay my loan.

Although today is apparently Blue Monday, the most depressing day of the year (which is a marketing campaign by Sky Holidays based on a nonsensical, pseudo-scientific equation they made up), I don’t feel sad or depressed. I did briefly on Saturday, my first day at the new place where I felt lost and overwhelmed with all the changes but today I’m excited and terrified in equal measure of all the things yet to come.

Great things coming up I can’t wait to share them with you.

So here’s to new beginnings!

Eleni

Blogmas day 24- Donkey milk chocolate and embroidery art at Lefkara

Merry Christmas eve!

I just came back home from a morning excursion at the Cypriot picturesque village of Lefkara (followed by a trip to the cinema to finally see Paddington 2, it was a-we-some).

Lefkara is one of the most iconic villages of Cyprus, infamous for its traditional stone houses and its embroidery art, Lefkaritika or Lefkara lace.

I haven’t been since I was a child, on a primary school day trip and I really wanted to the last couple of years. Now I’m older and wiser and I can appreciate the history, the importance and the beauty of it all, I like to go back to places I’ve been when I was younger.

And today was the day!

After a short beautiful drive through the Larnaka mountains we walked towards the city centre.

the Zenonos ladies

The first shop we came across with traditional embroidery we went in to get some memorabilia and I got to chat to the friendly owner who was born and raised in Liverpool. My instant joy to hear English again after only three days of being back home, (it felt much longer), caught me by surprise. I guess I missed my other home more than I thought I did.

But I soon got distracted by my surroundings.

Harry and Maria’s shop was incredible, it was like walking into a museum.

We then popped to the organic store next door with products I’ve never knew existed such as honey infused soap, carob coffee and chocolate made of donkey milk!

donkey milk chocolate

We got lost in the graphic stone-paved alleys…

and made our way into a warm, cosy restaurant. Their food was amazing but unfortunately I forgot to take any photos. The lovely owner after complimenting them on their fresh traditional bread and halloumi explained their main suppliers are local producers, supporting each other whilst making fresh, delicious food.

wood-burning stove

I can’t wait to visit again in the summer, when most of the shops will be open and buzzing with local and foreign tourists.

One more sleep until Christmas!

Eleni

Blogmas day 21- Flying home for Christmas

I woke up with upset stomach and hoping I won’t be sick. But I’m on my way to the airport.

I can’t wait. I can’t wait until the plane lands in Larnaca and I run outside to hug my sisters.

By the time you get to read this I might be home already.

Going home twice or three times a year if I’m lucky is vital for my mental wellbeing. Being with my people, my loved ones, the ones who know me better than anyone else, the ones I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not because I don’t have to is one of the very few things that makes me happy, unconditionally. That’s what home means to me. Being with people who make you feel you can be yourself and enjoy each moment.

Every time I visit I come back with a newly found desire and surge of energy to move on and chase my dreams. It reminds me of who I really am, what I’m capable of and how no matter what happens my friends and family will always be there, even if they are thousands of miles away. They’ll always believe in me.

I’m getting emotional already.

Just before I go, I want to thank my amazing Southampton friends and colleagues, I love you all and I can’t wait to catch up in 2018.

Next post will be tomorrow, from Cyprus whilst chilling on the sofa with a cup of coffee, Anna snuggled next to me and and Oscar sitting on my lap. Pure bliss.

Namaste

Eleni