Category: lifestyle

I won’t know where I’m going if I don’t know where I am…

A few days ago, I woke up in a sweat, tears streaming down my face, in the middle of the night. I saw my uncle Spyro in my dream, he looked so alive and healthy but he was sad. He knew he was going to die and I was painfully aware he was already dead. It took me a few seconds to realise where I was. I’m in Italy. How on earth all of this happened in just few months?

That’s when it hit me.

I have no idea what is going on. Not a clue. Now that the dust has settled and I’m getting into a routine, a routine I’m not familiar with and not quite sure how it should be, teaching English in a foreign country is brand new to me, I’m making time for myself to reflect, to make sense of what has happened in the last few months.

I don’t know where to start and how to end this post but here it goes.

I still sometimes feel I’m on a long, albeit random and bizarre holiday and I’ll be returning to the UK anytime now. I don’t miss my job, or the grey weather, OK I do miss British autumn, golden leaves across the park, hot chocolate at Mettricks, reading a book or watching silly TV on a Saturday afternoon with a blanket, a cup of tea and some chocolate biscuits whilst pouring down with rain outside, but other than that I don’t miss the UK.

I miss things from the UK, the convenience of it all (Amazon Prime aaah), actual little daily things like decent tea, Hobnobs and Chocolate Digestives, but most of all I miss my friends, my dear friends. Not that I don’t love my new colleagues and friends I’ve made already, but I miss my people.

So far I’ve enjoyed working as an EFL teacher. But is this the career I’d like to follow?

I don’t know, I genuinely don’t. I don’t even know if I’m any good at it. I’ll soon get feedback from my managers after they observe me but for now I’m doing what I think best.

Of course if I decide that’s not what I’d like to do long-term I can change careers again, but to do what?

For now I’ll give it time and not think that far ahead, but it’s always at the back of my mind.

I’m strangely not stressed or too anxious, not as much as I expected I’d be. Being one of the oldest teachers and having lived life already comes with its perks I guess. I do sometimes feel I let the rest of them down when I’m too tired or too ill or too old (in a ‘been there, done that’ sense) to follow them in some of their excursions.

It’s still unclear in my head whether I pursued this so fast to not disappoint my tutors who gave me a Grade A or to avoid dealing with my grandpa and my uncle’s deaths, I feel I haven’t processed still what has happened.

I remember the last time I was at my grandpa’s house, where my auntie now lives alone, without pappou Costa or theio Spyro and I caught myself waiting for them to show up. A horrible, sad realisation they will not ever again.

I also feel terrible guilt. I feel guilty I didn’t give my home, Cyprus more time. I was so occupied worrying not to get stuck I left after just a month. I didn’t travel across the island, I didn’t see all my friends and family. I needed an escape and ended up changing my plans at the very last minute.

I know deep in my heart I made the right decision leaving my job and leaving the UK. I’m not sure I made the right decision rushing into my first ELT job, but time will show.

For now I need to find myself again, I have felt the black cloud of depression getting closer over the last week and I desperately want to keep it away.

I need my remedies, my writing (which I’ve done a lot, this terrible cold I can’t shake off did me good in other ways), my Yoga- God I miss Adriene-, my guitar- God I miss my guitar-, and I need to feel like myself because at the moment… (I couldn’t have described it better than Wind and the Wave’s Lost)

That I won’t know where I’m going
If I don’t know where I am
But I feel more
I feel more
Lost

Eleni

My short break in Rhodes vlog

It’s been a crazy busy few weeks as you probably have guessed from my recent updates.

I’m finally catching up with my blog and vlog (and my life in general). So, almost two months later here’s the vlog from the short break I spent at the beautiful island of Rhodes with my sister Stella.

Places mentioned/we’ve been:

  • Nafsika hotel. One of the cheaper options for accommodation, where we stayed. Sparkling clean, central, amazing sea views, pretty decent breakfast. We loved it.
  • The port area

  • Anemos taverna– The cafe/tavern we stopped before heading down to Tsambika beach. Gorgeous views.
  • Tsambika beach- Where the mountain meets the sea. No need to say much. We loved it.
  • Rhodes Old Town (including the Palace of the Grand Master of the Knights)
  • Steam Cafe. A cool, indie cafe with healthy options, perfect for a rest stop on our way to Rhodes Acropolis.

  • Pizza Del Vesuvio. The last place we ate before we heading back to Cyprus. We were after a traditional restaurant just opposite this but it was closed. Decent pizza and decent prices though.

Hope you enjoyed this. Next vlog will have an Italian flavour!

Eleni

Buongiorno principessa!

Ι’m sitting at a cafe at Roma Fiumicino airport, sipping on my cappuccino and forcing myself to finish my baguette, I’m too anxious and excited to eat, whilst waiting for my next flight to Reggio Calabria, a place I never knew existed until a month ago. How did I end up here?

Everything happened very fast, I didn’t have time to tell many people. Many of you will only just find out. So here it goes.

The day after my uncle died a teaching position came up at an IH school in Reggio Calabria, the job I didn’t apply a month ago when one of my CELTA tutors recommended the school. I always kept thinking whether I should have applied the first time, so when another job came up at the same school, I thought I’d give it a go. I had nothing to lose and I now knew that my priority was to get as much experience teaching as possible.

I’ve been applying for teaching jobs abroad for a week or so, I’ve been itching to go for a while, but I didn’t know what to do, whether I should go or not and what to go for. After uncle Spyros’ death, I felt like the universe was reminding me again that life’s too short to sit and wait. When this job came up again, I guess I saw it as a sign.

I applied on that morning and I had my first interview the same afternoon. I had a second interview two days later and by the end of the week I was offered the position (I’ll write a separate post on the whole TEFL job hunting subject and what to look for, it’s a minefield!). I was offered two more jobs, one of those in Vietnam, a country on my bucket list, but I loved the people at Reggio Calabria from the first interview, everyone I talked to has already been incredibly helpful and considerate and it’s obvious they love their job and their school. I also realised that I won’t have much free time to venture out much on my first year teaching. I need to be at a quiet place with not many distractions where people care about what they do and a great school at a small, coastal town in Southern Italy, with scenic views of Sicily across the water sounds perfect!

A week later, I’m at the airport on my way to Reggio Calabria and tomorrow I start my new job. Who would have thought. I’m thrilled and at the same time terrified. How will I teach English to little Italians?? Will my students, colleagues, flatmates like me? Will I be a good teacher? What if I disappoint everyone?

I guess I’ll have answers to all these questions very soon.

Every time I visit Italy the first thing that comes to my mind it’s a salutation from a classic scene in one of the best films ever made , La Vita e Bella (Life is beautiful). That’s what I thought when I woke up today to this view.

‘Buongiorno Principessa!’

Eleni

Funerals are so surreal…

On Wednesday, 31st of July, the first week of my CELTA course, I received that dreaded phone call, my little sister letting me know my grandpa had died. A few days later I had a chat with one of my tutors and he inevitably asked me how I felt. My least favourite question at the time. It was the first time I didn’t cry when I was asked that after grandpa’s death and I just said:

‘I hope my uncle doesn’t die too, if that happens, I’m out. I’m definitely quitting this course. I won’t be able to handle it’.

I immediately changed subject. I couldn’t even imagine it might happen anytime soon. He had just been diagnosed with cancer and was recovering from his operation before starting chemo.

Less than two months later, my sister, my mum and I went to see my uncle Spyros at the hospital. His operation was successful and he had his first chemo, which caused him unbearably painful sores, he couldn’t speak or eat much, but his mind and spirit were still strong. He was even joking. I genuinely thought at that moment that he would definitely recover. He would never give up.

Exactly a week later, his health deteriorated (he unfortunately caught an infection when his immune system was at its lowest) and he was asleep or unconscious most of the time. He could hear though… so my sister and I were to visit.

We didn’t make it. Just before we were to leave for the hospital, I received that dreaded phone call. Uncle Spyros died. Ι burst into tears, devastated. He didn’t want to die, that bloody cancer and chemo killed him.

The kindest, sweetest, funniest, most generous man, always smiling. We all loved him to bits. How is he now gone??

My mind couldn’t comprehend what had just happened. How is that possible? How did we lose both my grandpa and my uncle in less than two ? How can my aunt, who used to live with both, deal with this?

How is it possible that less than a year ago, at Christmas time, we all had a laugh at grandpa’s house and now they are both gone??

Death and funerals are awkward, sad, surreal, especially in the Greek Orthodox religion.

I was asked to write the eulogy a couple of hours before the funeral. Nobody had the strength to do it and I couldn’t not do it. His son Christos, with tears in his eyes shared some beautiful sentences and I did the rest.

I wept and wept writing it so I asked my sister, Stella, to read it, as she rarely cries in front of others but I was going to be right next to her the whole time, in case she breaks.

After a short, half an hour service, it was time for the eulogy.

Stella and I went up. She read the first sentence and then burst into tears. I looked around, his three beloved sons, my aunties, my mum, my cousin, everyone weeping. Flashbacks from the last time I had to read a eulogy, my aunt’s funeral 4 years ago kept coming to my mind.

I needed to do it for my uncle. With tears streaming down my face and with breaking voice I took over and managed to read it until the end.

‘Until we meet again. Rest in peace our beloved Spyro’…

And then the priest said… ‘Δεύτε τελευταίον ασπασμόν’ (‘the last embrace/goodbye’) where for the last time we say goodbye. Probably the worst but also the most necessary part of the service. A final peek at the dead, to help the brain realise their spirit has left their body. (in theory anyway, he just looked he was peacefully asleep). Closure.

I’ve been grieving for my uncle for the last week but because I never said goodbye to my grandpa, I still feel he went somewhere else and he will soon be back. It’s crazy.

After the funeral, probably the most surreal part of a Greek Orthodox funeral took part, the burial. We followed the car carrying him to the cemetery. There the priest read a few prayers and then his sons, my aunt and other relatives said their very last goodbye. He was lowered into the grave and then bread and other random things including a plate the priest broke there and then were also put in the coffin, before we all threw a bit of soil and the graveyard people did the rest. Customs I don’t really know much about.

After the burial, my grandpa’s home where a week before we gathered for grandpa’s 40 day memorial, was bursting with people who came to pay their respects. Bittersweet moments, sharing stories of my uncle, grieving him whilst at the same time celebrating life. A cruel reminder life is too short and we should enjoy and appreciate every minute.

‘Why are all crying, uncle Spyros is just resting and we will all see him soon, when we die? My 7 year old nephew, Angelos, who uncle Spyros adored, asked me with his little eyes full of questions on what he just witnessed.

‘Because we’ll miss him, we don’t know when we’ll see him again.’ I said. It was hard to answer most of the questions he had, I didn’t know the answers either, this was the only one I had a genuine response for.

A lot more happened this week, I’ll tell you soon, but the biggest and saddest was uncle’s Spyros death.

We’ll miss you θειε μου. Until we meet again.

Eleni

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

Mini break at Protaras

Good morning, I had an idea! The little sister messaged, a week before I was to finish my CELTA course.

Do you want to book a holiday apartment in Protaras for two days for the two of us to go the first week you are back? Sun, sea, swimming, food, relaxation?

YES, of course. I’ve been desperate for a holiday, I hadn’t had one since Christmas, I was overly stressed planning my last teaching session at the time and I was so tired I was still in bed on Sunday noon, this was just what I needed.

There was sun, sea, swimming and all the things she promised plus (unnecessary) drama and laughter. I vlogged the whole thing, perfect opportunity to start filming again. I’m a but rusty and because there was a lot going on in my mind, I spoke SUPER fast at times, but I hope you like it.

All the places we’ve been:

-Mimosa beach. A little bay hidden behind a hotel (where you can get drinks and food). Quiet and serene most of the time, perfect for a relaxing day in the sun and a swim in the clear blue waters and there is a diving instructor nearby if you are into it.

–Light and Blue Marelia apartments. Bright, airy and inspired by Greek island architecture, set on the top of a hill facing Profits Elias church (gorgeous views from their terrace), reasonably priced, we loved these apartments three years ago when we first stayed and they did not disappoint this time either.

-Profitis Elias church. A beautiful little chapel on the top of the hill overseeing Protaras, offering incredible views of the city and the sea. We went at night and the steps were well lit, the ascent only took 5 minutes. It’s definitely worth visiting if you are in the area.

-Pahit Ice. One of the island’s local chains offering scrummy ice cream. I recommend their pistachio ice-cream and their frozen fruit yogurt.

–Konnos Bay beach. A gorgeous bay situated between Ayia Napa and Protaras, one of Ayia Napa’s 14 Blue Flag beaches. Clear, perfect temperature water, waterports facilities and a great cafe overlooking the beach. Just stunning.

–Souvlaki tou Soukri tavern. A quirky Greek tavern in central Paralimni (a 10 minute drive from Protaras) where all food is served on wax paper. Everything we tried was delicious, especially their fried courgette balls and chicken souvlaki. Excellent customer service, generous portions and great prices (we paid 19 euros for three souvlaki skewers, a sausage, a meatball/’soutzouki’, 4 courgette balls, salad, tzatziki, fries and water) though have cash with you as they don’t accept card. Oh there is an ATM and parking space at the central square, a two minute walk from the restaurant.

–Andama tavern. A huge tavern in the middle of Protaras tourist area. One of the few in the centre that offers great, authentic Greek food. We tried their ‘Piatakia'(little plates), their version of tapas (smaller than meze) and everything tasted amazing, especially their Garida saganaki (prawns in tomato and feta sauce) and Politiko Kebab. A bit more expensive than we expected (we paid 40 euros for Politiko Kebab, fried calamari, prawns saganaki, salad, falafel and water) but great service and plenty of food for two, it was worth every penny.

I hope you enjoyed my video, I’ll try and make more over the next few months, depending where life takes me. Next one will be of Rhodes, since I’ll be exploring the island for a few days starting tomorrow.

Eleni

Following my dreams (just need to find out what they are) Chapter 2: Cyprus

Tuesday, 27th of August,

Wow. I do NOT know where to start from. If you could only see what is happening inside my head.

OK let’s start from right now.

I’ve been in Cyprus for two days and I spent the first one at the beach, at a gorgeous little bay in Protaras, Sirena Bay (with a cute, bohemian restaurant at the top of a hill overlooking the sea) which felt like manna from heaven, like rain after a hot, humid day, like a hot cup of tea and chocolate digestives on a freezing cold, winter afternoon.

As you know, I spent August in Cambridge doing my CELTA course. One of the most challenging, intense, stressful but also rewarding, extraordinary experiences of my life so far.

I haven’t slept more than a few hours a night for a month, I cried many a times, my anxiety completely paralysed me more than once, I didn’t get to see Cambridge much, visit Grantchester or the Wren library or go punting (I’m definitely returning in Cambridge just to do all this) but it was all worth it, not only for getting the qualification and marked as ‘above standard’ (Who? Me! I never taught in my life!) but mostly for the friends I made from all over the world. My classmates, my students, my flatmates. I’ll write about it very soon to share my experience with others who are considering doing the CELTA. For now, I’m still trying to recover from it. I still dream of lesson plans, teaching, my classmates, my tutors.

On my last day in the UK, I visited my brother Andi and had an awesome day in London. It didn’t feel real what was happening. I have actually left Southampton for good, I finished my course and I’m on my way to Cyprus, with no fixed plan. What the hell.

I’m in Cyprus since Sunday and I feel completely lost. Should I try and get an English language teaching job and get experience right away, since I absolutely loved teaching, but leave in a month, or should I do what I originally planned, and have a few months of holiday, write, make videos, read books, try different things and then go? Should I go in Vietnam first or Costa Rica? Asia or Latin America? Or Europe?

No bloody idea. For now, I’ll leave all of this behind and enjoy a couple of weeks of holiday, a few days in Protaras and then Rhodes (vlogs coming very soon), get back into my yoga, give my mind time to rest and reset and then who knows.

To all my friends, in Southampton, Cambridge, Russia, Bangladesh, Spain, Italy and wherever else you might be, I miss you dearly already.

I sometimes wish making a decision was easy, so many options but then again how boring life would be if I didn’t have any.

Eleni

When life gives you… grief

Monday, 5th of August, 2019

“What if my uncle or grandpa die and I don’t get to see them again? ” I wrote on my latest post about a week ago.

Less than a week later, one my of worst fears was realised. Pappou Costas, everyone’s favourite grandpa, the kindest, sweetest, funniest, loving, genuine man I had the blessing to have as a grandpa to look after me, take me cycling, take me down town on the bus at the big market in the old city on a Saturday, attend every birthday, name day, every single celebration, died a few days after his 83rd birthday.

When I talked to him last Saturday I promised I’d go see him first thing when I’m back in Cyprus in just a few weeks time. After he lost himself in his own thoughts for a moment (dementia is a horrible, horrible disease) he told me ‘I’m not going to be here, I’ll leave this place’. I cried after we hang up. I hoped he meant he’d leave the nursing home he was temporarily at but deep down I feared he meant he’d leave us, for good.

On Wednesday afternoon whilst observing my classmates teach, I got a message from my little sister and my mum saying that grandpa was not feeling that well. As soon as I got out of the classroom, I called the little one. I knew what she’d tell me before she spilled the words out. Pappou Costas died that morning, on his own at a nursing home, after a stroke.

I couldn’t stop crying but I went to the loo, washed my face and went back into the classroom. I can’t even remember how I managed not to cry in front of everyone. As soon as I walked out of the classroom I burst into tears and cried until bedtime.

I thought of quitting the course and flying home for the funeral the following day. But that wouldn’t have helped in anything. Grandpa’s only wish was for his children and grandchildren who adored, to be happy. Quitting the CELTA course and not having the option to teach English after my Cyprus break would have been a terrible decision.

“Please don’t quit, you flying here just for the funeral won’t make anyone happier. Stay, finish the course” my mum, my sisters and my cousin said.

They were right. And if I want to travel in the next few years, I’d have to learn to deal with terrible situations like this. I have been through them before, but it never gets easier.

I had no idea how to manage it. I was to teach the following day and all I could think of is that I’ll never see my grandpa again. I’ll never see his wide smile, with the odd hair from his moustache always falling into his mouth. I’ll never hear his laughter, his jokes, the way he greeted me every time he saw me or spoke to me on the phone.

But I had to find a way. People go through this every day. I can do it. First I emailed the course leaders. They may well notice my puffy, red eyes and they might misinterpret it and worried I’m not happy with the course.

I then sat down for hours preparing my lesson plan. Honestly, I can’t remember much from Wednesday night. It’s all a blur. Only thing I remember is all the messages I got from my friends. I never missed my friends more than last week and I’ve never felt them closer. I never felt so loved but so lonely at the same time.

I hardly remember anything from Thursday.

“Remember, teachers are really actors“, my dear auntie Sophie said. That’s what I tried to do. I cried my eyes out on my way to the college but when I walked in I pretended I was someone else. It worked for most of the day. I only broke down a couple of times.

When I walked into the classroom, one of the tutors, Jonny, took me to another room.

–‘Please don’t ask me if I’m OK otherwise I’d start crying’, I said.

-‘I know. I’m just checking…’ he replied.

And that was it. I started crying. He welled up. He gave me a hug and offered me a tissue and a few days off if I wanted to. I didn’t want to though. It would have probably made everything worse, staying at home in a house full of strangers, with no friends around. I will always remember that hug, a human feeling empathy and crying with another human’s pain. So poignantly beautiful.

I did OK in the input sessions but just before 2pm, when the funeral was just about to start in Cyprus, I went outside for some fresh air before the class I were about to teach. I had a moment of silence to myself in honour of my grandpa whilst I felt the sunshine warming up my face. It was cloudy all day but at that very moment the sun came out.

‘My grandpa brought the sunshine out all the way from Cyprus to me, to tell me everything will be OK. I love you grandpa’ I heard the little voice inside my head say. I wiped my tears, took a deep breath and walked back in the classroom.

If anyone told me a week ago that in the next seven days I’d lose my grandpa, cry in front of both of my tutors and somehow manage to pretend I’m OK for days and actually deliver a great class, I’d have never believed them. Who? Me! I cry watching TV adverts and wear my heart on my sleeve, how on earth did I manage this?

Sadly I didn’t make it to Chris’s wedding and I feel terrible for that. For those who know me in person or have been reading my blogs, you know how much I love Chris, he’s one of my favourite people in the world and I’d have loved to be there and celebrate with him the happiest day of his life, but I just couldn’t. I was exhausted. Mentally and physically. Drained. I couldn’t feel any other emotion other than numbness and deep sadness.

5 days later and I’m doing better. I’m still sad and I cried my eyes out writing this, but I can control my grief just enough to get me going for now. It will hit me as soon as I’m done with this insanely intense course. For now, a day at a time.

This post is dedicated to my grandpa and I couldn’t not write a few words.

“A society grows great when old men plant trees the shade of which they know they will never sit in”. Good people do things for other people. That’s it. The end.  Anne said to Tony on Ricky Gervais ever so relevant After Life. That’s what our grandpa did all his life. Good things for other people without expecting anything in return.

This is the last time I saw him, last Christmas, watching his grandchildren and grand grandchildren laughing and playing.

I asked the family to share some of their photos. Always surrounded by his loved ones, always laughing. That’s how we’ll all remember him.

I love you pappou mou. Our lives will never be the same without you. I promise I’ll always try to follow your example. Do good things for people. Make this a better world for everyone.

Eleni

Following my dreams (just need to find out what they are) Chapter 1: Cambridge

Saturday morning, 27th of July.

I’m sitting at an old, antique desk in my room in Cambridge. It’s cloudy and raining but I don’t mind for once. I needed the break from the heat. This country was not built for any temperature higher than 25 degrees.

Can I sleep in Your Brain comes up on my little Bluetooth speaker. I just finished my notes for my first teaching exercise on Monday and finally have some free time to sit down and write about all of this. It’s been too long.

A million and one thoughts in my mind I’m not quite sure where to begin.

Today is my grandpa’s birthday. He turned 83. But this time I can’t call him like I do every year. He is at a nursing home. Now my uncle’s recovering from a major operation, my auntie can’t look after both of them.

“He won’t even recognise you”, my mum messaged when I asked how I can contact him. “His dementia is taking over more day by day”. She sent me a picture I took of him and myself a few years ago. A classic mum habit. I told her off not because I was annoyed this time but because it makes me sad. I remember everything about that picture, his excitement when I asked for a selfie, laughing whilst taking it, asking me where to look and afterwards chatting about me splitting with my ex of 7 years.

“Are you happy? That’s all that matters” pappou Costas said then and smiled.

Tears came streaming down my face thinking of that day. (A few hours later my mum messaged me to give my aunt a call. She was with my grandpa. I called and wished him happy birthday. He recognised me at the beginning but not for the whole duration of the two minute phone call. I could feel his confusion every time he went quiet. At some point he asked me when I’ll go back to Cyprus like he always does and then the next minute he forgot what he was talking about. I promised I go see him as soon as I’m in Cyprus. He said he might leave by then. I choked up. I hope he meant the nursing home. He is slipping away from us…)

I tried hard not to cry last week saying goodbye to my Southampton friends and life, it didn’t feel like goodbye, my brain still struggles to understand what is happening. It feels I’m on a break and I’ll return back to Southampton any minute now.

I don’t think I’ll realise any time soon. One thing is for sure, I will miss so many people, friends I’ve known for years and friends I’ve only just met, because that’s life. It never stops, you meet people and make friends all the time. Thank you to everyone who came to my leaving celebrations (and they were MANY) or made the time to see me before I left.

I will miss every single one of you and all the little special connections I have with each.

Now I’m crying about everything. But I feel good. These are not sad tears. These are cathartic tears, letting everything out and finally hitting the reset button.

Last month feels like a blur. Friends’ birthday celebrations, after work drinks, Graduation week, the stress of dealing with removal companies, getting rid of furniture, cleaning, throwing out things. It was fun, bittersweet, exhausting.

I’ve been living in Cambridge for about three days now and I’m surprised how well I adjusted from living on my own to living with a house full of people (minus a few sleepless nights because of the strong anxiety and heat cocktail mix).

My hostess Mary is wonderfully weird. Though she’s lived in the UK for 28 years, her accent is so strong I struggle to understand her at times but she is adorable. Her cooking is amazing. She won’t let me do my own washing, it’s been years since someone else washed my clothes.

She wears a plastic bag on her head when she makes fish to keep the smell away (I chuckled when I walked into the kitchen for some water and saw her wearing the bag, she then told me to rush so I don’t smell like fish either), she hangs the bed sheets off the staircase to dry faster, unintentionally creating a little fort I found too amusing, and she randomly knocks on my door to ask for help with translation or to give me treats. I haven’t tasted melon that sweet since the last time I was in Cyprus.

My room is small but perfectly formed. Clean with all the essentials. The bathroom is sparkling clean and I only share it with one other. There are two kitchens, both huge, especially the guests one. I’m glad I opted for the host family option (though it’s just Mary, her adult children don’t live here, so thankfully no toddlers are running around screaming off their head), though I worry I’ll soon miss living on my own. It will happen eventually.

On Thursday, when the temperature outside hit 38 degrees, I decided I’d go out to explore Cambridge a little bit, since my course was to start the following day and I may not get the chance to do much wandering when I have homework. ‘I lived in Cyprus for 22 years after all, I can take some heat, if I get to live in a hot country from January, this could be my daily reality’ I told myself.

I’m glad I did (though I can’t remember the last time I sweat that much it felt like peeing myself). Cambridge is gorgeous, there is so much to see and do and a couple of friends already suggested places I’d love to go before I leave the city at the end of August.

Yesterday I had my first day of CELTA teacher training class. It was intense, exhausting but incredibly fun. Going to college, buying stationery, finally using my brain again, felt rejuvenating, even just after a day.

Most of the studying I did throughout my life (and I’ve done a lot, from degrees, to qualifications, diplomas etc), in only few occasions I cared enough to actively participate in the classroom. With this one I wouldn’t shut up. The perks of being a mature student or maybe in my case, finally being confident comfortable enough with myself to not worry too much about what others think.

Fiona, our tutor who ran the session on the day, is amazing (I hope Jonny is as good, though it will be tough to beat Fiona).

My classmates are all very beautifully different and unique, a wonderfully diverse bunch. Some travelled from their home countries, Bangladesh, India, Azerbaijan, Spain just to do this course, others are semi-retired and doing it for fun or to follow their partner to Colombia (ah young love). I’ll write about the course separately when I get the time.

I oddly felt more British even than the British in the group. I guess I’ve lived here for too long. And to think I worried I might find it hard with my accent and everything doing this course.

I worry I’ll struggle in Cyprus. And I worry about so many other things,- Will my stuff make it Cyprus? Will I get my deposit back? Will I manage to keep up with the amount of studying required? Will I make it to Chris’s wedding? What if my uncle or grandpa die and I don’t get to see them again? What if I’m not good enough for anything else and this is a huge mistake? – But I need to stop worrying. There’s nothing I can do about any of this and choosing to leave the comfortable but dull 9 to 5 life means there will be a lot more to worry about.

For now I’ll work hard to get my qualification and enjoy every moment in Cambridge.

Here’s to new beginnings.

Eleni

Travel tales- When I met Helen, the Fairy Godmother

Saturday morning. A gorgeous, warm, sunny, summery day, one of those I almost forgot I live in this country.

9:50am and I’m on the train. The lack of sleep and a few drinks the night before have taken their toll and I am exhausted but so happy I’m about to spend the day with my best friend exploring Oxford.

The train is packed (glad I decided to reserve a seat). I’m trying and failing miserably to take a selfie so I just put my music on and enjoy the sun lightly burning my skin. I don’t mind. I’ll the take the sunshine any day.

Just after the Winchester stop, a sweet, elder lady gets on the train and sits next to me. White curly short hair, glasses, a floral dress and a huge smile. She seemed so kind and lovely, sometimes I can tell straight away, I got a strong urge to start a conversation, though I was painfully aware that it might backfire, people are not always that friendly at this neck of the woods.

I’m so happy I did. We ended up chatting until she got off the train. It felt so easy and natural, as if we’ve known each other for years. I straight away explained why I was tired, where I was going and why and ended up telling her about my plans and dreams and hopes for the immediate future and she told me about her life (she was heading to her mother in law to look after her for the day and relieve her husband), her travels in America back in the 80s and she reassured me without realising that I’m doing the right thing.

She told me: “Go, travel, see the world. I didn’t meet my husband until I was 36 and had my children in my late thirties. Enjoy life whilst you can.“

Just before she got off, I asked her what her name was.

‘Helen’ she said.

‘Eleni, which is Helen in Greek. So lovely to meet you.’ I replied.

‘Lovely to meet you too dear’, she replied. She wished me the very best for the future and I felt she meant every word. She wasn’t just being polite. She actually meant it.

How often does it happen to meet a stranger you connect straight away, who as a Deus Ex Machina (απο μηχανής Θεός), a fairy Godmother re-assured me I’m actually doing the right thing, leaving my job and taking a leap of faith?

After she left I couldn’t stop thinking how many amazing, incredible humans, everyday heroes like her I’ll meet on my travels.

I’ll always remember Helen as a fairy Godmother who decided to pay me a visit to cheer me on and remind me to always believe that something wonderful is about to happen.

Eleni