Conceptions, Misconceptions, Preconceptions, and Contra-ceptions

Hello Dahlings. This morning after having my cuppa with Prime Minister Karamanlis, I stopped off and had a manicure/pedicure and emergency liposuction whilst en route to my lunch date with the Minister of Foreign Affairs, where afterwards I will be picked up by my stretch limo and transported back to my posh hotel (the deluxe suite at The Grand Bretagne in Syntagma Square) for a much needed massage and a siesta before hitting Gucci and Armani for designer duds with my diplomatic wife friends in preparation for my dinner date and nightclub hopping with Kristi Stassinopoulou and her crew. This is how I ROLL. . .

Right.

Dearies, let me tell you. The idea we are living some jet-setter exotic life out here is FALSE. There are days (many) I would bet my life my entire stock portfolio (as meager as it is) that my life is much, much more mundane than yours. MUCHO! (or MUY?)

Even people who are out here with us seem to have the same false perceptions.

Last night at dinner we were talking about flying. Now, I'm really not a big fan of flying, which doesn't bode well for our lifestyle. In fact, the actual flying doesn't bother me so much (not a huge fan of turbulence, but whatever). It's all the pain in the ass stuff that leads up to flying. Packing, getting to the airport 2-3 hours ahead of actual flight time, immigration, customs, security, body cavity searches. . .

But the funny part was when FM's colleague asked me about business class.

Business Class?

The last business class I saw was in college. And that was a mighty long time ago.

Almost as long ago as the last time I saw Vuarnet sunglasses (are these still "must haves"?), Coach purses, or any designer's name on my clothing (which was right after college when I thought I had a lot of money).

Seems she thought it natural I would be flying Business. Fantastic Man flies business (on the company's dime), so why not me?

And, the answer? So obvious. It's MY dime. And there is no way in HELL I'm paying the airlines that kind of money to sit up front in the big chairs. As uncomfortable and annoying as coach is, coach is my way of life.

Unless FM decides to start sending me cargo. . .

Out here, there is no hobnobbing (what a great word, it sounds X rated, but is socially acceptable) with heads of states, the rich and famous, Ambassadors, or even government diplomats for the most part. Sometimes our best friend is the hotel DOORMAN!

And as for me, NO, I am not on "permanent vacation" as so many people like to say. Although my life is not actually too demanding, it ain't vacation, folks. Trust me, I know the difference. I'm basically a housewife, just my "house" keeps changing, as well as my neighborhood, longitude, latitude and attitude.

Just to clear up a few conceptions.

We Interupt this Blog for a Public Service Announcement

Dear Athenians:

I hate to interrupt your completely self-centered lives, but I feel the need to inform you of a couple of facts:

1. YOU ARE NOT ALONE ON THIS PLANET. Other people exist. And if would be nice if you treated said other people with a little bit of courtesy.

2. RULES ARE MADE FOR YOU, TOO. You can't expect other people to follow the rules, then not follow them yourselves.

3. LINES ARE MADE TO STAND IN. Not cut in, ignore, or push through. It's a line, FOOL!

4. ALL THINGS SPOKEN (EITHER IN PERSON OR ON YOUR MOBILE) DO NOT NEED TO BE SCREAMED. An indoor voice will usually suffice.

5. PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION IS NOT THE PLACE TO BELCH, SCREAM AT YOUR HUSBAND, SING, OR ANY OTHER ANNOYING HABIT OF YOURS. Or rub your self all over me.


6. YES, WE GET IT. YOU ARE THE WORST DRIVERS IN THE EU. Now stop it, please.

HONORABLE MENTION: Driving you scooters on the sidewalk, and then acting like you have the RIGHT OF WAY.

Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

ARGHHH. I can always tell when I've had it with someplace and my second wind hasn't kicked in yet. I was going to tell you about our lovely weekend away in Andros Island, but the people of Greece just got to me today.



NOTE: The INDIVIDUAL people of Athens we've met have been almost nothing but kind. It's the masses as a whole that are driving me BONKERS!

Airline's Cancellation Policies are Worse than Tax Code

I do our taxes, so I know how not straight-forward the IRS is, and how easy it is to get lost in tables, graphs and tiny-printed tax code.

But, I think the airlines have it going over the IRS.

I love it when you call them to change your tickets, and even the representative you are talking to can't quite figure out what needs to happen and what it will cost. How am I, the consumer, suppose to understand?

Less forgivable is when they don't even know their own baggage restrictions. When their website, their representative and their ticket are all telling you different things. And no one knows what's right.

Frustrating.

And, really, if I worked at the help desk at Delta, how much $ would I actually make? I'm sure these are not rocket scientists here (no offense, Delta reservations peeps, I ain't a rocket scientist and you ALL make more money than me!).

So, maybe I wouldn't take the time to learn, either.

It's all handled now, although I'm seeing a CHARGE from Delta, but no REFUND for the ticket I cancelled. Funny how they can process the money I spend so much faster then the money due to me.

In other news, I am SOOOOOOOO completely hungover this morning. Ughhh.

A Funky Kind of Urine

I don't know what the deal-io with FM and I's pee is lately, but it STINKS! In a really, really horrific way. Think asparagus pee (if you are one of the people who get funky pee from eating asparagus), then multiply by 438 to the 26th degree. If it was just me, I would be anally searching the archives of WebMD for an explanation. But I doubt we are BOTH dying of the same, unexplained "our-pee-pee-smells-really-bad" disease. Right? RIGHT????

Man, it stinks though. I've have seriously had BM's which smelled better. Is it the food? The beer? The air? The combination of our urine mixing with water that seems to have a high mineral content? Whew.

Will be interesting to see if this changes once we leave. I hope so . . . I certainly, certainly do.

I would be embarrassed as hell to have to give a urine sample. I can see me putting the little container in the cupboard and then, five minutes later whilst I'm back in the examination room, hearing someone someplace in the doc's office going, "DAAAAAAMN!".

Things Overheard by Others

Since I left home last November for the Hong Kong/Athens odyssey there's a little more of me to love. . .

Yes, 9 months away from home drinking beer that's 5% instead of 3.5% and eating out almost everyday equals a few more inches and a few more pounds. I know it, my clothes know it, and even FM knows it, although he's loathe to admit it.

Part of the problem here in Greece (like in America) is the huge portions of food they feed you every where you go. And although FM and I split a lot of entrees and salads and such, I have a habit of ordering too much food. Not because I'm in insatiable pig (well, maybe a little), but I want to try everything while still revisiting my favorite things. . . which leads to over-ordering. And, over-eating.

The last time this happened, about a month ago, we were so embarrassed by the amount of food we had left over. I told FM the next time I wanted to order "one extra thing", he was to say to me, "Shut up, you fat bitch".

Now, normally I would never let him talk like this to me. But being I insisted, he's used this line a few times when I whined for something else at dinner. And, because he is generally a fairly soft-spoken person, says it with a smile on his face, and I forget a lot of people speak English here, I haven't really noticed anybody else's response.

Until last night. When I wanted to order a salad PLUS our entree (basically, I just wanted the salad). And FM lovingly looked me in the eye and said, "Shut up, you fat bitch,". And the guy at the next table almost fell out of his chair. . .

Always glad to entertain the locals.

From Souvlaki to Shawarma

I need to learn to keep my big mouth shut.

FM and I WERE scheduled for a brief Greek Island cruise, then a trip home (11 months since home for him, 9 for me).

And, last night, I had the audacity to say to him, "I think you like going home a lot more than me."

And, also last night, I said to him, "Maybe we'll get a last minute call and be sent to somewhere wonderful."

And last week when Tel Aviv showed up on his workplace website as an upcoming jobsite, I said, "Tel Aviv would be cool."

So, I think you can see where this is going. . . and also where we are off to next.

TEL AVIV.

No home, no lawn check-up, no doctor's check-up, no dentist, no golf, no passing go, no collecting $200.

We leave next Wednesday. For four months.

Mazel tov!

This Disturbs Me

I have no problem with topless sunbathing. I choose not to for a couple reasons. 1. I'm not accustomed to taking my top of in front of strangers, 2. I think I look better with my top on and the girls up where they are suppose to be, and 3. They would BURN like fat globules in a frying pan.

In most parts of the world, this is an accepted practice. And we see breasts everywhere we go. For the most part, it's not that common here in Greece. But we've seen some bare boobies.

What disturbs me is this. Last weekend, there was a family of three (Mom, Dad, son who was about 12) at the pool. Mom thought nothing of whipping off the top (albeit, she was the only one at the pool topless). Okay, fine. Then she pulled her bathing suit bottoms right up into the crotch of her butt, like a thong. Again, whatever. She looked pretty good.

Where my issues lie is in the behaviour of her son. As mom is lying there on her stomach, topless, with her buns in the sun, the boy comes up and starts paddling his mom's bare ass. Plus, he seemed fascinated at looking at her chest. And, she thought nothing of lying on the lounge chair, mostly naked, with her 12 year old son curled up next to her (think spooning here) with a towel over them. Very Creepy Greeky Oedipus-y, if you ask me.

Am I a prude, or is this weird?

Wasted Away Again in Sunny Mati and Protesting (some) of the New 7 Wonders

MATI

It's so hot here in Athens. . . How hot is it? It's so hot even the Stoics are complaining! (Groan)

So, we ditched again for the weekend. Back to Mati for sun, surf, and suds (no sand, sigh).

Ah, Aegean Sea, you are my friend. But, as a spoiled, Paris Hilton like brat, I think beach should be synonymous with sand. And I have yet to see any sand at Attica beaches. Oh, there's sand out there, you just need to get over about 20 yards of rocky outcroppings to get to it. In my mind, the word beach is synonymous with great swathes of sand leading up to crystal clear blue water. Not rock or gravel.

But, the water was beautifully clear, warm, and as snuggly as a mother's womb.

Next weekend, Andros Island. Known for it's SANDY BEACHES. We'll see.

FYI - Never set your watch to the Athenian bus schedule. We waited an hour for a bus that never came. Then walked a mile uphill in direct sun to another bus stop, where we waited another hour for our 40 minute trip back to Athens. ARGHHH!

But, when Greece gets you down, remember, at least the food is good!

Unwinding in Nea Makri

Sometimes, Fantastic Man just gets tired out. He likes to reeeeeeeeeesssssssssst. Which, for FM, means five naps in one day and general slothfulness, usually on the couch.

So, instead of letting his basic animal behavior set in on his day off during the week (4th of July), I decided we were going up the coast to relax. . . on the beach. . . with a pool. Merely sitting around the apartment in Athens is something I have become very good at, and DAMN IT, I need a change of scenery!

DESTINATION: NEA MAKRI:

On the way to the bustop at the bottom of our street:

Me: Aren't you glad we're going away overnight? Won't this be fun? Huh? HUH? HUH?

FM: I could be laying on the couch right now.

Idiot.

On the bus, where the driver refused to open the luggage compartment, thus making Mike drag our oversized backpack onto the bus with him.

Me: Do you want me to put the bag back here, honey?

FM: Oh no, I'm FINE.

Right.

The website of the hotel provided a map, and it looked like we were going to be right near where our friends live. However, during the bus ride, our friends called us and said, "Your hotel is actually in Mati, not where the map shows, but we don't know exactly where you need to get off, so come here and we'll drive you to the hotel". Cool. Thanks!

In the car on the way to hotel

Me: Thanks you guys for doing this, I don't know what we would have done without you!

FM: Aren't we going the wrong way?

Yes, FM, we actually rode by the hotel on the way, but we didn't KNOW, so now we have to go BACK! A whole ten minutes!

Get checked in, have a very nice room with a gorgeous view, but none of the lights or the AIR CONDITIONER (ohmynewGodairconditioningIloveyouandcannotbeartothinktolivewithoutyou) do not work. Have to change rooms:

Me: Hopefully, we will get as nice of a room!

FM: What kind of 4 star hotel is this!?!?

Move to new room. Same view, just on the second floor. Have 45 minutes before our friends are coming back to pick us up for dinner. FM and I go to bar, order large Mythos beer, sit on patio overlooking Aegean:

Me: Ah, this is the life. . .

FM: This beats the PANTS off Athens!

Finally. Happy Fantastic Man.

Still hasn't thanked me for making him go to the Acropolis on Sunday, though.

OTHER MENTIONABLE QUOTES FROM FANTASITC MAN'S DAY OFF:

Sitting by the pool was a beautifully put together gal, probably around 35, awesome bod, string bikini, hair to her butt (albeit bleached an unbelievable shade of blond):

Me: Did you see that hottie by the pool with the blond hair?

FM: That FLOOZY?

Floozy? What a word.

Getting packed up in the hotel room to catch the bus:

Me: All set?

FM: Let's make like a baby and head out.

Me: (Double-take at FM)

American Diversity in Athens

Last night we ventured down to an area just below the Acropolis for a pre-dinner drink and some food. After stopping at Bretos for a beer, we walked up to a restaurant with a nice outdoor garden directly underneath the most eastern corner of the Acropolis.

It was not a great epicurean experience, but the night air was wonderful, we had a family or two of cats and kittens to entertain us, and besides one other table, basically private dining for most of the evening.

The other table was a table of five. We discovered they were American by the simple act of eavesdropping on their conversation. Now, five Americans in a taverna in Athens does not a blog-entry make, but after observing them and thinking about it, I thought, "Well, maybe it does!".

You see, they were a veritibal sundry of Americans. Three guys and two girls. One guy definitely of Middle Eastern descent, probably Iranian, another guy Chinese descent. One girl of unknown origin, but guessing would say Latino and Asian or Inuit mix, looked somewhat Polynesian, but different. One gay guy (whitebread) and one girl that if you close your eyes and think of Iowa, this is what you would see. All middle-aged. All Americans.

Which led me to think, if they were five people from Japan (or China, or Korea, etc), Russia, Germany, India or almost anywhere, you would know. They would be pretty much uniform.

Which makes me celebrate our country, America, where so many different races, religions, sexual preferences, and cultures can co-exist if not in perfect harmony, at least without blowing each other up or civil war. And, in the whole scheme of things, based on how youthful our country is, we're doing it quickly compared to a lot of the world.

Plus, they kept calling the Acropolis (which we were RIGHT underneath) the Apocalypse, which is damn funny. Not only diverse, but humorous.

So Happy Birthday America, a day early, but heartfelt.

This Just In

As reported in the International Herald Tribune Today:

(Reprint not by Permission!)

International Traveler Update

Athens

Temperatures in Greece rose to record-breaking levels in a heat wave that has already killed five people, let to dozens of forest fires, power cuts and disruptions at archaeological sites like the Acropolis.

A meteorologist, Manolis Anadranistakis, said Wednesday that the temperature of 44.8 degrees Celsius (112.6 Fahrenheit) in central sthe day before had been the hottest since temperatures were first tracked there in 1897. The heat hit 36.2 degrees Celsius (115.2 Fahrenheit) in the Athens suburb of Philadelphia, where records began 52 years ago.

Employees at state-run museums and archaeological sites threatened to walk off their jobs. "Marble reflects the heat - temperatures reached 55 degrees Celsius under the sun at the Acropolis," a labor leader, Costas Oikonomou said Wednesday.

Temperatures were expected to drop below 40 degrees (104 Fahrenheit) starting Thursday.

Yes, folks, we are the harbingers of bad/hot/wet weather, where ever we go. . .

A Day at the Beach

Forgive me any typos, it is so difficult to see the computer screen through the sweat pouring off my brow. . . And the fact it requires me to leave the bedroom, the only AIR CONDITIONED room in the house, to do so. . .

In response to the unbearable heatness of being, we decided to escape to the coast for the weekend. I thought it would be wise to leave Friday night, but Fantastic Man cabashed that and we left on Saturday morning. Our destination? The Eden Beach Resort on Sounion Road on the way to the Temple of Poseidon (those who were here and made the trip, it's on that road).

Snagged the LAST TWO seats on the bus at 9:40 Saturday morning and had a nice AIR CONDITIONED ride to the hotel. Arrived at 11, checked in, cranked the AIR CONDITIONING in our room, put on our suits and hit the pool.

Oh wait. Not true. First we had to plunk down 38 Euro (yes, that is almost $50US) for two beach towels, because apparently in Greece a Beach Resort does not provide you with towels by the pool, but they do provide you with a boutique where said objects can be purchased for outrageous amounts of money.

But, in a fashion totally unlike me, I willingly payed and hardly bitched at all. Nor did I even worry/care/obsess (hardly at all!) about putting on my bathing suit for the first time in over a year, at my most fattest in over a year. . . I just rolled with it, kinda like a roly-poly! No pictures, though. Hardly took any pictures at all.

Got spots in the shade. Swam in the water (which was a salt water pool, how odd). Heaven.

At 2 PM we moved to the beach, had lunch at the cafe there, watched the people, realized you probably had to arrive around 6:30 AM to get a chair with an umbrella, and went back to the poolside.

Swam. Slept. Burned.

Cleaned up for dinner (included in our room rate! Nice surprise), but first decided to go and watch the sunset at the beach bar. Had a couple frosty beers, watched the sun disappear into the haze, enjoyed a nice breeze off the sea. Watched the Greeks continue hanging in their chairs under the umbrellas til well past 8 PM. Realized we were not fully accustomed to "beach lifestyle".

Went to dinner at about 9:15 and seriously ate the worst meal ever in Greece. Dog food buffet. But, we were a little buzzed up and it filled the pit. No nightlife to speak of, went back to the AIR CONDITIONED room. Slept for TWELVE HOURS! Missed breakfast.

Did manage to find some coffee, get acclimated to being vertical, check out by noon. Spent the afternoon enjoying the pool, some Stella Artois', a nice Ceasar Salad, and the shade. Jumped the 4 PM bus back to Athens, back in the hot 'hood around 6. Stopped and had a couple beers on the way home.

Sign said it was 42' C (107' F) at 7 PM. Egads.

Unpacked, took cold showers and went to Pizza Hut and sat in the AIR CONDITIONING until 10 PM.

Confessions of a tired traveler. . . Last week we actually ate at TGI Friday's one night for dinner. Not that we were to lazy to walk further (which we were, and the Friday's is right on our corner), but we thought that possibly being an American chain restaurant, it might be MORE AIR CONDITIONED than a "Greek" restaurant. It wasn't, but it was more overpriced than a "Greek" restaurant. So, chalk up one TGI Friday's visit and one Pizza Hut visit and one Hard Rock Cafe Happy Hour for our 4 months in Athens. Not bad.

It is SOOOOO hot. But, it does look like it will cool down this week, only be in the 90's, and they are calling for 68 in the evening on Monday, July 2. PLEASE LET THAT BE TRUE!

Anyway, you know what we will be doing every weekend starting at 7 PM on Friday until the time we leave here. Us and the entire population of Athens will be beach bound. And next Tuesday night, too.

A Sundae Sunday, Drugs, and a Discourse on TP

Those of you who know Fantastic Man know that he doesn't eat sweets very often. In fact, he sometimes almost tips his nose down in disdain at those of us who absolutely need chocolate in order to survive. So, it was quite surprising on Sunday when we went over to Thissio to have a late lunch and enjoy the sunshine, and FM ordered a chocolate mocha sundae for lunch and a large vanilla shake to wash it down with. WTH? I, of course, gained 3 pounds just watching him eat it. I'm sure he considered it a "light lunch", as it really is a liquid, right? Dang. I hate him and his metabolism.

Finally got off my duff and made dinner last night, including a salad despite my "brush with death" the last time I made one. Dined al fresco on the patio, was lovely. Okay, enough cooking for a week. . . heehee.

So surprised at the disparity of drug prices here. Most things aren't cheap, but those drugs that border perscription/non-perscription are inexpensive. For example, my high blood pressure pills are $10/month at home. Here, they are 4 Euro. At home my inhaler costs $25 stinking dollars. Here, 4 Euro. Why do we pay so much at home for drugs that are generic, have paid for their patent by a million times, and we usually need to go to the doctor to get a perscription for? So troubling. . . Can't buy any valium or anything "fun" though. . . Sigh.

Okay, there's this guy here named Fred (name changed to protect identity) who FM works with. His family recently has come to visit. This conversation took place at work, so I have to rely on FM's memory, which can be a little sketchy, but anyways. . .

FM: So, how's the family visit going?
Fred: Man, I can't believe how much toilet paper they use.
FM: What do you mean?
Fred: Well, when I got here (NOTE: that would be in FEBRUARY) I went down and bought two rolls of toilet paper and carried them to the house. And last week, I had to go buy two more!
FM: Two ROLLS? Or two packages?
Fred: Two rolls.
FM: For four months? Two rolls?
Fred: Yea, and now I'm probably going to have to get two more. I don't know what they are doing with it!

I think I have an idea what they are doing with it. My question is, what is Fred doing WITHOUT it?

Two rolls, four months. Not an equation I'm familiar with. Then again, maybe I'm just a "waste-full" person.

How I Concussed Myself, Or Was Abducted by Aliens. . .

A boring weekend with Fantastic Man working WAY too much. Put in 16 hours on Friday, 11 on Saturday and 8 on Sunday. I was going through major FM withdrawal. Should be the same as during the week, but I didn't get my FM-facetime. Missed him. . .

Sunday night was relatively calm, went out and had a bite to eat, came back and watched a movie (?what movie. . . hmmmm. . . oh yea, Hollywoodland, about George Reeves, the orginal Superman's murder/suicide. How strange his last name was Reeves, never made that connection with MY superman, Christopher). A normal Sunday evening.

Except I woke up Monday groggy, dizzy, light headed and with a headache (and no, this is not normal, despite my lifestyle). I wandered around feeling odd for a while, then went back to bed. . . until 11 AM! Got back up, was on the computer, and rested my left side of my head in my hand, and OUCH! Sent shooting pains all through my head and body. Upon further investigation, found my head to be all swollen, right above my ear. Took some aspirin and laid around for a little while longer.

What the HECK? Did I bang my head on something in the night? Did FM kick me in the head (I probably deserve it sometimes)? Did aliens come down from space and put a brain probe in, providing themselves with liquor soaked brain matter to dissect? It is a mystery.

I still have an egg sized lump just behind and above my ear.

How I Almost Died Last Night

Those of you who know me, know this. I am honestly, entirely, and completely afraid of worms. All worms. Anything that looks like a worm (except, oddly, a snake). I cannot tolerate these creatures are allowed to live on the same planet as me. I will NOT come into physical contact with them for all the darn tea in China. They scare me, and quite often will get up on their hind legs, hiss, show their fangs and threaten to kill me.

In other words, I HATE WORMS.

So, last night, I'm innocently preparing another fine dinner for Fantastic Man and I, including a lovely fresh salad prepared from exquisite and inexpensive Romaine lettuce. The potatoes were nicely browning in the skillet, the red cabbage getting warm, the salmon broiling beautifully in the broiler. I had shredded the lettuce, peeled and chopped the onion, cut up the red pepper, crumbled the feta and went to do a little clean up in the sink (of course we don't have a garbage disposal, this ain't America folks!).

And, there, right in my sink, was a light gray, dual antennaed SLUG! Oh God, I'm glad I took my blood pressure pill this morning. I think FM is napping on the couch, waiting for his call to dinner, and I make appropriate "I'm going to die" sounds, but quietly, so as not to wake him. I think, "It's okay, you can do this, you don't need a man,". I had just killed a big ole spider stalking my stovetop earlier that day. No biggie.

But, I'm freaking out. FINALLY, FM comes into the kitchen to see what all the low level whimpering is about, and I scream, "THERE'S A WORM IN THE SINK!!!!!". And do the uggah buggah dance and run for the safety of the living room.

Knowing fully this irrational fear of mine, he bravely goes directly to the sink to remove the offensive object. But, he's in there going, "What should I do with him?", and I'm wondering how he knows it's a male (okay, I'm NOT, I'm wondering what the H3LL he's asking me for, just get RID of it!). So, I suggest throwing it out the window above the sink (No, there are no screens on our windows, this ain't America!). And he does. And I live.

And, I toss the entire salad into the trash.

It's nice to be married to a hero.

Although I am afraid he didn't launch the little guy out the window far enough, and he may be slowly edging his way back up the wall, leaving a trail of slime and gore, to our unscreened window, waiting to take his revenge on me while I sleep. . . .
The whole experience lends credence to a thought I've had recently (READ: most of my life), that I should just STAY OUT OF THE KITCHEN (unless it's to get another beer. . .).

Around the World in 8000 Tampons

Traveling around the world as a menstruating woman with a preference for tampons can have its challenges.

First, some background information (and I can't believe I'm actually doing this).

Wikipedia's definition of tampon:

A tampon is a plug of cotton or other absorbent material inserted into a body cavity or wound to absorb fluid. The most common type in daily use is a usually disposable plug that is designed to be inserted into a woman's vagina during her menstrual period to absorb the flow of blood. The use of these devices has occasionally caused serious health related issues, such as infection and even death in rare cases (see Toxic shock syndrome). In the United States, the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) regulates tampons as medical devices.

I felt the need to do that as I have actually encountered adult males who do not know the difference between a tampon and a pad. How that is possible I do not know. Also, I would like to make mention of the fact that they come in different sizes, regular, super, super plus, which is indicative of their girth and absorbency power. A regular tampon is about as big around as my little finger, a super plus is slightly smaller than a tube of lipstick and a super is somewhere in between (can't think of anything that size that all can relate to). This will prove important later.

On a side note, once in my twenties, a man of comparable age asked me (and I quote verbatim), "What happens when you have your period? Is it like a faucet or something?". HUH? And, my girlfriend's ex-husband (who was in his thirties at the time) actually asked her once (again, verbatim), "Can't you just shut it off for a while, like at night?". GEEZ.

Seriously. How can men not know this stuff? Especially grown-up, married men?

So, now that we all know WHAT a tampon is, how it's used, etc., I will amuse you with "Tampons Around the World".

Actually, that's pretty much a misnomer, as there are still many parts of the world where tampons are not readily available. Or, in existence. Which leads us to our first tale.

Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic

Our first trip after getting maried was to the Dominican Republic. We were scheduled to be there from September to December. I, having not traveled extensively for long periods of time, never thought about the tampon issue, thinking obviously that you just go to the store and buy them when you need them, right? Wrong.

Appears that the Catholic influence is so strong still in the Dominican Republic that you can't buy these innovative wads of cotton. Seems there is still some belief that by using a tampon, you will be wrecking your virginity, thus making you less valuable as a future wife.

In a panic, I searched relentlessly though grocery stores, convenience stores, and drugstores with no success. Finally, in desperation, I asked a helpful lady at the hotel, who told me to go to one specific drugstore in town. Where they promptly sold me a box of 5 (!!!) for $10. Now, I think tampons are overpriced regardless. At home I buy OB tampons, and they usually cost about $6 for 20. And I find that outrageous. I hate spending $6-9 a month on these stupid things, but what choice do we have. But, now, faced with the prospect of needing around 120 for the next three months, at about $2/pop. . . whew. Mind blown.

I quickly learned my lesson, and I learned it well. I bought a collapsible bathroom bag on my next trip home and jammed it full of six months worth of tampons in readiness for our next departure. Which was Bulgaria (3 months), Moldova (6 weeks), Egypt (7 weeks), and then Korea (4 months). Obviously, doing the math, I had miscalculated and not brought enough, which leads us to. . .

Seoul, Korea

Here I could not find a tampon. . . anywhere. And, due to the language barrier, etc., I never did find out why they weren't there, only that they were most definitely not. However, after about 6 weeks, Mike and I were dining at a TGI Friday's and I went to the bathroom, and lo and behold, they were passing them out! I grabbed as many as I could. Only to be sorely disappointed when I opened the first one and realized they were about as big around as a mechanical pencil. What was I supposed to do with that? Tie three of them together? Worthless waste of cotton. Fortunately, we went to Guam for a short visit while in Korea, and the K-Mart there was able to hook me up.

Amman, Jordan

Uneventful eight months or so in the tampon department until we were leaving Jordon. Fantastic Man and I were the only two people at the airport at the time we were going through security, and for whatever reason the customs official there decided I needed to open my bags. Okay, I typically don't argue with these people. . .

So, he unzips my travel bag of tampons, pulls one out and holds it up. He is examining it from all angles (NOTE: OB tampons do not come with applicators, they are just shrink-wrapped in plastic, so they resemble a cotton bullet or something), obviously not knowing what this strange item was. The following conversation takes place:

Him: What ez dis?
Me: A tampon, sir.
Him: (Puzzled look on his face) E what?
Me: Still a tampon, sir.
FM: Dying of laughter about 20 feet away behind the customs official's back.
Him: What for?
Me: (Uh OH, I really do not want to have this conversation about unclean menstrual blood with a Middle Eastern stranger) Ummmm
Him: (Slightly angry) What use for?
Me: (thinking quickly on my feet, pointing to my face) It's for make-up, sir.
Him: Ohhh, okay. (zips bag back up, puts back in my suitcase.

WTF?

Of course, FM almost wet his pants, telling me I should have pantomimed it for him. Yea. And spend years in a Jordanian jail for propositioning a customs official. Whatever, get on the plane.

All is well again with the world, breeze through easily until . . .

Rome, Italy

Now, understand, we were spending six months in Rome, with no idea if we would be going home afterwards or continuing on with our journeys, so I was thrilled to see that they widely sold OB tampons everywhere. As our time was running down and we still didn't know where we were going next, and my supply was dwindling, I ducked into the neighborhood pharmacy and bought a couple of boxes of Super Plus.

When I got back to the apartment, I opened the boxes to put them in my "tampon bag", and oh. my. God, these were the biggest tampons I've ever seen. Bigger than a wine cork! They were huge. I was laughing uncontrollably, had to show FM immediately. I was worried about how I would ever get them back out.

Guess Italian women are a little "loose", heeheehee. Seriously, these were some whomping big tampons.

Other places where even though I didn't need to buy any I couldn't find any:

Mauritania
Benin
Chad (although to be fair, I only went in one actual store there)
Egypt
Burma

Okay, enough for now. Just thought I'd share. And, if you are a woman with a preference for tampons and you are still of a menstruating age and are leaving the country for an extended period of time to someplace a little off the beaten track - bring them. Even Lonely Planet Travel Guidebooks address this issue now.

Earliness, Elevators, and Eczema

EARLINESS:

Before I forget to admit to this (I promised Fantastic Man, Chris, Jen and Herb I would put this on the website), last week Thursday we went to the Badminton Theater to see "Jesus Christ, Superstar", which, incidentally, I also forgot to review for you. Okay, first the review (from my perspective): It was pretty good. I had forgotten the play was entirely portrayed through song, however. And I enjoyed the second half much more than the first. The production company that brought it here did it a little differently than it's original. If you've seen the original, you know everyone was protrayed as hippies and flower children. This was more industrial/grunge/gothic in costume, setting, and scenery.

Herb had never seen the play, but we were joking around, and I said to him, "You know how this ends, right?", and he says, "Yea, I read the book,". Was funny. (FYI - If you've never seen the play, it ends with Jesus dying on the cross. No resurection scene, just, "It is finished").

ANYWAY, the thing I promised to tell you was I made us all an hour early to the play. You see, I have some kind of mental block when it comes to military time. Now, obviously, I know how it works, but for some reason if you say 21:00 to me, I have to stop and think. . . HARD. . . about what time that actually is. When we originally talked about going to the play, we were going to go on the weekend, and because they do two productions on Saturdays and Sundays, the times are different than during the week. So, on Sat and Sun, the play starts at 8. In HUGE numbers on our tickets, it says 21:00, but me, being military time challenged and basically an idiot, just assumed (and we all know what that means) it was at 8. We raced through dinner (at the Chinese/Greek place in the basement of our building), and because we were walking and didn't know exactly how long it would take to get there, we "lit a shuck"* (explanation on that one in a minute) out of there , and got to the theater at 7:45. There were a few people around, but not many.

When I had went to buy tickets, there were lots and lots of seats available, so at this point I am attributing the lack of people there to two things. 1. The Greeks are inordinately late for everything, and 2. They didn't sell many tickets for the show. Well, Jen and I needed to use the bathroom, which was downstairs where they admit you to the theater, so an usher begrudgingly let us down there, and as we exited the bathroom, we were immediately told by another usher, "You are not allowed down here right now!", so we scampered back upstairs.

But, I'm thinking, "Curtain is in less than 10 minutes, why aren't they seating us?", so Chris goes and asks, and they tell him, "Curtain is at 9 PM,". And, of course, it IS, because that is what 21:00 MEANS! FOOL!

I did this to us in Bali, too. Made us four hours early to the airport instead of two. I am no longer in charge of interpreting military time.

To make up for it, I did buy us all a round of beer to idle away the time. And, in perfect Greek style, the curtain went up at 9:20. . .

*"lit a shuck"- Our dear friend Herb, being from Alabama, is full of southern colloquialisms like this. Apparently, if you are trying to get somewhere in a hurry, or sometimes just leaving someplace, you "light a shuck out of here", or "He lit a shuck home". It comes from "olden days" (READ: pre-flashlights, or cars, or whatever) when they would light a corn husk to see their way home. Anway, he says it occasionally and it never fails to crack me up. Other personal favorites are, "Well, golly-bum," and "diddybop", as in "I diddybopped on over there," (seems Herb does a lot of this diddybopping). Also, Herb never takes or brings anyone or anything anywhere, he is forever "carrying" them or it. As in, "I carried my family out for dinner last night,". Now, I promise, I'm not making fun of Herb, or even of how he talks. I just get a kick out of some of the things that come out of his mouth!

Okay, that was a long and drawn out explanation of being early to the play. . .

ELEVATORS:

We live in a fairly old building, with a fairly old elevator. It is posted on the outside of the elevator and on the inside, not to have more than three people or 250 kg (around 550 pounds for the metrically impaired) in the elevator at a time. Now, in the 7 weeks we've lived here the elevator has been fully operational, as far as we know. HOWEVER, after walking Chris and Jen up to the President's Hotel for their cab ride to the airport at 2 AM on Tuesday morning, upon my return the elevator was broke. Now, we just rode it down not 20 minutes prior. Apparently, us three and their luggage weigh more than 550 pounds (a rather scary thought indeed, I'm blaming it on the olive oil). So, I got to walk up six flights of curving stairs in utter darkness. To the buildings credit, it was up and running when FM left at 7:30 AM for work. Make note of this, future guests!

ECZEMA:

Sometimes I have a slight case of eczema on my index fingers and elbows. Definitely an adult onset thing, and definitely not chronic, but somewhat reoccuring. Obviously, something here in Athens, be it the water, the air, the weather, I don't know, is making it flair up quite painfully on my right elbow.

I went to the pharmacist about three weeks ago, looking for some hydrocortisone cream, as this usually takes care of the problem. The pharmacist (and no, not the HUNKY HUNKY one), told me in Greece they do not sell hydrocortisone, but sold me something different they use for eczema. For about 4 Euro. When I got home, I googled it, and the NUMBER ONE INGREDIENT in it is hydrocortisone. Okay, whatever. But, it hasn't really been working well. So, yesterday, I stopped into a different pharmacy (they are everywhere!) and talked to the pharmacist there (and old, fat man), who recommended Elidel. I go to pay for it, and it was 42 EURO! Golly bum, it better work!

A Field Trip to the Temple of Poseidon

Finally, the weather, Fantastic Man, and myself all decided to cooperate (or so we thought in the way of the weather) on the same day and enable us to go on the much talked about but continuously postponed "field trip" down the coast to Cape Sounion and the Temple of Poseidon. The weather in Athens is HOT, feels great. FM and I spend the morning sitting around the house and veranda (where he actually went inside as he was too warm), so we figure we're good.

My guide book (Lonely Planet) gives very little information about what to expect, but we expect a 1 1/2 hour bus ride, some old rocks, someplace to eat and drink, and a bus ride back. We leave late afternoon, as we heard this is "the best spot" to catch a sunset in mainland Greece, and we want to be there.

I have seen this particular tour advertised widely throughout Athens, and the going cost is 38 Euro/person. I thought this seemed inordinately high, as round trip the bus costs 10,80/person and the Temple admission is 4 Euro, so for approximately 30 Euro, not withstanding food and drink, we could do it on our own, right? Right. . . .

Take the subway to designated pick-up spot for bus and meet up with Herb, as he's decided to brave the trip with us. We walk a couple blocks to where the bus stop is supposed to be. Completely unmarked. Have to ask two different people for directions and finally figure we are at the right spot, as we are surrounded by white-haired English speaking tourists all yelling at each other, "It's right here Wilma/Bertha/George," whoever else is on the trip. Bus arrives, and after a delay of about 10 minutes while they are scrubbing it with a bucket and brush (?), we pull out at about 3:40 PM. And then circle Athens picking up other people at other bus stops much closer to home. And, easier to find. And more clearly marked. Okay, live and learn.

Off we go, on the same path as the tram took us to the coast a month ago. And then we are into unchartered territory, clipping along the coastal road at a pretty good pace. It is pretty, if not a bit stark, and the sea looks gorgeous. See lots of people along the way sunbathing, swimming (I think it's a bit early and a bit cold for this, however), fishing and enjoying themselves along the rocky seaside.

After 90 minutes we still don't see anything that looks like the end of the road. The Temple of Poseidon is built up on top of a large cliff overlooking the Aegean Sea, and supposedly can be seen for miles from the ocean. These Greeks liked to build things high up. So, another 30 minutes on the bus (which was comfortable enough, climate wise and seat wise, so okay), the Temple finally comes into view. It looks big. And high. And we hope the bus is going to drive us all the way up the hill.

We were planning on arriving around 5, but it's now 5:45. The bus does take us directly to the entrance, where there is a kiosk selling drinks and snacks, a gift store and a cafe/restaurant underneath the Temple. I ask the money taker dude on the bus when the busses go back to Athens, and he tells me on the hour. The last bus is at 8 PM. Barely enough time to catch the sunset, see the Temple and have something to eat. As we are really there for the sunset, we decide to have some sustenance first.

Go and have a seat in the restaurant. Wait 15 minutes for someone to come to our table (not unusual in these touristy spots), order a beer and ask for a menu. We are told, "We have no food." This seems odd, as it IS a restaurant, there is a sign declaring this fact, but we figure maybe it's off-season and they aren't serving food. About halfway through our beers we see plates of FOOD going to other tables. Now, we're mad. Our last meal was at noon. Okay, whatever, not like we've never been slightly hungry before, but knowing we will have to wait until we return to Athens to eat is somewhat bothersome.

Instead of making a scene regarding the blatant lie we were told, we decide to go look at the Temple, watch the sunset, then grab some snacks from the kiosk for the ride back and have dinner in Athens.

Climb to the top, and my goodness, it is COLD! The wind blowing in off the sea is biting. FM didn't wear a jacket (see above where he was too warm to sit on the balcony at our house), and I had on capris and a hoodie, and I was freezing, too. Managed to stay up top about 40 minutes, decided to come back down, skip the sunset, grab some snacks and get ourselves on the 7 PM bus.

FM and Herb go to hit the bathroom before the ride back and I walk down to the kiosk to get some snackies. Except it's closed! Arggh. I'm hungry, and cold, and getting a little grumpy (as I do when I need to eat!). But, we are leaving an hour earlier than planned, so food is in our near future. We plan on jumping off the bus at Syntagma, about a 20 minute shorter ride than on the way there, and going to this restaurant we've been scoping out but never been to for dinner. Figure by 9ish we'll be dining.

On the bus, FM and I take a seat in front of a youngish Greek couple (possibly late 20's, early 30's) and they never shut up. And, not in "indoor" voices either. They are loud and giggling, and kissing. Plus, the dude keeps throwing either wads of gum or hard candy into his mouth and is making noises which would shame a cow. It's disgusting. Not to mention he keeps ramming my seatback with his knees.

His girlyfriend disembarks after about 45 minutes, and another innocent gal takes the seat next to him, and off they go with another loud conversation, more lip smacking, and more kicking of my seat.

And, his phone rings incessantly at a completely unnecessary volume with a most irritating ringtone, and he refuses to answer it, so it just rings and rings (it's probably his wife and he seems to be chatting this girl up pretty hard).

Of course, this all may have been more interesting if they were speaking English, as at least I could have eavesdropped then, but no, alas, they are speaking Greek. FINALLY, they shut up and he quits smacking his candy, and he goes to sleep. Ah, peace and quiet.
But now we are two hours into our return trip and no where near Athens. Seems the thought of incoming traffic to Athens from the seaside on a Sunday night completely escaped us. We are CRAWLING!

Finally, we are on the road to Athens, and the traffic patterns pick up a bit. Reach Syntagma about 9:30 (!), walk two blocks to the restaurant, and it's CLOSED! WHHAAAH. But, across the streets blinks the neon sign of the "Golden Chopsticks" restaurant.

Looks like we're having Chinese. I would have probably ate anything at this point, but the food was good, better than our basement Chinese restaurant, but not quite as convenient. Even had a Tsing-Tao beer to complement the flavor!

Home around 11:30.

The Aliens Bureau

Now, I know it isn't possible, but if by some chance I'm reincarnated as a country (let's say GREECE for example), and I was giving Americans a hard time about staying in my country for more than 90 days, and I had to have a place for them to report to extend their visa's, here's a few things I would do:

• Place the Aliens Bureau IN TOWN, and not way out in some seedy neighborhood that is hard to get to, find, etc. I took the train (as advised by the Embassy) and then tried to walk there, discovered I couldn't find it, see next point, then tried for 20 minutes to get a cab to take me there)
• Put the STREET NAMES on the STREETS. Every street in Athens has a name. And a street sign. Except Petrou Ralli, one of the biggest streets off of Pireous Street. No sign. Nice.
• Employ more than one person at the Aliens Bureau who speaks ENGLISH!
• Make that person be helpful and kind.
• Let people renew their visa's anytime.
• And, maybe, just maybe, if I was feeling in a really generous mood (as a country), I would make it a law that taxi drivers must pick up customers and take them where they want to go, instead of rolling down their windows, asking, then saying no and speeding away.
• Have a website explaining all the rules and regulations, necessary paperwork, directions to the Aliens Bureau, a phone number, people staffing the phone, etc. The Cambodians have a better systems than here. And that is saying something people!

So, obviously things did not go so well Tuesday. The basic outcome was I was there "too early" and need to go back 25 days before my current visa expires. I have to PAY THEM 470 Euro (which is $620 dollars) to get this extension. You would think they would be glad to take my money anytime. What a strange government. And, I get to go again. What a treat.

When I finally convinced a taxi to take me back to town (20 minutes standing outside waving frantically at taxi's), I had a light lunch in the sun in Syntagma, tried to calm down, was unable to, went shopping for dinner and came home.We did go out and play darts and drink beer that night, just to take my mind off HATE!

Had to pass this story along, as it was too funny to keep to ourselves. On the first floor next door to our house is a Greek/Chinese restaurant that never appears to be open. However, due to the inclimate weather, my failing health, and our laziness on Saturday to provide provisions for dinner (the Carrefour IS closed on Sunday), we ventured over for some Chinese food last night.

Had a decent meal of Hot and Sour Soup, some Fried Rice, and Beef with Fresh Vegetables (the place is owned by some Vietnamese people, no Greeks or Chinamen to be seen). Had two beers, and just before leaving, I knocked my beer glass over (empty) onto the table (glass topped), and it BROKE. Now, I have a tendancy to be somewhat clumsy at times, so this isn't the first time Fantastic Man has witnessed such a feat, but he's always embarrassed (as I am, too). But, we made our apologies, were assured it meant good luck for us, etc., and proceeded to get the heck out of there.

So, FM stands up to put his coat on, and in that grand sweeping gesture of swinging it around to his other arm, knocks a wine glass off the next table onto the floor, shattering it.

Now we are both laughing profusely, while trying to apologize AGAIN to the owner. I don't think we'll be back soon. Or, they probably will only let us have one beer apiece, instead of the mighty two we had.

Oops!