Words are hard to come by. I feel like my words may sound like a broken record in the story of our world.  I am sad. I am heartbroken to hear about another terrorist attack. I am devastated to hear about loss of life and injury. I feel terrible for everyone who has been disrupted by this unconscionable act.

…One year ago I remember walking through Southern France. In a small seaside shop in the town of Collioure, I saw a little sign, “Je suis Charlie.” I felt heartened. I wanted to capture that moment. I felt grateful that France was finding its way back.

It is interesting how we find our travel and how travel finds us.  A year ago we pulled the boys out of school for a semester, enrolled them in online school, and decided we should travel. At the time my mom was understandably worried when I told her I was planning to visit Paris. The Charlie Hebdo attacks had just happened and I got it. Instead of Paris, we opted for Rome, Barcelona and Southern France.  We have been to Europe three times since that trip.

As fate would have it, we found our way to Paris five months later. Paris was better than I could imagine. The French people are kind (yes kind), strong and resolute. I also felt an odd comfort at the site of the occasional “Je Suis Charlie” sign.  My first site of the Eiffel Tower was magical and I still dream about the quiet little park we found in the city. A few times we would bring lunch there, find a bench, eat our crazy grocery store mix and people watch. At one point Dave dropped his iPhone and shattered his screen. He had to work so the boys and I found our way to the Apple Store next to the Louvre. I stood in a long, long line. When I showed the Apple guy Dave’s iPhone screen, once he connected that we were REALLY Americans, and not Germans or English (and therefore he couldn’t swap our phone for one of the ones they had in stock), he gave me a very compassionate eye roll and told me (in a very nice French way) that we were boned.  

Our journey to Paris actually began in London. After a few crazy fun London days, we took the Chunnel to Paris, where we met up with Dave. After a few days in Paris the four of us hopped on a train to Antwerp, Belgium with a stopover in Brussels. I will be honest. We spent more time in Bruges and Antwerp than we did in Brussels. Antwerp is also the place where I got the worst food poisoning of my adult existence, which led me to my terrible Amsterdam experience: three days of not-stop puking.

My first impression of Brussels was also terrible.  We arrived at the Brussels train station. It was cold and rainy. People were peeing in the street. In fact I think people in the area of the train station pee in the streets so so often that Brussels caved and set up an outdoor open urinal system sort of akin to a giant plastic hand washing station. I only wish I had a picture. As we left the Brussels train station for downtown Brussels, we realized that we had no idea where to go. We walked back and forth when I finally suggested we ask someone. So we walked across the street and into a little restaurant. The man did not speak English or German or French. I want to say the shops next to his and his included were vaguely Arabic, but I am not sure. I showed him the map and pointed to where I wanted to go. He kindly directed us toward the downtown area. His shop, along with all the other shops next to his, were also mostly empty. I felt guilty not buying anything.

We left and found our way to historic Brussels.  Please know that I am not saying this next part to jump on the bandwagon of today’s sad news. I am saying it because it is true. Here is where I try to make a connection by telling you what a trashy, unkempt hole Athens appears to be. And like my lovely Finish friend, Marika, kept promising:

“Belba (because that is what she calls me), within this trashy hole there is magic.” (She is right, by the way).

As we walk along dirty, trash-filled streets, littered with abandoned cars and structures, Dave keeps repeating the following phrase (or close to it):

“Once you get out of the historical section, most European cities are like this (“this” meaning trashy, dismal, and 1970’s broken-down-dystopia-like).”

Dave is correct and actually Athens has been the worst city so far. Back to Brussels. It was was not much different. The area around the train station felt heartbroken and discarded.  Yet, like Dave promised (get to the historical center), Brussels also holds the magic. He was right. The closer we walked to the center of town (which really did not take long), the more inviting Brussels became. The energy changed. The cold, dark, rainy air lifted. Graffiti morphed into beautiful wall art, art depicting favorite comics like the Smurfs, Tin-Tin and Asterix.

Like I mentioned, we spent more time in Bruges and Antwerp. And even though Bruges is literally out of a movie and Antwerp is the diamond capital or whatever, the people in Brussels were friendly and inviting. Dave is right. Brussels is cool, put together and effective. We loved the food. The boys could not get enough of the 1 Euro waffles. We were tired from traveling and cold from walking in the rain. A very nice Greek man welcomed us into his restaurant. Sure, hailing us over is part of their schtick. It didn’t matter. They treated us well. Talked to us and made us feel safe in a town we were only passing through. I remember sitting at this man’s restaurant asking Dave why there were so many Greeks in Brussels. We talked about the poor Greek economy and we talked about established systems and that these immigrants were finding a better way here in Brussels.

A few days ago (while in Athens) I was commenting on how much I loved the Greek Food in Brussels. I said,

“those Greeks were so much happier about serving their food there.”

I think Dave responded with something like,

“It is more prosperous in Brussels. I’d bet that a popular Greek restaurant in Brussels provides them with a comfortable income and they get to live in a country with more effective institutions.”

Between that trip and this trip, another terrible terrorist attack took place in Paris.

Now we are in Greece thinking about Brussels. I am really sad. This is our last day in Athens. We spent our day walking through the city, finding our way to the temple of Zeus, ignoring selfie-stick-sellers, inserting ourselves into traffic (the Greek way, as you have to be a little aggressive or you’ll never get across the street), admiring the graffiti, eating Gyros and potatoes, moving hotels and buying more water.  I have been reading Facebook posts about Brussels.  I was especially touched by one friend who was born in Brussels. I hope he doesn’t mind me sharing his words here:

“So …. I was born in Belgium … I’ve always had this ‘thing’ with my daughters that whenever they mention Belgium … Usually ordering waffles I yell Belgium loudly … Sometimes they embrace it and laugh and sometimes in the middle of a restaurant they cringe with embarrassment. Today I yell BELGIUM at the top of my lungs for everyone to hear. BELGIUM!! Tout mon amour a mes freses et soeurs de Belgique.”

Another friend posted a picture of herself in Brussels in colors representing the Belgium flag. I love how she points out how the photographer specifically arranged this photo. See, the colors she was wearing and the flowers in front of her reflect the Belgium flag. I feel oddly connected to the Brussels tragedy because Mormon missionaries from Utah were injured. I wonder if anyone else feels the same. Several friends are traveling in Europe right now. I was glad to hear one made it safely to Turkey and the other was safely on a plane back to the US from Paris with her daughter and husband. Other friends contacted us to see if we were ok. Selfishly I was grateful they checked in.

Of course we are aware that France, the United States and Belgium are not the only ones who suffer terrorism, tragedy, economic devastation or are fleeing a terrorist regime. As we travel it is beyond clear that people are struggling, suffering, in over their heads, fleeing and simply trying to find a better way of life. It has not gone missed on Dave, the boys and I that our world is not a pretty, well-kept historical village. I wish it were. In this moment I want to turn my thoughts, prayers and love towards Belgium.Life is hard! In all the moments, please know we always lean our love and hope to all those who are suffering and trying to make it better.

What makes me sad is the Greek response to their beautiful country.  Every time I tell a Greek,

“Your country is beautiful!”

Their quick, self-conscious, and immediate response is always, “Really? There is so much trash! We hate the trash! We don’t know how to recycle.”

Greece is gorgeous. Greece also has a huge trash problem, apparently. Greece is not alone when it comes to trash. I have visited many countries where I have walked along streets filled with disowned pets fishing through used and discarded diapers and fast food containers filled with half eaten meals. When I was talking about it to Dave today, he said that when countries have dysfunctional governments, it’s always the little things like garbage handling that give it away. I don’t know enough to weigh in. That being said, I imagine between the feral dogs, cats and all the abandoned trash, something might be askew. Nevertheless, Greece is stunning. Santorini is a postcard dream.  And every ancient place we have visited, every mountain range, or coastline we have driven along, is serenely picturesque.

Tonight Kyle asked me if I wanted to go on a walk. We are staying in Olympia, Greece, at the Europa Hotel.  Earlier today we visited Ancient Olympia, the site of the first Olympic games. The history is so rich. It was incredible to learn that at the torch is always lit at Ancient Olympia first at the start of each Olympics. It was hysterically cool when Dave offered to join Kyle for a lap around the original Olympic stadium. The site was cool, though I noticed empty plastic bottles and food containers at the very edges of the site. One of the things we’ve noticed all over Greece, In town after town, is half-constructed abandoned buildings: skeletal carcases of over-extending credit and broken dreams due to the recent financial crisis that hit Greece especially hard. We had just visited the Ancient Theater of Epidaurus, an ancient theater, which holds 15,000 people and is still intact.  The grounds of Epidaurus are beautiful, clean and well kept. It was then when I knew we needed to focus our Greek visit on Ancient Historical sites. I told Dave,

“This is the land that makes them money. This is the land they are taking care of.”  

Since then we have made sure to see all the history we can. Again, the scenery is splendid, relaxing and I can imagine myself walking along with the ancient Greeks of long ago.

Ok, back to my walk with Kyle. We decided to walk up the hill from our hotel. Not more than fifty yards off the hotel grounds, the air began to stink and I saw the trash. Soon we were met by the cutest dog on the planet. This cute bouncy, cute dog had no color was dirty and had little dread locks forming along its back. Nevertheless, the dog was so bouncy cute that I messaged my friend, Tawni:

“Hey, I found you a dog. If only I could bring him/her back to you.”

Tawni suggested I sneak the dog back with me. If only I could.

As we walked and talked about the stinky trash and all the abandoned animals, Kyle wondered out loud,

“What happened to you Greece? You are the ones who set up the world?”  

He is right. And Greece, the only reason I am focusing on you and your particular really bad trash problem now is because I am here in your country.

And then it hit me, like it always does. Here is another reason I am grateful I get to show my boys our world. Kyle and Eli are gaining perspective beyond their years. They know they are blessed, but they also see the beauty and the heartache all around the world. Yes, Kyle was also frustrated with the trash, but then he thought about the things he could do to make his own community better.  Guess what? We have seen trash all over the streets in Salt Lake City. In fact, this fall for one of his classes, Kyle and I spent an afternoon picking up trash between our apartment at the time and the local grocery store. Apparently Greece is not the only place to corner the market on the concept that “the world is our ashtray.” Perspective in travel is making us take better care of the world around us.

Greece, you are beautiful. Please figure out your trash problem soon!

SIDEBAR:

• When visiting Greece, we recommend visiting as much history as you can. The Ancient Theater of Epidaurus, Mystras, Ancient Thera (Thira) on Santornini and Ancient Olympia are our favorites so far.

Today is our last Santorini day. Somewhere out there people are celebrating St. Patrick’s Day. I am not wearing green. Eli pinched me at breakfast when I announced that I was only wearing grey. We have been to the Blue Dolphin hotel three times today, twice by car. Blue Dolphins Hotel manages the Airbnb we are staying at in Imerovigli. For context, Imerovigli is up the way from Fira, the island’s capital. We love our rental and would stay here again. The apartment is a recently renovated 2 bedroom, 2 bathroom, traditional cliff house on what we think is the highest Santorini cliff.

Kyle tells me,

“Mom, I am glad we stayed up so high.”

“I am too.” I respond.

 

We all love the caldera view. We love walking out our front door and seeing the island in its entirety. Our apartment is situated in the island’s middle. As a result we feel enveloped in the island’s c-shape, which is magically dotted in white buildings with bright blue tops, churches and steep, dramatic brownish-green cliffs.

Kyle is doing his homework (I think). Ok. Why I say, “I think,” is because Dave and I keep hearing the sound of Youtube videos. Dave finally exclaimed,

“Kyle, put your headphones on if there is any chance a sound will come out of your computer.”

Dave is also helping Eli do his homework. Eli is writing an essay on the poetry of Shakespeare, specifically, “Romeo and Juliet.” I hear Eli say something as he types,

“although this play is technically not poetry, it still…”

I am busy packing (I took a break to write). I ate too much breakfast (oatmeal and butter and jam covered rice cakes). Dave, Kyle and Eli have already had lunch (Santoroni — their homemade version of mac and cheese). It is 11:13 a.m. Santorini time. Ada, the kind hotel employee, whose hair is dyed a bright purple-y-red, speaks the best English offered to do our laundry at 15 euro a load. Yes, that is correct. That translates to $16.92 US. We took her up on her offer and decided to take it easy while we wait. There are no self-serve laundry facilities on the island, and we are in a pinch. The hotels has been generous and it is worth it. Of course I forgot some of our laundry the first time. And while I was standing at the hotel asking Ada if she would be willing to use my “free-and-clear- laundry detergent, Kyle texted me the following,

“Mom, did you mean to leave all the dirty blue clothes in my closet?”

I didn’t. And even though Dave asserted that he did not want “to be ferrying laundry back and forth on our last day,” I suggested that I did not want to do another load of laundry on our trip. I won. Our drives back and forth from the apartment to the hotel were fun (I hope Dave feels the same). The laundry will be done at 2PM. I hope I can be packed (mostly) by then.

Santorini has been an unexpected gem. Yes, it is clear that the island has been hit by an economic crisis. It’s dotted with ambitious building projects that were seemingly abandoned in 2008. What I am fascinated by is how the poverty of the island seems to disappear in the splendor. In truth, we feel like we have stepped into the best postcard or some sort of magical dream, a dream that is enabled by the stunning architecture and the dramatic setting.

My favorite part, and something I highly recommend is the walk from Fira to Oia. “Impossibly picturesque,” is the phrase that left my mouth over and over again. Over and over again we walked by tiny cliffside churches, saw signs for donkey rides, watched the occasional ferry below all while we walked along the island’s spine. I would wager a guess that Dave’s favorite was Ancient Thera, which is an ancient ruin on top of a mountain. We drove this crazy zig-zag road to get there. Then we walked up a long hill to see the ruins. We thought no one was there when all of a sudden a woman stepped out and asked us for 4 euro for the 4 of us. I think the boys were free. We have seen many a ruin on our adventures. What sets Ancient Thera a part is definitely its crazy mountain top setting. You can see all sides of the mountain from Thera. I kept asking Dave,

“Why would someone build their town up here?”

Kyle kept answering,

“To avoid the volcano.”

Ok, yes, there was an volcano that wiped away most of Santorini approximately 3,500 years ago. My guess, however, is that those people living in the mountaintop city would die from volcanic gases or be covered in ash (go downer, Beth). Anyway, for me what was so cool about Thera was the wind. I kept feeling like I was going to be blown off the mountain. It was compelling in its force. It made me think, “these people must have been committed to live here.” Yes, Thera is a substantial ruin on this tiny island. Crazy.

Our clothes are not done. I need to pack. I hope our flight to Athens, and drive to our new hotel, go smoothly.

SIDEBAR

In the meantime, let me leave you with some tips:

• If you come to Santorini (and you should), go to Oia. Stay on the cliffs. Drive to Ancient Thera.
• Watch out for donkeys. They are everywhere and poop everywhere. The donkeys are not only used to give tourists rides, they are an active part of the work force. Each day we have watched men lead groups of donkeys hauling all sorts of construction material up and down the steps of the steep hillside neighborhoods.
• As far as food and dining, know this. The Greeks are generous. Most meals come with a free dessert, free starters or both. Eat at Salt and Pepper in Fira, Melitini in Oia and Metaxi Mas Tavern in Pyrgos.
• Do not miss the walk from Fira to Oia, and if you do, make sure you find your way to Oia.
• Oh, oh and we loved the little town of Megalochori. Park your car on one of the paring lots located outside of town, and then go explore.Good luck!

Years ago Dave and I became hooked on a documentary series called, “The Long Way Round.” It starred Ewan Mcgregor and his friend, Charley Boorman. The concept: drive your motorcycle from point A to point B — the long way. I loved this show. Perhaps I loved it because I had (yes, past tense), a huge crush on Ewan Mcgregor. Perhaps it was also my love of travel that drew me in, or maybe  the hilarious banter between the two men as I watched Ewan and Charlie figure out how the were going to make their way.

Fast forward to yesterday. I found myself texting my friend, Reginia, from the Frankfurt, Germany Airport,  She needs a painter in Salt Lake City, by the way. If he have any good suggestions, please let me know. Anyway, after learning about our flights and long layovers, Regina stated that we were taking the long way round, which of course made me think of that one show. Yes, I thought about Ewan and Charlie and motorcycles. Yes, I wondered what it would be like to be traveling with them, but mostly I thought about what a crazy, awesome journey I was on with the ones I love most.  Our journey did not include a former movie-star crush or motorcycles. It did, however, include long stops in San Francisco and Boston, a crazy ankle/leg rash, where I reached out to two doctor friends and a pharmacist in Athens, lots of rain, the best breakfast in Jason’s neighborhood [wink, wink], pastries from Mike’s in Boston,, and a huge climb to the top of the Bunker Hill Monument (my legs still hurt from racing up those stairs). It did not include a run-in with a Wahlberg or Beacon Hill Historic District, or at least, not that I am aware of. 

Along the way I took some notes. I keep thinking about all of our trips and how I often wait until I am home to write. I understand why. I am often jet-lagged (am now), distracted with walking tours, historical sites, and yummy local cuisine. And when I finally have the time to write (like now), it is way too late.  I am sitting in Eli’s bed and he just asked,

“Mom, how much longer are you going to be?”  

“Not long.”

I realize as I type that catching these moments are what I don’t want to miss. I imagine once I get home I may forget that I had overtaken Eli’s bed. It was the outlet. Next to his bed I found the available outlet. I am using it.

Notes on My iPhone

San Francisco Day One

Dave, the boys and I are at the American Express Lounge. As soon as we enter Dave urges,

“Head straight back.”

We did and there were three chaises in this quiet area of a very noisy airport lounge. We noticed a woman sitting in the middle lounger. Empty cups and luggage were spread all over. Of course it  seemed she was laying claim to the area. She did not look up, and Dave and I ignored her as we took the two chairs on each side. I thought about all the people who would offer to move so we could sit together. She didn’t. We didn’t budge. Game on.. We had been up since 3:30 AM and in bed at 2:00 AM the night before. Those chaise lounges were hypnotic, no crabby airport citizen could bully us away.  

Eventually I learned that this crazy-seeming lady was stuck in San Francisco. All my hopes of her leaving the lounge were dashed as I learned she would not leave until she got her business class upgrade.I know this because she put her airline call on speakerphone while while she filed her finger and toenails. Of course after all of this I assumed she was a travel bully, that was, until the bar opened. She left for a few minutes and returned with a half-filled glass of wine. She warmly looked at me and asked,

“Are you on your way home?”
“Nope. Just heading out.”
“Our world is strange.” I thought.

Because we had a sixteen hour layover in San Francisco, we decided to leave our comfortable chaises and to head into the city. It was raining and we felt limited.  Because Dave had a coupon (of course he had a coupon), we rode Lyft (not über) So after hanging out at the airport for a few hours, we got into our Lyft (the Lyft driver also works for uber, by the way).  The lady driver has a thick Eastern European accent and seems  a little ADD as she rapidly channel surfs landing on on Sheila E’s The Glamorous Life.” I was sitting in the backseat, which was covered in animal hair. I think cat hair. As she drove, and frantically changed radio stations, she spoke about the rain and asserted that she would only be able to drive 45 mph. She is now driving 70 mph, and in this moment the sun is out. Hello San Francisco!  

Hours later, and after visiting Dave’s office, the Embarcadero, and the free train museum, we are at  the San Francisco bank I overhear a girl ask the teller if she could use her cannabis card for i.d.

“No.” The teller responded, “But you do have $200. In your bank.”

The girl seemed relieved as she gleefully walked out the door to find the nearest ATM.

Boston

Now in Boston, our friend Jason, the orthopedic surgeon recommends  I read the book, “Being Mortal.” Then I saw it sitting on his shelf. We all had breakfast in Charlestown. Jason gave us a quick and informative walking tour. I said, “NO,” to the ship tour.

“Jason,  you know I love Dave, and I know yesterday was his birthday, but we have no time for a ship tour. Maybe all the other ship tours we have done will make up for us skipping this one.”  

Dave pushed past his disappoint and we move on the Freedom Trail.

Stopover in Frankfurt, Germany

I have no idea what Frankfurt is like. I do know that now I can technically say that I have been to Germany. Woot. The Frankfurt  Airport Highlight: Our customs agent scoffed, then huge eye-rolled us, when we told him we are continuing on to Athens.

I would have to say that the worst part of the trip so far is the allergic reaction I am having on my ankles and calves. Each flight we took made my ankles swell larger and larger — making them cankles. Several times I thought I was going to claw my ankles to the bone. Yes, it wa gross and painful. I am currently on a regime of benadryl every four hours, and cortisone 3 – 4 times a day. Cross your fingers and pray this doesn’t turn into cellulitis.

Santorini, Greece

We are now in Santorni, Greece.It took us almost three days to get here. The rain followed us all the way. And with this cold rain, today was nothing like we expected. We are underdressed. The wind nearly blew us off the island. We ate breakfast outside in the cold rain, and napped for five hours (which we never do). Nevertheless, the day was awesome. We went on a super cool scenic drive. We drove through narrow streets we thought we could pass through. We ate a yummy traditional dinner. I am with Dave and the boys. The entertain me constantly, and are always up for a crazy long-way-round styled adventure, like going to the windy lighthouse on the Southeastern tip of Santorini.

PS. I will add more pictures in our Greek morning 🙂 (he he. I was obviously tired when I wrote that PS.  Nevertheless, as promised, here are more pictures):