Day 323: Motion Sickness

Leaving Yaya's was sad, but my trip to the airport was relatively drama-free. For everyone except, unfortunately, Yaya.

She woke me up early the morning of Day 323. I quietly got dressed and gathered my things, ate one last fig at the dining room table, and then climbed into the old Mercedes with Yanni for the almost hour-long trip to the airport. It was still dark outside when we pulled out of the driveway. Though I certainly didn't expect her or need her to help me get ready to leave, I was sad that I didn't see Yaya again after she woke me up because I never got an opportunity to give her the huge hug that she so deserved, and never got to look her in the eye and thank her for inviting me to such a magical place.

I found out on the way to the airport that Yaya disappearing after waking me up was completely accidental. Yanni's cell phone rang several times on our way to the airport (but I couldn't understand anything that he was saying). And Katy sent me a message on my Blackberry and said, "Yaya is freaking out. She fell asleep after waking you up and fells terrible that she didn't see you leave. Please let us know when you've arrived safely."

I assured Katy that Yanni had delivered me to the airport as promised and was currently cutting everyone in line with my suitcase to check me in and make sure that I got on my plane. I told her to please send my regards to Yaya and thank her on my behalf. Katy and I went back and forth on our BlackBerrys for a while, remembering hilarious things that happened to us on the trip (Meathead "Effing G"from Kardamyla and this Taco Bell commercial that she, Jana and I all quoted constantly: "Peek-a-booooo, it's me, the liiiiiime." Our instant communication was fascinating to Yaya, who was watching Katy furiously send me messages while lying in the bed I'd just abandoned.

My BlackBerry died as I was boarding the plane to Athens, before I could tell Katy (and Yaya) that I was on my way home. Yaya worried for the rest of the morning until I could get to a place where I could relay a message that I had landed safely and was, sadly, on my way back to the United States.

The plane I rode for the short trip to Athens from Chios had one center aisle, with two seats on each side. I had the window seat on the right side of my row, next to a man seated on the aisle. The man's wife and child were seated on the left side. When I got to the row, the man got out of his seat to let me in. I took my seat, and as I settled in for the flight, I started to get the feeling that something was going on with the family in my row; like there was some serious tension in the air.

I took out my book to focus on something else, but that didn't last long and soon I was spying on them. I had to assume the stress was coming at the hands of the couple's little kid who was bouncing off the walls, crawling all over the place, and whining her face off. The wife, probably fed up with her daughter, looked like she either had been crying or like she wanted to. The man was trying to take himself to another place, distracting himself with the in-flight magazine and fiddling with the air vents.

There wasn't any verbal communication coming from either one of them, just a lot of grunting from her, and some shoulder shrugging, hands in the air from him. Again, I sensed she was at her wit's end with the daughter and was looking for him to step in and take charge.

The next thing I know, the man and woman are both standing up and switching seats, sending the daughter into a fit of hysterics. I was amazed that after no words were exchanged, they'd come to the conclusion to make this move. Married life apparently means understanding that your wife is pissed even when she's not saying anything.

Soon after the switch was made, we got briefed on the safety measures. I began making up ideas as to what this couple could possibly be fighting about, when the plane began moving towards the runway and the woman stiffened and gripped the armrest with every bit of strength she had.

And then the mystery of what was going on between my row mates became obvious to me. As someone who can work herself up over flying, I recognized the look in this woman's eyes. Only any fear that I thought I had paled in comparison to what this woman was going through. She was absolutely terrified and I could read it all over her face.

She closed her eyes, still white knuckle gripping the armrests and took several short, deep breaths, leaning her head back as if she was looking to the heavens to say a little prayer.

The plane took a dip and she grabbed on to my right arm, startling me.

"Sorry," she yelled hastily.

I wasn't upset that she grabbed my arm, she just scared me when she did. I was a little upset that her husband dumped his scared wife next to me, but really, I just felt sorry for her.

I turned to her to give her my best comforting smile.

"It's okay," I started to say, but before I could get the words out, the woman dramatically grabbed the barf bag in front of her and loudly puked into it.

The whole scene happened so quickly and was so completely shocking to me I didn't know what to do. Her husband looked away, either trying to shield his daughter from seeing her mother get sick, or more likely, trying to ignore it himself. He seemed disgusted and annoyed with his wife, which upset me on her behalf. Like did he really think she was doing it on purpose?

I sort of did this awkward seat dance, darting my head from the window to the woman, from the window to the woman, wanting to help, but not really wanting to help, but definitely not knowing how to help.

The woman, who I can only assume had done this before, jumped up from her seat like a pro and ran to the bathroom, taking her barf bag with her. Inside, I was so thankful she was the one that got sick. The sound she made when she got sick was enough to make me also want to throw up, I don't know if I could have handled the smell of vomit.

She returned a few minutes later, apologized again, and then fell asleep. No surprise, really, it was an exhausting few minutes.

Surprisingly, in all my years of traveling, I'd never seen anyone use a barf bag for its intended purpose, and not just for scrap paper. So thanks, sick lady, for making that Day 323's thing I've never done before instead of just eating at McDonald's in the Athens airport with Jana, which I also did.

Here's to making all of Day 323's firsts my lasts as well.

Day 322: Greek House of Cards Party

Katy and I woke up in Kardamyla in pools of our own sweat just hours after we went to sleep. The room we had been offered at her cousin's house was perfect for us and her family was so generous for allowing us to stay there. But unfortunately it wasn’t air-conditioned, and we opted to forgo fresh air in exchange for closing the shutters to keep the light out, so the room was stifling hot. Boiling hot. Disgustingly hot.

When Tatiana, who had been sleeping in her cousin's (also named Stephanie) room, came into ours to tell us it was time to go, we were obviously less than thrilled to see her.

Katy described getting woken up was as painful as, "someone coming to kill my only pet." She has a flair for the dramatics for sure, but it did absolutely suck waking up sweaty, dirty and cranky only hours after we'd laid down. I am still young and fun, but not nearly as capable as I once was at surviving an all-nighter gracefully. That hurt too, I suppose.

We begged Nico to take it easy on our way back to Emporios, certain that a night of partying, along with no sleep and winding Chios roads would be a recipe for disaster in the form of car sickness. He obliged, and away we went, back to Yaya's, mellow music the only real sound coming from the car.

I guess dancing the night away (the whole night) would've been a great idea had we not been expected at a lunch party at the neighbors' house the next day. Yaya was pretty clear that we needed to be back by 1pm. Or 1:30pm? Or 1pm? I remember there was a lot of discussion about what time the party started, but I don't know that anyone ever came to a conclusion about when we needed to be there, or when lunch was supposed to be served. We just knew Yaya was not going to be pleased if we were late, so we hustled back to her house to change our clothes and get ready to go.

We walked up the hill to the neighbors' house, which was grand and reminded me of something that might show up on an episode of MTV Cribs, Chios. Katy and I had passed the home before, on our way in from the airport and again on our walk, but I don’t think I fully grasped how large the house really was until I walked down one side of it, right to the pool and basketball court in the backyard. I wasn't really terribly surprised; in the six short days I’d been in Greece, I’d come to not only enjoy this lifestyle, but expect it.

By the time we showed up at the house, it was 1:45pm, a perfect, fashionably late time for a luncheon that started at 1:30pm. But when we arrived it became pretty clear that lunch wasn't going to be served at 1pm, or at 1:30pm, because despite noticing several tables set up for a party, I couldn't help but also notice that we were the only ones there. Though shocking, downright devastating at first, the whole scene was quite comical, actually, when you think about us rushing back from Kardamyla feeling terrible, to Yaya rushing us out of her house so that we would be among the first to arrive.

Katy introduced me to the hosts of the party and we thanked them for the invitation. They instructed us on where we could get drinks, which we did. I contemplated getting a beer for .5 seconds and then made the responsible decision to chose water instead. I'm no fool.

Soon, all of our friends we had walked out of the club with that morning started to trickle in, most looking every bit as terrible as we felt. We commiserated together about our antics and how inappropriate attending this party was under the circumstances.

Though I felt weird taking a dip in the pool at what began shaping up to be a fancy luncheon, Katy promised that the cold water made her feel amazing, so I changed into my swimsuit and joined her. She was right; the water was invigorating. We weren't doing a whole lot of swimming, but just sitting in the shallow end, completely submerged in water up to our necks. We were refreshed, but still participating in the conversations going on around us.

While in the pool, I started talking to a young teenager named Yanni. From the start he made it very clear that he was not impressed with me or our conversation. When he asked me where I was from, I told him that I grew up in South Carolina but currently lived in Atlanta, Georgia.

He wrinkled his face and said, "Yeah, your accent, it's kind of all over the place."

Part of me wanted to smack him in the face, the other part thought he was hilarious. I've been accused of having a muddled accent before and strangers have guessed I'm from California and New Jersey, so I know that how I talk changes depending on who I am with. Still, I think it's pretty clear that I'm from the south.

This conversation, and pool time distracted us for a while, but two hours into our time at the neighbors, and I was starting to wonder if this meal was going to happen at all. Visitors continued showing up, and thankfully there were passed hors d'ouerves, including fried cheese, that began to circulate poolside. I immediately got out of the water to track the food down (successfully, of course), and found myself in more interesting conversations (one with a BBC documentary film producer and another with a 25-year old girl with really bad relationship experiences she felt open to share.)

All the interesting people in the world couldn't save me from myself, though, and by 4pm, I started to melt down, and after talking to Katy, Nico, and Tatiana, I knew I wasn't the only one who was tired, hungry, and unable to be satisfied by just fried cheese. The couple of days of partying on the Greek Islands had taken their toll and I was done.

Just when I thought I could take no more, lunch was served, buffet style. We loaded our plates high with delicious fish and salad and fruit, took them back to the pool where we ate in silence. There were a few laughs, all of the slap-happy, "I didn't sleep last night," variety, all appreciated. Not long after eating, the men retired to the basement to watch football (soccer). We said goodbye and went back to Yaya's for an afternoon nap by the pool.

That would be my last nap in Greece, and I was forced to start the always-painful process of packing my suitcase. I was scheduled to leave early the next morning, leaving Katy behind to spend another week in paradise with her family. Sometimes, even when a trip is amazing and fun (as this one was), when it comes to an end, I am ready to get back to reality and get back to a schedule of regular life. This was not one of those times. I felt sad to leave Greece, and anxious to return to the United States. My 30th was approaching and now that the Greece trip was done, it was the next big thing I would do.

Not without one last night in Greece, however, including Day 322's things I've never done before: learn how to play Biriba.

Our lunch was so late at the neighbors' house party that dinner with Yaya was a light affair. And by "light affair," I of course mean we ate our weight in finger sandwiches, one of Katy and Jana's favorite snacks. Yanni, the driver/chef usually makes a tray that he keeps in the refrigerator if by some chance there was ever a moment in Greece that anyone ever finds themselves hungry. I'd heard a lot about the finger sandwiches, and they were as delicious as advertised.

After dinner, we moved to Yaya's card table, where Katy and Yaya taught me how to play Biriba, a Greek card game very similar to rummy. The object is to get rid of all the cards in your hand by making "packages," or groups of all the same suit, or number. The game can be played individually, with two players, or as teams, with four players (two on each team).

For the first round, I looked on with Yaya. She and Katy talked me through the game so I'd understand what they were doing.

“These cards are for the birds,” Yaya said, not pleased with the hand that Katy had dealt her. Her frustration was endearing and I added her expression to the already long list I'd heard since arriving.

Yaya went on to lose that round, and a few more.

After a while, Yaya excused herself from the table to head upstairs to bed, and Mike and Jana came into the mix. He and I would be partners against Jana and Katy. We played a couple of practice rounds to get me acclimated to the game. We won a few, and lost a few as well.

When it was time to play for real, Mike looked at me from across the table and said, "Now it’s time we get serious." Then he got up from the table to get ice cream (which we all did eventually and it was every bit as lovely as you would imagine ice cream in Greece to be.)

After Jana dealt the next hand, Mike returned, saying, equally as hilarious, "I've a bowl of ice cream and a handful of cards, what more could I ask for?"

Funny, my last night in Greece, I had to wonder the same thing, "What more could I ask for?"

More time in Greece? Perhaps. But that's about it.

Mike and I lost to Katy and Jana in Biriba. I've never cared less about losing in my whole life. I guess when your friend invites you come stay with her at her grandparents' beach house in Greece and you make it entire week seeing amazing things and eating amazing things and not spending a dime, you feel like a winner regardless.

Day 321: Opa! Greek All-Nighter

Clubbing in Greece hurts the next day. It hurts bad.

We all slept late on Day 321, and when we did finally rise from our temporary comas, we did little else but lay by the pool. When Yaya announced it was time to eat, the entire clan erupted in cheers of happiness.

Thankfully again, the Los cousins thought ahead and they had already put in their day-after-clubbing food request with Yaya: pastitsio, a casserole-like dish that features layers of ground beef and pasta, bound together with a creamy sauce and topped with bechamel cheese. I loaded a heaping spoonful onto my plate just like everyone else and when I took a bite, I understood why this was their choice on a day like Day 321. Pastitsio is like the ultimate comfort food and it couldn't have been served at a better time.

There wasn't a whole lot of conversation while eating, just a lot of moaning over how delicious the food was. Katy interrupted the awkward noises to remark on the bechamel cheese. She told Yaya she had traveled to Charleston, South Carolina weeks before and a lot of the dishes she ate used the creamy cheese and it reminded her of pastitsio.

As I racked my brain trying to think of anything I've ever eaten in Charleston that reminded me of pastitsio or used bechamel cheese (I came up with nothing), Yaya nodded, as if this wasn't news to her.

"Well," she said, "Bechamel is a pretty standard background flavor. Like mayonnaise."

I don't know why, but her comparison of mayonnaise to bechamel cheese amused me, as did counting both of the rich, fat-laden foods as just background flavors. Jana and I burst out laughing. Yaya seemed confused, like we were idiots.

After lunch we continued to lay around wherever we could: by the pool. On the couch. In our beds.

Plans were made earlier in the week for us to head an hour north to Kardamyla for a festival to celebrate the Feast of the Dormition of Mary. Nearly all of the towns in Chios have religious-based festivals like this one, and since we'd missed the one in Emporios by a day, it seemed like a good plan to go to Kardamyla for theirs.

Yaya planned dinner around us departing for Kardamyla at around 9pm-9:30pm. Nico would drive us kids, we would spend the night at one of Katy's cousin's houses. The trip to Kardamyla would take about an hour, which was fine, because according to Yaya, "That party won't really start until at least 11pm."

An out of town trip to go to a late night summer Greek street festival?

What I should've been thinking was: "What a wonderful way to celebrate my trip to Greece and see Greek culture but by attending a street party in a beach town."

What I was actually thinking was: "There is no way I can go to a party that doesn't start until 11pm. I won't last. I'll die. I need sleep."

I felt older than my 29 years with such thoughts, and I was immediately embarrassed and ashamed. I'm in Greece and this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, yet I was having a hard time mustering any excitement about going. I just knew I'd be worthless. The only thing I could think about enjoying was crawling into bed and sleeping until the morning.

But there was no way I could back out, and staying behind was simply not an option. Katy, Nico, Mike and Tatiana were all planning to go, and of course I was expected to go with them. So I put on a sundress and a happy face, and dug deep to find the last bit of vacation energy I had left.

My only saving grace, I thought, was that this was a family affair. There will be young children, young adults, lots of people my parents' age and much older. I was sure this was not going to be the kind of night like the one we'd had the night before. No late night dance clubs, no champagne, no loud music. I've never been so wrong about something in my entire life.

When we got to Kardamyla (after a nauseating and scary game of chicken with some dude on a motorcycle), we dropped the car and our belongings at one of Katy's mom's cousin's houses (whose name I do not remember) where we ran into Marika (from our lobster lunch the day before) sitting at the kitchen table smoking a cigarette and playing solitaire. She was every bit as lovely as she had been the day before, and though I'm not completely sure she lived in this house, she welcomed us in like a friendly host.

There were, as there had been everyday since I arrived in Greece, more people for me to meet at the house; we picked up several of them and began our short walk through the city streets to the part of town where the festival was happening.

When we arrived, there was no question that we'd reached our destination. The whole scene looked like a movie set.

There were tables upon tables set up in the street right in front of a Greek band playing music. Yaya was right when she predicted that the party wouldn't get started until later in the evening. The tables were just starting to fill with people, drinks and food were just starting to get served. There were people of all ages running through the streets. Everyone looked young and vibrant and happy. I have no scientific proof, and I have no idea what the life expectancy is in Greece, but based on my own observations, Greek culture and Greek food keeps people young. I like it.

We wandered into one of the bars and fought our way through to get a drink before returning to the outside to take a seat at one of the tables, and begin a most perfect night of people watching I have ever experienced. There were flamboyantly dressed ladies with furry boots (in the middle of August, mind you) and the Greece equivalent of "Everybody's favorite bar meathead," who was ordering people to take shots of liquor and who eventually took his shirt off at several points during the night. We affectionately called him, "Effing G" and both would yell his name every time he showed up at our table or in the background of one of our pictures, which was often. For the most part, we were surrounded by the same group, more or less, that we'd run into the previous night, and in Komi. It was as if we had been following each other from town to town.

Speaking of pictures, a few of these here are from my camera, but most are from Katy's plastic disposable, thanks to my camera's battery dying within minutes of us being there. I wanted to cry, knowing that there was no way I'd forget the images in my head, but still desperately wanting to have a picture of them.

The night wore on, the crowds grew larger, the drinks flowed easily to our table (from where, I'm not sure), but I was having a hard time choking anything down.

Enter ouzo.

Ouzo is obviously something that everyone has to try while they're in Greece. So I wasn't terribly surprised when bottles of the clear liquor showed up at the party table where Katy, Tatiana and I were sitting. I probably would've been disappointed if they hadn't. I think ouzo is meant to be taken like a shot of liquor, but I'm not really good at taking shots, so I instead sipped it from a juice glass. I didn't love it, but of all the gross things I've ever drank in my life, (see Arden's Garden juice diet), this is hardly the worst. It tasted like licorice and it tasted like Greece, like something I had to drink while here on vacation. Plus, the only other options at that time were warm liquor drinks and wine. I was happy to drink ouzo.

As the night progressed, and the ouzo continued to flow, more people were rising from their seats to dance to the music provided by the band. I wanted to scream for my camera dying during this most crucial time. The people and the dancing were so much fun to watch. Katy, seeing that I was fading, grabbed my hand at one point and dragged me out to the "dance floor," to join in.

Greek dancing, at least the kind we did, was more or less holding hands in a circle and doing grapevines back and forth. There is specific footwork, but none that I recognized or could really follow. I let those who knew what they were doing lead me, which meant several almost collisions, and a lot of laughs.

In fact, I think I laughed the entire time I was out there, and it makes me sad that there is not photographic evidence of such a purely joyous time in my life. But I assure you, if there was, the pictures would've been the kind that emit happiness. I remember thinking while we were bumping into everyone around us, our hands linked, that if someone ever made a movie out of my 29th year, that this scene would be the one aired in every promo and seen on every billboard. It was that good. I also thought that the dancing was like a metaphor for my life. Though it certainly hasn't turned out the way that I planned it, or that other people think that it should, and it's full of missteps and near collisions; but I've lived it surrounded by so many people who love me so much, and therefore I consider my life joyous. Plus, I laugh my ass off, just as I was doing with the Greek dancing, a lot. Thank God!

OK, it was late, so I probably didn't think that metaphor then, I came up with that later, but still, it completely fits. Right then I was really just thinking how much fun I was having and how I was so glad that I didn't let my poor attitude stand in the way of coming.

After a few hours (I had completely lost track of time at this point, giving into the reality that we'd be sleeping very little for the second night in a row. I opted instead to have a fabulous time with my new friends and soak up one of my last nights in Greece.), we left the outside festival with the "younger" crowd and headed to a nearby disco. The place was dark, the music was loud and a combination of Greek techno and Top 40 dance songs I'd heard in the United States. Katy and I couldn't help but laugh, as everyone started filling the bar, because she knew, or was related to in some way, a lot of the people there.

And then we danced the night away like no one was watching.

Time was of no concern to me after arriving in Kardamyla, so when I went into the bathroom at the disco for the last time and noticed through the only window in the place the sun had come up outside, I wasn't terribly surprised. I was, however, immensely proud of myself for staying up all night, and most of all at my ability to talk myself out of a bad mood. I vowed to try and silence any doubts I had in the future in hopes that doing so would always yield such rewards.

We walked back to the square where we had started the evening, and I enjoyed seeing the area in the light of day. It looked extremely different, but no less lovely. To my surprise, the Greek band and many of the older adults who we'd danced with earlier in the evening, were also winding down their nights. I was impressed, certain that my own parents couldn't have stayed up all night.

After awkwardly standing around for a little while, the group started to disperse. Katy and I found ourselves with Mike, so we all walked back to the house where we were staying and as inconspicuously as possible, tiptoed up to our room to try and get some sleep before we had to drive back to Yaya's.

I immediately laid down on one of the beds and closed my eyes. Katy closed the shutters and went to get ready for bed. When Katy came back from the bathroom, she seemed annoyed.

"Stephanie, you need to change out of your dress and get into some pajamas."

I found her request puzzling. I didn't think that it was a secret that we'd stayed out all night. Plus, I'm almost 30-years old. If I want to sleep in my clothes, I'll sleep in my clothes.

Not to mention, "Katy," I said, trying to be funny despite my crankiness, "Your family member is across the street on his porch smoking a cigarette and wearing only his underwear, I really don't think it matters if I change out of this dress."

Katy glared at me, unamused.

"Stephanie, just trust me. Do it."

We were tired, we had been up all night, so I didn't push it. I did as she told and put on a sleep shirt and climbed into bed, sticky and dirty with sweat. When I talked to Jana later, she confirmed, that double standards for what is socially acceptable for men and what is socially acceptable for women are still alive and well in Greece, just like in the United States. Katy was right to tell me to change my clothes.

Appropriately dressed in pajamas, Katy crawled into one bed, and I crawled into another, and we quickly fell asleep (at 8am on Day 322.)

Day 320: Boating, Clubbing, Rites of Passage

On Day 320, Katy and I finally did what we said we were going to do all week, and we exercised. Actually we just took a walk around Chios, which probably did very little to undo all of the eating and lounging around we'd been doing, but it definitely felt good to move my body for a change.

Plus, the views of the Emporios harbor were glorious. Pappou and Yaya's property extended past the area that I had seen so far, and included several fig trees and an orchard. Seeing where the food came from that I'd been eating all week was fulfilling and I daydreamed about living off the land with my own garden someday. Normally I would've filed such an idea under the category of "Things that I need to accept will never happen," but somehow Greece was making a lot of things feel possible.

It was hot and unseasonably humid, despite Katy's insistence before we left for the trip that Greece has no humidity ("Seriously, Steph, your hair will look awesome," she said). By the time we made it back to Yaya's, we were sweating and ready to take a dip in the pool before lunch. And my hair did not look awesome.

There was a feeling of excitement in the air most of the day and a spring in Yaya's step because her sister Marika was coming for lunch with her daughter, and Yaya's niece, Koola.

Marika was shorter than Yaya, but she was attractive and a seemingly hip grandma, just like Yaya. She had a husky voice and she smoked cigarettes right at Yaya's kitchen table, something that I haven't seen done in the United States since I was a small child. Smoking indoors, especially at someone's house, just doesn't happen very much anymore. The whole scene felt very vintage. I liked it.

Lunch began with appetizers, including more fried cheese, by the pool. Impressive on their own, these small bites were just the warm up for the real meal: lobster. That's right, I said, "lobster." Certainly a favorite of the Los grandchildren (how could it not be?), I was definitely pleased that this meal among those served while I was in Greece. No surprise, it was as delicious and wonderful as I imagine everything prepared at Yaya's house has ever been. As I devoured each bite, I felt my reality falling by the wayside; I feared I was starting to feel rather self-important and deserving of such rich foods all the time. How would I ever return to my homemade paper sack/Tupperware lunches? This is the kind of lunch I want. This is kind of life I want. I deserve it. Don't I? Don't we all?

There were several humorous moments during lunch, including Katy screaming out desperately at the start of the meal, "I can't find my fork!," nervous that if she didn't hurry up and dive in to her lobster right away that it might get up and walk off her plate.

Nico and Tatiana also entertained us with stories about the reunion football (soccer) game they attended the day before. Nico told us he was not the team's captain, as he originally thought, but there was a lot of partying and general debauchery. Nico said he was amused at the soccer match watching all of he physical exhaustion suffered by the players who were out of shape. As the match went on, he said, the players were practically begging to get tripped or to fall down just so they could have a break from running. Other players would run by and whisper to the player lying on the field, "Stay down!" so that they could take a rest from running too.

Nico and Tatiana's stories included a lot of names, most of which I didn't recognize, and many of which sounded the same; all seemed to register on the faces of Jana and Katy, so I had to assume they knew the people being discussed. I was right. In many cases, they were second or third cousins or family friends they'd been vacationing with for years.

One of those names was Yanni. But not Yanni the driver/cook who had so far taken us everywhere we needed to go and cooked all of our delicious meals. No, this was a different Yanni.

The fact that the same names seemed to keep popping up led me to another conversation with Katy about Greek culture. The subject? Naming children. Katy said in many families, the first born is always named after the paternal grandparents, hence the scene in My Big Fat Greek Wedding when Nia Vardalos' character introduces some of her 27 cousins as "Nick, Nick, Nick, Nick, Nick, Nick, Nicky, and Gus." The same is true in Katy's family. Katy's brother, Nicolas, goes by, "Nick." Her first cousin, "Nico," is also Nicolas. Both were named after Pappou.

This Yanni we were talking about during lunch was Katy, Jana, Tatiana, Nico and Michael's second or third cousin; he had devoted his summer to kayaking around Chios in memory of this friend who had died of leukemia. A challenging and admirable task he'd set out for, and I wondered instantly if he was blogging about it. Exciting for us, too, because he was expected to paddle by Yaya and Pappou's house while we were eating lunch. So our job while eating was to keep an eye on the water to see if we could spot him.

Only we were evidently too engaged with each other and with the lobster (or maybe that was just me), we completely missed him paddling by Yaya and Pappou's house, which he did. Instead, we did the first of Day 320's things I'd never done before, and took a boat ride to a nearby town, Komi to catch Yanni on one of the legs of his trip.

I could sense there was some apprehension about Nico driving the boat, despite having spent the first part of his summer sailing around South America and learning about the shipping industry. I imagine Yaya's concern, if there was any, came not from her distrusting Nico, but more because it probably felt weird to her that little Nico was finally old enough to drive the boat. The same was true for my family and me, as the youngest cousin and therefore the last to do everything. Driving a car on a long trip, having my first beer were all like rites of passage that I experienced with my relatives at the beach.

Nico drove us over there without any problems, and we swam to shore to greet Yanni and his family who were all enjoying lunch at a table on the beach. The visit was, entertainingly so, filled with more introductions to Katy's family members, more warm welcomes with kisses on each cheek, more feeling like the red-headed outsider to all of the beautiful, dark haired, tanned, ultra cool people around me. We heard from Yanni the toll the kayaking was taking on his body, and about a t-shirt he made to describe his journey that said, simply, "I just felt like kayaking."

Yanni said he was planning to stay in Komi for the evening to see some friends and get some rest; Katy, Nico, Tatiana and I made plans to meet him there for dinner and then to do the second other thing I'd never done before on Day 320: Go clubbing in Greece.

Making plans was easy; just like everything else I'd done on this trip so far, I was following everyone else's lead. Finding something to wear to appropriately execute those plans proved to be a bit of a challenge; my style I learned, is a little less European dance club, and a little more shabby, hippie chic.

Thankfully, Katy's possesses a style far more exciting than mine, and after she looked through the things that I brought with a seemingly bewildered look on her face, she offered to lend me some of her clothes. One item in particular was a short, tight, leopard print dress that I would've immediately passed over had Katy not demanded that I try on. Shockingly, the dress fit, a small miracle that made me feel proud for the rest of the night. But when I looked at myself in the mirror, I was terribly uncomfortable; not to mention, I looked ridiculous. I also felt at peace about it, knowing that I'm just not a leopard print dress kind of girl, in Greece or anywhere; and at 29-years old, I think I'm finally starting to feel okay about that. Still, I needed something to wear, and thankfully Katy found, from her collection, the most perfect, fun, blue dress. I left Yaya's house feeling confident and excited, expecting, if only a little bit, that after disappointment in Lake Tahoe and Panama, that the water man Psychic Rose had predicted I'd meet this year was just on the horizon in Komi.

I'll save the suspense and tell you: I didn't meet water man. This fair-haired girl didn't fare as well in Greece as I do in Latin American countries. I did meet lots of cool guys, though, most of whom lived elsewhere (London and Athens, mostly) and were just vacationing in Chios for the summer. And then we sipped on lukewarm beers, a European treat I've enjoyed before.

To everyone's surprise, Mike showed up at the restaurant, almost two full days after he left for the soccer match. Though Katy and I were excited to see him (I'd already told her that I wanted to clone Mike into a 35-year old so that I could date him. I found him to be adorable, hilarious, and lacking any cynicism whatsoever), he was flustered and not exactly warmly received by his older brother and sister. They weren't against him coming along with us on the night we had planned and were frustrated that he hadn't gone straight to Yaya's, knowing that she'd be worried about his whereabouts.

After a typical brother/sister confrontation at the restaurant, Mike came to the end of our table and sat with Katy and me. We laughed as he told us how he ended up where we were after falling asleep in the cab. I could tell he felt badly about possibly upsetting Nico and Tatiana and possibly Yaya. And he wanted to come with us; missing out on what might happen this evening would have been, for him, the absolute worst thing that could've happened. Clearly he was facing his own rite of passage: old enough to know what he was missing, still young enough to be able to come along.

"You know I only have one life," he said earnestly, desperately trying to to appeal his case to us. Katy and I couldn't help but laugh. But as someone who was staring the dreaded age 30 in the face, I also couldn't argue with him. That's what my whole year had been about. Living it up, seizing the day.

Mike left the restaurant, and headed back to Yaya's. The rest of us hopped in a cab that took us to downtown Chios, an adorable, and rather happening spot right on the water. I was surprised at how many people were out at the bars and restaurants, and walking down the street, especially based on all of the quaint towns and villages I'd seen so far. We had a couple of drinks, played some Greek Taboo (a great way to help me learn Greek), and met up with Jana, who had gone to eat with a friend.

While sitting outside with the group, I couldn't help but think that days in Greece last forever, which is good because Greece is the greatest place ever; but it's also bad because I'm no spring chicken anymore. I need sleep.

There was no time for rest, though, and I pushed through any tiredness or apprehension to hang with the cool kids in Europe, going next to a club called El Divino. El Divino means, "The Divine" in Spanish. No one is really sure why a Chios dance club has a Spanish name, and no one really cares either.

Once we got inside, the club was pretty standard to all of the other dance clubs I've ever been to (which is not that many, but I knew what to expect.) Katy's family and friends had literally taken over the entire right side of the club and we hopped from table to table like we owned the place. Mike made a special guest appearance, too, amusing us all. He proved he can hold his own with the big kids and his siblings met him with loving arms and any harsh words that may have been exchanged earlier were all forgotten.

We danced, we laughed, we drank champagne, and took blurry pictures of ourselves having the time of our lives. I continued to meet a lot of very attractive people whose names I will never remember and they greeted me with gusto and a kiss on each cheek. Then Katy and I took a walk on the beach outside the club before putting ourselves in a cab and heading back to Yaya's, leaving the others to close the place down, which they did in fabulous style I'm sure.

Greece is exhausting. In a good way. Like in the best way.

Day 319: Family Eating Plan, Sunsets Included

On Day 319, we woke up planning to nothing other than continue our vacation activities: diving for sea urchins, tanning by Yaya's pool, sleeping wherever and whenever we wanted. In many ways, the trip had started to feel like a broken record. Like the best broken record there ever has been: sleep, boat, swim, tan, eat, and repeat.

I started to notice a pattern at our twice-daily sit down meals with Yaya that felt familiar to me. Somewhere in between me whispering under my breath, "This is so delicious," and happily indulging in another helping of whatever perfectly prepared food we were eating, Yaya would ask us what we wanted for lunch and dinner in the days to come.

Yaya, like members of my own family, likes to plan her next meal while still eating her current meal. Gallmans are notorious for this and it completely baffles me. How could I, taking my first bite of cereal at 9am, possibly know what I'm going to want in three hours for lunch, or in eight hours when it's time to have dinner? I'm obviously not a planner and I know this very fact is likely maddening to the more organized people in my life, but the constant need to know what we're eating for every meal in a week is both frustrating and humorous. In the case of my family, since we're dealing with a large group that includes kids and bedtimes and grocery shopping, I understand the need for some foresight and discussion. And in the case of Yaya, her goal is to please her grandchildren and she wants to make sure they get all of the meals they like to eat while they're in Greece. But the whole planning thing just goes against my natural tendency to just take things as they come, and eat when I'm hungry. I can't plan dinner now because I don't know what I'm going to feel like eating in six hours, or if I'm going to want to eat at all. But the Gallmans want to know. So does Yaya.

I make these comparisons because I had to chuckle thinking that while Chios, Greece and Oak Island, North Carolina are quite possibly the two most different places on earth, I felt an instant connection between them, strangely: perhaps it was the nothing to do, nowhere to be, family time at its finest feeling? And even though it wasn't my family with home I was enjoying this unbelievable vacation, I still felt the love. And as if Yaya had gone out of her way to make me feel at home by incorporating my own family traditions, we'd decided, while eating one of our meals on Day 318, that we would dine out on the evening of Day 319.

Thanks to an already established plan, Day 319's things I've never done before were to visit an abandoned city and to watch a sunset in Greece.

In addition to her lovely, super-romantic story about marrying Pappou on Day 318, Yaya also gave us a mini-history lesson about Chios, specifically about this town of Anavatos. Now I haven't been able to confirm that this next part is historically accurate, but I'm pretty sure that if Yaya told me the sky was green, I'd believe her, so I have no reason to think her story isn't true.

According to what Yaya knows, Anavatos had been able to resist the Massacre of Chios in 1822, thanks to having been built at the top of a steep, rocky mountain. The mass killing left tens of thousands dead, but because the terrain up to Anavatos was simply too treacherous, that city's people had been spared from the brutal attacks. That is, until a woman Yaya described as, "Not smart, not all together there, a village idiot-type," told a man promising to help her people just exactly how to navigate the terrain to get to Anavatos. She more or less showed him the route, unaware that when he got there, he would destroy Anavatos, and kill everyone in his path. Like I said, I have absolutely no proof that this story is factual, but after seeing the city, I definitely believe that something horrible happened there.

Getting to Anavatos in a car in 2010 felt every bit as difficult as it must've felt getting there in the 1800's. I can't recall ever getting motion sickness, but this is certainly the closest I've come. Yanni, the driver, did the best he could to get us there quickly and safely and without making us sick, but there was only so much he could do. The roads were steep and narrow and they winded back and forth; Anavatos was at the very top. Looking over the cliffs from a car window was nauseating.

Once we arrived at the top of the mountain, I thought we were on a movie set. The entire scene, the destroyed buildings, toppled over bricks, piles of debris, all looked like they were staged for the invasion scene of a film. Yaya insisted we walk to the top to check out the view; she said she would stay behind with Yanni at the car. The walk, she said, was just too much for her.

Katy decided she'd stay behind with Yaya while Jana and I walked to the top.

"No," Yaya said, "You go."

"Yaya, I don't want you to stay by yourself," Katy said, walking away with her.

"I'm fine. I don't need you to stay with me," Yaya returned. "You should go to the top to see the view."

"Yaya, I don't want to leave you," Katy said.

"This could go on for a while," Jana said jokingly. She's seen her sister's will, and her grandmother's, and it was unsure who would win this battle.

They went back and forth for a solid five minutes, Yaya taking Katy's hand and guiding her to the stairs to start walking, and Katy turning around to following Yaya back to the car. It was Granddaughter vs. Grandmother in likely the sweetest fight I've ever witnessed. I'm not a gambling woman, but I would've taken Yaya as the winner of this scuffle, and I would've been right. Katy had no choice but to relent to Yaya's wishes that she walk to the top with the rest of us and enjoy the beautiful views.

Katy, Jana and I took off through Anavatos; I stopped repeatedly to take pictures of the town, which rivaled San Francisco in terms of ass workouts the hills were so steep. Yaya was right about the exquisite views, but there was a sense of sadness and mystery that I could feel. If the story that Yaya had told us was true, then the people of Anavatos had likely established a healthy sense of security at the top of the mountain, certain no harm would come to them, only to be accidentally betrayed by one of their own and susceptible to a hostile takeover.

I just kept wondering, as I do whenever I'm in a place that is full of history, "What really happened here?"

We took a lot of pictures at the top, of the view, of the sun that was starting to set, and of ourselves (some of which felt inappropriate considering the devestation that happened there. But I can't help myself, I cry and laugh at inappropriate times.) We concluded that we all dressed inappropriately, and could've suffered fatal consequences trying to explore the damaged buildings in sandals and sundresses. I'm not a huge fan of heights anyway, and paired with an outfit that was poorly planned for exploring made me feel uneasy.

When we came back down to meet Yaya, she hurried us into the car so that we could get to dinner before the sun was completely gone. She then instructed Yanni to do whatever it took to get us there. And he did.

I don't know if Yaya called ahead, or if she knew the right people, but when we arrived at the restaurant, we were seated immediately at one of the best tables, in the center of everything, on a covered porch without any windows. And we made it just in time to watch the sun set into the hazy horizon, a gorgeous picture that luckily will be burned into my brain for a long time, thanks to my camera's inability to successfuly capture a picture of it. I'm not super picture-taker by any means, but I will accept user error only up to a certain point. Thankfully, Jana's camera, and camera skills, are better than mine. And I have an excellent memory.

I remember glancing briefly at a menu while we were there, but Yaya took charge of the ordering, just as she had with everything else. And order she did, because soon after we sat down, there was a constant flow of food (including fried cheese) and wine for at least an hour. Par for the course in Greece, we ate and drank like we were going to prison the next day.

Much to Yaya's delight after being concerned about their whereabouts all day, Nico and Tatiana joined us towards the end of the meal, having returned to town after an expectedly racous time at the football/soccer match.

The meal was rich and loud with food and story-telling and the whole scene made me feel like I had temporarily staked a claim in this family who like mine, sometimes argues, often over-plans, and always over eats.

My stomach hurt, but the rest of me felt pretty damn good, even on the wind-blown trip back to Emporios.

Day 318: Sea Urchins and Love Stories

We woke up in Greece for our first full day ready to tackle the important things: more eating, more lounging, more tanning, more swimming. Though the jet-lag made me feel strange and I had little concept of time or what day it was, I woke up feeling rested and excited, all thanks to Ambien and a super comfortable bed.

Breakfasts at Yaya's, Katy explained, are the same everyday, and are all self-serve. Since everyone usually wakes up at different times, a supply of tea, coffee, bread and fruit was left out on the table for us to help ourselves. So we did, and then changed into our swimsuits to get started with our day.

Ahead of Day 318, there was a great deal of conversation about whether or not we would attend an annual football match to be played on a nearby island. Surprising to everyone, including him, Nico was rumored to have been tapped to lead the Chios team as captain; nearly everyone that Katy knew from spending her summers in Greece would be there. The potential for fun and adventure and things I've never done would be sky-high, plus I'd get to hang out with Nico, Tatiana and Michael, who in the short time I'd spent with them, I'd already taken a liking to. But there were understandable reasons why we shouldn't go. We were still adjusting to Greece time and this trip would involve a long car ride, followed by a ferry ride, and late night, not to mention we'd be leaving Yaya less than 12 hours after arriving on her doorstep. Plus, even though I was going to be away from the United States for more than a week, with travel days and time changes, my actual time in Greece was limited, and Katy wanted me to be able to soak up as much Chios and as much relaxation as possible. So after lots of discussion, Katy, Jana and I decided that we would forgo the football (soccer) match, and stay behind with Yaya.

I love it when "staying behind" means taking a boat ride around the Mediterranean and diving for sea urchins, which were both Day 318's things I've never done before.

Katy started to tell me about diving for sea urchins before I had even decided for sure that I would come with her to Greece, but she stopped herself; she was afraid, she said, that whatever she said might scare me. I demanded that she complete her thought, certain that whatever she had to say wasn't going to scare me. I mean, she reads the blog. She knows I'm adventurous! I guess having already completed 300+ new things wasn't enough to make her trust I was serious about embracing new opportunities.

How dare Katy think that diving and catching my own food would freak me out! So what if I never fell in love with beets? Her doubting my sense of adventure, especially as it pertains to food, was frustrating. I can, and would, of course, give sea urchins a chance.

Shortly after breakfast, Jana, Katy and I walked down to the street to meet Stelios, the boat captain, who took us to Yaya and Pappou's boats that are anchored with other boats in the middle of the harbor. We collected flippers, masks, old forks and a basket for collecting our urchins and then loaded the smaller of the two boats and were on our way.

When we got to our first diving spot, there was a small instruction session given by Jana and Katy on exactly what I was supposed to do. The sea urchins are attached to the reef, and our goal was to dive down and with the fork, pry the female urchins loose. Females only because they are the ones with eggs, and that's what, "eating a sea urchin," really means, eating the roe. According to Katy, female sea urchins have shorter spines, bigger bodies and usually have seaweed or rocks stuck on them; they're usually tinted red, purple or green. Males have all black needles and smaller bodies.

In her hands, the difference between a female and a male sea urchin seemed pretty obvious, but once under water, I found making the distinction quite difficult. I'd bring a handful of sea urchins to the surface, only to find that they were all male ones and had to go back. Overall, though, Katy and Jana were pleased with my performance, even as a rookie.

There weren't a lot of sea urchins at the first place we stopped, so we moved on to another area and were much more successful. Once the basket was full, we headed back to the harbor, sunned for an hour on the boat and then headed back to Yaya's house to get ready for lunch.

When we returned, Katy showed me around Yaya's yard, including a trip to her greenhouse where she keeps all of her orchids; Yaya is a master when it comes to orchids and her house is full of them, on the inside and on the out. On the way back from the greenhouse, we ran into Stelios, who was now preparing the sea urchins we had caught. Preparing a sea urchin is really nothing more than cutting it half. No cooking required. Stelios handed me the special knife he was using and I took a turn cutting one open, a task that he made look a lot easier than it actually was.

Once at the dining room table, I took a look at our bounty and I strangely felt proud of myself, like a gatherer who had collected a feast for her family.

Katy showed me how to eat the eggs, by taking a spoon and scraping the orange eggs from the shell. People eat them in a variety of ways, Katy and Jana both explained. Some people eat them directly off the spoon; others, like Katy, spoon the eggs on top a piece of bread to cover it like a spread before eating.

I tried the sea urchins a variety of ways. I enjoyed it the most the way Katy does, with bread; the moisture from the sea urchin eggs, with a hit of vinegar (a la Katy's mom), and the bread was perfectly salty and delicious.

Katy, all about some dramatic statements, exclaimed, "I love it! This is one of my favorite foods. Seriously. Top. Five. Favorites."

I looked at her and smiled, and nodded that I understood what she was saying.

I liked them too. I liked that I helped catch them, and now we're all enjoying them. I liked that eating them was almost eating caviar, something that I'd always wanted to do.

But favorite foods? I'm not sure I would go that far. I appreciate them for what they are. Salty fish eggs. Perhaps this is the snob in me, but I think part of the reason that I enjoyed them is because Yaya told us that they are a delicacy.

I was surprised when she told us so, since they seemed pretty easy to come by. But Yaya and Pappou found out the hard way just how much of a delicacy they are after ordering plates full of them while out to dinner in New York. When the meal was over, Pappou got stuck with a pretty hefty bill that he was both perplexed by and frustrated with. I imagine paying a high price for something you're used to collecting basket fulls of daily feels strange.

After finishing the sea urchins, our lunch continued with delicious white fish (head and bones included); then we continued our day with more sunning and napping. Katy and I had major plans to exercise everyday while we were in Greece. So far we were off to a terrible start.

Dinner was a quiet affair since just the four of us were there. Lunch was such a delicious, lavish affair, we ate a light lemon soup for dinner.

Before leaving for Greece, Katy had, at my request, told me about her family. Yaya and Pappou had an arranged marriage more than 50 years ago. Like many Greek men do, Pappou and his brothers worked in the shipping industry in New York and in Athens. They had two children, Katy's mom, and her uncle (who has lived in New York, London, and now in Athens), and now have six grandchildren. No offense to Katy, but hearing Yaya tell the story from her perspective was far more entertaining and after finishing dinner, the three of us, Jana, Katy and I sat on the edge of our seats as she spanned several decades of her life.

I assume it was Katy or Jana who asked the next question, but Yaya had been so candid, so open with all of us, I wouldn't be surprised if it was me who asked, about her marriage to Pappou, "How did you feel, marrying someone that you barely knew? Were you nervous?"

I stared intently at Yaya's face waiting for her answer, and if I could've crawled into her brain to know exactly what she was thinking, I would have. The expression on her face spoke volumes as she recalled the life she'd built with this man who she was so obviously devoted to and she said, slowly and honestly, "Well, yes. But after we got into the car, he took my heart . . .," her voice trailed and she stopped briefly to correct herself. "I mean, he took my hand, and looked at me, and I knew it was going to be okay."


I moved my head to Jana and then to Katy, then to Jana, then back to Katy, hoping that I heard what I did, and that their reactions were the same as mine. Yaya said, "heart," but she meant, "hand." But by misspeaking, we all knew he had stolen them both. For a lifetime.

Thanks to being constantly distracted by own thoughts and everything that is going on around me, I can think of but a few moments over the past year, and in my life, when I felt 100 percent present in the moment, completely connected into what I was doing and not thinking about what was going on around me, not caring what was going to happen next. But right then, right there, at Yaya's kitchen table, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be, listening to a love story Hollywood could only dream of inventing.

Later, I wondered if that feeling of being completely plugged into the present is what I'm supposed to be feeling all of the time. I'm sure that there are people out there who would argue that if you're living your life as you should, then you'll always live in the present and drown out all of the outside "noise." I don't know if I'll ever get there, so instead, I'll cherish moments like this one with Yaya when I felt the stars align, and was, even for a short time, able to block everything else out. It moved me in ways that are hard to describe.

This was why, when I asked her if I should go to Greece, my mom said, "When someone from Greece asks you to go to Greece with them, you go." Because she knew, and now, thanks to this little experience I did too, that this moment wouldn't have happened if I came to Greece on my own. If I had all the money in the world and stayed at the nicest hotels and ate at the fanciest restaurants, nothing could've compared to this moment that had moved me to tears right there at Yaya's kitchen table.

I'm not quite sure why I had such a strong reaction to Yaya's story; I suspect the beautiful story was emotional for everyone, including Yaya, and Katy and Jana, though I don't remember seeing anyone else's eyes welled up with tears. Maybe they'd heard this story before. Or maybe I'm a romantic weirdo.

But I thanked God for Katy, and for Yaya and Jana and for American Express and for irresponsible financial decisions that led me here, to a moment that stopped time and allowed me, if for only a short time, to be in the present.

Day 317: All the Pretty People in Greece

We arrived in Athens right on time, the morning of Day 317, a day that would be full of things I'd never done before: drink a frappe, eat a proper Greek meal, run into family members at the airport, and swim in the Mediterranean Sea.

I was very anxious to get off the plane when we landed. Eager to stretch my legs and very eager to feel warm air on my skin for the first time in 11 hours after sitting over the wing and feeling a subzero draft the entire way. I was also in a hurry to get away from my seat mate, who I stupidly gave my business card to after he asked me for my number and I didn't know what else to do. He wasn't a mean person; he was just strange, and a little too inquisitive.

I met Katy outside and I assumed we were making our way toward the customs counter and to baggage claim. We were, but by way of a man who worked for Katy's grandma (Yaya), who was sent to the airport to help us get to where were needed to go.

This would become the first installment in a vacation-long series entitled, "Steph is an Idiot, so Thank Goodness her Friends Take Care of Business in Greece."

Episode One:

A friend of Katy's grandparents actually met us at the airport, collected our passports and moved us through Greek customs quickly and with ease; he helped us retrieve our luggage (well, he helped me get mine; Katy's was checked on to Chios), and then he checked us in for our next flight. Other than shaking his hand and saying hello when Katy introduced us, I said very little, and did even less, during the next half hour with him. I literally checked out and went dumb, forcing Katy to use whatever Greek she knew to communicate to him what we needed.

When our friend, (and complete life saver, as far as I was concerned) was done helping us, Katy and I went to the bathroom to freshen up a bit. She changed her clothes, into a dress and sandals. She looked so cute, and I regretted not also having a change of clothes so that I could do the same.

I looked at myself in the mirror; I looked like someone who just had just been on a plane for 11 hours. "Does this look awful?," I asked, referring to my outfit. "I feel gross."

"Not at all," she said, "You look great. I love what you have on."

I had no other options for clothes, so I had no choice but to accept her compliment even if I had to fish for it.

But then she followed with, "Like I said before, you wouldn't be here if you weren't pretty."

I laughed, and shook my head.

Katy has said to me before, quite matter-of-factly, that she’s not friends with people who aren’t attractive. At first, I was both humored and flattered by this bold, yet seemingly superficial statement.

"Certainly at least one of your friends isn't pretty," I challenged.

"Nope," she said, pausing to think about it. "They're all hot." I tried to keep pushing her on it, but when I stopped to think of my own friends, I couldn't deny that they're all hot too. But I suspect that's probably because that's the way I see them. And that's how Katy sees her friends too. Not an ugly one in the bunch.

I did my best to get myself looking like the hot person Katy thinks I am in the bathroom of the Athens airport, but there was only so much I could do without an ample amount of beauty rest. We then went in search of frappes, Katy's favorite frothy coffee drink in Greece.

After ordering our drinks (which were caffeinated, creamy, and delicious, just how I like my coffee), we took a seat at the coffee shop and killed time before meeting up with Katy's sister Jana, who was coming in from New York. We somehow managed, despite very little sleep and not a whole lot of brain power between us, to strike up a super deep conversation about life and love that left me even more exhausted than I was before.

We finished our frappes and went in search of another restroom before heading to our gate to wait for our next flight, literally running into Jana on the way. We sat with her while she also had a drink at the coffee shop; we talked about our flights and about my blog. Jana and I bonded immediately over high levels of self-awareness and sarcasm. I liked her right away, just like Katy told me I would. I think she liked me too.

Katy, Jana and I were all on the same short "puddle jumper" flight to Chios, and as Jana jokingly suggested on our way to the gate, there was a good chance that we'd probably run into more of their family members boarding the plane. Trips to Chios are family affairs.

And sure enough, after a hold up at security (all me--no doubt the pale skin and light hair made me a traveler that was worth extra questioning), we began running into members of Katy and Jana's family all over the place. I had to laugh, as we went to take a seat and Jana caught eyes with a woman who was her second or third cousin.

I was amused by this encounter, and even took a picture so that I'd remember it before I was introduced to the group. Little did I know that this was merely a kickoff to a week full of introductions to Katy and Jana's family members. Greek families are big, and they all travel together, and many of them, as I'll explain in later posts, have the same name, making my ability to remember them virtually impossible.

The trip from Athens to the island of Chios was under an hour. The Chios airport is small, and there isn't really a "terminal." So once on the ground, the pilots simply parked the plane next to the runway, and we walked down a makeshift stairwell and over to the airport’s baggage claim area.

As we approached, all I could see in front of me and around me were grandparents kissing their grandchildren, husbands kissing wives, daughters and sons kissing their parents; everyone appeared so boisterous and emotional, kissing cheeks and enveloping their loved ones in a loving embraces.

The whole scene sounds sweet, doesn't it?

It definitely was, except for the fact that these emotional scenes were playing out in the most crowded baggage claim area while everyone waited for their bags to arrive. There simply wasn't enough square footage for everyone to show so much PDA. I felt like the walls were closing in on me. I was hot, I was tired, and I was starving; honestly the only thing that kept me from blowing a gasket in the airport were deep breaths and the constant mantra I was saying over and over in my head: "I’m in Greece! I’m in Greece! I’m in Greece!"

Despite the baggage claim insanity, Jana was able to point out a picture on the wall and she said, "That's where we're going. That's Emporios." The photo she showed me was absolutely gorgeous. I started caring less about being tired and hot and hungry. I was so excited.

The second episode of "Steph is an Idiot, so Thank Goodness her Friends Take Care of Business in Greece," came in the form of Yanni, who picked us up in an old school Mercedes. Katy and Jana have known Yanni for a long time because he has worked for their Yaya as a cook and a driver for years. He retrieved our luggage, packed it in the car, and we were on our way.

Yanni spoke very little English; and since Jana and Katy speak only a little Greek, the car ride was pretty quiet. Had it not been for the narrow roadways and the hilly terrain, I probably would've fallen asleep. Instead, I soaked up my surroundings, breathing in the Greece air, feeling eternally grateful that this journey had led me here, to this place.

Chios is a kidney-shaped island off the east coast of Greece. It's 30 miles long, and around 20 miles wide, and from what I could tell on the way to Katy’s grandparents’ house in Emporios, on the southern end of the island, was not what I was expecting from Greek island. Not because I had any huge expectations, but only because the only thing that I knew about Greece was what I’d read in history books (the Acropolis); in stock pictures of Mykonos (white stucco buildings with blue shutters) and watching the film Mamma Mia (gorgeous people everywhere bursting into song and dance every chance they get.)

No, like most things I've encountered in my life, this year especially, Chios didn't look like I thought it would, but it was every bit as lovely and quaint as I could've imagined, and I loved it.

As we made our way past a pottery shop in the next town over from Yaya's, Katy looked at the store and then she looked at me and Jana and declared, "I'm really gonna load up on some pottery this year." Her comments pulled me away from the daydream I was having about living in Europe and marrying a Greek shipping heir. The intensity with which she spoke about pottery was laughable, but I could tell that she meant what she was saying. Katy attacks everything she does, work, Greece, pottery, with gusto.

Jana and Katy's physical demeanor changed as drew closer to their grandparents' house and I knew we had almost arrived when they began pointing out all of the neighbors' houses, saying things like, "Remember the girl from the airport? That's where her parents live."

When we pulled down the narrow street to the house, Yanni had to drive carefully to avoid other cars and people in the street. Just add it to the list of chaotic scenes from the day. Visitors to Emporios apparently use the street to park their cars and go to the beach, which is could now see right in front of me.

The scene was a bit overwhelming, but once we pulled into the driveway to the house, and closed the gate behind us, all of the chaos of the airport and the car ride and the street traffic instantly went away. It was if I yelled, "Serenity Now!" and someone just handed it to me on command. Yaya's house was to the right of the driveway, and her beautifully landscaped yard and greenhouse were to my left. In front of us a sweet black lab puppy trotted across the driveway.

Is this my life? Greece? Beaches? Puppies? Truly unbelievable.

We jumped out of the car and were greeted at the door by a strikingly attractive older woman with silver hair slicked straight back from her face. She wore little makeup, but her skin looked tanned. I knew this woman was Yaya even before Katy called out to her and enveloped her in a warm embrace.

Jana followed with a big hug of her own.

I sort of stood there like a weirdo watching their reunion, desperately wanting to join in with my own hug for Yaya; I wasn’t sure if getting hugged by random American stranger you agreed to let stay at your house with your granddaughter was appropriate, though, so I refrained.

There was some apprehension ahead of my meeting with Yaya and whether or not I'd be able to understand her, since she's Greek. I told Katy ahead of time that the only Greek words that I know are, “Alpha, Omicron, and Pi,” and any of the other letters that adorn the t-shirts I collected in college. Katy assured me that Yaya spoke perfect English (she lived in New York for many years), Greek and probably several other languages too, and that I would have no problem understanding her.

She was right.

Yaya told us about the dog that we saw, explaining that Katy and Jana's cousins, Michael and Nico, were responsible for bringing their new pet Lola to Greece for the summer. The dog was really cute, but Yaya didn't seem to be very impressed.

She welcomed us into the house, and when I looked around and fell in love. The whole placed just felt lived in, like a lot of memories had been made there and stylistically speaking, probably hadn’t changed a whole lot. The decor was dated, but not in a, “I’m a Grandmother and I don't know any better" kind of a way. No, this style more spoke of, "This is a 1970s-style Greek beach house and this is the way we like it, so there.” Katy says a lot of the furniture in the house was in her grandparents house in New York, and all of the decorative items are ones collected from their lifetime of travel.

I know this is impossible considering nearly everything I'd encountered so far was in complete opposition to every experience I'd ever had with my own grandmother (Greece, the beach, a cook, a driver, a greenhouse), but Yaya and her home reminded me so much of my own Grandma. Perhaps it was simply in her sweet and loving demeanor, and the way that she looked at her grandchildren like she thought they could do anything.

Yaya hugged and kissed her granddaughters, her excitement visible all over her face. I felt immensely grateful that she had opened up her home to me and allowed me to share this precious time she spends with her grandchildren.

"Are you hungry? We've been waiting for you. Let's eat!"

Again, a desire to hug Yaya immediately came over me. I grabbed my luggage instead and went back to the room that Katy and I would share.

Katy and I dropped our luggage in the room closest to the kitchen with two single beds and an attached bathroom. While getting ready for lunch, Katy's cousins Nico, Tatiana and Michael, the most beautiful Greek children I've ever seen, came by the room. They all hugged and joked and laughed, like any months that passed since the last time they saw each other was completely insignificant.

When Yaya announced it was time, we all headed to the dining room, that was already set for seven people. Yaya sat at the head of the table, and when it became clear there weren't assigned seats, so I took a seat to her right, Katy next to me, and then Jana, Michael, Tatiana, and Nico.

I really wanted Yaya to like me (I mean I’d just met her, and already almost hugged her twice), so when a woman came from the swinging kitchen door holding a serving platter loaded with green beans, I got nervous and wished I hadn't sat right beside Yaya. I mean, I've eaten nice meals before, I've been served at a table like this, but I had no idea what was coming next, so I wasn't sure if I was supposed to put beans on the side plate or directly on the big plate. I put the green beans directly on the big plate, which, of course, was wrong. I watched the plate go to everyone else, and they were using their side plates. I was mortified. And then I remembered it was green beans and that no one, especially Yaya, seemed to care.

Katy told me ahead of us leaving for Greece how completely wonderful the meals at her Yaya's house are. She did not oversell them in anyway. Granted, I could've eaten anything at that point, but the green beans and Chicken Milanese and white rice that followed were quite possibly some of the most delicious foods I'd ever tasted.

I've read that Mediterranean diets are good for our health, and I'd like to think that it's true. But I'm not sure the rich, delicious food that is served at Yaya's house and the mass quantities of which we consumed all week are really what those articles were talking about.

Squeezing myself into a bikini after being up for 36 hours and eating a multiple course lunch was not high on things I would normally want to do, but since we were in Greece and our only responsibilities for the rest of the day were to swim, read, sun and repeat. Minus feeling slightly disgusted with myself, I was in heaven.

While swimming in the backyard infinity pool (I know, I'm so jealous of me too), I took in the view, which was positively breathtaking. While standing in the pool I could see down to Mavros Volia (which Jana and Katy laughingly told me means, "black ball beach") and the Mediterranean Sea.

Later we were joined by Pappou, Katy and Jana's Grandpa, who came to take his daily swim with the help of his live-in nurse. He was unable to speak to me, or shake my hand, but I could tell he recognized me as someone he didn't know. And I'm not sure he was very excited about it. Tatiana and Katy hugged and kissed him and doted on him in a loving way, seemingly hopeful that he is still able to take his daily swims, but disappointed he can't communicate with them like he used to.

We spent the afternoon outside doing a while lot of nothing; the warm sun and cool water were just what the doctor ordered and I started to feel like my old self.

Later that evening, as the sun was starting to set, we took a walk in Yaya and Pappou's backyard, a beach made up completely of black rocks, thanks to a prehistoric volcanic eruption. Gorgeous to look at, not so easy to walk on. We took a dip in the chilly water, watched Lola, the puppy, chew on beer cans, and enjoyed the sun setting behind the beautiful house. As I watched the sun slip away, I was floored to see that I was looking at the same picture of Emporios that I'd seen at the airport--that picture was of Yaya and Pappou's house!

We showered, and joined Yaya at the table for dinner: steak, french fries, and one of the most simple and most delicious salads I've ever had that was simply lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers and avocados and olive oil. Maybe it's Greece, maybe it's Yaya, maybe it's Yanni, but my stomach handles Greek steak a lot better than it does steak in the USA.

For dessert, I ate a fresh fig for the first time ever, and then popped an Ambien. I was a happy girl.

Greece is good for the pretty people.