I also fault myself for not being as open and exposed to Athens as much as I should be. I stay in the safety of our apartment too much, watch too much American TV, read too many online gossip columns, and have developed a rather unhealthy obsession with this seasons' American Idol. I tell Tim that it is because I am just trying to "stay connected to American culture". But the simple truth of the matter is, it is hard living in a new city, with a new language, and a new culture, with only a couple of familiar faces around, thousands and thousands of miles from everything and everyone you know, and it's much easier to hole up and gravitate towards the familiar. Not that I didn't expect this to happen to some degree, and, don't get me wrong--I am really enjoying being here and wouldn't change it for the world--but all of the little difficulties sometimes add up.
This evening I decided to go out to the supermarket. There are little markets in our neighborhood, but they tend to be Broadway Market-style priced (for all of you non-Cantabrigians, that means expen$ive). To get to our Shaw's/Star Market equivalent is a 15 minute walk through the very heart of Athens, Syntagma Square, past the fanciest hotels and down embassy row, through a throng of real people. It was dusk and as I walked I thought how silly I have been every time I get frustrated with our Athenian adventure. It is amazing here! Everything looks beautiful with the moon coming out! The city is pulsing with life and I am a part of that! I feel more confident as I navigate the city streets; I mean, I even know the timing of the crosswalks by now. (The true measure of knowledge of a city, as far as I am concerned.)
And then the comfort of a grocery store. Everything is organized neatly in sections: produce, dairy, frozen, home goods. I know my way around here; I can do this! The store is busy and I pick a checkout line, unloading the contents of my basket on the running belt. The checkout woman picks up my onion. "βάρος?!" she demands. But I don't understand. "Weight! Weight!" she yells. Weight? You mean, I am supposed to weigh my own produce before I get to the checkout line?? And then remember the weight of everything and tell it to you on the spot in line??? I'm sorry--I didn't know. The long line of people waiting behind me starts to glare as I hold everyone up while she gets someone to weigh my onion for me. I am feeling very, very un-Greek right about now. I clumsily bag up my own groceries, bright red, pay up, and head back into the Athenian evening. The walk back is far less enjoyable. I am disappointed in my level of acclimatization, wondering, almost ready to cry, "why is everything so hard?"
I arrive home and Tim helps me put away the groceries. I tell him my onion story, and he pulls it out of the bag: "Nine cents? They should have just given it to you!"
And I laugh like hell.
