the power of spray paint

In each country we’ve been to, graffiti has been splashed across cement walls, spray-painted on brick buildings, and flamboyantly colored on the sides of other trains that sped past our window. All the graffiti was one thing I hadn’t expected from sophisticated, cultured Europe, but just like in America and everywhere else, artists just want to make their mark on the world. In Greece, we walked down market alleys after closing time, and when every tin gate shut down over its store, the alley was alive with art in the form of graffiti. Each tin gate had a spray-painted mural of something beautiful or funky, and the whole alley screamed of these colorful creations.

Ryan told us that, in Greece, graffiti is a respected art when done right; it’s a horrible form of disrespect to graffiti on top of someone else’s excellent graffiti.

I remember visiting the Tower of London a couple months ago and seeing the preserved graffiti that the captives had carved into the stone walls of one of the prisoner chambers. There were crosses, symbols, words in different languages, and even paragraphs of a story or a prayer or a message. I tried to imagine myself in their position—I imagined being trapped in this stone cage with other men who’d committed crimes, needing an outlet for my emotion, and finally seeing one when I found a jagged rock in the corner. I imagined carving into those stone walls, sweating with the work of every letter, feeling alive for the first time in months, finally expressing a feeling in a permanent way. They were making their mark on the world, and a hundred years later, I stood before those same words and reveled at their stone-carved sentiments.

Today when I see graffiti on wooden doors, on building sides, on tin gates, on trains and windows and walls, I wonder if any of these spray-painted sentiments will one day be preserved as a piece of history for future people to stand before and revel at? For that matter… will any of our written sentiments—our inked thoughts, our electronic diaries, our own personal graffiti—be cared about at all when we’re not alive anymore?

island time.

After spending a few days in Athens, we decided we’d hit the seas and head to an island for a day. We took a ferry to the Greek island of Santorini (not JUST because it’s where the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants Greece scenes were filmed…) but because we were itching to see beaches studded with blue-domed white buildings.

We debated whether or not we should spend money on a hotel at all or if we should just sleep on the beach, but with a fair warning from Ryan’s dad, we decided to book a hotel. Luckily it was really cheap, and when we arrived at the port, the hotel owners were there to drive us up the cliff side to the hotel. Since it wasn’t tourist season, the island felt kind of deserted at times, but that made our bus rides more bareable. Our first order of business was to make our way out to the Black Beach, where the entire shore is made up of dark rocks instead of sand.

We took a few pictures and then sat to enjoy the sight for a while, then we headed back up the hill to catch the bus back to the main town of Fira, where our hotel was. We’d hoped to fit in a few more sight seeing things that afternoon, but the bus schedules were not easy to figure out and we somehow missed the first bus back. Greek time in general is not strict, as you can imagine, so we waited for over an hour on the next bus.

We finally caught the bus back just in time to not be able to go anywhere else on the island that night, so we decided to get up really early in the morning to try and make it out to Oia, a northern area of the island.

After yet another bus mishap, we hitch hiked into the city center with a man who didn’t speak English and then took a cheap taxi to the northern end of the island. This was the piece of the island we were ecstatic to see because it was the exact area of the island where the scenes in the movie were shot. White houses were embedded into the water-facing cliff side of the island, one blue dome a few yards away from the next. The water was more blue than we’d ever seen before.

Oia is definitely one of the most beautiful places we’ve been over the last three months, and even though it was Amanda who originally wanted to see this island most, it was Rachel who was utterly excited in Oia. She’d been waiting to see donkeys that you can ride up the mountain, but we hadn’t seen a single one so far and it was almost time to head back to Athens. But in Oia, as we walked the winding stone roads, we heard the jingling of chains and the clomping of hooves, and we all looked at each other as if to ask, “Can it be!?” Rachel’s face lit up, and she took off running down the stairs, but she didn’t make it all the way down before she slipped and fell, her legs sprawled out on either side of her. She was fine, and Amanda and I had a good laugh, but I’ll never forget the time Rachel (the least clumsy one of us all) was so excited about seeing donkeys that she slipped down the stairs running after them. We didn’t get to ride the donkeys because we had to catch our ferry back to the mainland, but at least we got to see them up close and personal.

By some miracle I caught this moment before she got up.

Notice Rachel’s head in the next pictures.

Athens

Before actually going to Athens, I pictured dirt roads weaving in and out of fields full of ancient ruins. Of course, I knew it was more of a lively city than anything else, but I still associated it with Greek gods in ancient times. And even though it is a bustling city, there are plenty of ruins all throughout it, sometimes just feet from the highway.

Something else you’ll find all over the city are stray and abandoned dogs, most of them still wearing their collars; they are literally on every corner, on every street, and sprawled out in every patch of grass.

We found ourselves wanting to feed them and pet them, but we were warned that these dogs were not healthy and that we shouldn’t get near them. But that just couldn’t stop us completely… we did

find ourselves with a few homeless dog friends who followed us around a few places because we fed them what bread we’d brought for our lunch that day. Don’t worry, we didn’t touch them, and we weren’t attacked; we just couldn’t bare the sight of so many hopeless, hungry dogs that had been so heartlessly abandoned.

Anyway, we made it all the way up to the Acropolis and were able to see the Parthenon, a few ancient theaters, statues, and other ancient ruins. Looking back now, I’m still in a stage of shock that we saw and even touched some of the actual structures that we studied in high school and college. Amanda and I took some time to journal as we sat at the top of the Theater of Dionysus, looking down on the stage where actors used to entertain thousands of people. A view of Athens was laid out across the horizon, modern buildings and ancient ruins mingling together. As we sat atop those old marble seats with grass sprouting from the cracks, we wrote about what we were seeing, feeling, and experiencing. These few minutes made up what has become one of my fondest memories in Europe.

Another one of my favorite memories in Greece was when we’d find our way to a little square in the city center, where I’d buy a gyro and some gelato, and we’d sit in this square each day and enjoy the sounds and sights of Greece.

There were men playing instruments, trying to earn what money they could. There were fruit stands and nut stands set up at every corner, where strawberries or pistachios were piled high and sold by the bag.

As we walked along the roads, little children playing their accordions serenaded us. On the subways, little girls would hold out their little money cups, smile, and sing loudly in Greek. I remember listening to a young girl with a long black braid sing from the other end of the subway as I looked out the window and watched orange and lemon trees in people’s front yards pass us by.

Athens was definitely the city of citrus fruits & street performers and beggars, but it’s also the city of nightlife. I’ve learned about myself over the past few months that I’m kind of a grandma. Instead of going out late at night, sometimes I’d rather just watch a movie or go to bed. But in Athens, our friend Ryan took us out on the town one night, and we had such a good time; we ate pizza at a nice restaurant, then we sat outside of another restaurant and listened to the music pouring from a club down the street. It was surprising to see people still out and about when we left to catch the last subway at 2:00 AM; Ryan said that most people stay out all night and catch the subway when it opens again at 5:30 AM. When we questioned him about how they can stay up all night and work all day, he reminded us that Greece is not like America—most people prefer laziness over hard work, so they have afternoon breaks from 2-5. Most Greeks take a nap or rest a little, and even when they do work, it’s not with the intensity that most Americans do, so they are always fully rested and ready for a night on the town.

Ryan is a friend of ours who we know from Pineywoods, a church camp that Amanda, Rachel, and I have worked at for years. He’s lived in Athens most of his life with his parents, who are missionaries. He was our very own tour guide and translator, which made our experience of Athens city life and nightlife so much better! His parents, who travel all over the world, happened to be at home during this time, and they housed and fed us during our stay. They were hospitable and kind, thoughtful and protective. The way they live and love as Christian examples is completely inspiring, and I feel blessed to have met them. To help say thank you for their hospitality, Amanda, Rachel and I crashed the Greek super market and bought what we could to make something as close to a Tex Mex meal as Greek ingredients would allow. We had to improvise a little, but the meal was a success, and Ryan’s family absolutely loved it. The one downside was that it wasn’t spicy enough, so Ryan’s dad brought out this special dried and crushed pepper for us to try. As a disaster-relief missionary, he travels all over the world to places in need; he got this specific kind of pepper from Armenian locals during a mission trip there. We sprinkled it on our fajitas, and it was amazing. He saw how much I loved the spice, so he immediately went to the kitchen, found an empty spice bottle, and started scooping every bit of this dried pepper into the bottle. I continued eating, not really knowing what he was doing, but then he handed me the bottle. I refused to take it, of course, because he’d gotten it from such a special place and special people. But he refused to NOT let me take it. He smiled, looked me in the eye, and asked, “Is this spice more special than you?” After a short pause and a smile of recognition that he’d found a way to make me have to take his spice, I reluctantly (but gratefully) put the bottle in my pocket as if it was a piece of gold. It’s by far my favorite souvenir, just like Greece is by far one of my favorite countries.

Ryan & Amanda

Greek Changing of the Guards

(yes, they really wear this…)
For those of you who’ve read my blog since the beginning, you’ll appreciate the fact that I actually saw the CHANGE happen this time! 

Greek Lays 🙂

Praha

The Dutch language has never sounded so beautiful. When I bought my Douwe Egberts coffee (my new favorite, by the way) at the Albert Heijn when we landed back in The Netherlands this morning, the cashier sputtered off what would’ve sounded like gibberish to me a few months ago. Ok, so it still sounds like gibberish… but at the recognition of DUTCH chatter, my whole body relaxed for a moment, finally realizing I was somewhere familiar. I was closer to home.

Before I start telling you about our extensive sixteen-city trek across Europe in the past three weeks, I’ll go ahead and catch you up on a couple places we went before school ended.

On the way to Prague, I remember looking out the window to the sight of rickety buildings, rusted tin roofs, and little gardens with twiggy trees in tiny backyards. When I woke up on the train the next morning in the Czech Republic, I looked out the window to the sight of graffiti covering the walls of almost every building we passed. All the graffiti is one thing I didn’t expect from Europe in general before I came, but just like in America and everywhere else, artists just want to make their mark on the world, and Prague seems like one of the best places to start doing so.

Whether it’s street graffiti artists, caricaturists, experienced water color painters, or even musicians playing in the town square or on Charles bridge, Prague is bursting with art and life and creativity. It’s really no wonder when you look at the beauty and the scenery surrounding the town. Once we got past some of the big city areas of the Czech Republic, pulled into Prague, and navigated our way to the cobblestone streets and bridges just past the main road, we’d struck gold in the form of art and architecture. I’ve never seen such beautiful archways, buildings and bridges in my life. The whole city seems to be painted with a shade of light sepia, and pops of color shine through every now and then, rendering everything and everybody completely picturesque. The intricate detail of the statues, the bridges, and even the roads and the lights feels old and wise in the sense that they’ve seen hundreds of years worth of people walk past.

And then there are the people who make the city feel hopelessly modern. As we hurried through the dark town at 4:30AM to catch a train home, we approached Charles Bridge and heard the first sound of life in the dusky city that we’d heard all morning. As we began crossing it, we saw in a group of young guys in the middle of it, obviously drunk, not wearing any pants. Since we were running late and because two of us knew self-defense pretty well and the other two can throw a mean punch (or squirt a mean mace), we felt fine not diverting our course just to avoid them. Turns out we were pretty safe since all they wanted to do was hum a tune while shaking their hips at us.

Despite the crazy guys (ok, partly because of them), I really loved Prague. The scary thing is that I almost missed it. Early on we had decided to go to Prague on the weekend before finals week, wanting to take advantage of every single weekend in Europe. Keep in mind that over here, since our schooling was on a condensed and intense schedule, we had no “dead days” or study days for finals, and we even kept going to some classes while finals were starting. Since we hadn’t stayed in Maastricht a single weekend, we desperately needed that weekend to study for these tests (which made up anywhere from 50-70% of our grades!) BUT, as always, we decided that we could multitask. So we packed our books and papers and set off on the train for yet another country. We did, though, make the wise decision to come home very late on Saturday so that we could have Sunday to study in the comfort of our dorm rooms, which meant, sadly, that we had to leave Prague far too soon.

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Looking back now, comparing my final grades to all of my travels, I definitely know which one of the two is more special to me. I think you might know too.

See a little video of some of our fun in Praha.

Greece – a quick update.

I’m sitting on the futon that Rachel and I slept on all week while in Athens, and I’m enjoying the comfort and familiarity of this home and this bed and this city for the last night.

Athens has been unbelievable! We went to the Acropolis and stared open-mouthed at the massive ruins that still stand. We climbed to a high hill and looked out over the huge city. We sat in the square listening to the musicians and eating ice-cream or gyros. We were semi-harrassed by beggars. We even took a ferry to an island for a couple days. You’ll hear more about all of this later. Right now I’m just updating you quickly while I have a little bit of time.

We’re leaving for Italy in less than an hour. It’s 4:50 AM Greece time, and Amanda and I decided to stay up all night to make sure that we get up on time for the very first Metro at 5:30 that will HOPEFULLY get us to our bus at 6:30 that will HOPEFULLY get us to our flight at 12:50. After sleeping in an uncomfortable ferry chair last night and going sleepless tonight, we’re running on caffeine, hope, and daydreams of real Italian pasta.

out the door!

It’s half past midnight, and in less than six hours we’ll be out the door and on our way to Greece. I’m still doing laundry, and I haven’t even packed yet! But I refuse to stress out because I’m still rejoicing in the fact that school is over. I won’t be reading, studying, or even thinking about anything that has to do with school for three weeks.

We’re headed to Greece first, then Italy, Spain, and Ireland again. I have no idea if I’ll have Internet for the next few weeks, so I’m sure my blogs will be extremely rare. But you can look forward to a bunch of posts when I get back!

Tot ziens!