Greece was greasy and pretty great – not the trip of a lifetime, but I’m only 23 and to have already experienced that kind of trip would have seemed a bit premature and I would have less to look forward to in the years to come (Ireland, France, and Italy, all around the USA, and to the Caribbean I hope, and perhaps other places as yet unknown!). For the most part, it was hot, smelly, and sweaty, but also relaxing and full of reading and sunning and swimming and sleeping. The girls I went with really seemed to change their tune from take off to landing about how they wanted to spend their time during the vacation, and I realized after the first night out in Ios that I truly do not like to party like other people in my general age bracket do. Even though it was really frustrating to be in the midst of what will probably go down in my own personal history as the potentially craziest night of my life (they don’t even start to go out to the bars until midnight there, and there were at least a dozen or two bars down this one very narrow back alley way we found ourselves on, all with different themes and gimmicks, like fire jugglers and male strippers and one bar that did almost exclusively Red Bull drinks) and just not be able to react and enjoy any of it, I actually felt better having those suspicions confirmed. Why? Because it means that it’s just truly not my thing, and not a reflection on any negative feelings I have towards Steven and his preferred free-time lifestyle, or a reaction to what I witnessed of a certain ex’s drinking habits. It’s me, not anyone else. It was a learning experience.
So after that first night, I just stayed in and made it into the vacation I wanted it to be, as best I could, and I still got to spend some quality time with Ferg towards the end anyway, which was at least half of the reason I came in the first place, what with her leaving for Africa in less than a month now for the Peace Corps. Also, I got to see a lot of things I’d never seen before, like the black sand beaches in Santorini, for example.
Also, I was introduced to this beautiful poem by our amazing tour guide, Joel, as we wound up the volcanic mountains of Santorini – I liked his recitation a little bit better than Sean Connery’s, but alas.
And this poem helps me to feel better about the trip as well. It was not the trip of a lifetime, because my lifetime is a trip that is not yet over.
Anyway, I came back from Greece to immediately begin battle with my mother over my outrageous student loans and the fact that we had a miscommunication about who was going to be taking care of my financial aid for my final year of graduate school (and not a moment too soon – or is it?) and my maybe needing to get a second job and my having to overhaul my entire financial situation and put myself on a very strict budget to make up for this trip and everything else that I do wrong in my life (she was not in a good mood, and I suppose you could say that I was not above provoking her). Then I walk into my apartment and my stuff is strewn all over the floor and my roommate informs me that she’s been looking at houses to buy with her boyfriend and she’s hoping to move out sometime in September, but no later than December when the lease is up. So I either have to find and/or adjust to a new roommate, take on the entire financial burden of the apartment myself, or move out just in time for the holidays – and I can’t exactly afford an apartment on my own, and then this also brings about the issue of finding/adjusting to a new roommate.
Funny quirk: one of my new closest friends this summer has been my boyfriend’s only other serious and long-term ex-girlfriend, and she actually is in the market for a new apartment and really likes my place. However, Liz found someone to fill her room before even mentioning the situation to me (which I recognize as the responsible thing to do, but it does rob me of any chance to decide who I share a home with) so I believe it’s already promised to another girl (woman? Lady? She’s 28…I can accept being an adult myself (usually), but I always have such a hard time referring to other people within my age range as “women” and “men” rather than “girls” and “boys/guys”). This means that Hannah can’t move in, and this makes me sad. But! It also alleviates a potentially awkward situation before it gets a chance to escalate any further anyway…maybe. Unless we end up getting a place together anyway. Which could be great, honestly. I don’t know. I just have these visions of 90’s sitcom scenarios.
My life, I tell you.