寅THE TIGER IN ME 寅.

寅"Born leader" is the key word for the Tigers. They are always in the lead and are most likely the ones to cry out "Let's Go"! Noble and Fearless, Tigers are respected for their courage, even from those working against them.

寅Tiger people are daring fighters, they are capable of standing up to the better end for what they think is right. Although they could be selfish from time to time in the little things, they are capable of great generosity. Tigers are unpredictable, always tense. and like to be in a hurry.

寅Tiger people are difficult to resist, for they are magnetic characters and their natural air of authority confers a certain prestige on them. They are tempestuous yet calm, warm-hearted yet fearsome, courageous in the face of danger yet yielding and soft in mysterious, unexpected places.

寅Tigers are very confident, perhaps too confident sometimes. Although they love adventures, and are addicted to excitement it is better not to challenge a Tiger's confidence. They likes being obeyed and not the other way around.

寅Tigers are urgent people and always in a hurry to get things done right so they usually choose to operate alone. Tigers like to work, they are hard-working and dynamic. If you assign a task to a Tiger, the job will be undertaken and accomplished with enthusiasm and efficiency. Tigers make money, but they are not directly interested in money. Still, the Tiger needs not worry about money: just when he fears the money is gone, more seems to show up.

寅Tigers are sensitive, emotional. They are capable of great love, but they become too intense about it. They are also territorial and possessive, if you are a friend of a Tiger, he wants you to take his side against the bad guys and because the Tiger is so adorable, you often do. As lovers, Tigers are passionate and romantic, but the real challenge for the Tiger is to grasp the true meaning of moderation.

寅The Tiger, the living symbol of strength and power, generally inspires fear and respect. Tigers' compelling dynamism, intense activity, independence and curiosity about others make them irresistible, persons of multiple charms; Tigers attract followers and admirers. The Tiger is courageous, active and self-assured, and makes an excellent leader and protector. However liberal-minded Tigers may be, they are passionate, rash, and resist the authority of others. Although they are selfish in the little things, they are capable of great generosity, even of altruism, in the larger. Tigers are men and women of action, thrust by destiny into the spotlight.

寅Tigers are fearless creatures in as much as they blind themselves to dangers and impetuously rush in where more cautious individuals would fear to tred. Outspoken in the face of injustice, their strong humanitarian instincts will not allow them to pass by if they see a wrong perpetrated upon another.

寅Tigers tend to renounce confining traditional roles, opting for a more unfettered life. With a wide ranging mind, they can adopt any number of careers. Their many experiences serve to enrich their life and add depth to their nature. Material benefits matter little to them.

寅Tigers have an inborn magnetic personality that attracts people to them like bees to honey. Warm-hearted, sociable and friendly, they are characterised by their frank, honest and open approach. Their immense kindness and generosity will always shine through except when crossed or backed into a corner, for then they can become vehement and ferocious.

寅Solitude is often the price Tigers pay for their position of authority, but they become accustomed to it. Better still, they draw on the experience, gaining new energies and great strength.

寅Chinese say the life of a Tiger born at night will be less hectic than that of Tigers born after dawn and above all, those born around midday. It will be a stormy life full of dangers, but the Tiger will never be bored. Neither Night Tiger nor Day Tiger will have an easy life. 

寅The lucky Tiger represents the greatest power on earth, and is the emblem of protection for human life. A Tiger in the house minimizes the Three Great Risks -- thieves, fire, and evil spirits. If there are two Tigers in the house, however, one of them has to go!

寅Tigers make ardent and virile lovers who dominate their partners. Because of their sensuality, their impetuousness and love of adventure, there is an excitement that not only follows Tigers wherever they go, but also guarantees them a certain irrestible sexy allure. These creatures whose emotions are out-front have strong libidos and are lusty in their passions. Generally flirtatious, they are especially prone to wild flings in their early years but do settle down as they get older. When committed to a happy and fulfilling relationship, Tigers make loving and caring partners, warm-hearted and generous. They don't, however, lose that romantic streak nor that exciting ability to surprise.

寅Encounters with the Horse and the Dragon will be especially interesting. Tigers will feel a definite affinity with the Rat and Boar but should avoid the Rabbit. Above all, beware of the Ox, who is stronger than the Tiger and will keep on attacking him until he is destroyed. If there is a Tiger and an Ox under the same roof the Tiger will have to quit before he is annihilated.

寅March is the month of the Tiger. The time of the Tiger is from 3:00 a.m. to 4:59 a.m.; their direction of orientation is east-northeast. The Tiger's color is green.

寅Compatibility
(1 - least compatible, 100 - most compatible)
Dog 89 - Good! A balanced and harmonic relationship.
Horse 86 - Why not, they have lots in commons.
Monkey 81 - These two make eager loves.
Pig 79 - They are very different, but this will work.
Dragon 76 - Despite minor difficulties, it's good for marriage.
Snake 69 - Difficult to see what they could see in each other.
Rat 65 - In order to success, both must endure.
Rooster 55 - Not a balanced relationship
Tiger 52 - Two tigers?! Not recommended.
Rabbit 46 - Difficult. Possible convenience marriage
Ox 33 - Almost impossible to make it work.
Sheep 24 - One of the worst combinations.

寅Celebrities:
Queen Elizabeth II,  Marilyn Monroe,  Sun Yet San,  C.A. Lindbergh,  Karl Marx Beethoven

POTPOURRI: A LITTLE DASH OF OREGANO, A LITTLE SPLASH OF LEMON, AND A BIT SMOTHERING OF EXTRA VIRGIN OLIVE OIL

It's been several hours and 6 whole days since I did my last posting.  Remember I mentioned that I would temporarily do a weekly blog, instead of a daily posting, until I finished my Greek Language classes?  Well, that's the reason why, if you're following my blogspot, I have not written anything since last Wednesday.   If there was one good thing that came up with not doing a daily blog was that I was able to put up a list of things to say and write.   I did a "title-draft" of those topics so it would be easier for me to just sit down and ramble and rattle.    Tonight's rattling is a little bit of everything that happened (well, the ones I remember at least) the past week. 

First thing first:  My Greek school is going well it's just that the school administrators can not make up their fucking minds what to do with us and the scheduling.  For an institution staffed by Greek educators and dealing with education, they have no organizational skills.  To put it in bluntly: "They're fucked up!".  All of us, students, have complained to the teacher (and we bitched about it between and among us), but we never dared step up and talk to the administrators because the school is...(drum roll)... FREE!.  Yes, we have no freaking business or right to complain because we're not paying shit to anybody.  They are actually doing us a favor, so we essentially owe those fuckers.    The program is sponsored by the City of Rhodes and offered to non Greek speaking working immigrants.  Yes, working immigrants.  So, that's another reason why I don't have a single iota of nerves to raise hell because, technically, I shouldn't be in the class because I am not a working immigrant!  I am not even an immigrant yet.  It's meant for Albanians, Russians, Bulgarians and other European Union citizens who work in Rhodes.  But for the sake of simple discussion, let me tell you how fucked up the so-called administrators are.  (First), they changed the frequency of our classes from three times a week (Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays from 12:30 to 2:00 pm)  to twice a week (Tuesdays and Thursdays, same time) on the last room on the second floor of the building.   That happened almost two weeks ago.  Then (Second), from out of nowhere, they changed the venue to the last room on the ground floor...without telling the teacher and us, the students.  There were no notice or warning.  We all showed up for class not knowing where to go because our classroom was already occupied by young mothers learning how to saw.   After slight panic, and frustration on our part, we were finally directed to the new room.   Still, no notice was posted on the door of our last classroom to notify the students, so we ended up having only half of the original class that Tuesday.  I took it upon myself to write a note ("The 12:30 Greek Class has moved downstairs, on the ground floor, last room on your left!").  

"ευχαριστώ", (pronounced Efharisto, meaning "Thank You") says Roula, our 24 year old language teacher.    Even she didn't think of doing that!  Kids!    

(Third) Then the following day of class (Thursday), Roula told us that the hours of our Thursday class would start an hour earlier (11:30 instead of 12:30) starting the following Thursday.  The reason?  Nobody knows!...oh, not only that, (Fourth), she said that on Tuesdays, we would be back on the second floor (our old classroom), and on Thursdays, the class would be held downstairs (our new classroom).  The reason?  Still...nobody really knows!.  So, for succeeding classes after that, some students missed the class because they didn't know where to go and what time to go.   Then, (Fifth) last Tuesday, Roula informed us that the class hours would be back to what they were originally at,  and that all the classes would be held downstairs.   The reason?....you guess it right!   Well, to our consolation, Roula couldn't say it any better, "It's the Greek way", she says smiling.  

We know there will be more more changes coming up so I think the class is ready for those un-announced and "no-explanation" changes.  We've become very flexible, patient and tight-lipped. Again, it's all because the class is free.   One drawdown though:  our multi racial/ethnic class shrunk from 12 to 6.   

One good thing about those sudden changes in my Greek class, however, is that we unknowingly formed a core group.   What used to be my "me, myself & I time" at Starbucks became a study social group of sort that meets every Wednesday.  In my new core group are Salwah, a gorgeous Lebanese girl who is married to Lefteris, a Greek tour guide; Danijella, a perky Serbian, who is married to Mpampis (Babis), a Greek engineer; Guda, a tall sporty Lithuanian; and Toui, a very soft spoken sweet blond girl from Latvia.    I, sometimes, regret telling them about me going to Starbucks on Wednesdays because what was originally planned to be a "personal study day and alone time" became a weekly friendly meeting, where sometimes their husbands would show up too.  It's like having the customary coffee but not with my Greek friends, but with my "multi-racial and ethnic" friends.   The management of Starbucks, on the other hand, were happy to host us because not only that we give them business, but we make their overlooked and abandoned coffee house seem somewhat "manned and visited", which sometimes attract other customers.  Remember what I wrote about the reason why locals don't normally patronize Starbucks?   As I've mentioned in my previous posting, I like going to the local Starbucks because it's peaceful, quiet and serene.  No crowd. No smokes.  No noise.  The place is all mine.  I personally know the staff because I am a regular.  (The barista is an English guy from London named Ocean, and his shift manager is Giorgos, a Rhodian who goes to school in London during the school year). 

The topics of discussion every time we meet varies but its funny how it always zoom in and narrow down to "what we thought are weird or unusual, or what makes Greek different from us or the rest of the world".    The discussion is always alive and enlightening because of the different views, not just from us, the non-Greeks, but from the Greek husbands.  So, there's always a mini-debate and mini-arguments especially when the Greeks rebut and try to explain (rationalize, actually) why they act and behave they way they do.  I bet there were Wednesday nights when the ladies and their Greek husbands do not talk, maybe even sleep on separate beds and no sex, when they retire on Wednesday evenings ☹ .   Last Wednesday, we changed venue to a different cafe bar, Finn Cafe.  And, oh by the way, Roula, our teacher, is going to start joining our group, with her boyfriend, Apostoli, starting next Wednesday. 

Today, Thursday, is "Tsiknopempti".    It's the Greek's version of Fat Thursday.  Tsiknopempti, which loosely means "barbeque Thursday" is the day of the year, 10 days before the beginning of Lent, when locals consume massive amounts of grilled meats.  The compound word "Tsiknopempti" originates from the words tsikna (meaning, the smell of roast food)  and Pempti (meaning, Thursday).  All restaurants and tavernas would be packed with people who made prior reservations to be with friends and family just to eat, and eat, and eat more meat, and then eat some more.  My kind of "celebration".  Tomorrow, Friday is the beginning of the Greek Orthodox Lent.  However, tonight I didn't have grilled meats.  I had that yesterday, and to be perfectly honest, I am kind of "greek- barbequed" out, so I prepared and had Mexican Tacos.  

Do not get me wrong.  I love Greek food but there's just something about Greek cuisine that makes you (after a while) feel:  "OK, I've had enough...for now."  I felt the same way when I lived in Italy.  I promised myself, after living for a year in Naples, that I would never eat pasta for a year.   When I was stationed in Turkey and Saudi Arabia, my meals consisted mostly of chicken and I swore I would not eat chicken again.  One personal luxury I have back in the US is the the freedom and opportunity to taste, try, eat different kinds of food and cuisines, and one of the absolute few things I missed being  in the ole U.S of A is the availability and the variety of anything and everything.    You can buy and/or cook anything, or you can have Chinese dimsum for lunch, a Mexican buffet for dinner, an Indian fare the following day, Greek food on Saturday,  Sushi on Sunday, so on and so forth.  The choices are endless, limitless, and very accessible. 

I mentioned about "something" in Greek food that makes it distinctly Greek.   The same way we could easily distinguish the "common somethings" in:  

a)  Mexican food (i.e., most Mexican dishes, no matter what they're called, always have pretty much the same stuff.  What do Tacos, Taquitos, Chimichangas, Flautas, Fajitas, Burros, Burritos, Enchiladas have in in common?),   or 

b)  Indian food (the long list of spices and herbs they use), or 

c)  Thai (the combination of hot, sweet, sour and salty, and sometimes bitter,...but mostly focused on the spicy hotness of it), or

d)  Chinese (the common use of soy sauce and the ever controversial monosodium glutamate (MSG), used for the umami effect).    

Greek cuisine is no exception.  What makes Greek food uniquely theirs is the common use of three very basic ingredients:  (all organic, if I may add) oregano, lemon and olive oil.  Just about all Greek dishes use them, sometimes just the three of them or sometimes in addition to some other ingredients but those three are always, most often than not, the major ingredients.   In fact, I have yet to try a Greek dish that didn't have either olive oil, or oregano or lemon juice, or combination of two or all of them, be it soup, salad, sauces, marinades, starches, pies or any main entrees of chicken, pork, lamb, or beef.    Take special note however that Greek oregano is different from Mexican or Italian oregano.  So if and when you want to really make your dish truly Greek, you have to use the Greek variety.  

 

On a hindsight:  Have you ever craved for a specific food, or for a certain cuisine?  Have you ever drooled  over some dish or entree you see on TV, or magazine?  Have you ever attempted to replicate a dish or entree you had only to fail?  or have you ever succeeded in duplicating a dish and became a staple part of your regular menu?  Sometimes, too regular and too often that your family has gotten sick and tired of it?  My answer is an astounding YES to all of the above.  I always crave for specific food and cuisines. I've drooled a thousand times over pictures, stories, ads and commercials, even menus and recipes.  I've replicated, duplicated, copied, fused, adjusted and modified countless dishes and entries, and haven't failed once.  And more importantly, I've never heard any complaints...to my face, that is.

Everywhere I've been to, any country for that matter, I've had overnight fascination and infatuation  with the local food/cuisine.  I would get so into it that I would go the extra lengths to try and eat and learn as much as I could.  I would visit different restaurants, especially the ones recommended by the locals, and the ones featured on TV or magazines.  I would venture out and just go for walks and grab anything edible that I would see on the streets.  Its a good thing I have a very resilient stomach and well functioning digestive system.   I have yet to experience any kind of food borne illnesses, or food poisoning, or food allergies.  But don't get me wrong though, I have some dishes/entrees I've tried that did not particularly like, and chances are that I would never try them again.   

Caveat:  I just want to let you know though that even if my tastes and interests in food vary and cover a wide spectrum of anything and everything, my all time, ultimate favorite dish is, and will always be Pho.  I will do a separate posting on Pho in the next few days, and in succeeding postings, I will be dedicating one exclusive post about the different countries I've been to and visited.

Damn!, its almost midnight and all these food talks are making me hungry.  No, in fact its not making me hungry.  I am hungry!.  I am going to make me plate and eat before I hit the sack. Until next week, Ciao!

THE IRONY OF FOOD

I've mentioned more than a million times how I love food.  Food is the only vice I have.  Food is one love affair I would not dare break up with or take for granted.  It's out of control that I would call myself a certified food addict.  No type of interventions can possibly cure it.   Eating for me is a mastered expertise.  My love for food makes me eat.  I would eat anything, and by that, I mean, just about anything.  I've tried just about everything and out of that, I could easily count with my fingers the ones that I would not dare eat or touch again.  Nevertheless, eating has remained to be my favorite hobby and food as a passion.  I don't think its that bad considering I neither drink (alcohol) nor smoke (anything).   I know some people are surprised to know that I eat, and can eat anything I want considering I'm diabetic.  I don't diet.  I was never put on any kind of diabetic diet.  I don't believe in dieting, but I do believe in moderation.  

My somewhat illicit love affair with food kind of encouraged me to be an epicurean and a culinarian, and eventually pursue it academically.  While I was stationed as the Chief Classifier at Navy Recruiting District Denver, I didn't have much of a social life, not a lot of friends, or didn't have that much interest on doing things that the city of Denver or the State of Colorado offered.  I, for a lack of a better word, "hated" Denver, Colorado.   The summers were scorching hot, and the winters are miserably icy, lonely, dark and cold.   During summers, I never dared go out unless I really really had to (damn work!) because the heat of the sun was burning, and in winters, I had to literally wrap myself up in layers and layers of thick clothing and full winter gears so I could walk to work almost 10 blocks away.  I had to walk because there's no way I would drive on block ice or 4 feet of snow! Fucking hell no!

The only saving grace of my hatred and loathing of Denver, Colorado was my love for food and eating.  Had it not for that, I would've gone doubly nuts!   I say saving grace because Denver happens be one of the few cities in all of that US that has a local Johnson & Wales University campus.  J&W is one of the most respected culinary academes in the country, if not the world. Few of the alumni  are Bill Bigham, Michelle Bernstein, and the famous TV personalities, Tyler Florence and  Emeril Lagasse.    One  Sunday afternoon, out of sheer boredom, I was driving around the city and came across an old school going through major massive renovations and a big sign that on the site would be the location of the new Johnson & Wales University-Denver Campus.  I kid you not, the following day (M0nday), I didn't go to work and went to the Admission's Office and inquired and... enrolled at the same time in their pilot program for Associates in Culinary Arts.  So, for the next 2 years, I would change from my military uniforms to the standard culinary student uniform (the checkered pants, the white coat and funny small cap and handkerchief around my neck), and went to school from 7pm to midninght.   It was a blast.  The 5 hours of class everynight, both theoretical and practical, went by literally unnoticed.  Oftentimes, we would stay later because we had to clean and sanitize the kitchen, top to bottom.  There were 16 in my class, all working mature adult professionals who all had regular daytime jobs but chose to pursue one thing they would rather do or love to do.   Everything was provided by the school: the uniforms, the books, and all the ingredients, utensils, gadgets and equipments.  All we had to do was show up, study and cook!.  I enjoyed it tremendously, I had so much fun, I ate so much (as so did my weiner dog, Joey) for free, and the best part?  I didn't have to pay for it.  The Navy, under the Tuition Assistance (TA) Program, paid for it. Well, if you want to be more technical, YOU, the taxpayers, paid for it.  Even after the program, I still don't consider myself a chef or even dare call myself one.  I never had the chance to put into practice what I learned academically because I was still fully employed by the Navy then.  I didn't get to work or cook, even as a prep cook, in any eating establishments.  The word "Chef" is a hard earned title.  To be one or even called one literally and figuratively takes years (many many years) of experience and expertise, of sweat, blood and tears.   You don't just freely use it or freely address people as such.  I still give a funny look and smile when I hear people call and address regular cooks as Chefs.  I am not and don't think will ever be a Chef.  I do, however, consider myself an educated cook, a damn educated good cook!

Let's talk about my dog, Joey (may he rest in dog heaven).  He, a miniature dachshund, was almost 2 years old when I got him (inherited, I guess)  from one of the recruiters who was getting transferred to Hawaii.  He was named after the Joey character from the TV show "Friends".  He was one of the 6 litters and all were named after the show's lead actors.  Joey was a very smart, very loyal, very caricatured and very well trained dog.  You know what they say about dogs and their masters eventually looking alike? well, we didn't exactly looked alike but he picked up my habit.  Yes, he also loved to eat, and in that regard, I went a little overboard and spoiled him.  He never once ate dog food.  He ate nothing but leftover food from the school.  Expensive leftover food.  Joey was having better food than the average American.  You see, in Johnson & Wales, we cooked 8 to 12 different dishes, not including the two choices of salad, few appetizers, soup and a couple choices of dessert, to be able to come up with at least 3 or 4 full entrees' good for 50 servings.  Fifty (50) servings were for us (the students, but we ate last after all the meals had been served),  for some of the faculty chefs, and for our guests.  Yes, we were allowed to invite and bring guests to sample our food so long as they didn't mind waiting and having formal dinner at 11:00 in the evening.  Even if we bussed 50 servings, we still had leftovers.  Always.  So, the only options for leftovers were either to throw them away down the industrial garbage disposal, or take them home.  Left overs were never given to orphanages, or jails, or homeless centers, or to any organizations that feed the hungry and the poor.  Reason? possible lawsuits.  (You know, what if one of those homeless died because he was allergic to peanuts, or had food poisoning, or somebody was sent to the hospital for any kind of food reaction, or even just diarrhea?) So, the whole time I was going to school and I had Joey, he ate bacon, ham, lamb, pork...anything I brought home from the school.  More often than not, I would have food for him for weeks on end that I would have so much junk in my fridge that I had no choice but had him eat 6 times a day so I could have more room for more leftovers.  He loved it!    But all good things come to an end, sad to say.  When he was going through the medical test/evaluations for his clearance and certificate to travel overseas to Greece, he was diagnosed with obesity.  Accurately, the doctor said he was "morbidly obese".  He had hypertension, he was diabetic and had kidney problems.  "What have you been feeding him?", the doctor asked.  I gave him a blank sorry ass look, "Food", I remember saying, but I didn't specify if it was dog, or people food.  Joey was put on medications (figures), and on a very strict diet (double figures).  With only 6 months between his diagnosis and our departure to Greece, how could he possibly lose 15 -20 pounds?  (Oh, by the way, Joey was almost 10 inches high, almost 18 inches long, and almost 40 pounds heavy.  The normal average weight for his size was 15-20 pounds.   He got so fucking fat that when he walked, he dragged his belly and his chest and you could see the marks on the ground.  He never ran, because he couldn't run.  Sometimes, no matter how excited he got when he saw me coming home with bags of  goodies from school, he just wiggled his tail, sat down and waited for me to approach him.  Funny, but sad!)  I left Joey with my brother when I flew to Greece in 2002.  He lost most of the unwanted weight, but hardly recovered from the complications of obesity.   He was put to sleep last year, he was 8 years old.

"It's amazing how food can feed the need for subsistence and can support the life cycle and the maintenance of the human mankind; how food can eradicate hunger; how food can enable the addicted, how food can enrich people in so many ways and how food fuels gluttony.  It's tragic and disheartening though when food as a lifeline can cause havoc and chaos;  how food can be used as a tool for control, fear and authority; how food can be used as a poor excuse for war; how food can encourage greed and discontent; how food can cause so many illnesses and diseases; how food can vanish a village, or a tribe; how food can cause suffering, even death".   

YES, AM A DRUGGIE.

Druggie definition:  ☆ drug·gie (drug′ē), noun, slang: a habitual user of drugs.

I am officially on 12 medications.  5 are regular, which I take because of my Type II DM, and the rest are shelved on the medicine cabinet for "just in case" or "when the attack hits" (such as head aches, back/wrist/knee and various body pains, TMJ/TMD, allergy reactions to food).  8 are regulated and can only be dispensed with doctor's prescriptions, the other 3 are regular over the counter.  3 are for maintenance, 3 are preventive, 8 are curative.  The good thing?  I don't have to pay a single cent.  Free.  Gratis.  Libre.

One perk of having served in and retired from the military is the continuous medical benefits. Yes, that includes:  all check-ups and follow-ups, evaluations and examinations, tests, surgeries, referrals, prescriptions and drugs, including scheduled refills.  And am covered anywhere I go, back in the US or overseas from head to toe, inside and out.   And if by chance I ran out of my meds and the refills didn't come on time, I could go to a local pharmacy and buy my medications and get full reimbursements.  You can't beat that!  Just imagine if I were to pay for all those with my modest retirement pay? I'd be screwed big time.  

I know there were more than one occasions when and where I've badmouthed and bit the hand that fed, clothed and sheltered me for a couple of decades but those "moments of temporary ungratefulness" were out of the usual frustrations, exhaustion, the feelings of being burnt out and burnt down.  We all feel that, we all go through that.  How many times have you thought about not going to work because you hate somebody or everybody or because of deadlines, or thought about throwing a stapler at somebody, or wished you could choke your supervisor, or hoped your office building caught on fire?  It's a normal human reaction no matter how much we love and value whatever we do.  At some point, or at one point, we hated our jobs.  In the final analysis, we keep and maintain total loyalty and everlasting gratitude to the professions and careers we chose to pursue and do.  

Do I miss the military?  A little bit, to be honest.  I don't miss the deployments and detachments.  I don't miss the standing of watches, I don't miss the inspections, I don't miss the very regimented and structured lifestyle, I don't miss the uniforms.  I don't miss writing reports and evaluations, I don't miss waking up very early in the morning or having not good enough sleep.  I don't miss the weekend and overtime work.  But I do miss the traveling part, visiting different foreign ports, the shopping, and of course...I miss my friends.  Friends are the ones I missed most.  The camaraderie, the fraternity, the closeness, the after-work get togethers, the parties/socials.   If there was only a drug that would make me numb, ignore and oblivious to the things I didn't like and didn't miss, I would've taken it in a heartbeat even if I got addicted to and dependent on it for life.  I wouldn't care if I had to pay for it so long as I could enjoy the things that I sorely miss.   

"Crack is whack!" - Whitney Houston

THE EVIDENCE IS OUT...THE VERDICT IS IN!

On account of me being under the weather, I thought my Sunday would be less eventful that what it normally is.  I thought I would be confined in the four corners of my bedroom.  I've taken a total of 6 Motrin, 2 tablets every 8 hours starting yesterday at 6pm. It's a good thing I brought a big jar of Motrin from the US. It's one of the regular drugs on my prescription list, and I get automatic refills from VA every 3 months. It was prescribed to me originally for my wrist, knee and ankle pains but it actually works on all kinds of pain, including head and back aches. I remember getting my introduction to Motrin in bootcamp. Motrin is the military's universal wonder drug. Every time I went to sick call for whatever pain I had during the training, i was given Motrin, and surprisingly, it worked all the time. Aside from Motrin, I was prescribed Naproxen for my TMJ, which acts up few times a year. However, I can not take Motrin and Naproxen at the same time.
I slept relatively well last night, and I felt much better today. I woke up feeling much better at 10am.  I wonder if my hair somehow grew a centimeter long while I was in la-la-land and I am starting to regain my lost powers. Just the same, my hair is still shorter than usual. As you can see at the picture on this posting, I did get a buzz.  These pictures are "before (taken almost 2 weeks ago) and after (this morning) " shots.  Could you tell the difference though?  I can.  I actually like it. I ended up going to the same guy I went to see in 2005, his name is Panagiotis. It took him a while to remember me, but he finally did, and after the cut, I asked him to not forget the blade numbers and the cut he gave me because I would be seeing him in less than a month. The haircut costs €8 euros (roughly $12 dollars). He did such a good job that I tried to give him €2 euros tip, but he politely handed me back the coin.  Well, he essentially refused.   (Touche').  Well, he owns, manages and works in his own barber shop, and I think he was trying to win my patronage by refusing the tip which I found seemingly and unusually strange, and offensively rude.  "Who refuses a tip"?  I had to wait for 10 minutes inside his shop for my ride. He even offered me coffee, which I politely turned down (not because I thought he was a bitch for refusing my courtesy tip and I was doing a payback. No, it wasn't like that, it was because I don't drink coffee).  He also offered me his landline/phone to call my ride. I think I am going back to see him but I will also try my Greek friend's (Rat) barber/hairstylist and then make my final decision on who to go to regularly when its time for my monthly haircut. My next mission in this relatively sorry ass life is to find a good enough dentist to do my semi-annual OP (oral prophylaxis) or, cleaning.  I am few weeks overdue.

Back to my haircut.  The pictures were taken this morning at Starbucks.  Now you guys see the concrete evidence of what I did with my dilemma few days back.  Now, what do you think?  Your verdict?  Yay or Nay? 

I got a call for the customary Sunday coffee break so I headed to the city with my school bag and stopped by Starbucks for a "to go" venti mocha, and met friends in their favorite watering hole, a local shit hole they call "Swedco" (I'll write and dedicate a separate posting on places I hate to go to and why later this month) .  I did a lot of transcribing while chatting, avoiding second hand-smoke and pretending I was having a hell of a good time.  If they only freaking knew!  We had our morning coffee until almost 2pm.  Yes, we were at the coffee house for three hours.  Three long hours.  Three looooooong freaking dull hours.  I got back home around 3ish and had lunch which consisted of stuffed grape leaves, stuffed cabbage, and stuffed green peppers.  The food was courtesy of my friend's mother, Kuria Vaso (that's "Kiria" as in Mrs. Vaso).  The dishes are called dolmadakia, and gemista.  The stuffing was made from rice, minced meat, oregano, salt and lemon.  It was awesome!  I think am a fart away from being back to normal again because my appetite is back.  That IS a scary thought.  After lunch, I was energized to prepare my lunch for tomorrow.  I am going to have grilled Mediterranean perch (locally known as tsipoura) seasoned with salt, garlic, and ground pepper, stuffed with onions, bay and parsley leaves, and smothered with Greek oregano and slightly greased with extra virgin olive oil.  It's one of my own inventions/recipes and one of my personal favorite dishes. Even my friends love it since its prepared differently from what they're used to eating.  If you've noticed how frequent or common they use the same ingredients in cooking (i.e, oregano, lemon and olive oil), you are absolutely right.  I will make an exclusive posting on and about Greek Cuisine.  

I'm back in bed blogging and took two more tabs of Motrin.  I'm going to take a power nap just in case somebody calls in later for an early evening, or pre-bedtime coffee break.  

WORTHLESS RAMBLING OF THE DAY:   Sunday is also the one day of the week when I read, (actually browse through) the local papers and check the inserts for sales and flip through the pages of the free magazines that came with it.  Sunday papers in Greece cost about €5  and with that you get a couple magazines, a music CD and a movie DVD.   Our topic of conversation was Michael Phelps' 3 month suspension for smoking pot, all documented through a photo of him holding and sniffing from a bong, and was exposed and printed by a British tabloid.   I think he had it easy.  They should have punished him harsher especially with his status as a role model to young people, Americans especially.  I don't dislike him but I am not a big fan either, but the triumphant feat he accomplished during the Olympics was something to be proud of, and rightfully so, bragged about.   He is not very well-liked here.  Well, I don't think he was well liked by the Olympic watching world except by his fellow Americans during the Olympics.  The general feeling of the world population towards America and the Americans have miserably gone down the drain and through the shit sewage.  Believe me, I've seen and experienced that personally in my travels halfway around the world.  Case in point: When a journalist, a profession that holds some kind of impartiality, integrity and credibility, throws his shoes at your President, that IS telling!   Americans, nowadays, are not viewed and regarded the very same way they were 20 or 25 years ago.  So, whether Phelps was winning medals or not during the Beijing Olympics,  the odds were against him simply because he was a "proud, talented and gifted red-white- and-blue Yankee".  Here, they saw and see him as an arrogant, cocky American.   I would not say the same thing about him, but rather,  he was confident, disciplined, and determined to win the unprecedented 8 golds.    You know how sometimes the not so smart people mistake confidence with arrogance?  To continue, like I said, I thought he had it easy.  And not that I am defending Michael's actions, but: "Who has not smoked pot, or has not tried smoking or thought about smoking pot in their lifetime?"  Even few US presidents did, the last one was a pothead in college and the one before him just didn't, according to him, inhale!  Anyway, back to the human fish.   What Michael got, I think, wasn't even a slap on a wrist, or a slap behind the back of his head.  It was like telling a 5 year old kid:  "You're grounded, no TV for one week!" then gave him a glass of milk and Oreo cookies, sent to his room so he could play video games on his personal computer.  Had there been no photo evidence, I would bet my left good nut that Phelps would deny it to heavens.  Thank goodness for digital cameras and paparazzi and too bad  it came out in the open.  Am certain that had Phelps' manager, coach or publicists were informed about the photo and its publication, they would've tried to buy the paparazzi out and sweep the whole mess under the rug.  My friends thought "he got what he got because he was American", meaning if he was somebody else, the punishment would've been more severe, meaning  Americans always get it easy every time, every where, anytime, anywhere.   Though I didn't feel like I was being ganged up on, their unanimous conclusion warmed up my blood a bit to near boiling point, and I felt a slight donkey kick in the ass.  Whoa!  Maintaining my composure and camouflaging it with a fake friendly condescending smile, I asked:  "What would've you done to him, if you had the power or the authority to slap him with a punishment (Motherfucker)?"...ok, I didn't say "motherfucker" but believe me, I was thinking it.  What followed after my questioning was a complete silence, it was as if a dog passed by and farted and they're trying to figure out who amongst us, humans,  did it.  There were exchanged looks.  Short forced grins.  I think they realized I was somewhat and somehow offended with their comment and they chose to be polite and not to open their mouths with a single word . Good call, I thought.  Then, a lady friend, from out of nowhere said: "I'd still fuck him!"  Now, that would have been a very severe punishment.   Something that I myself wouldn't even wish on anyone, even to the worst among the worst of criminals!

CHICKEN SOUP: THE WONDER FOOD

If there is one comfort food worldwide that is generally served when one is sick , it's the ever reliable Chicken Soup, be it with noodle, rice, or some veggies. Each culture has their own distinct way of preparing it.  One common denominator:  the chicken-meat/bones based-broth.  For straight 20 hours, I've been a little down with something. If I was back in the US, my doctor would be somewhat alarmed because of me being diabetic.   Last year was also the first year I never had my semi-annual flu shots.  I won't blame my being slightly sore and sick on not getting my flu-shots, but I remember when I was on active duty, I was always one of the few ones who got priority for getting the shots because of DM Type II.  Studies have shown that diabetics, among other groups (such as babies, and elderlies) are more prone to catching flu especially during change of seasons.  OK, for the sake of argument, I would buy that!

Anyway, with less appetite (considering how big of an eater and a foodie I am), I try not to not eat even if I am not hungry because I have to maintain my blood glucose at normal/acceptable levels.  Too much eating is as bad as not eating at all.  

I am somewhat bedridden since I've spent most of my Saturday in bed, but I found time to prepare Chicken Soup, with a twist.  It's not your traditional chicken noodle soup.  What I did was I fused the American Chicken Soup, the Greek Chicken Soup and the Filipino Goto.

I like the Greek version a lot, but I sometimes crave Goto.  The American Chicken Noodle soup is a bit bland for me, especially the ones that they serve at SouPlantation.   Don't get me wrong, I love SouPlantation, especially their Brocolli Cheddar Cheese Soup.  Sometime in June or July 2008, they featured Mediterranean entrees and served Chicken Avgolemono Orzo Soup which I thought was a head on!

Anyway, here's the Greek version.

Avgolemono Soup with Chicken & Rice
In Greek: κοτόσουπα αυγολέμονο, pronounced ko-TOH-soo-pah av-gho-LEH-mo-no.  This soup is a favorite with Greek families and frequently served as a first course at the holiday table. There are several variations, and the egg-lemon sauce (avgolemono) is so popular that there are some who make a quick soup in the microwave using canned soup or broth, just to have the opportunity to add the avgolemono sauce, which is the crowning glory. It's even much better when you're sick with flu, colds or fever.

Ingredients:
1 chicken, 3-4 pounds, cut in pieces
12 cups of water
2 cups of round rice
sea salt
ground pepper
1/4 teaspoon of Greek oregano
3 tablespoons of olive oil
2 eggs
juice of 2 lemons
1 tablespoon of water

Preparation:
- Clean chicken and remove skin and fat.
- Place the chicken in a large stock pot and add water. Bring to a full boil. Skim off any foam that rises to the top. When the foam stops, reduce heat, cover the soup and simmer until the chicken meat is falling off the bone, (depending on weight, about 2 hours or more).
-Remove the chicken from the pot and set aside. Strain the broth, return to the pot, and bring to a boil. Add the rice, salt, pepper, oregano, and olive oil. Reduce heat, and simmer until the rice is done, approximately 20 minutes. Remove from the heat.
-While the rice is cooking, bone the chicken and cut the meat into pieces.
-In a mixing bowl, beat or whisk the egg whites until foamy. (If using an electric mixer, use speed 3.) Beat in egg yolks, water, and lemon juice. Fill a measuring cup or coffee cup with hot soup broth and add slowly, beating (or whisking) continuously (the culinary term for this process is called tempering). If the hot liquid is added too quickly, the mixture will curdle. When the mix is fully blended, stir the soup and pour in the egg-lemon mixture slowly. Shake the pot gently to distribute. Do not stir.
-Add the chicken meat to the soup and serve.

I fused it with Goto by sauteeing the chicken meat with garlic and lots of ginger.  Yumm-O!

I made a ginormous pot so I am sure I will be eating this every meal time for the next several days.

WORTHLESS RAMBLINGS FOR THE DAY: You would think that since I am sick that my brain is incapable of shooting out worthless rambling(s).  On the contrary, the joint-pain triggered it. It's been said time and time again that your body is trying to tell you something when you're sick... DUH!  Of course, it is telling you:  YOU ARE SICK, Dumb-ass!   It should tell me beforehand, like a warning, so I knew what to do to avoid it.  It seems as though that every time my body tells me I am sick is when I am already sick!  What the fuck, man?  I could've have prepared Chicken Soup way in advance and hope that it would do wonders and cure me before I got sick.  What's the point of having Chicken Soup when you have neither the appetite nor the taste buds for anything!  It's just simply oxymoron!...Anyway, I am still hoping it would do wonders.  I'm not dying yet, am I?  or am I dead yet?  Is this heaven or hell?  Fuck! with all the pains I have now, it sure IS hell!

SAMSON' STRENGTH: UNDER THE WEATHER

This is the second time I am doing a blogging double-whammy.  I had every intentions to blog last night but I was so tired, to a point of exhaustion.  I didn't do anything extraordinary yesterday being a Friday.   I didn't leave and go to the center of Rhodes until 4pm, went to get a haircut, the gym, dinner, then home.  It was very uneventful, unless you would consider my dilemma on getting a buzz cut or not an event in itself.

I am not going to talk about the haircut. I am saving a whole posting on that evolution.  Besides, I have yet to take a picture to post it with.   

My work out routine on Friday was slightly changed.  Instead of my regular 5KM run, I decided to do a different cardio exercise.  I went to the Latin Aerobics which started at 6pm.  The crowd was predominantly Greek women who had no idea or inkling what Latin was.  I wonder if they initially th0ught Latin Aerobics was some kind of Ancient Roman Aerobics.  There were good 25 participants of varying ages (and sizes).  The instructor was a multi-lingual Swede named Aris.   The commands and instructions were generally in English and he would inject few Greek words and phrases.   I am somewhat familiar with the Latin moves since I took some lessons (as a gift) in Los Angeles, CA, and I've attended Latin and Salsa Aerobics at Bally's, and frequented Latin and Salsa bars.

Anyway, true to my hunch, the rest of the group was at a total loss.  They couldn't even do a simple cha-cha or box step.  If you are not familiar with traditional Greek dances, their movements are pretty much basic, it's like a 12 step line dancing.,  i.e, few steps here, a few steps there, and you move sideways.  So, the Latin steps were absolutely new to them.

If you're watching them perform just for the sake of watching and not being observant, you would think they're dancing exactly the same steps only with different music and costumes.  When we (group of American servicemen) went to a taverna with Greek dancing for the first time, we were like:  "Is that all there is to it?" We were waiting for extra fancy moves and sequence but we were there until almost 5am doing the same thing.  One common observation that non-Greeks have is that we noticed that Greeks won't dance to top 40 dance music, or disco music.  When a non-Greek fast danceable music is being played, you would only see their heads bobbing and shoulders slightly moving, but you would never see them run and swarm the dancefloors, but once a Greek music is played, it's like "save and mark your own spot on the dance floor because we will be dancing until we can't dance anymore!" OPA!

Anyway, back to my Latin Aerobics.  The instructor had a little hard time demonstrating and explaining one Latin move to the next.  From cha-cha to basic rumba, to basic tango steps.  I think he kind of ran out of patience and just did his own thing while we followed him.  After a bloody 55 minutes, it was over.  I am sure Aris, the instructor, was more excited and looking forward to getting it over with than anybody else.  

I thought I burnt some decent calories because I was sweating, though not as much had I ran my 5K.  I went up straight to the weight room and lifted weights for 1 1/2 hours.  Then, had a quick dinner downtown and headed home.  Oh, I even had a generous amount of Yoghurt-Walnut-Honey Ice Cream from Stani, a Turkish sweet and pasty shop. 

I got home and instantly felt unusually cold.  I put on my sweats and gradually feeling very burnt out.  I thought it must've been from the aerobics and the work-out.  I was almost a breath away from being dead when I dozed off.  During the night, I was waking up intermittently because I could feel my joints hurting and feeling colder and colder.  I knew then that I was coming down with something.  I was able to sleep on and off.  I woke up on Saturday at 7:30, I could hardly stand and walk, I did a quick Number #1, then went back to bed and slept until almost 10am.  I woke up still miserably sore.  Every single joint and bone in my body were like wrestling with each other.   I got up, made a hot cocoa and jumped in the shower.  I felt a bit better after the hot shower.  Now, am back in bed blogging, still feel a bit under the weather.

WORTHLESS RAMBLING FROM YESTERDAY/EARLY THIS MORNING:  I was wondering why would I feel so exhausted and my body aches when I didn't work out that much.  Compared to previous or other work out regimes, yesterday's was a freaking piece of cake.  

Wait a minute!...could it be that it was all because of me cutting my hair?  Could I have lost all my strength, stamina, endurance and resiliency when the barber snipped my hair?  I hardly get sick.  I can't even remember the last time I was physically down because of an illness.  I know for a fact though that when I get sick, I really get sick.  I mean, really goddamn sick!  I'm going to see how my body reacts in few hours.  I am thinking about going to the gym tonight and use the steam or sauna, that usually helps.  Or, I might just find a Delilah to blame it all on to. 

TO BUZZ OR NOT TO BUZZ: THAT IS THE DILEMMA

I guess by now, if you're following my blog, you'd realize that my day to day agenda is nothing but a routine. I practically do the same thing every day. No significant changes. It is as if I've never left the military. There is still some residual regimentations and a quasi-structured way of doing things and getting things done. Today, Thursday, is no different from any other Thursdays. School, gym, home. However, tonight, I went grocery shopping at Carrefour. Carrefour is a French company with franchises all over Europe. Usually on Thursdays, I go to the local farmers' market, called "λαικι" (pronounced "laiki") where I get my week's worth of fruits and vegetables. I found the prices very reasonable and the quality far better than what they sell on the supermarkets. But today, I was unable to go the the laiki because my class lasted a bit later so by the time I got to the market, it was almost closing time. So, minor change of plans. Instead of the laiki, we went to have the customary "coffee break" with two of my friends, then I headed to the gym around 4:30 and worked out until 7pm, then spent an hour at the supermarket.
One strange thing I do when I go grocery shopping here in Rhodes is I go to 3 different supermarkets in order to get all the things I need. I didn't have enough time tonight since everything closes at 8pm so I will continue with my grocery shopping at the remaining 2 supermarkets tomorrow before I get my haircut.
Haircut for me is a monthly routine. too. It's either I do it myself or, if I found a reliable barber, then I would see him with the same frequency. I've never worn my hair long, not even before I joined the military. Even after leaving the military, growing my hair longer than the usual never crossed my mind. In fact, I went a little edgy after my retirement by changing my hairstyle to much shorter than what I used to have when I was on active duty. It was something I decided to do 3 months before my "terminal leave" started. The weather in Northern Virginia was unbearably and miserably hot that summer so I went to a local barber shop and told the barber to use #3 all over. Yes, I got me a buzz cut!
I'm one of the few lucky ones in my family with a full set of hair. No thinning, no receding hairlines, no hair loss, no balding,no white hair...YET! I am not going to thank my genes because the same genes caused my brother's balding, so I guess am just lucky, or I might have gotten some kind of mutated or deviated gene. Mutant or not, deviant or not, am just glad all my hair are still here...until when? nobody knows.

WORTHLESS RAMBLING OF THE DAY: As I'm typing this posting, I am doing my second load of laundry. It's 2:50am, February 6. I couldn't go to sleep so laundry was the only thing productive to do while finishing this blog at the same time. In 7 hours, I would be getting my haircut, but am having second thoughts on whether I should get a regular trim, or buzz it all the way. I don't know a good barber here yet so there is a "trust" issue. I am not sure if I would get the buzz cut that I wanted or if I would feel bad for few days and hope my hair would grow back faster than usual so I could go try a different barber. I've told my friends about me getting a buzz cut and I got different reactions. Some good, some bad, some didn't care. I saw a very good friend, Rat, tonight and he said he goes to a very good one so I might give his barber/hairstylist a try. Another friend recommended me one several years back when I came to visit Rhodes in 2005 but he gave me a regular haircut and not a buzz cut. You might be thinking: "what's the big freaking deal? a buzz is a buzz is a buzz, it all depends on how short it is buzzed, but it's a buzz just the same.". Well, that's easy for you to say because it's not your hair and not your head...so shut the hell up! Let me go through my pondering and decide what to do. I'll be sleeping in few hours and all I am hoping is for a sign in a form of a dream. Now, I could feel Shakespeare's pain. I could relate to his confusion and bewilderment. To B, or not to B? do bi do bi do. You'll soon find out on my next picture posting.

WHY DO BIRDS SUDDENLY APPEAR...

Today is a double-whammy!   I am blogging twice. It felt like cramming for high-school exams or meeting a deadline for a newspaper article.  It didn't matter much to me.  I am always good under pressure.  Even in school, I did better with essays, theses, case analyses and projects on short notices or last minute catch-ups.  The more I crammed, the better I got and the higher my grades/marks were.  When I was working on my Master's, I was always the last one to submit my case studies.  I once was warned by my facilitator about my "tardiness".   Back then, I always had an excuse and it always worked.  My being in the military had given me a leeway on deadlines, and most of my facilitators were actually more lenient to me because of my status as an active duty serviceman which, I admit, I used to my great advantage.  Enough of my false and made-up excuses.  Welcome to the real world.  Damn it!

I didn't go to school today.  No, silly!  I didn't miss nor skip classes.  The school administrators changed our classes from thrice a week to twice a week.  So, now I have another extra day of the week I need to preoccupy myself with something or I will bore to death.   I have not made any concrete agenda on what to do on my free Wednesdays...yet.  Today though, I decided to make use of it by catching up with my past lessons so I went to the city and spent almost 3 hours at Starbucks reviewing my notes and refreshing my memory.  In effect, it felt like I went to school after all, but with an extra bonus:  a venti mocha!    I thought about a friend, so I texted him and asked him to join me while I was taking a break from school work, but it's a work day and during normal working hours so that was a "no go".   I left Starbucks around 6:30pm and headed to the gym, and worked out until 9pm.    It was a productive Wednesday after all.  No complaints.  Well, let me rephrase that.  There was one.  

WORTHLESS RAMBLING OF THE DAY:  Funny thing happened on my way home as I was waiting for the bus by the main station on Mandraki.  The waiting shed is actually home to hundreds of pigeons, the flying rats!   They swarm the roof, the ceiling, the ledges and the columns.  In fact, they're everywhere.  And if there's one thing you should avoid when you're around these flying rodents is their habit of defecating anywhere, anytime on anything, or on anybody.   I've seen would-be passengers get pooped on on their heads/hair, or clothes, and I've seen other passengers laughed and made fun of those poor passengers.  Their dried feces are all over the pavement, its like their way of marking their territory.  I've laughed once or twice, maybe more times than I could remember.  Tonight, however, I did not laugh...not at all.  The laugh was on me!  I got pooped on!  One of those flying pests shit on me.  I had shit on my shirt. Shit, I had shit on me!

KARMA!

I picked up a bit of courage and dignity (whatever was left from the embarrassment, and the shitty smell), went to the souvlakia place, and asked for some paper napkins.  One girl, grinning (and maybe laughing subconsciously) helped me clean myself up.  "Δε πειραζαι", (pronounced:  De piraze) she said, meaning "Don't you worry".  "It always happens", she added.  Damn right, it does.  This time, it happened to me, on me.  I swear I would bring a BB gun the next time I waited for the bus and shoot those motherfuckers dead!  For a second, it made me wonder why would they choose that shed when there were hundreds of huge trees and thick foliage across the station (yes, a goddamn park!) where there were no humans around.  Then, it dawned me, those damned birds are...just like me, they long to be...close to you!

Na na na na. Close to you.  

IT'S BETTER LATE THAN...LATER.

I missed to blog yesterday (Tuesday).  I knew I had to write something down, and I knew I had to do it the same day otherwise I would forget in.  Tuesday is like my Monday.  So, figure what you guys usually do on Mondays and the craziness around it, and that's exactly what I go through on Tuesdays.

Let's see.  I woke up at 8:00 and did my usual early day routine.  I went to my Greek Language School around noon, and then hit the gym at around 3pm, and finished at 6pm.  I went to the city center and bought a pair of black shoes for €70 (and that was with 30 % discount), so roughly $105.  Forgive me, but I still can't help but do a quick currency conversion every time I spend money here, especially with the current economic situations back home in the US where the prices have gone down dramatically to entice people to consume.  Every time I went shopping, I would figure out how much the cost would be in dollars, then I would do internet searches on the product I just bought and literally feel sorry for the savings I could've saved had I bought the same merchandise in the US.  So, out of masochism, I checked how much my new pair of shoes cost in the US.  And the cheapest was:  $40...that's $65 cheaper from the "discounted" price I paid.  Son of a bitch!

Greece, and most European Union countries, have their semi-annual sales every January and August.  Prices are cut down to as much as 70% from the original prices.  You would find good deals sometimes, but most of the times, you pay as much as, if not more than the "sale" price back in the US.  Case in point:  my new black Clark's Flexlight Shoes.    One thing I noticed though is that American brand products are always much much more expensive here compared to European brand names like Armani, Versace,...well...DUH!  Anyway, I already have the shoes and I don't feel like going through the pains of returning and refunding so I'll just have to suffer my discount-shopping "boo-boos".  

I arrived home around 8:30 and had all the intentions on blogging but I felt so tired and sleepy so I followed what my body was telling me to do.  I knew I slept well, and possibly snored most of the night, because I woke up at 8am today (Wednesday) feeling refreshed and recharged.

WORTHLESS RAMBLING FROM YESTERDAY:   I tried to think of one thing that could've possibly made my blood pressure go up a notch but surprisingly, I think my Tuesday came and passed without any glitches.  So, I dug up an old email from a friend who was stationed with me in Larissa, Greece and came across an email about "how he would show up for appointments with locals half an hour late, be it personal (coffee/lunch/dinner/movies) or business (lawyer/doctor/landlord), and yet he would still be an hour earlier than the people he was supposed to meet".    On his email, he was asking me if it ever happened to me.  I don't remember responding to his email because I would've been making excuses for myself!  I don't think it's a local thing.  I don't think it's a cultural thing.  Some people, like me, just couldn't make it promptly or punctually on their appointments.   I would not call it procrastination or lack of courtesy.  I just happen to be, most often than not, late on my appointments.  For one, it takes me forever to get ready.  I am a bathroom person.  It takes me at least 2 hours to get ready.  Why don't I start early then?  Well, because I have other things to do!  I have priorities, too, you know.  My friends have known me so very well that they've learn few tricks to make me rid of this "not so good habit".   However, they've failed on occasions because am smart that way (grin!).  Come on, who eats lunch at 9 in the morning?  or brunch at 10?  and dinner at 3pm?  Give me a fucking break!   I think what matters is not that I show up annoyingly late or I make a dramatic entrance but the fact that I show up, come hell or high waters, and no matter what.  Need I say more?  

IT WASN'T A MANIC MONDAY

Most people, the work force in particular, dread Mondays.  Mondays have somewhat bad taste to most.  Feelings and anticipations soar from euphoria on weekends to utter panic on Mondays.  Is there such a thing a "mondayphobia"?  I don't remember hating Mondays, not during my school years or "fully employed" years.  Especially now that I own my own time and don't have to follow a regimented and structured lifestyle, Mondays have become as ordinary as any other days of the week.  Sometimes I even look forward to it if I have a TV show to watch, or a trip to go to, or a party to feed my addiction with.    Today, the 2nd of February, was one of those Mondays.  I was looking forward to it because a friend was flying back from Cyprus, who was gone for good two weeks for "on the job" training, and who was my chauffeur, so to speak, because my "manual gear/stick shift" driving skills are scary at best, and accident-prone at worst.

You can't teach old dogs new tricks.  I beg to differ.  You can, it just takes time.  I've been driving for over 25 years but in my defense, in those 25 odd years, I've only driven automatic cars.  Now, you do the math!

With the limited manual-driving skills I have under my belt, I went to the supermarket and grabbed some ingredients for Tuna Salad and Chicken Fajita, and yes, I drove...very slowly.  I was driving so slow that a farmer on his tractor overtook me and gave me the "what the fuck" look.  I was waiting for him to yell "Go back to the Orient!", but he just shook his head out of frustration.  He must've been having one of those manic Mondays.  I wonder if the Greeks also think the same way Americans think that Asians can't drive?  Hey...I can drive.  I can drive...(pause)...(whisper)... automatic!

So, after the supermarket, I went to the gym and worked my ass out.  I mean, I burnt some serious calories.   I had to burn all the linguine, pastitsio, and chocolate hazelnut bars I ate on Sunday.  I had to burn those to give room for more calories this week.   I burnt so much calories I could eat a tub of lard and sticks of butter for days and I would still have low levels of triglycerides.  After the gym, I went to meet some friends at a local cafe bar.   Not bad for Monday, ain't it?  Tomorrow, on the other hand, is a different story.  

WORTHLESS RAMBLINGS OF THE DAY:  Seriously, how long can one drink a glass of frappe'? That is one (of so many others) burning question I've been trying to find answers to from the first day I stepped foot on a cafe bar in Greece. For a measly teaspoon of Nescafe coffee, teaspoon of sugar, ounce of milk and few cubes of ice, locals pay from €3.00 to as much as €4.50 a glass, thats roughly $4.50 to $6.75! I've gone with my friends on trips to cafe bars numerous times, and each time I go, I consume a tall glass of decaffeinated latte' macchiato, then a tetrapack of orange juice, then a bottle of water, and sometimes I still have to get a can of Coke Light (Diet Coke back in the US) because my friends have not even drank half of their frappes. Well, for one, they smoke in between sips, and in between sips, they chase it with water. But still, it's a glass of frappe' for crying out loud. I sometimes overspend every time I go out for "coffee". I would spend from €10 to €15 (that's $15 to $17.50 for drinks, and for $17.50 back home, I could go to two different buffets plus drinks, and maybe a mocha from Starburcks afterwards). I spend that much each visit while my friends just spend the cost of the frappe'. The only thing is that they enjoy the whole experience while I sit down miserably hoping the roofs to collapse or the building to implode! Coffee drinking is a national past time. "Πάμε για καφέ" (Pame gia cafe) is a common phrase used by friends and family to meet. It does not necessarily mean you have to drink coffee, like I do, but it's just a way of saying: "Let's go out", but most often than not, they do really order and drink coffee. Young and old people alike. I guess I am still used to buying my mocha from a drive-thru, and I still prefer my Starbucks double pump chocolate Venti Mocha over the local brews but my friends frown on Starbucks.  Who in the US can afford to sit on their asses for 3 to 4 hours for a cup of coffee?  Huh?  Tell me?  Anyway,  although there are 2 Starbucks on this island,  they do not get that crowded so my friends don't want to go there.  My friends would rather go to a place where they would have to wait for a table for hours in a jam-packed, crowded, smokey, noisy bars where the quality of drinks and fast eats they serve from the menu did not mean much and altogether ignored, but being seen in such place did matter! 

Coffee bars in Greece are to die for.  The set-up, the decorations, the furniture, and whatever you can find on your most recent interior decoration magazines.  They look so fancy, upscale and sophisticated that the locals dress up to the nines, dud in designer brand outfits, just to have a cup of coffee.  

With the crowd picking up, the noise getting louder and the smoke starting to suffocate me, I started to get a little annoyed and all I could think was being back in my smoke-free, quiet and cozy apartment, but I thought my day was going smoothly, so why should I spoil my Monday over that?  When you're in Rome, you do as the Romans do, and I am in Greece, so should I do what the Romans do?  

"Καλό μήνα σε όλους"

Greetings/Wishes on any day and any occasion are very customary in Greece. Everyday you will hear people exchanging pleasantries as common as ""γεία σας", "Τι κάνεις;", "Καλημέρα", "Είσαι καλα", "Μια Χαρά", "Καλό βράδυ", "Καληνύχτα", "Καλή χρονιά", sometimes done simultaneously with the traditional kisses on both cheeks, yes...even between men.

So, on this day, the first day of February (and every first day of each month), the locals will be greeting just about every single person they know and meet : "Καλό μήνα" (Kalo Mina), which literally means "good month". It is the Greek way of wishing their friends, family and kins a good month ahead of them, their way of wishing you well. Ain't that special?

Sunday is generally a boring day. It's the "no choice but stay at home" day, unless you go out for coffee or the movies.  Just about every establishments are closed on Sundays.  No stores, no shopping and no gym.  Greeks literally rest on their "first day" of the week.   Sundays are my domesticated days.  It's the day when I transform into a Martha Stewart clone.  I do laundry, iron clothes, clean the house, and sometimes cook food for the whole week.  It does sound a bit boring but its a routine I got used to even when I was in the military, so am practically oblivious to it (the routine, I mean).  

So, Martha...eat your hearts out because on Sundays, I take over.

WORTHLESS RAMBLING FOR THE DAY: The Greek language is not that really hard to learn. Try Russian, or Japanese, or Arabic! Now, those are hard. So, it doesn't really make sense to me when I hear some non-Greeks use the phrases "It sounds Greek to me" or "It's all Greek to me" to connote something weird, strange and incomprehensible. It is funny to note though that when Greeks are confronted with the same predicament, they say: "Είναι όλα κινέζικα για μένα" (Ine ola kinezika ya mena), which means "It's all Chinese to me". I've been to many countries and have had actual contacts with their locals, and believe me, there are other languages far and way harder to learn, speak, read, write and understand, and not to mention, awful and disgusting to hear, than Greek.  Greek is easier because it's very phonetic and the alphabet characters are easy to distinguish. You read and pronounce them as they are written. It also is a big factor if you spoke/knew a language other than English, for example, Spanish or German and even Pilipino/Tagalog, because it would be much easier for you to annunciate some distinct diphthongs, tones and stresses, and play with your lips, tongue and throat (ok, you perverts, get your brains out of the sexual gutter, I know you're grinning and I know what came through to your carnal minds when I said that!).  It all is just a matter of exposure, constant practice and usage, and the proverbial 3-Ds of learning: "drive, determination, and discipline".

Remember when you meet someone from a different country who speaks an entirely different language than yours, or visit a foreign country? What are the few first things you ask them or the locals? You ask them on how to say some of the most common word or phrases in their native tongue, most often than not, the bad words and phrases. You really want to know those phrases to either impress other people and to know when other people are cursing behind your backs or straight at your face! Because of your wanting to know (drive), and the need to know (determination), you learn and memorize those words and phrases by heart in a heartbeat (discipline) no matter how bad you annunciate them. So long as those words and/or phrases come out of your mouth (even with total disregard to accent, tone, stress and syntax)...,that's all that matters!

Greek 101: 

Simple Greetings (Pronunciations/Literal Meanings/Actual Meanings and Usage)

• Καλό μήνα σε όλους - it is pronounced "Kalo mina se olus", literally it means "Good month to you all". Individually, you say "Kalo Mina"and it is used to mean "I wish you a happy month (ahead)."

• γεία σας - pronounced "Yah Sas"  or Yah  Su (for informal use), comes from the phrase "Stin Ygeia Sas" meaning "To your health".  Simply saying "Geia" is also acceptable.  It is almost the same as the American version of "Hi" and "Hello", and can be used also as a bid/farewell remark to mean "goodbye", the same way "Aloha" and  "Shalom"  are used in Hawaii and by Jews respectively. 

• Τι κάνεις;-  is pronounced "Ti Kanis?", which literally means " What are you doing?" but is used to mean  "How are you doing?" , colloquially, it's like the American way saying "what's up!'

• Καλημέρα- is pronounced "Kalimera", which literally means "Good day".  It is used to mean " Good morning", and is generally used as a greeting between 2 a.m. and 2 p.m.  

• Είσαι καλα - is pronounced "Ise kala?", which literally means " Are you good", but is used to mean  "Are you OK?"   It''s usually said after "Yah Su" and "Ti kanis?". It can be used interchangeably with "Ola Kala?", which literally means " All good" .  By the way, the English expression "OK" actually came from the Greek words "Ola" and "Kala"

• Καλό βράδυ - is pronounced "Kalo Vradi" which means "Good Evening".  It is used  for greetings and for saying goodbye.  

• Καληνύχτα- is pronounced "Kalinikta". which literally means  "Good night".   It's a farewell wish.  

• Καλή χρονιά - pronounced "Kali Kronia", it literally means "Good Year" - It is used to greet locals on their name days, birthdays, and on New Year's Day. 
  

P.S.   If you would like to know more Greek words and phrases, including the "bad" and "not so good ones", email me or post your e-mail address below. :) ☟☟☟

MY EVIL TWIN ✝

  It is very unusual for me to wake up so early on a weekend.  I actually had 4 hours of sleep.  Four short freaking hours!  I tried and tried to go back to sleep but just couldn't.  For almost an hour, I was tossing and turning, turning and tossing, until I finally gave up.  

Sleeping has been an issue with me.  I am medically insomniac and I have sleep apnea.  Nothing could be worse than that.  I've been taking sleeping medications (not everynight) for over 7 years now.  I was first diagnosed with Sleeping Disorder in 2002 when I was stationed in Denver, Colorado.  I was initially prescribed a sleeping pill (I forgot the brand name) which didn't do shit but kept me wide awake no matter how sleepy I got because of its side effect.  The pill made my skin overly sensitive.  I could not lie down because when my body/skin touched the sheets, I would go ballistic.   So, for one straight week, I was a very wide awake-sleepy and exhausted zombie.  I went back to my therapist and she changed the prescription to Lunesta.  It worked but I had to psyche myself up to sleep.  Then, when I transferred to Greece, the Hospital Corpsman Chief changed my prescription to Ambien CR.  Now, THAT really worked. I used it on nights when my insomnia attacked me the worst!  The only "not good" thing about it is that I have to make sure that I would have at least 8 hours of sleep every night otherwise, I could have some scary side effects such as getting up, driving, going to work while I was still medically asleep.  I've read articles about people who either died or injured themselves while under medication with Ambien.  There were even lawsuits filed against the pharmaceutical company.  So, to avoid that, I would take it half an hour before 10 p.m. in order to have enough sleeping time before my 5:30 a.m. wake up call.   The sleep apnea diagnosis didn't surface until November 2007.  I was given a machine to wear to help me breathe while asleep, but the machine is so cumbersome, to say the least.  The maintenance is even more taxing.  So, I stopped wearing it.   

I accomplished so little this Saturday.  I spent majority of the day on the computer and watching tv.  I did vacuum a little and tidied up the place, but am living most of the major housework for Sunday.  I finally got the boost to work out, so I went to the gym around 5 pm and worked out until 8 p.m.  I  got home around 8:45 p.m. and had some pasta with capers and green olives for dinner.  

With a decent work out, awesome long warm shower and relatively so-so dinner, I am expecting to be able to sleep longer tonight so I can have the energy to do the household chores tomorrow, and do some school work. 

WORTHLESS RAMBLING OF THE DAY:  I never knew maintaining a blog could be a little whelming.  Although I have so much to say, constructing and prioritizing what I want to say is another thing. Remember the voices in my head (wink, wink)?.  They, too, have things to say and it gets confusing sometimes when I think and they all talk at the same time.   :)

Seriously though, I may have to temporarily do a weekly blog instead of a daily journal until my Greek school is over, but you never know when my chatty evil twin comes out of hiding.  He gets and does this regular intellectual and opinion hibernations.  But once his thinking engines are oiled and warmed up, there's no stopping him.  He can talk and write for hours on end.  He can write mini novels in one sitting, and expound a single topic into a multi-layered, three dimensional points of discussions and multi-faceted objectivity, with little doses of subjectivity here and there.   

What makes him evil? well, he gets obnoxious and annoying sometimes, brutally frank even,  outright honest and straightforward to a point of near rudeness.   Aside from that, I say, just wait and see until you actually hear from him, then make your own assessments and judgments.