The Istanbul Chapter... it's time

Since I have been back in S.A I have neglected this blog, mainly because each time I try to update it I am reminded of the amazing times I had last year and I end up having a little pity party for myself. But I am pleased to announce that Mission Patrida a.k.a The Return to Greece is officially underway! The past two weeks have presented me with an insane amount of opportunity and motivation to get back to Greece, I had intended to start blogging all about my exciting plans but have been warned against the Mati.... I'll keep it on the down low until I have definite plans. So blogging has been on my mind and while driving home the other night I spotted a car with the number plate 'Istanbul'..... I want that car! And then it dawned on me that exactly a year ago to the date and time we were packing our bags for Istanbul! That is definitely a sign! A year late, but I pronounce the Istanbul chapter officially open.

Note the nails in the photo, that's my version of the Turkish flag.

.

It must be a sign

So uncle George and I had polished off the usual 5 bottles of wine and stumbled home in the wee hours of the morning. There is a table outside the front door, which happened to have a little tomato on it. George was convinced it was a sign and that there was some meaning to the little tomato... Who put it there? Why did they put it there? What are they trying to tell us? What is the meaning of it? It must be a sign or secret code... Damn that wine was good!

A sign of Civilisation!

I've been staying at the xorio (my parents village). It's the land of all things creepy - spiders, scorpions, parktown prawn looking grasshoppers, big black bugs with fangs *shudders*. The xorio is tucked away on a mountain (its a 1.4km walk to the main road), 45 mins drive either way to a big town. Its in the middle of nowhere. The internet connection here is slooooooooooow. Everyone has their own vegetable garden. The 'restaurant' serves chickens from the priests garden. The doctor only visits once a week. The man who delivers bread only visits once a week.
Anyhoo, I decided to be homely this morning and fry some eggs (okay fine my mom left and I was starving). I tried not to think about the fact that tonight I may very well be eating the chickens bum that laid the eggs. I opened the fridge, what's that?! Stamped eggs?? Stamped eggs!! There is a God and he knows where our xorio is! Stamped eggs = fat chickens I wont be eating + washed eggs + expiry date + no trace of villageness

A sign that Greece doesn't like tourists

So ALL those words mean 'Centre'? Nai malaka they all mean Centre. I have no idea how non greek speaking tourists survive in this country