Oh deathless sea, tell what you are whispering*

*Quote from the poem "I lived the beloved name..." by Odysseas Elytis

Lupus Awareness

I've shared the story of my life with Systemic Lupus Erythematosus here before. Now Lupus Awareness month falls in May, and I feel that even though I'm not keeping up with the blog as regularly as I used to, I need to promote awareness and help to quell some falsehoods that might have arisen during the Miss USA pageant last night.

It seems that during the Miss USA pageant, Morgan Woolard, the runner up for Miss America (from Oklahoma), claimed that she cured herself of Lupus. Obviously, this is impossible (unless she had drug-induced lupus, which is a bit misleading). Spreading false information like this in such a public forum hurts the efforts of all of us who are working towards promoting awareness for Lupus, and it belittles those of us who have been fighting this illness day in and day out. Spread the word...learn the facts about Lupus at the Lupus Foundation of America website.

I live in Greece, so I did not have the opportunity to watch the pageant first-hand. I only heard about Ms. Woolard's claims from scores of angry Lupus patients across the internet. Still, misinformation is no way to promote awareness, especially when it is estimated that around 80% of the public knows very little or nothing about Lupus - and so I wanted to share the facts.

From the Lupus Foundation of America website:

It is true that medical science has not yet developed a method for curing lupus. And some people do die from the disease. However, people with non-organ threatening aspects of lupus can look forward to a normal lifespan if they:

• follow the instructions of their physician,
• take their medication(s) as prescribed, and
• know when to seek help for unexpected side effects of a medication or a new manifestation of their lupus.

Although some people with lupus have severe recurrent attacks and are frequently hospitalized, most people with lupus rarely require hospitalization. There are many lupus patients who never have to be hospitalized, especially if they are careful and follow their physician's instructions.

New research brings unexpected findings each year. The progress made in treatment and diagnosis during the last decade has been greater than that made over the past 100 years. It is therefore a sensible idea to maintain control of a disease that tomorrow may be curable.

Please spread the word and Band Together for Lupus!

Sumer is icumen in

Sumer is icumen in,
Lhude sing cuccu!
Groweþ sed and bloweþ med

And springþ þe wde nu,
Sing cuccu!
Awe bleteþ after lomb,
Lhouþ after calue cu.
Bulluc sterteþ, bucke uerteþ,
Murie sing cuccu!
Cuccu, cuccu, wel singes þu cuccu;

Ne swik þu nauer nu.
Pes:

Sing cuccu nu. Sing cuccu.
Sing cuccu. Sing cuccu nu!

Summer has come in,
Loudly sing, Cuckoo!
The seed grows and the meadow
blooms
And the wood springs anew,
Sing, Cuckoo!
The ewe bleats after the lamb
The cow lows after the calf.
The bullock stirs, the stag farts,
Merrily sing, Cuckoo!
Cuckoo, cuckoo, well you sing,
cuckoo;
Don't you ever stop now,


Sing cuckoo now. Sing, Cuckoo.
Sing Cuckoo. Sing cuckoo now!

Easter

München

Oy, 5am. This is not a good time to wake up for someone who is unequivocally NOT a morning person. Yet there I was, rising and shining, running around like a decapitated chicken doing last minute things so we could our cab to the airport for our trip to Munich. Of course we ended up at the airport much earlier than we needed to be – which was ok because security was a breeze. Two of my husband’s colleagues had already arrived and we all sat around drinking coffee and juice and pretending we didn’t really want to be sleeping (or maybe that was just me). If I thought a 5am awakening was bad, you can imagine the bile rising in my throat as wave after wave of psychiatrists started arriving at the airport. Since we had booked our own flight, I didn’t necessarily think we’d be on the same plane as all the shrinks that were being sponsored by big pharma. Unfortunately, that was the case, as my husband joked about all the immediate openings there would be for young psychiatrists in Thessaloniki if this plane went down.

Ah, Munich. The weather was quite temperate when we emerged from the airport, despite the predictions from Germany-savvy travelers that it would likely be cold and snowy. What a luxury to be able to take the subway from the airport to a station (Hauptbahnhof) a block from our hotel! We stayed at Hotel Meier, which is on a lovely pedestrian walkway, and more importantly right next to a Starbucks.

It was only 11am when we arrived, but the hotel gladly accommodated us by giving us an early check in, which was awesome because I needed a nap. When we woke up in the afternoon the first order of business was lunch – my husband wanted (no, demanded!) German sausages. We explored the area around our hotel fully expecting a decent place to lunch, to no avail. It was all fast food of various ethnicities, but no sausages, so we went back down to the subway station (which had a plethora of bakeries and sausages) and got some there. We did, however, see the Justizpalast while we were walking around, so at least that was something.

Later in the evening, we decided to get more adventurous. We took the subway to Marienplatz, a popular square in the city center. We were greeted by an anti-psychiatry rally being held in the square (this organization is apparently linked to this one). We had seen them before, marching through the streets with their sign and their cart depicting miserable tied up crazy people. They claim psychiatry is an industry of death and that there are no real psychiatric conditions, just somatic problems that can all be cured with vitamins and exercise. If only. There are things about psychiatry I don’t like (particularly tying up patients), but I don’t work with patients every day and I really don’t know what is necessary and I certainly don’t have the medical background to judge. While this group makes no claim towards Scientology I find it rather interesting that their beliefs regarding psychiatry seem to be exactly the same as Scientologists. Thanos, always in an effort to be fair, actually visited their “museum” at one point in our trip and had an interesting discussion with the people there. Certainly there are issues to debate, but I think we can be grateful that there are doctors like my husband out there working hard every day to address these issues and try to make life better for psychiatric patients.

One of the most fabulous aspects of Munich is the architecture and Marienplatz houses one of the most stunning examples in the Neues Rathaus. The details on this building are amazing, and can be seen in pictures here, here, here, here, and here.

Also off Marientplatz is the Altes Rathaus and Spielzeugmuseum.

Just around the corner you can find the Frauenkirche, unfortunately you aren’t allowed to take pictures inside.

I wanted to see Michaelskirche but, as things always go for me, it was undergoing renovation and covered up. To be fair, the covering had the outline of what it is supposed to look like, and I have no idea why I did not take a picture. We finally strolled down Neuhauser past the church and searched for a place to eat, and we finally came upon a nice family restaurant called Bohne & Malz, which is apparently a small chain in Munich.

Sunday was a day of rest for me as Thanos had to go to the convention at 8am to put up his poster and enjoy a day of psychiatric lectures. I slept in and then went to Starbucks to have a coffee and people watch. After meeting Thanos for lunch I decided to go back to the conference center with him for shits and giggles (and to see another area of Munich).

Sunday evening we made our way back to Marienplatz to find a good old fashioned Bavarian tavern. We went to Weisses Braühaus, which was recommended in our city guide. I had a fine Pils and my first wiener schnitzel. Yummy!

Monday we went to the Deutsches Museum, which covers pretty much all science and technology from the earliest inventions to the present. It is a huge museum and will definitely require another visit. Plenty of pictures can be found here.

By Monday evening we found our favorite Germany bakery – Rischart (where else?) on Marienplatz. I discovered something dangerous called butter cake. I’m glad I don’t live in Germany. We attended a pharma dinner at a restaurant at Residenz, the site of the residence of the former Bavarian kings, which was mostly destroyed in WWII. The rebuild is impressive but a bit disappointing. Like some kind of idiot, I didn’t have my camera with me that night, so I missed taking pictures.

Tuesday we had a late flight, so we asked the hotel for a late check out and spent the day shopping at two of Germany’s fine department stores – Karstadt and Kaufhof. We were so tired by the time we got on the plane, we were ready to be home.

Munich is a fabulous city, full of things to see and do, with friendly people and beautiful scenery. I intend to go back more than once, and highly recommend it to everyone!

The five stages

A month ago, one of our dear cats died. Princeton was 14 years old, an old cat, to be sure. I just wasn’t ready to lose him yet. I was in denial about his condition for two months as he lost weight (he went from 9 kilos to 3.5 kilos), thinking if I can just fatten him up again he would be all right. I should have prepared myself better, because his quiet death in my arms was more than I could bear.

He was a king among cats. He was my friend, my guardian, and my companion. He accompanied me on the biggest journey of my life. He was freakish, and silly, and had a bad case of obsessive compulsive disorder. Now he is gone, and my heart is empty in his absence. I will cherish my memories of him, and move on.

Meow old friend. Meow.

Princeton
1995-2010

Bloghead revisited

I know, I know. I haven’t written anything useful (or not useful for that matter) here for a long, long time. I’m not really sure I have a good explanation, except that my Greek life has become a bit mundane.

Going back to the States wasn’t as bad as I feared. One thing I did realize is that I have become overly accustomed to how things are in Greece – so much so that I was constantly amazed at how easy some things are in the U.S., and how friendly people are there. Did I always take these things for granted?

Yet, as much as I long to be near my friends and family again (and to see my niece more often than every seven years) and as wonderful as life in America seems to be, the U.S. is no longer my home. I was most acutely aware of this when my brother-in-law was driving us up the long, winding slope on our way back from the airport. A couple of miles away our house came into view, nestled against the side of the mountain. I felt happiness and relief. This is the place where I belong, at least for now.

It is a phase in my ex-pat life I never really expected. To some Greeks I am still ξένος (and will always be), but for me, Greece is home.

I'm afraid of Americans

Tomorrow I will set foot on U.S. soil for the first time in seven years. I am a bit apprehensive about it for a couple of reason: first, will I love it so much I won't want to return to Greece, and second, will it be the same?

When I left the U.S. I was ready to get the hell out of dodge. Not for any particular reason, it was just if I was going to stagnate somewhere I might as well experience a change of scenery. Yet when I left I was an American through and through. I felt appropriate fear towards terrorist threats, appropriate disdain towards uncouth European ideals, appropriate entitlement from my American roots, and my mind was as closed as a nun wearing a chastity belt. Everything I knew about the world outside of the U.S. was pretty much stereotype perpetuated by the media and the curse of growing up American during the Cold War.

Now, after living in a European country (barely) for 7 years, I no longer feed on media fear, I no longer have disdain for Europeans, and I sure as hell no longer have any sense of entitlement. My mind is more open, and I know more about news of the world than I do news of the U.S. (except, of course, for what is going on with regard to Michael Jackson's death). If I didn't know better, I'd think I had the same general malaise of thought with regard to Americans as many Europeans do. But that can't be right. I'm an American!

Perhaps it is fitting that I will start my trip in the nation's capital. As I stroll around the streets of Washington, D.C., perhaps I will form a new idea of what America means to me. But I'm not certain it is still the place I would call home.

Electricity

From our mountain we have a pretty good vantage point for watching storms as they approach from the sea and surround the city. Here is an example of a spectacular show we had the other night.



Zeus was certainly in full regalia for this one. This photo from the storm is probably my favorite - from the angry swells of clouds, to the lightening strike illuminating the sea.

Lamb fight

One of the best things about living in such a bucolic setting is the spring, when the herds are always full of little ones. Lambs are the cutest things, especially when they start to play. We caught these two while filming the flock the other day.

Christos Anesti

Spring???

This was how I enjoyed the first full day of Spring. The temperature was on the verge of freezing, so the icy precipitation made a mess of our power lines, breaking one and causing a 16 hour power outage. Thank goodness for book lights and cats, which kept me entertained while my husband was away at a conference. Life in the mountainous areas of Greece can be...interesting.

Garment

How many stories have been woven into the threads of this dress? The frock will never tell, a life of love, pain, happiness, regret - washed clean and left to fly away in the bitter March wind.

The view from above

DSC00252
Originally uploaded by melusinagr

Our sunset view, makes life seem not so bad sometimes.

Hope for a battered planet

From today's Kathimerini

Saving grace

I’ve been in a bit of a funk lately, at least since the beginning of the year, perhaps a bit longer. Certainly I have a tendency to loathe January – the beginning of the year, while traditionally beckoning a fresh start, seems to leave me melancholy and clamoring for the past. But that isn’t really the source of my depression. I seem to have a bit of problem with the news, mostly the fact that the world happenings of late seem to be rather atrocious. As a society we are constantly bombarded with a 24-hour news cycle of nothing but death, destruction, and pain – and recent events seem to be rolling into an avalanche that will certainly lead to the end of the world. Well, in my hyperbolic, depressed state, anyway. From the attack on Gaza to the Greek riots to the Russia/Ukraine gas dispute and people all over the world starving, unemployed, and losing their homes, it gets to the point where my heart is breaking so much that I start to feel numb.

Then on Thursday I hear that a plane has crashed. Another 100 or more people possibly dead. Another tragedy. It is a straw about to break this camel’s back. My mind is a swirl of anger – isn’t it enough that the world is going through what it is, without this? Did we really need a catastrophic plane crash right now??? I reluctantly switch to CNN, dreading more bad news, but hoping for something, anything that can save me, save us, from everything being bad all the time.

And there was something.

All 155 people on the plane survived. A plane ditched in the river in one of the most perfect plane crashes of all time. A pilot and co-pilot who know what they are doing, passengers who act without panicking, police and ferries and first responders all there ready, saving people, getting them out of the freezing water. At first you have to think of miracles, of a divine hand working some magic, and then you realize if there is a divine hand involved, it is simply showing us that this, THIS is what human beings are capable of. Not all tragedy. Not all pain. Not all bad.

Sure, this doesn’t solve the conflict in the Middle East. It doesn’t help Darfur. It doesn’t feed or clothe people, or provide running water. But it is 155 people who, for a few agonizing minutes on Thursday afternoon may not have thought they would still be alive today. What might have been a disaster became something good. If that doesn’t give us hope, nothing can.

Poor old goat

Looks like the Gavle goat didn't make it this year. I've heard grilled goat makes for a tasty Christmas dinner.

OTE can suck it

For the past 4 or 5 months, we've notice that our 1 mb connection has dropped down to about 200 kb/s in the afternoons/evenings, which makes doing most anything beyond loading text unbearable. We were tirelessly slamming our ISP, Forthnet, for these issues, until we found out today that because OTE controls our line (Forthnet, unfortunately, does not have their own lines in our area), OTE controls our lack of bandwidth. It seems that the node we are on is overcrowded, and OTE doesn't give a shit since the people that are complaining are not their subscribers.

Since the point of having other ISPs on OTE lines was necessary to avoid a monopoly and allow users a choice, it would seem that these practices would not be acceptable, at least, I doubt any company would get away with such a thing in America. But of course this is Greece, the top of the line in "I don't give a damn" countries. Still, you would hope that since OTE has some German blood in them now they would improve things a bit. Forthnet has sent orders to OTE three times on our behalf in the past few months, and nothing has changed. Here's hoping it does soon, but maybe not before we switch our phone service to another provider. I'm not inclined to pay OTE any more money for their corrupt business practices. For now, I guess we are forced to suffer with an adsl connection that isn't much better than ISDN, unless, of course, we ally ourselves with the evil empire and get our internet service from OTE. Not a chance.

High class

You know you live in a classy city when you park downtown and find a brochure from a "by the hour" hotel on your windshield. Ironically, the couple pictured on the cover of the pamphlet was sleeping. Because sometimes you just need a place where you can sleep for a couple of hours in the middle of the day.

Xenophobia

Whenever a person moves to a new place there is always a period of adjustment. The length of time it will take is indeterminate – it depends on many factors, and can take weeks, months, or even years. Obviously, moving to a different country ups the adjustment factor quite a bit, as we learn how to deal with new cultures, new social customs, and sometimes, new languages.

When I moved to Greece six years ago, I did not expect it to be easy. I am one of those people who stubbornly defies change of any kind, even change I long for, so I knew learning how to live in a new country was going to be an enormous task for me. The welcoming attitude of my in-laws made things much less difficult (as some of us know, some Greek in-laws can be a bit harsh with foreign spouses), but the blooming war in Iraq and general anti-American sentiment made me feel quite isolated and unwanted here. Living in Athens didn’t help matters much, because while it is a booming metropolis with lots of activity, it is hard to find your “place” there. Of course, we were only going to be there a year, so I looked forward to moving on.

We moved three times in four years, so it was nearly impossible to really feel like I was “home” here. In smaller villages I was more of an attraction because of my foreign status, and people were much friendlier. Even though I was starting to feel a greater sense of belonging, I had difficulty learning the Greek language, and that separated me from everyone else. We moved to a village I really loved on the side of Mt. Olympus, and that was when Greece started feeling more like home. Another move to my husband’s home town of Thessaloniki made things even better, and by the time we moved into our own house, I finally felt settled at last.

That is, until the riots started. To be fair, this sort of violence isn’t uncommon in Greece, whenever there is a protest or march of some kind, rioters wreak some kind of havoc. But the scale of the latest riots was enormous, the damage overwhelming, and the hatred palpable. We have had riots in America, but things don’t spill over into violence quite so often. Europe is so protective over an individual’s right to protest that it has a hard time dealing with rioting, which I can respect, but the destruction and injury (and sometimes death) caused by soccer hooliganism and protest violence seems unnecessary and avoidable. The general attitude that it is ok to throw rocks and bottles and bombs at people (especially police) is hard for me to grasp. I’ve had my share of anti-government attitudes in my life, but I’ve never felt the need to throw something at another human being, no matter how much I despised them (yes, I know, we can all appreciate the humor in Bush’s bobbing and weaving at the shoes thrown at him, but honestly, I do not think it is ok to do that, as much as I dislike Bush).

I cannot pretend to know what it is like to grow up in Greece today, or what my attitude about things would be if I was a Greek youth. But I’m not, and these riots have left me feeling alienated and unsettled, and once again searching for home.