What The Flux

I’m delighted by and surprised at how much street life in Koukaki, Athens feels like the lower east side of New York City. It bustles at all times, in the am parents walk their children to school and people of all ages are out on bicycles. Always cafes bustle with lively conversation. On our walk home from dinner (dinner was FABULOUS!) we happened upon a smiling group of people taking dance class. To what music? American pop! It feels so very good to be peopled!   

I came to Greece preloaded to adjust my expectations. In Truth or Consequences, New Mexico—where I live—there are visible signs of poverty: squalor, aging infrastructure, the imprint of a depressed economy. We’ve grown used to that landscape. When I lived in New York City, I acclimated to the dramatic shifts between neighborhoods—immaculate parks and pristine blocks sitting right next to stretches of real decay. Santa Fe, by contrast, tells a very different story—especially around the plaza. That historic center is polished and curated, a hub of branded luxury designed to dazzle tourists. But it’s a false reflection of the wider city. I once overheard a valet say that if you call the police from the plaza, they’ll show up in three minutes. Call from the outskirts—where most locals live—and you might wait half an hour. So when we landed in Greece, I reminded myself: the unfamiliar always stands out. Our brains are wired with a negativity bias, designed to spot potential threats. But sig...

On our second day in Athens, we felt a little less jet-lagged and a lot more ready to explore. Our goals were simple: get euros, pick up a second SIM card, and visit the Museum of Modern Art. We started with a walk through our neighborhood—which feels a bit like Brooklyn, but with bougainvillea—and stumbled into brunch. Yesterday’s first meal (mussels in a buttery wine sauce) had set the bar high, and today’s shrimp tacos and sausages didn’t disappoint. Two “small plates” turned out to be more than enough. As promised, the food in Greece is both inexpensive and absolutely delicious. Tipping in Greece is different than in the US. Wait staff are paid well and do not rely on tips, however a tip still shows appreciation. It’s common to leave 5 or 10%, or the change.    Cafés here hum with energy at all hours, though most close around 3pm for an afternoon pause before reopening for dinner. As we walked, we noticed that nearly every place was playing American music—mostly Elvis an...

Our first mission upon arriving in Greece: stay awake. We’d booked a two-night stay in Athens specifically to acclimate—and because there was no way I was going to plop Rob into a car in a new country with a different language and alphabet and expect him to drive while jet-lagged. We arrived at our Airbnb around noon and set the goal of staying up until our new target bedtime: 10pm. We made it—but it wasn’t easy. To keep ourselves awake (and get some natural light), we walked. A lot. We wandered toward the Acropolis, the main attraction near our Airbnb, winding our way through hilly cobblestone streets that made it very clear: we were not in New Mexico anymore. The city unfolded with layers of charm—narrow alleys, bustling cafés, antique shops, tourist stalls, all humming with life. People from all over the world filled the streets, and we were unmistakably part of that crowd. Jet lag hung over us like a fog, but we pushed through, fueled by that wonderful sense of being away. A...

Arriving in a new country is always a little disorienting. Greece, with its different alphabet and language, adds an extra layer of confusion. We went into it knowing the first day or two would be messy—and they were.  After a red-eye flight from Albuquerque and a layover in Atlanta, 14 hours later we landed at the Athens airport at 10am—1am to our bodies. The first priority was adjusting to the new time zone. For three days before we left the U.S., we took melatonin around 1–2pm to start shifting our internal clocks toward a Greek bedtime of about 10pm. Despite being warned not to hop into just any cab at the airport, that’s exactly what we did. Exhausted and bleary-eyed, we stumbled into the first cab in the queue outside Arrivals, instead of using FREE NOW (Greece’s local version of Uber). Just as our Airbnb hosts had warned, we were charged double the typical daytime fare. The usual rate is 35 euros—we paid 70. When I asked for a receipt (as clearly required by the sign in the...