...And that, my Friends, is Greek Coffee at it's Finest

It takes Giannis Bratsolias 126 seconds to make my iced coffee. He brings it to me with a smile; one hand holding the blended drink, the other holding a glass of cold water.

 I am the first and only one here in this early morning—at Bar The Way in Pangrati, Athens—and I watch as Bratsolia’s sister appears from downstairs to mop the colorful floor in preparation for the day. She is wearing long jeans and a white t-shirt, as if the hot and sticky temperature is barely warm enough.

I am here on a quest—to see if coffee is as much a part of the Greek morning routine as it is the American. An East Coaster myself, I am well-versed in the delicious potentials of the iced coffee.

This particular coffee fulfills my wildest dreams. It is a perfect gradient of browns: dark chocolate brown at the bottom, caramel next, a light tan towards the top, and foamy white deliciousness at the rim. I try to drink it slowly to soak it in, but it is so light I consume it all within a minute. 

The airiness of Bratsolia’s coffee isn’t unique; it’s the epitome of the Greek caffeinated drink. When I tell him I’ve only had American coffee, he replies, “You try this and tell me what you think.”

A second customer arrives 13 minutes later, and Bratsolias gets to work making a drink for him before he even says a word; it is remarkably quiet and the regular pulls out a cigarette to smoke as he waits. He doesn’t pay—at least not from what I can tell; the two speak a few words in Greek and I assume he is either family or on some sort of tab system. After this second customer come two more, and soon a steady flow of people begins to filter in. 

Each customer here is quiet, patient, and friendly. They have the same sleepy just-woke-up look as the Americans back home, but there is a relaxed atmosphere that is a stark contrast to the average east coast Dunkin-Donuts.

When I go up to pay, I tell Bratsolia his coffee is delicious. Then I ask if he thinks Greeks can survive without caffeine. He replies, “Our coffee is good.” I smile. That’s answer enough.

And then I can’t help myself. I spend another 3 euro on a second coffee. 

Goodbyes

We are already reaching midterms for the spring semester, and I haven't completely finished my blog entries for my time in London. So here are some pictures from the bittersweet last week in my temporary home:

(Left: Abriel made sweet cards for all of us, Middle: We decorated Christmas cards for the Arcadia staff, Right: Claire and I made one last meal using up the rest of our groceries)

Our flat Christmas party took place on Tuesday, and gave us all a well-needed break from studying. Anna gave out superlative awards and each of us won at least one. (Mine were, respectively, "Most likely to study for a test after the test" and "Most likely to be late to her own wedding.")

The next day, we gave our professor a superlative and a container of cookies. Then I spent the rest of the day focused on two finals.

On Thursday, I met up with Natalie to get ready for the Koinonia Christmas Party.

When she found out I had never had a Cadbury chocolate orange, she made me get one and open it right away. This video is of me struggling to understand how to correctly open one of these:

Soon, the rest of the gang showed up and we rushed to decorate the room for Christmas:

We played a swap game with the presents in which we could swap gifts throughout the entire evening. Some of the Koinonia boys found out I really wanted a mug with the map of London on it, and kept swapping to keep the mug in my hands. It was really sweet. I realized in that moment how much I had enjoyed being able to be with them every week.

(Left: Me and Amy, Right: Christmas Crackers: this game (with a similar concept as the Thanksgiving wish bone) is a holiday tradition in the UK. My friends were surprised I had never played before!) 

After the Christmas party, the gang headed to The Jack Horner pub, and it was there I said my goodbyes. As I was leaving the pub, Joe, the director of Koinonia, offered to walk me the station, so we walked together as I held back tears. 

Boy, do I miss this... I'm there in the front row, leaning over from laughing so hard. Good times. 

Friday consisted of packing, writing my last final, and scrap-booking.  

(Left: Claire, the ultimate packer; Me bidding goodbye to my worn out clothes and boots, My suitcase with several "Evening Standard" issues about America on Election Day for safekeeping.) 

I went to bed in classic Leah fashion: unpacked and with a detailed "To-Do" list for the morning. In less than 10 hours I would begin the journey home!

Goodbye, Venice. Hello, Scotland!

 Zoe and I woke up early to get ready to go to Murano, the island that Luca had recommended to see glassblowing. (YAY).

The day before I had searched for a glass-blown horse for my sister, Alison. All I could find were unicorns. 

Plans changed a bit and we ended up meeting up with Melanie earlier than expected. The three of us took the long trip to the island, with only a slight unease at the fact that our departure flight time was creeping closer...

Again, only unicorns! When I asked this guy if there were any horses sold anywhere he said, "Ma'am, We like our unicorns." Oh well.

Luca told us that all the glass-blowers would try to charge us money to see demonstrations, but that it was illegal. He told us to ignore them and continue in, and they would not ask again. He was right. 

We walked around and went to the demonstration through the side door, and no one asked us for money. The demonstration ended up being really cool (it took this man maybe five minutes to finish the entire sculpture!) so I did leave a tip:

(And yes, he made a unicorn.)

After the demonstration we headed to one last island:

As you can see, Burano is relatively far north...(compared to San Marco) we used our travel pass so it was not expensive but took a decent amount of time. 

This place was SO COOL. The island had a completely different feel:

oh. the. colors. 

 We spent the short time we had there exploring the stores and walking down the streets. The middle picture (above) illustrates just how crowded some of the roads were (not even sure if I can call something so narrow a road!). The homemade lace and paintings were absolutely breathtaking.

 

Tiny openings between buildings to form pathways to walk. 

Laundry hanging from the line...just an ordinary home :)

 Vibrant colors make a good backdrop :)

And nothing like a reminder of home for a good shoe picture:

I have no idea what this actually stands for :)

Our journey back to San Marco was a bit rocky, but we did eventually make it back in time for our flight. 

And just like that, I was back in London.

And back to studying for finals. 

"City life without elevators is exhausting."

I had one final due that week. My journalism feature article. That Monday I had my last interview with The Orchard Project, gathered all the pieces I had gathered over the semester, and sat down in a cafe to put it all together:

I felt like a real journalist for the first time. It was awesome. 

And then, with that out of the way, I headed North:

(T.k. Maxx isn't just a Stirling thing. All of Europe has the 'k' variation. Weird? Yes.)

More about Scotland, The Orchard Project, and this girl coming soon!