House Hunting Gone Wrong

A little background information first:

As some of you may or may not know, I have a very sweet, giving, caring man-child of a husband:

1.    He whistles and sings to his heart’s content anywhere and anytime he feels like it.

2.    He has this way of taking normal words and saying them in a crazy way (meece=mice, yellah=hello, nana=banana, etc).

3.    He almost always says inappropriate things at the most inappropriate times to make the inappropriate time, well, that much more inappropriate.

4.    He has the ability to give life, and a backstory, to the most inanimate objects.  And what’s worse, at the end of his little one-man show you would think that inanimate object is alive and well, has a wide range of feelings and emotions, and may even have a family of its own.  

Sometimes his funniest moments are purely an accident.  Catch my drift?!?

Most of the time, numbers 1, 2, 3, and 4 just embarrass me to no end, but he usually gets a round of laughs from others coupled with the “You are so not right!” routine. I am always left thinking, “What in the hell is wrong with you people?!? Don’t encourage him!!”

While this whole “thing” makes him a load of fun at parties, it only works in his favor with me about 50% of the time, and that usually coincides with times that I am on the verge of going 100% bat-shit crazy. He lives for these moments and references  “tragedy averted”; but just remember that it only works out about 50%, so he’s really playing the odds.

Here are a couple of examples: 

Example 1:  Our home in North Carolina…

Me (putting up blinds): Why the hell am I doing this?!?! You are the guy!! Why does this stupid screw driver suck so bad?!?! Can’t we just pay someone?!?! Why the hell are there so many windows!?!? I may kill myself doing this…just so you know!!!* 

Bat-shit crazy achieved!!!!

Kip (not really listening to me and looking at the million boxes of blinds): Huh? Hey, what is fox wood?

Me: What?

Kip: It says right here on the box… what are fox wood blinds?

Me (laughing my ass off): That says FAUX wood you fool, not fox!!  

Tragedy averted!!

*Side note: While putting up the blinds I did end up breaking my big toe and that Christmas I received a fancy new drill.  Plus, anything “faux” is now consistently pronounced “fox”!

Example 2: In our hotel in Crete…

After a good 30 minutes of figuring out how to change the TV from Greek to English, and then another complicated 15 minutes of rearranging the furniture, TV, and DVD player so both could be hooked-up and plugged-in at the same time…I FINALLY got it and was so happy!! All I wanted was to watch a movie on the damned TV. (BTW, the outlet placement in Greece makes no sense whatsoever to me). I pop in the DVD, sit back and relax, and…

WTF?!!!  Up on the screen pops a message I’ve never seen before.  What the hell does it mean that I am “in the wrong region”? What does that even mean? I get another movie… I am “in the wrong region.” I pull out the hotel’s info DVD provided for us tourists… Yep! It plays just fine. I stupidly put one of my movies back in.  The screen should have just read…

“Give it up!!  You’re not gonna be watching this today!!!”

So, I unplug the DVD player and SMACK IT!!! Yes. I smacked the crap out of it. Over and over again.

Bat-shit crazy reached!!!

I had a vision of me storming out and throwing the damned thing in the pool. Then Kip begins his monologue and politely tells me it is not the DVD player’s fault that it was born in the wrong region and all he (meaning the DVD player) really wants to do is entertain me.  He goes on and on bringing life and feeling to this stupid black box. At the end of his little speech, I laugh it off and almost feel bad for hitting the stupid thing.

Tragedy averted!!

So now, back to House Hunting...

When we first found out that we were moving to Crete, wonderful visions filled my mind. A little something like this:

I saw me waking up in the morning in my kick ass bedroom with white curtains blowing gently in the breeze. I’d go out on my kick ass balcony that overlooks the kick ass water to have a kick ass cup of coffee. Then I’d take Gibbs for a quick walk on the kick ass beach. I’d come back, make another cup of coffee, and sit out on the kick ass veranda and take in the scenery.  After the second coffee I would walk around the kick ass villa and think of something to fill my kick ass day. Maybe I’d go to the market and buy food for dinner, or go and take pictures, or sit by the pool and read a book all day. Who knows, but it’s plan-free and care-free!!! Sounds kick ass, right?   Well, my beautiful visions are now a distant memory.

Needless to say, the house hunting thus far has been less than perfect. With my perfect visions fading away day-by-day, so is my otherwise positive and perky attitude toward the hotel and everything Greek.

We have seen all types of houses and villas in the weeks since we’ve been here.  Places ranging from 3 bedrooms on up to 5 bedrooms. Some houses with lots of bathrooms and some with just one.  Some with a great view and some with an OK view.  Some with a pool and some without.  There are really no two houses alike here.  Hell, some aren’t even finished!!

One in particular was so pretty on the inside, but on the outside you wouldn’t even think someone lived there it looked so crummy.  Another one was so pretty on the outside and I wondered how anyone could actually live on the inside it was so disgusting. Then, we finally got to see a completely finished house with five bedrooms!! I walked in and thought YAY! Then I took one look at the bedrooms…

To call it a bedroom and not a closet is a demonstration of my giving nature, because my clothes wouldn’t even fit in there.  It didn’t take long to realize that Greeks build bedrooms and bathrooms to do the bare minimum. I’d say 90% of the bedrooms we have seen wouldn’t even fit our king-size bed. Some of the bathrooms… I bet even the smallest oompa lumpa would complain that it was too small. (Oompa Lumpa Doopity Do…Greece is a bad place to try and go poo!)

Finally, we did find a kick ass villa with all of the kick ass stuff I’d dreamed of!!  At last!!! I was so excited…until…

We found out we could probably rent the White House for less.  What the hell?!?! Don’t these people know their country is bankrupt? 

Bat-Shit Crazy is Building-Up and Starting to Rear Its Ugly Head!!

So just yesterday we set up another trip to go see a villa with amenities somewhat similar to “the White House”, but this one was at the right price!! I was so excited!! I had been eyeing this place online and was happy to learn that the owners agreed to start renting it long-term (it is primarily a weekly rental)!! Woo hoo!!!  And again…just like one of the million snails on the sidewalk…CRUSHED! First off, while it is in a beautiful place, with an unobstructed beach view, and a pool, in a complex of 3 villas with a shared tennis court… I am pretty sure the dog that lives next door is rabid and wants to eat Gibbs, me, Kip and possibly our DVD player. Thank God it was on a leash. Strike one. We walk inside the front door. I take three steps forward and I’m outside again on the back porch (Gee, thanks for the 2-second tour of the 1^st floor...it’s so spacious!!) Strike Two. I walk up to the top floor, which is the master bedroom and the shower is in the bedroom…exposed!!! Who the hell puts the tub (again, fit for an oompa lumpa) in the middle of the bedroom? Strike three.  After walking around a bit and checking out all three villas, I look at Kip and realize he is actually considering this place.

All I want to do is go back to the hotel, get in bed, and cry. After talks of “could they fix this and that”, we get back in the car and I start to curse the Greeks, Danes, and the English who all had a part in building this place (a little bit of history for you all), all the way down to the photographer who took the pictures to put on the website (can you say “wide-angle lens???”).  I then start to freak out over how messed up these places are and ask Kip if he saw the size of the oven. “Even if we were there for Thanksgiving, there is no way I would even be able to fit a turkey in that damned thing!!!” 

Bat-shit crazy in full-effect!!!

He thinks about this for a second and he realizes aloud that most of the places we have seen have tiny little ovens and then he asks me, “Well, how do all the Greeks cook their turkeys for Thanksgiving?”  

And just like that…

Tragedy Averted!!

Greek Superstitions

By now, I believe you have no doubt heard enough of the trials and tribulations that plagued our international travels to Greece.  And, by the way, thanks for reading and offering your support and laughs.  I guess if we can’t laugh about it, it would all just seem REALLY tragic.  Now that we are in Crete and settled into our temporary home at the Sissy Village (how fitting to have Gibbs living in a place called Sissy Village), I’d like to share some of the good stuff with you…

On one of our first mornings here, I was sitting out on our porch with Gibbs.  While I sipped my coffee and read a book, Gibbs was busy surveying the scenery and sniffing about.  Then our neighbor came over to visit and introduce himself.  He’s a pretty handsome fella that could give any Hollywood star a run for his money.  He starts talking to me and WHOA! WHOA!  I realize he’s said about 1,000 words in a span of about 3 seconds.  At first, I think maybe I’m still jet-lagged and I know I’ve lived in the South for a while and people tend to be more thoughtful about their words (a.k.a slow and steady), but this guy could’ve been a professional auctioneer!  What’s worse, even though I KNOW he is speaking English to me, I find it very hard to understand him.  We, I mean, HE talks for a few minutes and then starts to hone in on Gibbs and begins to ask questions about him.  I now realize Gibbs is the main reason he’s come over to “chat.”  Anyway, I notice a change in his inflection followed by a pause and realize he’s just asked me a question about our “British Bulldog” which makes me giggle as now I expect that if Gibbs could talk he’d sound like Prince Charles.  What also begins to capture my attention is that he ends almost every question with “mate”:

What’s your British Bulldog’s name, mate?  Where do you come from, mate?

I seems I have now met a very interesting ethnic combination of a man.  Half-Greek, Half-Australian!  This may be a common blend, but it’s my first, so don’t ruin the novelty for me!  And God as my witness, I will find a REAL Spartan before I leave here!!

So we chat a while longer and as he goes to leave, I start to say, “see you…” 

AND…

DID HE JUST SPIT ON MY DOG?!?!? 

Yep.  Spit-spit-spit!!! (or phonetically, I guess it sounds more like ftou-ftou-ftou!!!)

Just as my brain is processing this, he very quickly tells me (quickly in that he talks a mile a minute and also quickly in that he sees the “WTF?!?!” look of confusion on my face and realizes he needs to explain himself) that this is a Greek tradition to spit on someone to ward off evil and/or for good luck.  While I DEFINITELY could have used a little spit back in Norfolk before this whole adventure began, I feel like my luck has turned a little bit and let him know that I’m all stocked up on good luck at this time.  He laughs and I feel like I just found my first new friend in Crete!

After telling my sister, Natalie, about the saliva incident, she cracks up laughing and tells me that she’s seen that happen in My Big Fat Greek Wedding.  I can’t believe I never saw that movie—might have been a little helpful before moving here, so I ran out the next day and rented it just to see for myself.  While the movie is somewhat stereotypical, it’s definitely hilarious and now I feel like I’m starting to understand a little bit more about the Greeks, even though I’m still feeling like “It’s All Greek To Me!”  I just wish someone had warned me about how they feel about CROWS here before I arrived (more on that later).

I later come to find out that our half-Australian, half-Greek, spit-happy, fast talking mate is named Thomas.  He may have told me that on that first day out on the porch, but I definitely didn’t catch it!!  Since our first meeting, we’ve gotten to know him pretty well.  He too is living in Crete for work and his wife comes to visit on some weekends.  His wife is also incredibly sweet and nice though she has kind of an unfortunate name that doesn’t really suit her--Myrtle (which sounds nothing like that in Greek, btw). I guess that is her burden because otherwise she is the kind of girl with the kind of figure that makes other girls want to only order lettuce and a glass of water for lunch!!  After hanging out with Thomas a bit, Kip and I debated on what it is that Thomas does for a living.  All the scenarios we came up with were pretty bad-ass!!  In his super fast chat he dropped words like Tanzania, mate, Qatar, Embassy, Mercedes, mate, pilot, president, mate, King, Arabic, Qudafi, mate…. 

Get my drift?!?!?

While we have learned that he sadly is NOT our own, personal Jason Bourne, he is still pretty cool in our book for a number of reasons:

1.    He brings us lots of tasty desserts.

2.    He brings Gibbs his leftovers.  My dog is never going to want to leave here.

3.    He teaches us “bad words” in Greek.

4.    He wants to come to the US with us so he can eat in a “proper” diner and witness a bar fight (clearly he watches a lot of Hollywood movies and American TV shows).

5.    He said he likes us Americans.

6.    He calls me MATE!!

I now have the strong urge to start calling everyone “mate” after talking to him and continue to find myself intrigued.  I am still holding on to the dream that he still might end up being kinda, sorta Jason Bourne-ish.  A girl can dream, can’t she?!?!

Time has not helped the fast talking and I notice that my mind seems to work on some sort of delay when I’m talking to him (part of his Jason Bourne skills is brain control—I’m certain of it) and I can only seem to catch the important words in the conversation—thank God I’m at least able to do that so he doesn’t think I’m brain damaged or something.  And even though I’m still trying to understand what these Greeks are all about, I can’t help but love every second of it!

So, until next time… spit-spit-spit!!!