It’s noon on a Wednesday. I lay in my freshly made bed in Athens. I have fluffy pillows. I have the most fabulous apartment with views of Acropolis hill and large windows that fill my apartment with 12 hours a day of spectacular local street musicians that rotate every hour. I was laying here, watching Netflix in bed (finally found a use for my laptop!) anxiously awaiting my first musician to start at 12pm. Before you raise an eyebrow – know that it’s perfectly normal in Greece to stay out until 2:00-3:00am every night of the week, and Greek people don’t even think about waking up until at least 9:00am (those are the early risers). More on that later as it’s not relevant other than to dismiss any judgement for my laying in bed at noon. I’m retired, after all! Lol! Anyway. I’ve developed a routine here. I know my way around the myriad streets. I have favorite to-go street food spots. The elevator man in my building knows me (side note; this is both a positive and negative, haha!) Athens, miraculously, feels like “home.” I’ve been here a combined total of 3 weeks now. By the time I leave it’ll have been a little more than one month spent in Athens. One month “living” in this city that so many people say “you only need one or two nights.” Let me tell you…. I love this city. Love this city. It’s the first time in what feels like *forever* that I’ve felt feelings of “home.” I’m surprised to find it here. But that’s one of the things I’ve learned so far on my journey of discovery; home finds you. Not the other way around.

My blog is not going to be a “here’s what I did today” place for travel tales, although I’m sure anecdotes will find their way in. Instead, I’m going to treat it as a safe and welcoming place for me to share myself… share my thoughts and feelings. After all, I’m out of a very long term relationship where my partner made me feel that my thoughts and feelings were unwanted / unwelcome (shut up and look pretty). So here begins the new beginning. As I lay in my bed all morning and into the afternoon. Listening to the now familiar, beautiful sounds of a local band that plays from 12-1 on famous Ermou street. Comprised of a large jovial man carefully balanced on his cajon, a perfectly handsome older Greek man in a fedora playing the bouzouki, a man with a world-class beard playing the accordion and a singer who has an ethereal…almost transcendent voice. I wish I knew what they were singing about but my Greek vocabulary is limited to say the least. I imagine… they sing of love found and love lost. And of beautiful places and memorable moments. After all… music, is the same all over the world. Where there’s music… there is “home.” Where there are comfy pillows and a comfy bed… there is “home.” Where there’s truffle-mushroom-broccoli-chicken-parmesan fresh pasta in a to-go container, there’s “home.” Even when I was still “living” in the house formerly known as “mine” it didn’t feel like home. It hasn’t felt like home in a lonnnnng time. It feels so fucking good to feel at “home” again. Even if it’s temporary. Even if it’s fleeting. Today, I wanted to share… how nice it feels to be “home” after so many months of feeling untethered. So many months of floating and spinning in lonely outerspace… desperately grasping for something to anchor myself to. I’ve flipped the gravity switch. My feet are planted firmly on the ground. Perhaps for the first time ever? I haven’t fully decided if I’ve felt grounded like this before or not. But what I know now… is that I can stand up on my feet. Or lay in bed lazily all day. Or dance the night away while listening to the sounds of this magical city. Or be swept up off my feet into another’s arms. But no matter what… I’m grounded. I’m solid. I’m “home.”