Salamina: Chapter 2
I grew up at a time (1980’s) and in a place (Nicosia) where you were either Omonoia or APOEL fan..the two big teams of the capital. I still remember in elementary school, in my class of 31 students the teacher asking how many students support Omonia. When she counted the hands to be 15 she immediately made the assumption that there are more APOEL fans in the class (16). Little did she know that a little boy would raise his hand and in his shy yet determined voice would say “Kyria, sygnomi alla egw eimai me ti Salamina” (Ms. I am sorry but I support Salamina).
I still remember the first ever game I attended. It was a friendly game between Omonoia – Salamina and my uncle, my favorite uncle Andros took me. It must have been late 1980’s, around 1987 if I would have to guess. I was only 7 years old. That is when this unconditional love between me and a team started. Three years later, Salamina won their one and only title. And I wasn’t there. I missed it so I could go to a friend’s birthday…biggest regret of my life… I still remember that day like it was yesterday. I remember listening part of the game on the radio on the way back from the birthday party, my mum driving and my friend Marios in the car with us. I remember listening the end of the game on the only radio we had in the kitchen of our house. I remember how much I regretted that I was not there.
Since then, I would almost go to any game that my uncle would go. My brother and my grandfather would almost always follow. Almost 20 years later and the tradition continues, still going to Salamina games with my brother and uncle. I am sure that my grandpa would be proud of us since he was a follower until he couldn’t go any more.
I have been disappointed many times. I thought about giving up. After all, supporting a mid-low strength team gave me more disappointments than I can ever count. Countless weekends being in bad mood, almost speechless. Countless times of going to a game with high hopes and returning home disappointed. As hard as I have tried, I can’t give up. It is something that it is hard to explain, but the time when Salamina plays is the only time in the world I feel free. Free from everything, happy, away from the real world even for 90 minutes. It is the time of the week that I am looking forward to the most. Maybe things will change in the future, but there are no guarantees. I will still have to suffer those defeats every weekend. I don’t mind though because as my brother always says “Winning builds confidence, losing builds character” - ours has more than matured by now -
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
Story of my life: Prologue and Chapter 1
The gates made a thunderous noise as they closed behind us. I was with three of my friends but we were soon split up. Two and two. We all looked the same, skinny, short hair, sad, tired, not wanting to be there.
All we knew about the army were the stories we were told. Parents, Brothers, Uncles, older friends, everyone had a story. Some of them were funny, but most of them were scary. As I walked towards my assigned building I glanced around the barracks. I could only see a tree or two that would give some cover from the burning July sun. The faces of the soldiers who have already been recruited were obviously a clear indication of what would follow.
As I wore my fresh new boots for the first time, the memories of the beach, the clubbing and the fun ran through my mind. I had to soon forget them. All I had to do for the next 26 months of my life was one thing..Obey orders.
The neighborhood of dreams: Chapter 1
He could hear the basket ball bouncing on the street. The noise was getting louder as it was approaching his house. Even though he was half-asleep on the couch, he knew that this was the daily signal that it was time to get out of the house.
The same routine happened on a daily basis. One of the friends would start from his house and would follow the same road to the basketball court..picking up the other friends on the way.
His house was the second to last, so by the time he got out of the house almost everybody was there. Quickly approaching 17 there was not much in his mind. Maybe he would think about liking a girl every now and then but it wasn’t important. School was not either. Not even homework. What quizzed his mind on the way to the basketball court was, what would be the teams today, who would fight with who, who would win and the number of bruises on his legs.
As they approached the basketball court, you could see that it was not like anything you would imagine. The fresh white paint from the lines painted on the street, the non-straight lines on the ground and the ready-to-fall-down baskets gave away that this was the job of amateurs. And more specifically the job of fifteen 16-year old boys coming from the same neighborhood.
This was his neighborhood. It was where he knew everyone and where he was known by everyone. The signature place to be was the park, which would be the most ideal for friendly football games. He remembers that they were afraid from the neighbor; a guy in his 40’s who was a cop and had a mustache. He didn’t like the fact that they played football in the park. Nobody ever understood why, we just guessed that it was a result of middle-age crisis.
Close to the park was the coffee shop, “O Shialis” as we would call it. This was where everyone would meet each other if there was nothing planned in advanced. Everybody would go there except one of the friends. He was on probation for having a fight with the owner’s wife. The coffee shop was run by a very sympathetic guy, who was liked by everyone. No one could say the same about his wife, or the couple who lived below them...they would always cause us trouble.
All we knew about the army were the stories we were told. Parents, Brothers, Uncles, older friends, everyone had a story. Some of them were funny, but most of them were scary. As I walked towards my assigned building I glanced around the barracks. I could only see a tree or two that would give some cover from the burning July sun. The faces of the soldiers who have already been recruited were obviously a clear indication of what would follow.
As I wore my fresh new boots for the first time, the memories of the beach, the clubbing and the fun ran through my mind. I had to soon forget them. All I had to do for the next 26 months of my life was one thing..Obey orders.
The neighborhood of dreams: Chapter 1
He could hear the basket ball bouncing on the street. The noise was getting louder as it was approaching his house. Even though he was half-asleep on the couch, he knew that this was the daily signal that it was time to get out of the house.
The same routine happened on a daily basis. One of the friends would start from his house and would follow the same road to the basketball court..picking up the other friends on the way.
His house was the second to last, so by the time he got out of the house almost everybody was there. Quickly approaching 17 there was not much in his mind. Maybe he would think about liking a girl every now and then but it wasn’t important. School was not either. Not even homework. What quizzed his mind on the way to the basketball court was, what would be the teams today, who would fight with who, who would win and the number of bruises on his legs.
As they approached the basketball court, you could see that it was not like anything you would imagine. The fresh white paint from the lines painted on the street, the non-straight lines on the ground and the ready-to-fall-down baskets gave away that this was the job of amateurs. And more specifically the job of fifteen 16-year old boys coming from the same neighborhood.
This was his neighborhood. It was where he knew everyone and where he was known by everyone. The signature place to be was the park, which would be the most ideal for friendly football games. He remembers that they were afraid from the neighbor; a guy in his 40’s who was a cop and had a mustache. He didn’t like the fact that they played football in the park. Nobody ever understood why, we just guessed that it was a result of middle-age crisis.
Close to the park was the coffee shop, “O Shialis” as we would call it. This was where everyone would meet each other if there was nothing planned in advanced. Everybody would go there except one of the friends. He was on probation for having a fight with the owner’s wife. The coffee shop was run by a very sympathetic guy, who was liked by everyone. No one could say the same about his wife, or the couple who lived below them...they would always cause us trouble.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
...and back to the U.S
I had been so tired that I knew that I would sleep on the plane on my way back to the U.S. I shall know better next time that my wish to not get any babies close to my seat should be accompanied by a wish to not get any person who snores so LOUD while sleeping. And even though I had a good seat, even though I managed to sleep, every now and then I found myself awake thinking that somebody bombarded the plane. I was only going back to sleep after I made sure that it was really the person next to me snoring.
Heathrow Terminal 5 was not a very good experience. Lines for boarding pass check, lines for security check and then 8 hours of waiting for my flight. A flight which turned to be good. Nobody was sitting next to me, I had good leg space and I slept for the 5 of the 8 hours.
Next stop Chicago and customs check. Surprisingly it all went well. No problems, no questions and my bag made it to Chicago. They did not even require me to go through bag customs and open my bag. To my surprise everything was going well in that trip. I even got an Exit row seat for the next flight, which meant more leg space.
Arrival in Indianapolis at 9.40pm..10 minutes ahead of schedule. Molly is waiting for me and we are together waiting for my bag..which never shows up. I find it hard to believe that an airline can actually lose a bag from Chicago to Indianapolis but..it happens. The baggage claim guy is very polite but he only asks me for the color of my bag. I figure out that they must have a system in which they know the TYPE of the bag and that is why he does not ask for further details. Molly insists that my bag is grey and I insist it is Dark Green..
After a call to AA to make sure that they have the right type of bag and 26 hours, my bag is returned and my trip is officially over! Back in Bloomington and ready for a new semester.
Heathrow Terminal 5 was not a very good experience. Lines for boarding pass check, lines for security check and then 8 hours of waiting for my flight. A flight which turned to be good. Nobody was sitting next to me, I had good leg space and I slept for the 5 of the 8 hours.
Next stop Chicago and customs check. Surprisingly it all went well. No problems, no questions and my bag made it to Chicago. They did not even require me to go through bag customs and open my bag. To my surprise everything was going well in that trip. I even got an Exit row seat for the next flight, which meant more leg space.
Arrival in Indianapolis at 9.40pm..10 minutes ahead of schedule. Molly is waiting for me and we are together waiting for my bag..which never shows up. I find it hard to believe that an airline can actually lose a bag from Chicago to Indianapolis but..it happens. The baggage claim guy is very polite but he only asks me for the color of my bag. I figure out that they must have a system in which they know the TYPE of the bag and that is why he does not ask for further details. Molly insists that my bag is grey and I insist it is Dark Green..
After a call to AA to make sure that they have the right type of bag and 26 hours, my bag is returned and my trip is officially over! Back in Bloomington and ready for a new semester.
Monday, January 5, 2009
The transition from U.S to Cyprus
This is a little out of date but since I started writing it, I will finish it.
It all starts at the security check-in at the Indianapolis airport. For a change, they do not use their favorite “You have been randomly selected for additional screening” phrase anymore. In fact, this time, the security people were friendly and nice. But I still have to take everything out of my pockets, my belt, my brace, my shoes, my watch and my laptop out of the bag. The new Indianapolis airport is nicer and cleaner but that does not help much in the mood when you know you have a 17 hour trip ahead of you.
The delay in Indianapolis gives me only 45 minutes to catch my plane in Chicago. Fortunately, the arriving gate is next to the departure gate, so I immediately get in line and into the next plane. The flight is OK. I can’t get any sleep so I watch a movie, an Animal Planet show, a “How I met your mother” episode and read about 200 pages of my new book.
Arrival in Germany at 7am in the morning. I am really hungry so I head for the McDonalds and get a double cheeseburger with fries for breakfast. I still have some time to kill so I take out my laptop and start playing Football Manager. Germans are known for their efficiency but what happens next I call stupidity. I go through security to get into the gate section B12-B16. Like any other time, they talk to me in German, I have to take everything out of my pockets, my belt, my brace, my shoes, my watch and my laptop out of the bag. I still don’t carry any guns so I go through, only to find out that there is another security check in order to get into gate B14. And here we go again, take everything out of my pockets, my belt, my brace, my shoes, my watch and my laptop out of the bag. Meanwhile they still talk to me in German. I am in my gate now, and I can “feel” Cyprus. I try to find a seat only to find a girl taking two seats together so she can lay down and sleep. Another guy next to her who is all dressed up with his nice jeans, his shirt and his nice coat – a very good indication that he is a student who is returning to Cyprus for the first time – is doing the same thing. I find a seat and start reading my book. Meanwhile next to me are sitting three Cypriot students who if I am not mistaken study in Boston. I can not help but overhear them telling about how easy they can get American women and how ignorant Americans are. Another indication of Cyprus mentality. After all we are in the centre of the world. And if you don’t believe me just get any map and fold it in half…
I sleep in the plane only to wake up half an hour before our landing in Cyprus. Out of the plane and into the customs building I can already feel the smell of Cyprus..the smell of smoking cigarettes in a non-smoking place. The security guard “checks” my passport for no more than 1.5 seconds and lets me through. I could have even be the convict “Al Capone” who recently escaped from the Cyprus “prison” but who cares? I get out of the building carrying my bags. Friends, family, friends of family are waiting for their loved ones, sitting in the exit of the airport. I am already tired from the long trip so I “accidentally” hit the person in front of me who stops to talk to his friends, I find my parents who are holding their grandsons who are waiting to see the airplanes and I start my 3-week vacation…
Happy New Year everyone!
It all starts at the security check-in at the Indianapolis airport. For a change, they do not use their favorite “You have been randomly selected for additional screening” phrase anymore. In fact, this time, the security people were friendly and nice. But I still have to take everything out of my pockets, my belt, my brace, my shoes, my watch and my laptop out of the bag. The new Indianapolis airport is nicer and cleaner but that does not help much in the mood when you know you have a 17 hour trip ahead of you.
The delay in Indianapolis gives me only 45 minutes to catch my plane in Chicago. Fortunately, the arriving gate is next to the departure gate, so I immediately get in line and into the next plane. The flight is OK. I can’t get any sleep so I watch a movie, an Animal Planet show, a “How I met your mother” episode and read about 200 pages of my new book.
Arrival in Germany at 7am in the morning. I am really hungry so I head for the McDonalds and get a double cheeseburger with fries for breakfast. I still have some time to kill so I take out my laptop and start playing Football Manager. Germans are known for their efficiency but what happens next I call stupidity. I go through security to get into the gate section B12-B16. Like any other time, they talk to me in German, I have to take everything out of my pockets, my belt, my brace, my shoes, my watch and my laptop out of the bag. I still don’t carry any guns so I go through, only to find out that there is another security check in order to get into gate B14. And here we go again, take everything out of my pockets, my belt, my brace, my shoes, my watch and my laptop out of the bag. Meanwhile they still talk to me in German. I am in my gate now, and I can “feel” Cyprus. I try to find a seat only to find a girl taking two seats together so she can lay down and sleep. Another guy next to her who is all dressed up with his nice jeans, his shirt and his nice coat – a very good indication that he is a student who is returning to Cyprus for the first time – is doing the same thing. I find a seat and start reading my book. Meanwhile next to me are sitting three Cypriot students who if I am not mistaken study in Boston. I can not help but overhear them telling about how easy they can get American women and how ignorant Americans are. Another indication of Cyprus mentality. After all we are in the centre of the world. And if you don’t believe me just get any map and fold it in half…
I sleep in the plane only to wake up half an hour before our landing in Cyprus. Out of the plane and into the customs building I can already feel the smell of Cyprus..the smell of smoking cigarettes in a non-smoking place. The security guard “checks” my passport for no more than 1.5 seconds and lets me through. I could have even be the convict “Al Capone” who recently escaped from the Cyprus “prison” but who cares? I get out of the building carrying my bags. Friends, family, friends of family are waiting for their loved ones, sitting in the exit of the airport. I am already tired from the long trip so I “accidentally” hit the person in front of me who stops to talk to his friends, I find my parents who are holding their grandsons who are waiting to see the airplanes and I start my 3-week vacation…
Happy New Year everyone!
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