Home, Sweet Home?

What is it about our home that we love to hate and hate to love?

Today, I returned to college from a long, needed winter break. Scrolling through my numerous social media sites, I noticed something. Friends who have not yet gone back to school saying things like, "Take me back to school please" or "I need to get out of my house, I'm so bored." Yet, people who have been at school for just a week saying, "Not ready for this semester, take me back home, please." Seems as though we can never find a balance between the desire for newness, adventure and the  comfort of home.

Monotony and boredom. While we hate those aspects of returning to the places we grew up, in reality, there is much we appreciate about our homes. The familiar faces, the way you know at exactly 7:19 AM the old Indian man will pass by your house on his daily morning walk as you are leaving for school, the smells that spark vivid memories, passing by locations and remembering an event that happened there. Knowing an area like the back of your hand is so meaningful. The thought of a person never feeling connected to an area in this way always makes me sad. There is truly nowhere like home.

Just something I've been thinking about. Can a perfect equilibrium ever be achieved?

Opa!

Over winter break, I went on an adventure. Destination: Athens, Greece. It was actually my second time there, but I was happy to go back and experience the city as a young adult (Yay, 18 year-old drinking age!). Everytime I travel to Europe, I fall deeper in love with the continent, the people, and the lifestyle. I could go on and on about all of my experiences while in Greece, but in an effort not to bore you all, I have something else to share. A list. While sipping a cappuccino in a restaurant during my long layover in London, I made a list of the things I learned on my journey

1. Knowing more than one language is power. After being immersed for a week in a language I couldn't understand, I didn't realize how great of a feeling it would be to hear English again on my way home during my connection in London. I didn't feel small anymore. It's not until I heard my beloved language that I realized how much more powerful I felt when I could comprehend. Perhaps if I could have understood the Greek language, I would have been able to connect more with the people.

2. People are not staring at me because I'm black. "Have they never seen someone with dark skin before?!" is a question I continuously asked myself during my first few days in Greece. "Self-conscious" is a word that described how I felt when eyes, like little daggers, always seemed on me. But after a few days of feeling uneasy, I realized something. The locals stare at everyone, not just at me. Greek people are rumored to be curious. If they like the way you look, they stare, if they don't like the way you look, they stare, if you seem interesting, they stare. It is nothing personal. 

Rain and lanterns on a backstreet

3. PDA is healthy. Sitting in the bustling, lively Greek squares, I people watched for hours. Relationships are so easily visible. Mothers and daughters walking hand-in-hand (regardless of age), men walking with their arms around one other, friends walking with linked arms. It was so beautiful the way displays of relationships were so visible and public. Displays of happiness without of fear judgement.

My favorite place in Athens thus far- Plaka

4. "Personal space" is completely, utterly an American concept. This is pretty much self-explanatory.

5. Europeans dress. Being a self-proclaimed lover of all things style, to say I adore European style is an understatement. Women dress so femininely and with no shame. Bell skirts, platform heels, clean lines, leather handbags- so beautiful. Men looked as though they'd stepped straight off of the pages of GQ Magazine.

NYE Party in Athens

6. Airports can be enjoyable after-all. My favorite thing about airports is imagining how many people other than yourself are embarking on adventures. I found myself watching people and wondering about where they are going, how they are feeling, and about their entire life story, basically. Is that weird?

7. Challenge yourself. Eat new foods, attempt to communicate with the locals, be a sponge. You will find that this will make your journey much more rewarding.

Beautiful view from the Acropolis

Welcome

I am no newbie to the blog world. At this point, I am nervous to Google search my name as I might come across the embarrassments that were my previous blogs as a silly, naive pre-teen. Now at 19-years-old, but surely still a bit naive, I know what I want to express in this new, lasting blog. This is “Tickets, Please”.

“Tickets, Please”. A phrase heard so often, so often over-looked. Whether embarking on Flight 633 to Athens, stepping onto the Acela en route to New York Penn Station, walking through the stoic doors of a theater on Broadway, or preparing to see the new art exhibit at the Philadelphia Art Museum, “Tickets, please,” is what you will hear. The common theme in this phrase, regardless of the location of you hear it, is that you don’t know what is coming next. The ensuing few hours, days, or weeks are a complete mystery. How will you feel? What will you see? What will you do/hear/learn/think/observe/taste? Sure, you might have some pre-conceived notions and expectations, but nothing is guaranteed. The only thing known is that an adventure is beginning. What is in store for you is unknown, but whatever happens is for a reason and molds you into a wiser being. That is the kind of adventure life is about. That is what I aspire this blog will be for myself and my readers— a series of adventures. So, tickets, please.