Dropped into a corner of Paradise

It's been a while since I last posted here and about as long since I used a computer with an internet browser in a language I could properly understand. Well, I am finally here in Greece! On the island of Kos to be exact. It is the most beautiful place I've ever had the luck to live in. I wish someone would tell me how to post pictures on here because words can't do it justice and just take too bloody long anyway. I would rather be sitting back enjoying my hot chocolate, which I paid a good 3 Euros for.

The first day here I was shown into a little room which is to be my quarters while I'm here. It used to be a hotel room but had a few kitchen appliances and an extra door added and voila! A new apartment is born! The past 2 weeks have been taken up with trying to squeeze my Australian body into the little European spaces. I now know why there are so few overweight people here and I hope my body catches onto the mentality and shrinks.

People: Very friendly and geared towards tourism. Nannas in black clothing zooming past on motorcycles and lots and LOTS of prams and babies. Must be a great place to raise a family.

Scenery: Full of quaint old buildings, creeping vines and verandahs festooned with pot plants and flowers; lots of tree-lined streets; a great port and marina (or is that the same thing?); good views out to neighbouring islands and Turkey; and all the gorgeously delicious food you could possibly want right on your doorstep.

Lifestyle: Very laid-back and also sophisticated, if that works. You never see old women in Melbourne (at least Greek ones) with make-up on, but here, they all, every age of woman, take care of themselves, which is great to see! I was feeling so vain just by wearing lipstick back home because so many of the women I worked with didn't use it. And for an island, it certainly feels like a part of Athens or Thessaloniki or another big town because of the nice shops and well-taken-care-of streets and people.

So, what have I been up to? Basically, I started at the job I came here for but didn't like it. Or rather, didn't like my employer, which amounts to the same situation. So I left, spent over a week stewing at home and pounding the streets looking for other language schools and finally received a call from one asking me to sit a test of English proficiency which, in their language, means they're interested in hiring me and want to make sure I can speak English before I start. I just sat the written component of the test and next week I find out my result. I hope I get it because my money's running out and I'm going batty at home with nothing but air-head TV chat shows to look at all day. I just can't believe people would want to watch this stuff! It's all blonde women acting like - note, I emphasise acting like - bimbos, frolicking around with their gay male guests and an astrologer or two thrown in. Is it just me or do the models know how to do their jobs better? Is it strange to want to instead curl up with a copy of The Lord of the Rings?

Anyway, it's December and we are having 23 degree days, which those of you who are living in the Patrida will already know about and have discussed at length in either: a). the coffee house; b). the salon; or c). in some boring essay at school.

I wish I had more interesting things to say but the fact is interesting things mostly happen in social situations and since I'm not working my opportunities for social interaction are limited. So apart from nearly burning down my 'kitchen' yesterday as I got used to cooking with an electric element, and my landlady nearly blowing up the neighbourhood as she tried to screw on the bottom of a gas bottle down the street, nothing much worth noting has taken place. I will keep you posted my dear apple drawer readers. And remember, if you never hear from me again after this, you'll know some Onassis character has rocked up, put me on his private plane and whisked me away to his mansion - or for you lovers of the sea, his boat - to do nothing but look pretty and smile all day long for the rest of my lucky life.

P.S. Saki Rouvas does not AGE!