Another walk to the village...

Today we went for a little walk to enjoy some fresh air, stretch our legs and hopefully make it easier for daddy to work (he was wearing ear phones when we left). Last minute I ran back inside and grabbed the key to check our PO box for the first time.

I grew up going to a post office box to get our mail. Costa Rica didn't have the ability to handle mail the way the USPS does. In fact as children, my siblings and I were mesmerized by the American mailbox. At Nana's house, we would beg to be the one to get the mail even if we knew nothing would be for us. We loved opening that little black door and pulling out what could be treasures. I took countless pictures of Nana's mailbox (which I heard was recently replaced).

Now as I walked past the olive press museum with my chattering 2 year old, I remembered how the PO box had its own charm...

As we walked up to the aqua green post boxes, my friendly girl tried waving to a passer by and I pulled out the little key. With a bit of effort, I slid the key into the lock, lifted Charis to open it AND there was something in there! An address I knew well! I pulled out the manila envelope...

"Charis! It is from Aunt Kelly!"

I opened it right there. To make it even better there were drawings from her cousins.

"Oh and Susanna!..and Miriam..."

She was so excited that she wanted to hold them on the walk back. We talked about the drawings and about doing ones for our cousins - How she would draw one and then mail one and then wait, wait, wait and on a day you didn't know there would be one back. I told her about pen pals. I told her how I was pen pals with my cousin Laura and how I loved going to the post office for letters from her. I didn't even get to tell her how that is how Daddy's and Mommy's story began. I guess the charm isn't in what box you pull out the letters from, but in the experiences you have with those boxes.

Gabriel's First Meal

First Bite

Big Sister helping

Silly boy

αναλφάβητος

When we prepared to come to Cyprus, I was told that almost everyone spoke English and that learning Greek wouldn't be a requirement (we were/are still planning on learning Greek). Well...what we have found so far is that there are lots of people that speak English, but it usually isn't the Cypriots. The majority of Cypriots that we have come in contact with don't speak English, or if they do, it is pretty limited. It probably doesn't help that that we speak American English and not British English. While there are some general signs in English that make it helpful, the details are not in English.

One area that this is difficult is grocery shopping. On top of the high prices and the exchange rate, I find myself struggling to know WHAT I am buying. I walk out mentally exhausted. I find myself staring at rows of can milk trying to figure out which is evaporated (our current substitute for half and half) and which is condensed. It didn't help that in Lidl (a German chain like Aldi) the evaporated milk was called condensed in English. The other day Joshua picked up some ice cream. As we took a bite, we quickly found out that “Kaimaki” isn't vanilla. The flavor wasn't anything our taste buds were expecting. I looked it up online and found it was either ground orchid root or clotted cream from water buffaloes or goats -think feta cheese ice cream. Sufficient to say I find grocery shopping challenging. And it hit me why - I am αναλφάβητος ... illiterate!

Starting over again...

I walked down a cobblestone road with Gabriel on my hips to a tiny mail room. In the doorway I passed and greeted the lady from a local cafe whom has already invited us to her wedding. My eyes darting to and fro trying to figure out if the man to get my mailbox was here.

"So... you are the Americans who just moved here?" a British accent broke my thoughts. The question reminding me that we live in a small village and news travels fast. I hesitated and then answered "yes" as if I was unsure of the answer. Wondering where the hesitation came from, I was struck with how I am once again trying to catch up with where I am. "Yes" ... three letters, one word packed with so much meaning he could never know to his simple question.

Yes, just over three months ago I tearfully said goodbye to family, friends, and home. Yes, just two weeks ago we left Spain a country we were growing attached to. Yes, the last two weeks we have practically lived out of our car as we drove around in a sea of Greek and English trying to find the best place for our family to live and learning again the best places to shop. Yes, just one week ago we moved in with our four duffle bags and carryons into a 700 square foot house with two beds, two outside table sets and a few abandon dishes. Yes, just one day ago I woke up and our house now with a table, couch, and dishes is starting to become home for my little family - a home I love.