Greek In the Big Apple

I'm looking for the dark, dirty streets of New York. The pulse, the rhythm, that beat that makes this city unique. I'm looking for the stories of New York, of its struggles, diversity, artistry and glamour. I'm looking for the gritty, grimy alleys, for the tales once told that reveal this city that everyone wants to see and no one knows about. I want the raw, unfiltered, non airbrushed, unkept New York, the morning after walk of shame in high heels and slightly crooked dress.  I want the rockers and the dancers, the graffiti artists, the freaks, and the hip hop legends that made this place pop to tell me their stories.  The traditions, the history and the legends are still thankfully seen in the cracks of the pavement, the murals on the walls, the tagging in the buildings, and hidden in little urban treasures. Yet what I seem to find more and more these days is a polished, "safe" city with less and less flavor. It's not all gone, of course th...

"Let me show you what I see, what I hear let me share with you my story, and I want you to share yours with me." Let me tell you a story about leaving home, about struggling to find a place of your own, about walking kilometres every day in this crazy place,  and asking yourself  over and over again is this all there is?  Let me tell you about loving and heartbreak, about standing on your own two feet, about flirtation about opening your heart again about loneliness about doubt and fear, let me tell you about sitting alone at night thinking there must be more than life to this. Let me tell you about rejoicing in knowing you have friends who love you and you love them. Let me tell you about poetry and listening to father analyse over and over the importance of C.P Cavafy, because talking about your motherland falling apart isn't that pleasant. Let me tell you about mother and how she is my best friend.  Let me tell you about laughter in the middle of ...

Dear Readers, For once I'm at a loss for words... (I know its shocking!) This past weekend as I was putting new plants in my flower pots as I do every spring, I sat down to think about what it means to live a life with purpose   The simple act of making things grow or participating in their growth has always been very gratifying to me. I want to see evolution happen not only from a yoga perspective and in the students I teach, but also in other aspects of people's lives. I find no greater joy than to see my friends and loved ones succeed and prosper at what they do, and make strides in their professional and personal lives, yet I can't seem to pinpoint what a life of purpose means for me. Inevitably as I think about it and formulate an imaginary perfect life,  wondering what I would do if everything went the way I planned, I realize I would not veer very far from where I am now.  We all have a compass, an internal guide to place us in the exact location t...

This post comes at a strange transitional time in my life, and I've had in mind to share it for quite some time. It's not a pleasant subject and it's quite personal, yet I don't think I've ever shared something here that wasn't deeply personal and close to my heart. S haring this with you won't be any different.  In recent years, I've had some very thought provoking, harsh and difficult interactions with addicts and recovering addicts, and it forced me to take a serious look into addiction and my connection to it. As I write this, I'm reminded of something a recovering addict told me a few years ago. We are all  addicts. We are all susceptible to addiction of one kind or another, it doesn't have to be to a substance or something tangible. It is like almost any habit, a means to an end, a feeling created, an escape, a masking of something much deeper than what we allow ourselves to realize.  "We are all addicts."  A random ...

Hello dear readers, It's been a little while since I've written. I've been preoccupied with my health and finally after two months of illness, tests, hospitals, inept doctors and a general feeling of not enjoying any of it, all is well. And then it happened... It was one of those days. That turning point where winter is finally over and the smells of spring are in the air. That moment where one can walk to the park and feel the sun warming the skin. Yes that moment where the layers come off and the barriers come down and nature is alive again. You know that moment has arrived because people come a little closer,  I'm not talking about the birds and the bees here folks, for those eager enough there is plenty out there.  I'm talking about that moment when this Mediterranean woman, so eager for some sun can feel at ease again. It has been a mild winter in comparison to other years, I can't complain, but no less brutal and cold down to the bone.  ...

New York City A city of many faces many cultures many expressions, many rhythms, yes a city many things and countless accomplishments, but sadly I've found that city of Eros and Agape it is not. It seems closer to a city of mindless, faceless, expressionless, moronic, high school style "hooking up" rather than a sophisticated city of lovers. Did it never grow up? Capitalist, Neurotic, Hyper sexualized, quite sadly alone and self involved. Like a teenager grasping for attention, it's a city overwhelmed with the fallacy of choice . Yes, granted, there are thousands or choices, all you can eat buffet, countless men and women, pick what you like discard what you don't like, but when does that fill the void? A city filled with so many navel gazers who ultimately so desperately want to be seen, loved, understood and heard. When I first arrived,  I spent the better part of of my first year enjoying close friends, working hard at making New York my home, and re...

It's almost unimaginable... another year in NYC. Closing this chapter has been a web of many tales. Stories of joy and laughter, sorrow, and devastation mixed with endless blessings and friendship.  Greece is going through its worst times in recent history, many friends are battling with uncertainty, fear of the unknown, instability, and poverty. Others with new families, the new generation being brought to the world, with its so many joys and so many problems. I think of  them and wish them well and applaud their courage to keep going. I can't say that I've not had my share of doubts. So many thoughts of : Why did I leave should I go back, am I a quitter, or should I should stay here in New York, and make a life for myself?... are continuously moving through my mind. I often catch myself thinking about what that means, where my heart belongs, and I always come to the conclusion that wherever I may be,  it will always belong in Greece no matter what. Friendships and bond...