June 18 2007, 11h07 GMT +2 On the train to Thessaloniki. It’s been 6 days since I’ve been in Athens. My Greek has improved from nul to nul +5. At least I can read the language, or: make out the word-sounds. She made me some Nescafe this morning, with milk (becasuse it’s better for the system that way) and sugar (what do you mean you take your coffee without sugar?), and put it in an old water bottle from Bulgaria. A good Bulgarian come Greek mother if there ever was one. Elena is a dear, ever hospitable and talkative. I appreciate their kindness and warmth, welcome-ness. I am now feeling slightly nausious, perhaps because of the apricots followed by a mini coconut-chocolate bar followed by the rest of the Nes, and then some bites of . On the train (smooth, quite, temperate), using a computer. Or perhaps it’s just fatigue. I want more coffee, black this time. Because when I’m tired I like to have something besides water to drink. Not for the caffeine, but for my mouth, soul. One can tell the distance of the travels of the people on this train by the amount of food they have brought with them; it’s 6+ hours to Thessaloniki; we left at 9h21 prompt. Hristo Arnoudov, the pastor of the Bulgarian Church of Christ /which here becomes all-inclusive Protestant/ in Athens, who Petromir Kunchev /my lawyer in Sofia/ somehow knows drove Konstantin Kostov /Elena’s son, who is studying for a master’s in comparative linguistics in Patra/ to the train station this morning. Though we have differing opinions on certain religious tenants /how a church service should or could be run, if and when baptism is obligatory/ we get along well, and I, at least so far, enjoy talking with him. And Konstantin /very much/. Georgi sent me an e-mail, must have been Saturday night, which I read last night: “is there a number at which I can call you?” Straight away, I sent it, the cell phone number that I had just received, thanks to an old SIM card that a guy from church (Petur) had just lent me. Five minutes later, he called. And I was reminded, again, how much he means to me. He said that he’ll come visit me, probably this weekend. I told him that I could be in Thessaloniki for that. To do: Look into getting extra pages for my passport (I have 1 ? left) Go to Last Minute Travel’s website and look into last minute (!) travel Scan my computer for viruses, and install some sort of virus shield (it seems that I got somehting while using the wireless connexion at my hotel in Athina) I have this image of me sitting at Syntagma Square

June 17. D calls me on my new GSM number: “I’m a fucking refugee!” I shout to him, to the world. Sometime it helps to make noise. Is there some irony here? Not really – why should Americans be treated any differently than anyone else when it comes to living somewhere illegally? At church this morning, Hristo at the pulpit asked the people how many had overstayed their legal period in Greece, or elsewhere. Almost all raised their hand. Later, after the service, a woman told me that everyone had lived or is living not exactly in accordance with Greek residency laws. Is this a surprise? Hristo (from Bourgas, came some 18 years ago, used to be a professional choral director and instructor, now is a pastor) takes four of us mladezhi [Petur (from Vidin, came 5 or 6 months ago), Nikolai (came 6 years ago) & Galina (came 3 or 4 months ago to visit her mum, met Nikolai and… both from Rousse)] to some beach outside of Athina, about 40 minutes away from E&K’s (12 odos Gravis, Dafni). Warm water, relaxing time. I’m glad that Mum and I bought me a bathing suit, particularly because the top on this one does not fall down when I swim! Hristo asks us when we have to be home: my life here has no time limits or constraints. In some ways, I feel like I deserve this break, or need it to mentally recover from what has been happening, or at least will benefit from it.

June 16. I was ok until last night, when I went to the airport and collected the bag I had left for storage, to avoid dragging it around the night of my forced arrival. It was not the retrieval that put me off, but the cumulation of everything: not sleeping well, stress, little or no human contact: the reality of it all has set in. This morning, too, I am not in positive spirits (but that is not correct, because neither am I in negative spirits), or, I am simply feeling down. It is hot, I am sweating, I know nothing except that I will probably have to be here for at least three to four more weeks; and that I need to go to Thessaloniki on Tuesday to meet Z (the lawyer that I had been avoiding, from the same practice as Petromir’s) at the Bulgarian consulate. I feel so bad about all of this, in relationship to my job, leaving them without help (or heaping all my work on them!), and Elitsa has wanted to go to Serbia for the Red Hot Chili Peppers concert, which she cannot do unless I’m back: 2 weeks. On the other hand, in some ways, many, actually, now being here, and even when there, I do not mind if this means that I lose my job. I had been wanting, eventually, to find something else, something with more meaning, something that gives me more time – and better pay. As it turns, with all this expense and travel and unexpectedness, I’m not sure if I’d be able to stay at The Sofia Echo; I’ll need to have some way to pay back money borrowed, and some way to have enough to cover any future emergencies.

June 15. Contact with P has been near non-existant. I call, he says he’ll call back, but does not. I SMS, e-mail, and receive no response. I need to know something! The little that I was able to learn from him today was that, unlike what I had thought, I will not be able to go to the consulate in Thessaloniki on Tuesday, apply for a D visa, and return to Bulgaria the same day, but must wait in Greece – or just anywhere outside of Bulgaria – until the visa is ready: P said 3 weeks; I’ll give it 4 and be content.