Surprise, Surprise. So I'm a local now?

Today was full of surprises. Well, that is admittedly a hyperbole. Correction: today, I was surprised multiple times in one little conversation. I was reading in the National Gardens across from my apartment, completely content, completely oblivious to my surroundings, and engrossed in my book. A Greek man came up to me and started talking in Greek (I wouldn't say I was surprised, but definitely a little startled.) Surprise #1: I actually understood him. He wanted directions to Syntagma Square, which led me to Surprise #2: I actually knew where Syntagma Square was and could direct him to it. As he left, content with the information I gave him, I shared the same satisfaction of the interaction. I was surprised (#3) that he actually took me for a local. Most times, people take one look at me and automatically think: NOT FROM AROUND HERE, which of course, is correct. But today, I was a local, and I played the part with pride.

There is a weird feeling that arises, when one makes the transition from a tourist to a civilian. As Elizabeth Gilbert puts it in Eat Pray Love, "traveling-to-a-place energy and living-in-a-place energy are two fundamentally different energies." I miss the constant battle, yet eternal excitement of figuring out train time tables, stumbling my way through Italian to order gelato, conspicuously analyzing a city map, the list could go on. Now, I'm starting to settle into Athens. It is becoming my city. I'm becoming a resident, blending into my surroundings, well, as much as a 5'4" white girl with blonde hair and blue eyes can. Enough to get asked directions, in Greek no less, in a city where most everyone speaks English.

Being comfortable does have its benefits. I am knowledgeable. While I miss the excitement of initially gaining that knowledge, I like the fact that I don't need to pull out a map at every street corner. I like knowing shop owners by name and hole-in-the-wall tavernas. "Oh, you ate there? Did you try their moussaka? It's delicious." or "I know this great cafe around the corner. Want to check it out?" I've become irritated with tourists ooh-ing and ah-ing at the Acropolis (yet, on the inside, I still get the chills every time I see it. I try to justify it by saying it's because I'm a classics major). I've adopted a Mediterranean sense of time and grown accustom to little-to-no personal space (a very Greek ideal).

I'm always expanding my cognitive map (thank you, Mrs. Brown's IB psychology class) of this city, soaking it in step by step. I've reached a new level that I've never reached in my three months of travel so far: I am a local. Would you look at that.