who wouldn’t move because she wanted to sit next to her girlfriend. Just as Kosta began to throw a fit, the girl told him he could have her seat behind them and saw a beautiful woman with a red beret sitting with the spare seat in question next to her. She had long dark hair, blue eyes, and a fair complexion. She seemed quiet and had a kind, warm smile as she looked out the window trying to ignore the nonsense that was going on around her. Kosta was drawn to her right away and as the girl in his seat was yelling back at him in Greek, he walked away without a word as he let distraction lure him. He kindly asked her in Greek if anyone was sitting next to her. She couldn’t speak or understand Greek, but thanks to his body language she got what he was trying to say. “No,” she said as she shook her head with a smile. He took a seat next to Kathy.

I sit on the train and watch the scenery pass by as I travel from London to the south of Holland. I watch as the sun rises over the countryside of south England, as the morning dew begins to melt over France, and as people begin their day in Belgium. My heart races with excitement and anticipation each time I make this early morning trip. In hopes of getting there a little bit sooner, I walk fast as I travel through the stations; King’s Cross, Brussels, and Roosendaal. I pass through the crowds and get on and off the trains as soon as possible, because after weeks of not seeing him every minute counts. Missing someone never gets easier. Every fast step I take brings that moment closer; that beautiful, timeless moment between two people when they finally embrace again after weeks of missing each other, falling in love all over again.

The bus ride took hours of boredom to reach the coastline where the ship would be waiting, so Kathy and Kosta began trying to communicate. Kosta knew Greek and Italian and Kathy knew English, Spanish, and Dutch. They spent the bus ride flipping through dictionaries ‒ one English-Greek, and one Italian-Greek, trying to make sense of one another. Somehow, the Spanish-Italian combination worked the best. They got stuck on certain translations ‒ for example, “never” is “nunca” in Spanish, but “mai” in Italian. For the most part, they could actually understand each other through languages that were not either of their native tongues. It was the beauty of cultural divergence at it’s finest.

They decided to ride the ship together from Greece to Italy, and then shared a train ride until my father disembarked in Naples and my mother went on to Rome. On the way back, Kathy called Kosta to tell him that she was passing through Naples again and so he met her and brought her to visit all of his many Italian friends. A good connection evolved through a diverse salad of languages.

Kosta moved to New York City in March of 1983 to marry Kathy and to start a new chapter of his life, taking on the chal- lenges of yet another new country. Kathy said her vows in Eng- lish, Kosta, in Italian. He still wasn’t very good at English, but Kathy greatly improved her Greek and Italian, so he began to take English lessons. Regular language classes were not having much effect, so he took drama classes in English and learned the new language fairly rapidly.

My boyfriend’s grandmother, or “Oma” in Dutch, smiled at me and began talking. I could sort of figure out what she was say- ing but I couldn’t speak Dutch and answer back. My boyfriend began to translate for me and as he did, I gave “Oma” a worldly gesture and smiled. He told me that his grandmother wished we could understand each other, but the heartfelt smile and tight hug she gave me each time I saw her spoke much louder than words and helped communicate all she wished to say.

I grew up going to Greece every summer for two months; one

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month on the islands and one month in the village where my Dad grew up in. I learned Greek by listening, watching, memo- rizing pronunciation and attempting to repeat what I heard. I grew used to being surrounded by a different culture and a different language so my trips to Holland were no different. I found it fascinating. When I began visiting my boyfriend in Holland it was a new exciting adventure, new foods, new peo- ple, new places, and a new language. Traveling back and forth still to this day, I’ve slowly begun to pick up certain words and phrases in Dutch. I can understand some of it, but I still can’t speak it, and I never feel frustrated while I am there because I know that by immersing myself in it I know I will learn, just as I did with Greek.

To this day I envy my parents story. The beauty of exploration and the surprises it brings you through mere chance; the de- termination of breaking a language barrier and the merging of two cultures. Growing up I was lucky enough to absorb the cul- tural differences and open my mind to new things. Although we were all New Yorkers at heart, my father slowly forming into one as well, my parents wanted my brothers and I to appreciate the world as a whole rather than conform into a single mold. We celebrated both Greek and American holidays, we attended Greek-Orthodox church as young children as my mother made us aware of some of her Catholic values as well. And as time goes by I realize more and more how different they are, yet how they compliment each other so well at the same time.

It’s been 26 years since my father has moved to New York City and to this day he still has a heavy Greek accent and slips up on some English pronunciation, but he sure has made his mark. Through the faith he had in love, he took a huge leap. He moved to a different country without knowing the language and made all sorts of life changes. Within months after moving to the United States, my father a civil engineer with a master’s degree from the University of Naples, started his own con- struction company. He has been successfully running it for 26 years, has created truly breathtaking work over and over again thanks to his perfectionism, and has made his mark in New York City after coming with nothing.

The love and appreciation of different cultures my parents have instilled in me radiates from my soul. I walk the streets of London on my way to University and notice the beauty all around me as I pass through a crowd and hear at least three different languages. And as I continue to travel from London to Holland, Holland to London, I realize I’ve taken the same road as my parents. I constantly cross paths of people from all over the world and I find myself at peace because the beauty of traveling and making your own mark in a new country is beyond rewarding.

I graduate in six months and I plan on wandering once again, starting a new adventure in a new country, learning a new language, and feeding my love for diversity and cultural rich- ness. As of now my plan is to wander over to The Netherlands and take on all it has to offer; the Dutch language, clogs, canals, good cheese, tulips, my boyfriend. I plan on making my own mark though, just as my mother did in Amsterdam and Mexico City, and my father in Naples and New York. Had they not have wandered the world they may have never stumbled upon all it has to offer. They may not have stumbled upon each other.

“She’s been called a quitter for leaving, an aimless wanderer. But not all who wander are aimless. Especially not those who seek truth beyond tradition; beyond definition; beyond the im- age.” ‒Mona Lisa Smile Page 1  |  Page 2  |  Page 3  |  Page 4  |  Page 5  |  Page 6  |  Page 7  |  Page 8  |  Page 9  |  Page 10  |  Page 11  |  Page 12  |  Page 13  |  Page 14  |  Page 15  |  Page 16  |  Page 17  |  Page 18  |  Page 19  |  Page 20  |  Page 21  |  Page 22  |  Page 23  |  Page 24  |  Page 25  |  Page 26  |  Page 27  |  Page 28  |  Page 29  |  Page 30  |  Page 31  |  Page 32  |  Page 33  |  Page 34  |  Page 35  |  Page 36  |  Page 37  |  Page 38  |  Page 39  |  Page 40  |  Page 41  |  Page 42  |  Page 43  |  Page 44  |  Page 45  |  Page 46  |  Page 47  |  Page 48  |  Page 49  |  Page 50  |  Page 51  |  Page 52  |  Page 53  |  Page 54  |  Page 55  |  Page 56  |  Page 57  |  Page 58  |  Page 59  |  Page 60  |  Page 61  |  Page 62  |  Page 63  |  Page 64  |  Page 65  |  Page 66  |  Page 67  |  Page 68  |  Page 69  |  Page 70  |  Page 71  |  Page 72