It's All (Five and a Half Weeks of) Greek to Me

I’m not sure why I didn’t make this joke sooner and I don’t know why no one told me about the enormous opportunity I nearly missed. Appropriate as well because it literally is all Greek to me, six weeks later and I understand NOTHING. Someone made a joke about something being spelled with Pi and all I have to say is I’m sorry but this isn’t Year 10 maths and I have no point of reference for you anymore.

Enough of that, no more Greek for me. Instead, some thank yous - thank you first to the coffee shop down my street whose staff remember my order every time I go in, I’ve never had that before and it’s actually lovely. Thank you to the staff in my local supermarket who recently let me get away with being 3 cents short. Thank you to my Airbnb host for being a persistent babe and letting me turn our kitchen into an office space for 8 hours of the day.

Thank you mainly though, to everyone I volunteer with - for laughing at my shit jokes, not laughing at my shit tan lines, and letting me harass you about bug repellent even though we’re not sure it works and it’s too late because we’ve all been eaten alive by now anyway. You’re all angels, not just because of the work you do here (of which I am constantly in awe), but also because you can still dig deep enough to be smiling, and kind, and wonderful, even in 40 degree heat when we’re all exhausted and we might well never be able to face another garlic clove again.

And now, one last picture of this particular sunset.

I hear there are people who live here and don’t spend all their spare time by the sea but that sounds unlikely to me. Where else would I read and drink coffee if not by the water?

People who read this blog last year will remember that when someone left Jordan we asked them three questions - Best Moment/Worst Moment/What Have You Learned About Yourself? I have very much enjoyed this concept and therefore, forced it upon lots of people I meet.

Best Moment

There are so many. So many that I won’t share because they involve other people and they’re distinctly private. Many more that were rewarding but I couldn’t pick one in particular. So the best moment was probably the series of moments when I was prompted to think about what I want to do with this experience and everything I’ve taken from it. Good and bad, it’s only made me more certain in how I feel about NGO and aid work and all the complexities that come with it. I have learnt so much and seen so much, and that has been invaluable in shaping how I’ll go forward.

Best individual moment has to be the meal we had on Monday night - the best meal I had in the whole six weeks by a long way.

Worst Moment

The day it rained has to be worst individual moment number one. Mainly because I didn’t anticipate this would also mean it would be cold, and was therefore, not dressed appropriately and completely miserable as a result.

This blog is not, and never will be, a place for me to write about how awful the conditions for refugees are. This work is my career, and as a result I have committed to not speaking about it on here or any other social media platform. The many frustrations I have are too complex to explain here and it would be impossible to go into them without it seeming like I’m attacking one group or aspect of the crisis. What I will say is this - we should not be afraid to ask for change just because we believe something is already objectively ‘good’. Things can always be better.

What Did You Learn About Yourself

Maybe six weeks isn’t long enough to learn anything about yourself. I did find out I’m physically stronger than my weedy arms would suggest. That it is possible for my legs to tan, that you can trust people you’ve only known for a few days (and sometimes they might see you more clearly than people you’ve known for years - or at least be more willing to tell you). That I can be hot and tired and therefore, largely without the energy to filter myself, and still have people want to be around me.

Mainly I suppose, as a result of one situation or another, that it’s okay to say ‘this is a flaw I have and it’s part of who I am and I don’t care badly enough to change’ - because if not that, then something else right? Perfection isn’t coming so why not learn to live with the flaws you’ve got? And, as long as they’re not complete life-ruiners - who really cares? I used to say I was a people-pleaser in a similar way I used to say I was vegetarian, in that, in an ideal world I would be  but in reality I am roundly terrible at it.

*****

I’m on Twitter - @clairegillesp - where I’m effusing about a podcast made by someone I was lucky enough to go to university with, it’s called Connected & Disaffected and it’s so well-produced it makes me eager to create more of my own quality content.

I’m on Instagram - clairegillesp - where Greece photos have finally come to an end, soon to be replaced by miles of square apartment blocks and desert landscapes in the coming weeks.

I’m still listening to the Haim album - Found it in Silece and You Never Knew are on rotation right now - friends will be unsurprised to hear they are both about the foolishness of men who do not appreciate you, which is my favourite genre of song.

There is a Facebook page for this blog which it would be lovely if you like and followed and also means you don’t have to rely on me remembering to share these posts on my personal accounts.

xx

Weeks the Third and Fourth

Working title: I’m Pretty Sure it’s Fine, I’m Only Allergic to Cow’s Milk.

What isn’t fine is the state of my legs, which are currently giving me a pretty good insight into what having the bubonic plague might look like. Of course everyone gets bitten here but only my bites seem to be in rings around my ankles and wrists and exist in the form of lumps that stay there for days. Any longer here and children will probably start making up rhymes about me and holy men will start waving bags of herbs in front of my house.

I’m also looking for somewhere to get a massage since I managed to hurt some part of my lower back during this week - and considering my activities have largely been ‘going to museums’ and ‘eating’ that’s pretty impressive. A very big thank you to my volunteering fam for being so understanding when I abandoned lunch and chill activities to go and lay down and take pain killers. Thank you for understanding that although I live to peel and chop vegetables, onions render me so blind that I become a health and safety risk with a knife in hand if I’m anywhere near them. Thank you to them for a lot to be honest, the past couple of weeks have been my favourite so far.

It hasn’t all been physical ailments though - I also took a very unsuccessful walk to find what I thought would be a tiny but lovely church with an incredible view over the city, but actually turned out to be a motorway bypass and the sort of scene you’d get at the start of a true crime documentary. I was also chased by some dogs.

I also had some very good friends to visit, which was wonderful because it gave me the chance to speak to people who know me so well, and who I will be very excited to go back to when I leave here. People here are wonderful but they also very selfishly leave and go back to their lives and there's something really relaxing and affirming about being with people who form part of my base. We laughed a lot, and talked a lot, and went to a very strictly-run Byzantine museum.

Dogs, Danger & Disappointment

The past two weeks have also been a lot of change, personally a lot has happened and I think the majority of it has been good, or at least I think it will be the starting of something good. More than anything it’s been affirming in my belief both that time is a great remedy, and that second-chances are what make the world go round.

I think a lot about (a lot of things Claire, cuz you say this every week) the concept of being a ‘badass bitch’ and the way it’s been sold to millennial women. I wonder how many of us hang on to stupid fights with people we care about because we think that’s a demonstration of strength. I wonder how far we’re willing to take the concept of ‘cutting people out’ before we’ve forgotten that we’re not the centre of the universe and that maybe the other person isn’t always the problem.

I’ve reconnected with four people I’d all but lost in the last three weeks. FOUR. That’s more than I see at any social event I organise, that’s enough to have formed a society and fill most of the key positions. Sometimes I was brave and sometimes they were and mostly I think it’s a bit of both, I don’t know what it is about this time frame that has led to this - maybe we’re all too old to care about it anymore - but old enough to care about each other. There was no fanfare, no one ran through an airport, we just very gently reintroduced ourselves to each other, and guess what? No one was angry, not in the slightest, because you can’t hold on to bitterness unless you feed it and I certainly haven’t been doing that, looks like they haven’t either.

We could have, we could have spent the months and years talking shit about each other to anyone who would listen. Maybe we did that for a while but it becomes so boring so fast, and the more airtime it gets the more I at least, began to wonder if maybe I wasn’t as free from culpability as my ego would like to think. It would probably make better content to talk about how you ‘don’t need that in your life’ and you should ‘never look back’, but what would be the point when that couldn’t be further from who I am?

Thank goodness they didn’t form a society, that’s a Facebook page no one needs to stumble across.

*****

I’m on Instagram - clairegillesp - which continues to be photos of the sea and Roman ruins and people looking excited about vegetables.

I’m on Twitter - @clairegillesp - where I’ve been talking about women and our definition of ‘ambition’ in a thread that feels like it might never end.

I’m listening to the new Lorde album - The Louvre, Liability and Hard Feelings especially - and the new Haim album - Want You Back in particular has been on repeat.

So Much for the Tolerant Left

xx