Aris
Thessaloniki – Greece, August 26
Today is an important day. The day of my move to college.
It’s strange, but as soon as I crossed the campus gates, I felt like my life was about to change forever. Again.
I was still in the car when I wrote those words in the notebook I had received as a gift from my mother, Iryna, before the trip. She told me that during her college years, it was therapeutic to record important things, and she thought it might be good for me too. After all, it was a new phase, full of new experiences and challenges. But the biggest one, for sure, was making my parents understand that I would be okay.
In the passenger seat, my phone screen lit up with a series of messages from my father.
VIKTOR:
Did you arrive yet?
I saw on the news there was an accident on the road.
Don’t forget to update me.
Unless you’re still driving.
No using the phone while driving!
I couldn’t help but smile. I was eighteen, but my dad would certainly always treat me like a little girl.
I grabbed my phone and quickly typed a message letting him know I had just arrived. I put the phone, my diary, and my pen into my bag and got out of the car. From the trunk, I took a backpack and a rolling suitcase and walked towards the dorm building.
The key to my new room had been given to me when I checked in, so I simply entered. As soon as I opened the door, I thought for a moment that I might be in the wrong place. All the walls of the room were covered with posters of some dark-haired, strong, and very, very handsome man. Was this a room or the headquarters of a fan club for some artist I didn’t even know?
There was a bunk bed against one of the walls, and on the bottom bunk, a girl was watching something on a tablet but looked up as soon as she seemed to notice someone had entered.
She jumped up, letting the tablet fall onto the mattress.
“Oh my God! Are you the freshman?” she asked, with an accent that revealed she was foreign. “I thought you were only arriving tomorrow!”
Then, she ran to one of the walls, starting to take down one of the posters.
“Hi...” I said, leaving the suitcase in a corner of the room as I walked in, still looking at the posters on the walls. “What are you doing? Who’s the guy on the posters?”
“That’s Can Yaman. An... Turkish actor.”
The last word was said in a hushed tone, as if she were sharing a secret.
“And why are you taking them down?”
“I was going to take them down tonight because I thought you’d only arrive tomorrow. I know Greeks and Turks don’t get along very well. I’m not a geopolitics expert, but we do learn a bit of history in college.”
Ah, so that was why...
I tried to reassure her:
“Don’t worry. I have absolutely nothing against Turks.”
“Really? Then it’s okay if I leave the posters?”
“It’s fine.” I took a closer look at the photos. “He’s actually quite handsome.”
“‘Quite handsome’? Handsome? He’s the most handsome man in the world.”
I smiled, setting my backpack down next to the suitcase. My new roommate seemed to be a real fan of that actor.
She pinned the poster she had almost completely taken down back in place and came over to me, extending her hand.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Elizabeth. You can just call me Lizzie.”
“Exchange student?”
“Yes. From the United States. I got a two-year scholarship here. I’m starting my second year.”
“You speak Greek very well.”
“And I’m also learning Turkish. Because of the soap operas.”
She pointed to the posters proudly. I had to admit I was impressed.
“You speak English, Greek, and Turkish?”
“And a little bit of Spanish too.”
“Wow! How old are you to have already learned all that?”
She laughed.
“I’m twenty. But I’ve always been kind of a nerd. At least with languages; in other subjects, I’m a real failure. And you? What’s your name, by the way? What are you studying?”
“My name is Aris. I’m going to study International Relations.”
“Interesting. It will be great to finally have a roommate. I spent my entire first year here alone. I’m quite talkative, I hope that doesn’t bother you.”
“Not at all. Actually, if you want to chat in English sometimes, I’d love that. I need to practice for college.”
“That will be great! You help me with Greek and I’ll help you with English.”
She didn’t seem to need much help, as her Greek was quite fluent. So, I decided to add an extra advantage to my presence there.
“We can also, anytime, watch some Turkish soap operas together.”
She looked astonished, and for a moment, I could have sworn I saw her even tear up from excitement.
“Really? Oh my God, I already love you. Come on, leave your things there, I’ll help you set everything up later. As a good senior and roommate, it’s my duty to show you around the campus.”
“But... We still have almost a week before classes start.”
“Have you seen the size of this university? And everything around it that every student needs to know. It will take us days, so we better start now!”
She looked so determined that I didn’t dare argue.
Lizzie was right when she said it would take us days to show me around. Aristotle University is simply the largest in Greece, with over 420 hectares on its main campus—excluding the numerous other buildings scattered around it.
Being located in such a historically rich area, it was a highly sought-after institution for students from all over the world in fields related to History, Archaeology, and, like Lizzie, Greek language. Consequently, there were many foreigners around.
I personally found it welcoming, considering I wasn’t born in Greece myself.
On that first day, we took a tour in my car. Lizzie guided me through the main points of the campus and beyond, to an ice cream shop where she insisted we stop, claiming I had to try their ice cream because, according to her, it was the best in the world.
Given that she had only visited a couple of states in her own country and, in Greece, only Thessaloniki and a bit of Athens, her concept of ‘world’ wasn’t very broad.
I was advised by my doctors to avoid processed foods, but I could make some weekly exceptions, and I decided this was a great occasion for one.
The shop was quite small, so as soon as I got my ice cream, I went outside to wait for Lizzie, who seemed a bit lost among the available flavors.
On the sidewalk, something caught my attention. In fact, it was two things.
The first was a sign on the opposite side of the street indicating that a dance school operated there. At first, I was excited about the prospect of having a place close to campus where I might be able to start practicing again. I loved to dance. A few months after my transplant, doctors advised my parents to get me involved in some physical activity, as long as it started gently and had specialized medical oversight. That’s how I began ballet. The start had been gentle and gradual, although I fell in love with it and had a strong desire to explore the limits of my body.
However, my enthusiasm waned when I read the smaller text on the sign: “For children up to 12 years old.” Just below, there was a paper attached to the wall announcing that the place was hiring teachers.