All Carved Up

Hallowe'en here should be fun - dressing up, excessive excitement - but I find the obsession with "sexy" costumes utterly boring, and having been stuck on a train coming in from Long Island with youth pounding bud lights and vomiting in the toilets - at 7.30pm - it's just all a bit disappointing. Maybe it's a hangover from my youth in which I thought it was fun, but nowhere near as much fun as the fireworks, bonfires and sparklers that come with Guy Fawkes' Night a week later, pyromaniac that I am. Or maybe it's partly because I don't really like American "candy" that much - if I were likely to have a basket full of tasty chocolate, as opposed to Hershey's style chocolate, it might help.

Nonetheless, there are definitely Hallowe'en things I do enjoy, and pumpkins are one of them. Last night Dr. TOH and I partook of a traditional Rhode Island event that was remarkable in many ways. It's unseasonably cold - bloody well snowing in NYC today, for goodness' sake - and maybe that put off the crowds, but there were not the rumoured massive queues and problems reaching the Jack-o-Lantern Spectacular at Roger Williams Park Zoo. I'm not sure what I expected, but although I think I was a little disappointed at the painted pumpkins that were then carved, it was a remarkable experience. Not least for the choices of what represented a nation's identity, the theme being a Journey Round the World. The British bit started ok, what with James Bond and the Beatles' All You Need Is Love playing. We then hit Churchill and the Italian Job, but as the Beatles faded into the Benny Hill theme tune and I saw the Mr. Bean one, I began to despair, and that was confirmed with TOH's triumphant shrieks that there was, as he predicted, a Wills & Kate one. Ye gods.

But the best bit was at the end, where there was just pumpkin upon pumpkin, some absolutely bloody enormous (so big they had whole other pumpkins tucked inside). They looked spectacular, a strange dance track with cackling looped over and over, and it was beautiful. Hence the photos galore. So see below Frida Kahlo, the Dalai Lama, Gandhi, Jack Sparrow & Fidel Castro (I'm sure placing them next to each other was not a coincidence), and some amazing pumpkins.

Status Anxiety

To change or not to change, that is the question. Yes, the modern dilemma that confronts a person's life: Do I change my Facebook status to state "Married"? A friend of mine just changed hers, out of the blue (I had no real idea she'd got married) and so I had a mind grape or two about it.

The reasons against:

• I don't really think it's any of anyone's business
• I don't think it should be of relevance to people or be upfront as something about me - for example, I'm a Ms., and a Ms. I will remain - I don't think my marital status should be so on display.

The reasons why my arguments are not quite perhaps as effective as they should be:

• My status is "in a relationship."

So for all my protesting (although, admittedly, two bullet points don't seem like much protesting but they are vehement), I do put the fact that I'm in a relationship out there. I like to think that "in a relationship" is ambiguous - the way I thought using "partner" would be in the United States when I first arrived here* - but it's not, really, only in my head. But I now justify keeping it because it's important that the relationship I am in is the same: the questions you receive once married tend to be all about the length of the marriage, and the wedding itself, or the proposal, rings and so on; the twelve years beforehand - just plucking a number out of a hat - are relegated to secondary status. We didn't stop being in that relationship because we're married. But, really, maybe this would be more effective (although a moot conversation) if I didn't have the status at all.

• The status applies to men and women

So my "Ms." argument is not quite apposite, really and, as discussed in the previous answer, I already place an importance on my relationship that places it as the third most important thing about me - according to Facebook, at least.

My overall feeling, however, is that I just don't want to change it. As we come up to six months of marriage I have enjoyed every bit of it, with one or two notable exceptions aside, and it hasn't suddenly changed me as a person in some of the ways that I worried previously. But my fundamental unease at the centrality and import society and, of course, many of my acquaintance place on being married, along with the expectations of me as a married person, hasn't altered at all. So it stays the same. For now.

* Strangely, in the past few years I have noticed an increased acceptance of the term "partner" for hetero couples. Of course, this is snatching the term from gay couples, but I think it so nicely describes a relationship that I'm pleased that there is something that isn't just boyfriend/girlfriend, dating and marriage. There's now room in the straight couple catalogue for that option.

Fatalistic

Last night, TOH and I actually managed a date. Despite my best attempts to ruin it by taking the wrong train, and then waiting 20 minutes on the platform for a train back the other way. We've not been in the same city for more than about 12 hours since before the Kefalonia trip, and despite various work and social obligations this weekend, we decided to make the most of it. So a movie and dinner, the traditional American date.

The dinner was pretty awesome - the place where we had our wedding party which, conveniently is just round the corner, and I love.

The movie was glorious but not exactly romance-inducing. We watched Senna. I'd heard Mark Kermode rave about it, which is always a recommendation. Additionally, despite my general lack of interest in Formula 1, I loved Senna - dashing, handsome, and charming in a world of Nigel Mansells. So we watched it; and - let's it get it out there without spoilers - it was emotionally wrenching. Wrenching. But brilliant. What an extraordinary man.

But probably not the best of date movies, although I suppose if you want your date vulnerable and sobbing on your shoulder, as I was, then it is definitely worth $14.

This Cursing Isle

According to all round action hero Patrick Leigh Fermor, Kefalonians are renowned for their foul language. Sadly, my Greek does not extend to that level of familiarity with their swearing vocabulary, and despite my attempts to persuade various friendly, lovely people we met to teach me some, I didn't manage to learn any. So count that as the only failure of what was a glorious stay on the island.*

We were staying in what was supposed to be a small, remote town, and although I understand why someone would describe it thus, it wasn't what we were expecting - I think TOH and I both assumed that this would mean not very touristy, which is definitely not the case, but it was certainly quiet, too. More importantly, the hotel in which we stayed, Olivemare, was absolutely wonderful. Beautifully designed and decorated - all calm whites and whitewash, with a clear, turquoise pool and glowing candles full of camellia blossoms and olive leaves, made by the owner's cousin - it was relaxing, quiet and the perfect place to get some serious sleep. The food was wonderful, lots of fresh, local tomatoes, cheese, olive oil and homemade breads.

Almost better than the haven of the hotel, however, were the recommendations from the hotel owner, Marilena, who provided us with a new favourite bar - and this is a global assessment - and links to some of the most glorious swimming spots. I had forgotten just how much I love sea swimming, and the Aegean is the clearest water I think I've ever seen - turquoisey but absolutely like crystal, sharp and coolly refreshing but warm enough to bask in it.

The sea at Myrtos, however, is a different beast altogether. Sadly, my lack of poetic and wordsmith ability handicaps me here; the best description I have is that it was the closest I'll ever get to swimming in copper sulphate solution, the blue stuff that brought both TOH and me much joy in our chemistry in action sets as children (clearly our love was destined). The water at Myrtos was impossibly blue, the sort of shade that one hears of in travelogues, but never expect to actually see for oneself. And there it was, in front of me. A glorious afternoon was spent bathing and revelling in its blueness.

We walked along mountain tops; at sunset, overlooking the cliffs and with the isle of Zante in the distance, drank beers and ate Greek salad (χωριάτικη, khoriatiki - which means rustic, apparently - my one solidly learnt Greek word) souvlaki, fighting off the fiercely carnivorous wasps and watching the reds and pinks light up the sky while in the distance the cities lit up for nighttime; we dipped our feet in the pool while reading and raced individual medleys (flooding the pool area during the butterfly leg); and played Bezique in the evenings with a glass of Metaxa.

I know Greece is in turmoil, facing a transition in its way of life and the choices the government has made about productivity, work-life balance and so forth. Faced with such glorious natural riches - geography, climate, food and drink - one can see why people might think there is more to life than making money and hitting the rat race, yet, currently, it seems the lifestyle is unsustainable in the current format. But I hope that doesn't completely eradicate the warmth and joy of the people we met, and the sense that while one needs a roof over ones head, working isn't the be all and end all of life. It's one of the things I love most about the south of Europe; I think some people here in the US are genuinely puzzled by it, and misdiagnose it as laziness, rather than perspective. There's surely a happy medium to be reached.

* While on a flight to Istanbul home (it's boring and complicated as to why, but Turkish Airlines gets a big thumbs up, including the appalling Man Utd flight safety videos) I did, however, remember a very rude word in Turkish that a girl from secondary school taught me (thanks, Tezay. I wonder what she's doing now). I refrained from using it.

Go Away

It's been raining continuously for at least nineteen hours now. Yesterday morning was gloriously sunny, yesterday afternoon it clouded over but with a nice breeze, and it stayed warm. But it was thunderously pouring at around two this morning, and although the intensity has waxed and waned, it has rained non-stop since then. It woke me up in the middle of the night several times; one growl of thunder lasted longer than any individual clap I've ever heard. It's been a remarkable sustained effort from the raingods today.

I don't quite understand New York summer storms. While in other places the release of thunder heralds some sort of break in humidity and heat, those things seem to intensify with summer rain here. Thus for the first time in ages I'm going to have to put on the dehumidifier* on. Usually I'd empty the full tank onto the garden but, obviously, that's a little pointless right now. I think it's probably doing the garden a world of good, helping our tomatoes to grow - the tomatoes that are going to end up ripening right while I'm away. I can feel it.


* Every time I use it I think of The Onion point-counterpoint article that sadly is not online but is absolute genius:

Point-Counterpoint: Humidity
"What We Need Is More Humidity" - Duracraft Natural Warm Moisture Humidifier, Model DH-901
"Humidity Must Be Destroyed" - Edison 25 pt. Dehumidifier, Model DHE25W