Jumping Fences

---

For almost a year now I have been hopping the same fence almost daily, and not just the simple meaning of fence. I don’t mean the little white pickets which are conjured up in the brain at the mention of “fence.” I mean a cultural barrier. Every morning I have to shed my American ideologies and jump over into the Greek way of life. At first I though I would never be able to get over it, but as time has passed I realized that I have slowly made it over. Now it is second nature to hop into another world, and at times I wonder if I am stuck here, if I will ever go completely back to my original side. Things that were so foreign at first now are normal and I feel that “home” in the US will now be abnormal. I will have to learn how to jump back without getting caught on the barbed wire. And yet, even that is comforting to know, that I can go either way but something will get snagged on the way over, some part of me will now always be stuck in between, and if I want, I can always find my way back to there.

I actually do jump a real fence almost daily if you are wondering. In order to get to my classes I take a hop, skip, and a jump over the old Byzantine wall that once enclosed the city. Here is an instance where my American tendencies get snagged. To the Greeks the ruined wall is part of the city and just another place to walk their dogs and post events; even the occasional bit of graffiti makes an appearance. There is a well worn path over the ruins, and yet every time I jump up and over and put a foot on the worn bricks, I can’t help but wonder if I should really be doing so. It is after all much older than the founded nation of the United Stated of America, but then I look around and see the business men in their suits jumping along with me and I forget those details. Oh well, when in Greece do as the Greeks, eh?

---