Sunday, June 15

On Saturday I ventured along the electronics mecca that is Tottenham Court Road. Unfortunately for me, my flat’s wireless network is on channel 13, and US wireless cards are only capable of accessing channels 1-11. My poor Airport wasn’t even able to find my flat’s network, much less connect to it. I hadn’t even known different wireless channels existed until Tina informed me of them; I thought a signal was a signal. Oh, how wrong I was.

After much difficulty finding an adapter that would work on a Mac and actually getting said adapter to work at all, I at last have (fairly reliable) internet. Thank goodness! It was rough to go so long without it. My computer at work is on full view for anyone walking by, and besides, I wouldn’t feel right doing personal stuff online at work anyway.

So last night I went to a tapas bar with my Greek flatmates. We met up with several of their Greek friends and……everyone spoke in Greek. For pretty much the entire evening. Yeah. Every so often Mirto would take pity on me and say “Oh, this is what we’re talking about,” and we would chat for a bit, occasionally drawing in another person, but within minutes they would all get swept up in the tide of Greek again. I did a lot of (literal) staring at the walls and ceilings of the bar. It was okay; the food and sangria were good, and I’m glad I went out with my flatmates and spent some time with them. It was just rather awkward since I couldn’t take part in the conversation at all or even pretend like I was listening. Clearly I need to learn Greek.