Crisis. What Crisis?


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The contrast between the Nepal I left and the Greece I find myself in couldn’t be more stark, although the journey has been from one crisis to another. As I left Kathmandu, the city was settling back to its old chaotic self with record traffic and loadshedding a-plenty. The schools had returned, a demolition effort had removed the more visible damage, and remaining remnants from the earthquake’s devastation just blended together with the old, broken, and partially-constructed ramshackleness of the pre-earthquake city.  At least on the surface, things looked back to normal.

Here –at least superficially — there is no crisis in sight.  The air smells of Greek pine-y fragrance, the crickets are making their usual racket, the July sun beats down and the cross winds blow through our house sending dried bougainvillea flowers scuttling down our path.  I watch the sea sparkle and little boats chug by in the distance.  Its peaceful, beautiful, and a wonderful place to be.