She wanted life. She wanted to run through it, run her fingers through it, dive into it and swim forever in it. She never wanted to sit in a classroom again. She never wanted to stare at the saliva in the corner of a teacher’s mouth. She never wanted to feel her heart pound with joy at the sound of a classroom bell.

That’s why she’s in Greece. Warm people, warm sun and warm goats cheese. And not a school bell or drop of teacher’s saliva in sight. Miki is her guide. He promised to look after her like his own child, which was nice. But a little too nice. She told him round about the second week that she wanted to be like a real daughter not a tourist. She wants to try life from top to bottom and to dance and laugh like a true Greek girl. Miki shakes his head and says “You sweet, but you never Greek girl. Greek girl is happy to milk the cow, get the hands dirty, sweep the floor then dance all night.” She looked at him with her sincerest puppy dog eyes and say’s “Please, oh please try me.” Sadly he’s listening.