I decided to give aerial yoga another go…this time at a studio in Kifissia that a friend recommended. I drove around a bit in search of parking, always a feat even that far out in the suburbs. I did manage to find a decent on-street spot just a couple of blocks from the studio. But as I looked to my indispensable google maps app to help me walk the rest of the way there, I realized I only had 43 cents worth of minutes left on my phone. I could look at a map, but I couldn’t get directions. No bother…I could easily find my way.
The class was…kind of boring, actually. That is until the knot came completely undone on my hammock and I went tumbling to the floor. Luckily, due to my ineffectual biceps, I was only inches off the ground when it happened.
Yeah. I’m not so sure about this aerial yoga thing anymore.
At any rate, about five minutes into class, I decided to take off my wedding ring and put it in my purse because it was making it hard to grip the hammock. I remember clearly zipping it up tight into a pocket where I store my keys. After class I went back to my car, fired up my old-school GPS because my phone was out of minutes, and started winding my way back home. About a half mile on my way I decided to grab my ring before I completely forgot about it…and It. Wasn’t. There.
Trying not to panic in the heavy traffic, I dug through all the pockets in my purse. I quickly pulled over to what looked like a passable parking spot, threw on my flashers (Greek for “ignore my automotive transgressions”), and really started scouring the car. When that turned up nothing, I started scouring my brain. Perhaps the ring fell out when I took out my keys?
I walked down the road a bit, trying to remember the turn I needed to make to get back to my original parking spot. With all the one-way roads and my phone out of commish, I figured I was better on foot. I stopped in a pharmacy to ask for directions.
“You need to walk down…that way…and…”
“And…ask…again.” she struggled.
“Oh, you mean ask someone else? (Nervous laugh) Right. Ef charisto, then!”
Thankfully the Google Maps app still functions as a street map without internet, so after studying it a bit I was able to figure out how to trace my steps back on my own. Finally, I found my spot, which was of course taken by another car, and I nosed around the sidewalk and gutters up and down the area I had walked for several minutes. No surprise, the sidewalk was in terrible shape, with lots of cracks and bits of gravel to disguise a wedding ring.
When I got home I called the yoga studio to see if perhaps I’d dropped it there. They didn’t find it, either. Seriously?! I went 12 years without losing it, and I manage to drop it on a public sidewalk in a foreign country.
Thankfully, the ring is insured, so assuming I can file a claim from here and they’ll mail me a check, I should be able to replace it. Of course, I’m kicking myself for not getting it re-appraised like they’ve been nagging me to do for years. It’s probably worth more than we paid for it 12 years ago. And the design I picked was kind of unique. I doubt I’ll be able to get one just like it. But perhaps that’s not all bad. When I fessed up to James tonight on FaceTime, he nonchalantly said we could get a new one with the insurance money at Christmas when we’re back in the States. I’m not really a shiny jewelry kind of girl…but SHINY NEW JEWELRY, yes, please! As sentimental as I am about that ring, there’s something appealing about getting a new one. My life has changed so much since we were first engaged. I mean, we live in freakin’ GREECE now! Maybe this is a sign from the Gods. Is there a Greek Goddess of wedding rings?