Yasou!
From Athens, I was able to get a flight to the island of Lesvos. My goal was to get to the village of Plomari on the island, where both sides of my family came from. It was early in the summer season in 1997 and I had a hard time finding a room to stay in the island’s main city of Mytilini.
From Called to Greece, Chapter 7. Lesvos:
When I finally got a room for rent for the night, I paid the owner a mere $12, and he pointed me to the stairs. I walked down to a room in the basement with its own bathroom. Entering the room, well, I was not so comfortable after all. The room wasn’t very clean, and I smelled a strange odor. I put my bag down and inspected the bathroom. I told myself, “It’s ok, tomorrow I leave for Plomari.”
I decided I would only sleep on top of the covers of the bed with all my clothes on. This place skeeved me out. I thought of the bathroom I had inspected earlier and there was no way I was going to take a shower in there! I was almost tempted to shower in the Thalassa (sea). In the middle of the night, I was startled awake by a screaming, screeching sound. It took me a minute to realize what that awful sound was. There were cats fighting outside of the window. And that was the end of my sleep for that night. Ugh.
The next morning, I found the bus heading to Plomari. Inside the station was a chalk board listing the destinations and times written in chalk, all in Greek. It was hard enough to read type written Greek but once you added the idiosyncrasies of someone’s handwriting written in chalk into the mix, it became nearly impossible. Luckily, Plomari was the end of the line. I boarded the bus and settled in for the ride.
The bus was a wonderful way to really see a new place. After driving away from the congested city of Mytilini, I examined the countryside through the window. We drove around the bay of Gera, a funny name, I thought to myself. Gera meant “old age”. Then the road wound up through the mountains, stressful harrowing turns, hills speckled with olive trees, a steep drop below. I had been traveling for two days and nights, and now, at last, I was almost in Plomari.
In the distance was the beautiful blue water. I thought back to what my Yiayia Theone wrote about Lesvos in a Greek cookbook she edited in 1966. She had described this island and it’s beauty so well, "In Lesvos with its myriad groves of soft, sage-green knarled olive trees; the pines; the exquisite blue gulfs” Plomari was the birthplace of her mother Dafni. She was describing a place. I was finding it.
Next week, I arrive in Plomari, the village I had been dreaming about since I was a small child. I hoped to find my grandfather’s birth certificate there.
Thank you for following my journey,
Katina