Yasou,
Now I want to take you back to the road that led up to my life-changing trip to Greece in the summer of 1997. I told you about my first trip in 1989. Seven years later in 1996 I finally returned to Greece with my mom. She had made several joy-filled trips with friends since then. I had not. But I was not the same person I had been in 1989. Having experienced some very low moments in my life, I had begun to put a life together, and that made me stronger. And yet it felt so good to return to those familiar and beautiful places.
My mom and I traveled to the islands of Andros and Poros together, then ended our trip in Mykonos. But at the end of that trip, I just could not bring myself to leave Mykonos. I felt a strong pull to Greece and realized this was where I wanted to be. I remember so clearly walking over to the OTE phone booth in town to make the call to the U.S., a little scared my boss would be unhappy with me for extending my trip without giving him any advance notice. He was surprised to hear my voice, knowing where I was. I asked for a few more days. Laughing, he asked if I was going to come home at all. At the end of the call, he said yes, and those extra few days in Mykonos felt like gold.
That summer back home, I went strawberry picking with my friend Karin at a local orchard. Over the years, Karin and I found we had a lot in common; our immigrant families, love of international travel and cultures, a shared frustration with men who weren’t present.
At the strawberry orchard that day, I was still on fire about my recent trip to Greece. So, as we plucked ripe red strawberries, I told her stories about Greece, the dancing, the food, the beaches, and the pull I felt there.
“I really want to go back.”
“Well, then why don’t you?” she demanded. “And I can go with you!”
“Would you? Oh, you would love it. The beaches are beautiful and we would have so much fun!”
“Of course I will go. I have always wanted to. Why not now?!”
So that September, Karin and I did just that. We traveled together through Greece and Karin began to understand how strong my feelings were for the country.
Our first stop was Athens. Karin was in awe of the view from the rooftop bar at the Attalos Hotel of the Acropolis lit up at night. We flew to the volcanic island of Santorini, with its blue and white buildings perched atop the caldera, the sheer cliffs of the island curving around a deep blue bowl of water. Every corner we turned revealed a breathtaking open view of the sea, mesmerizing us and taking our breath away as we stared straight down to the old port. My Yiayia Theone wrote in a cookbook she editted that Santorini was “extraordinary” and that its “…dark, gaunt cliffs…happy, hospitable, welcoming visitors after the climb up from the port.”
We stayed at Porto Carra, a hotel built into the mountainside like a cave. There were 588 stops from the old port up to the top of the caldera where Thira town was. From our hotel we could hear the tinkling bells of the donkeys making their way up carrying people and luggage. These same steps that had carried my Yiayia Theone and her bags when she visited in the 1960s – and she was a large woman. That evening at dinner, Karin tried restina, the pine-resin wine of Greece, for the first time. As she lifted a glass of retsina to her lips, I warned her “It is an acquired taste.” But after just one sip, she looked at me like I had been holding out on her.
The slow ferry took us to Mykonos. On our first beach day, we hiked from Plata Yialos to Paranga beach and came across a beautiful precipice for the perfect picture. There was a white oleander bush and a red-roofed church in the forefront with the blue water in the background. I sent Karin out to the edge, both of us giggling,
“Keep climbing. One day you’ll be happy we took this picture.”
That picture is included in this post and hangs in her bedroom to this day.
As we walked around the winding white alleys of Mykonos that September, I waved, saying “Ya (short for Yasou)” to Niko of Niko’s Taverna as we passed, and then to a shop owner I had come to know. Karin asked if I knew the way back to the supermarket so she could buy some goodies before going home, and I did. Mykonos town was no longer a maze to me. It feld like something had shifted. I didn’t feel like a tourist anymore. I felt at home in a place that wasn’t my home.
I flew home with a double ear infection, no voice, and hardly able to hear. At the airport stores, I pointed to things I wanted to buy and Karin got them for me, constantly checking in on how I was feeling. Karin took care of me the whole way home. She knew how to be there for me.
Once I was home in Connecticut and felt better, I couldn’t wait to return to Greece. I began researching how I could become a Greek citizen. If my father’s father was born in Greece, which Papou Dimitri was, then I could apply. Greece offered me something I had not expected. I could be a part of it.
Thank you for following my journey,
Katina
P.S. I’ve found a way to weave together the old version of Chapter 1 Zena, with the new version of Chapter 1 Between, to create a third version. I used the original Zena chapter to introduce the reader to the picturesque Mediterranean backdrop I experienced in the summer of 1997 before being confronted with the intensity of Between and the conflict I experienced with my father later that summer over the man I loved, Manuel.