September in Mani....

Skoutari seashore

Written on October 14, 2015

The roots of my family are scattered in the land called Sparta. The land of so fine warriors that their fame lives on for over 3000 years. While Greeks to the bone, people here had always their own way to express themselves, live their life, love, and hate…
My maternal side of the family originates from the place which every Greek highly respects…It originates in Laconian Mani. Although Laconia is primarily an administrative division of the Peloponnese, it is also the land, where the Ancient Spartans had lived.

Linguistically the name Mani comes from the ancient Doric Greek word μᾶνιν (mãnin) meaning 'rage' (Attic-Ionic: μῆνιν) which lead to the evolution of the word Μανίαν (Attic-Ionic: μηνίαν) "Manía" (Μανία), meaning "mania", "crazed with rage" or "wild" which itself originates from the Ancient Greek verb, word "Manîsomai" (Μανήσομαι), meaning to "become crazed" or "full of violent rage". The English word "mania" evolved from this.

It is really difficult to say exactly whose ancestors were Spartiates….except Mani.  There is not even the slightest doubt that Maniots (Μανιάτες), the people of Mani are straight descendants of Ancient Spartiates. After Ancient Sparta ceased to exist, the Spartans still were the best soldiers in the Roman Army, and in the Army of the Venetian Republic…and many, many other armies… Their military skills were always in high demand. Not much has changed in the lifestyle; thousands of years after the Spartans, the villages of Mani still resemble more of the military settlements than anything else, and from the Middle Ages onwards the population had been military like organized with the captain as the highest-ranking member of the society.
Income from land was small and uncertain. Maniots (Μανιάτες)  have to be very creative to survive, and they were. For hundreds of years, they used to be merchants….. pirates.
That way of living had stopped when Mani became a part of an independent Greece…..The Maniots (Μανιάτες) were always ready to bear arms as they held their freedom in high esteem, and were never seen to lay their arms down, especially throughout the duration of the Greek struggle for independence. Greece became again a state because Maniots - Μανιάτες made it possible. 

Military tradition in Lackonia lives on. Men from Mani do not have a problem to do their military service, it is still a custom to be in the military, this land produces also the finest generals of the Greek Army.
Even my two brothers, born in Canada, took one year off of their North American life to do, like real Spartiates, a military service in Greece. Spartans from every continent of the planet keep still tradition going….

Late summer in Gythio …the colors, scents, and flavors of the season which I have never seen in Greece…The most Southern end of European continent happened to be the place I love the most, the place I have in my DNA, the place I feel so much at home…
The sea was close, but it had to be reached by car.  The man I love did not mind to have a small drive south…because Skoutari seashore, every morning was different, the light was different and even the taste of the water….After our long morning swim we used to go for a coffee, and sometimes a small gelato with a lemon flavor, the man I love is so fond of…
Two sets of grandparents were taking care of our sons so we could have another honeymoon after 3 years of marriage…
Love, in every dimension, became even more intense than before…now… that we know one another so well….

Our vacation in Mani, started from an e-mail note from my aunt Eva: “High time to learn how to handle the firearms, take advantage of staying in Mani”. Slowly, I discovered that every adult member of my family not only knows how to handle the firearms, everyone in the family has actually a gun at home, including my husband. This is this maniatiko they have…they feel secure when they have it…To my amazement, my mother, a classical pianist, has learned how to shoot at the age of twelve, and my aunt, the essence of femininity with the face of Madonna, can disassemble the rifle in no time, like an old soldier.
I had no choice, just to learn how to handle the arms. Amused by all that what was happening to me, my mother visited us in Gythio and brought me a box of old photographs. On some, my grandparents – students, a few years after the war, in Paris, entertaining themselves….at the shooting range in Bois-de Boulogne….  this was a fun à la maniatiko…… My grandmother had apparently a great affinity to the rifle and was always shooting with a precision of a sniper. This September it was my time. My father – in - law took all very seriously, and for over two weeks was taking me to the mountains for the lessons. Finally, after ten days, I got it. I could shoot, disassemble the rifle, and put it together… all by myself. Although I missed the targets many times in the beginning, I was not that bad in the end…   I became an old style Maniatissa  -  Μανιάτισσα, a Maniot woman….like my grandmother, like my aunt, like my mother…..



Arrivederci Roma

La Scalinata di Trinità dei Monti -famous Spanish Steps ( the Spanish Embassy is nearby ).
On the top of the photo, la chiesa (a church) di Trinità dei Monti

Written on 29th of  May, 2015

A few years ago I was living and studying in Bologna, Italy, and nearly every weekend I have spent exploring towns and cities of Italia, usually alone, but sometimes with my brothers or friends.

There was only one exception: I liked to go to Rome all by myself....alone.

I have developed a very personal relationship with the eternal city. On Saturdays, early morning, I used to take a train to Rome. With time it became a habit. The evening before the trip, I chose some of my artworks, I believed were interesting enough to show them in the Roman art galleries. Sometimes, I was lucky and sold a painting, or two. Sometimes, for over four or five months nobody paid attention to my work....

I have never stayed in the hotel alone, good Greek girls do not stay in the hotels alone. But, I resolved that problem very easily. My Italian friends in Bologna told me that the best place to stay in Rome, for a girl was....a convent. I got an address, and whenever I went to Rome, I have always slept in one place - in Casa Maria Immacolata, in a convent, in a modest hotel run by nuns, one of the best and safest place on earth to sleep. It is in the heart of Rome, just nearby Piazza del Popolo. I suspected that the sisters were angels sent to Rome to make people happy…

My encounters with Rome were profoundly emotional.  Perhaps, because I was already an adult, an artist painter in making, and I needed a touch of Mediterranean sensuality and sophistication to finish my intellectual structure, I don't know. I used to live in Paris before and never had that kind of feelings, but Paris was a home away from home, I have a family there, my parents studied there, I am a product of French culture, and French is the only language I really know…

With Rome everything was different. I discovered it all by myself. I polished my Italian there and for the first time in my life, I started to feel I was ….an artist painter.

There is a street in Rome which became famous because of an American movie - Roman Holiday. In Ancient Rome it was nothing but famous. There was an open waste-stream in the neighborhood. The movie made Via Margutta fashionable. In our days it is a place where many art galleries are located, and even an Italian movie director, Federico Fellini, used to have his home there.
One day, on Via Margutta, I have seen a young couple, kissing, and realized how alone I was. Because, no matter how comfortable you are with yourself, if you don’t love, you really don’t exist.
From that day on, every time I was coming to Rome, I day-dreamt that I would meet the man of my life. Those dreams were always the same: the prince would be Greek, tall, dark, and handsome…and of course well educated, and fluent in Greek…preferably from Laconia….and I would meet him on Via  Margutta, or Piazza del Popolo, or somewhere else…and… and... Rome did not deliver.
I felt deeply disappointed, and started to dislike the eternal city…..

I met the man of my life in America, he was already in love with me for over a year, when I saw him for the first time, and he was all that I have dreamt about in Rome..... with the family roots in Mani, in Laconia….
The man I love is very romantic and loves Italy, so we go there quite often…
I don’t need Rome for a love scenario now…. although, I enjoy kissing on Via Margutta….

Roma, I don’t expect anything from you anymore, so...addio, e grazie per tutto il pesce*
Till next time…Arrivederci Roma!




*So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish– The the fourth book of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams.
 

How to arrive in Venice



Venice, Italy

Written on 17th of May, 2015

The man I love takes me to Venezia - Venice, the city I have never visited for longer than 4 days, but I know much better than the city I was born in. I have been in Venice many times: in summers, in winters, with my brothers and alone, and lately with my husband. This is a third time we are going there as a couple…because my husband fell in love with this place. Venice is a city of Casanova, a famous lover, a man who knew everything about women, a city where the Carnival gets a completely different dimension.

If you plan a visit, come to Venice by train, in the evening, as the sun is setting over the water, you will not regret it. Like in a slow-motion movie you will change into an islander, and you will like it. As a matter of fact, you will stop being a person of the mainland, and get a pleasure of using gondolas and vaporettos as the main transport medium.

Venice is a city where a romance is in the air, but you have to be very careful with love. You can lose in Venice not only a lover but entire love you have for another person. This is, this water thing, a fluid, ambiguous environment everybody loves and nobody is sure of...  That is why you have to chase your love in Venice, repossess it, reinvented it, and live it again. The man I love is so sure of our love that he is not afraid to romance me in Venice. He says, he is up to this challenge.

Most visitors amazed by the beauty of Venice don’t even realize that it is a very Greek place. The story and glory of the Venetian Republic started at Bosphorus when a small city on lagoons helped to fight Normans - Vikings who wanted to take Constantinople….
This is how the Venetian Republic established the monopoly to the most profitable sea route in the Mediterranean …the route to Levante - to the East. The trade with East had made Venice extremely wealthy and the Republic started to have colonies on the shores of Adriatic and Aegean seas. They owned a big chunk of Greek Peloponnese, Crete, Zakynthos Cephalonia, and Corfu. The naval and the commercial bases of Venice were very well known throughout the Mediterranean.
Venice - a city-state, became a thalassocracy, a Repubblica Marinara, a maritime superpower. And like Romans before, Venice put big taxes in the Greek colonies, and like Romans before, Venice was taking by force a youth from Laconia, it made up the Republic’s light cavalry – the best soldiers in the Venetian army.

When you finally reach a train station in Venice, descend the stairs to the Grand Canal. Instead of trying the shortest way to the hotel, take the vaporetto the long way around, by way of Giudecca and Dorsoduro, you will see the Venetians coming back home, you will smell the air and hear the water, and then disembark at San Zaccaria, on the Riva degli Schiavoni….You will have to find your way to the hotel….

For a skilled Greek eye, the signs of the Greek presence in the city are obvious. The most prominent are the horses of Saint Mark, which were at first placed on the façade of Saint Mark’s Basilica…Well… they were not Saint Mark’s originally, but belonged to the Hippodrome of Constantinople...and, and during one of the crusades were looted from Constantinople and brought to Venice by Venetian soldiers…Those soldiers were most probably Greeks…

In XV century a miracle had happened in the world… in Venice…. It was called
Le Renascimento - the Reborn. Most of us know the French name of it - Le Renaissance.  It was one of the most amazing and beautiful cultural and social movements of humankind, and it started with the biggest disaster of the Christian world, a disaster of biblical proportions…
The Constantinople was taken by Turks – the barbarians. After the imperial demise of Byzantium, many Greeks rich and poor had found a refuge in Venice.
Those who did not have skills joined the Venetian army and formed a famous five thousand stratioti (from Greek – the soldiers - οι στρατιώτες), the most courageous fighters Venice ever had...

But there were a few people Venice will never forget. First - Anna Notara (Ἄννα Νοταρᾶ) a Byzantine aristocrat, a daughter of Lukas Notaras (Λουκᾶς Νοταρᾶς), the last Megas Doux (Lord High Admiral) of Byzantium. The roots of the family were in Greek Laconia, in Monemvasia  ( H Μονεμβασία). At that time there were fairy tales how rich Notaras family was…. But Lukas Notaras was not only extremely rich, he was also extremely bright. He invested all family wealth in Europe, mainly in Venice. Anna Notara had moved to Venice with her two nieces, 10 years before the fall of Constantinople and avoided the massacre of her family.
She became a center of Greek immigration, a great inspiration, and financial support to Greek artists, writers, and scholars. With a help of a new invention - a Greek press, Greek books were printed in big quantities and the Greek language and learning were transmitted to West. This is how a humanist movement started in Italy. Not only Dante Alighieri and Petrarca knew Greek, but even Bocaccio could converse in our language. He was the one who wrote very naughty stories for adults >Decameron< – which means in  Greek - Ten Days.  A second well known Greek in Venice was Basilios Bessarion ( Βασίλειος Βησσαρίων ) a Greek Orthodox monk, who had tried to negotiate between East and West, between Catholic an Orthodox Christians. He ended up as a Catholic Cardinal and was regarded as an ideological traitor…. Bessarion donated to the Senate of the Venetian Republic 500 Greek manuscripts. Because of him, the biggest Greek Library in the West was created, and it was also the beginning of the first public library, a famous Libreria Marciana.

Finding your hotel at night, in Venice, can be difficult. The streets have no names the way we get used to… Well… they are not named at all…….
You have to assert your way through the maze of canals, and alleys and it is nearly impossible to find the right way. Then stop and see the shadows of old houses, hear the water. And when you are well and truly lost, just ask, someone will point you to your hotel…..It will turn out to be just around the corner.  Open the window in your room and see the lights on the Canal. Unexpectedly, you will feel very hungry, so have a dinner at the restaurant near your hotel, and when maître will suggest a meal and the wine with it… say: YES, because it will be the best meal and wine you have ever tasted….

There were many Greek families known in Venice: The Samarianis from Zakynthos, The Courcumelis from Crete….and then they were brothers Papadopoulos from Corfu (Kerkyra): Nicolas and Angelo. Papadopoulos is the most common Greek last name…but there was nothing common about brothers Papadopoulos. Before Aristotle Onassis, they were the richest in the world…..so rich that the Venetians used to say that “they owned their own wave in the sea”..
In Venice, they became Papadopoli, got an aristocratic title, converted to Catholicism, and started to intermarry with the best Italian families. One of the most famous was a marriage into the Florentine family of Aldobrandini, a family of Cardinals and Popes. With time the Greek genius and good luck had dispersed in between ordinary, but aristocratic Italian genes. There is nothing left from the old Greek Papadopoulos glory...because a Greek soul needs only one thing to survive ...another Greek soul. The Palazzo Papadopoli at Grand Canal is still the best address in Venice, but it is now a luxury hotel. It has made lately newspapers' headlines because a Hollywood star George Clooney had his wedding party there.

Mornings are my most favorite in Venice. After you make love to the man you love, you can hear the increasing noise on the water, then it will stop….It is exactly like the musical intervals, you will wait for incoming sounds and try to recognize them.
Have a room service ….
And because you are a very serious visitor go through your list of “Must See!”
It can be the longest list ever.
Architecture with Gothic, Byzantine and Moorish influences: Doge’s Palace, Ca’d’Oro, Ca’ Pensaro. Which Palazzo is the most important on your list?

The painting on canvas was invented in Venice...
There is also a long list of the Renaissance painters: Da Messina, Tintoretto, Veronese and Titian….Who's work will you see and where?
Do you plan to see Tiepolo in Palazzo Papadopoli? Or, maybe a Peggy Guggenheim's home which is now a museum of modern art….

If you are an artist painter, you will discover in Venice one phenomenal thing: THE LIGHT
It changes very quickly and does not leave you to contemplate the moment, it is as fluid as water, and like water makes you doubt the shapes and colors…

Call for a water taxi and allow yourself to be taken to the canal known as Rio dei Greci (the river of Greeks), it is in the area called Castello. You will find there a church di San Giorgio dei Greci, Saint George of Greeks - OΆγιος Γεώργιος των Ελλήνων. Like nowhere else, you will feel there the spirits of Greeks who have lived and died in Venice.

Then return to the Piazza di San Marco and try to talk to the pigeons….
Have a small walk around, as you wait for a boat to San Giorgio Maggiore and its monastery.
Because, believe me, you haven’t really lived unless you have heard the monks sing….



How to fall in Love with a Greek Man and marry Him...Hints for Greek Girls

Written on 1st of February, 2015

For us, Greeks, getting married is the most important thing in the world, for Greeks marriage means: adulthood, fulfilment, mental stabilization, great togetherness, and in many ways happiness.... Although we, Greeks, like to be married, the process of finding another Greek for the rest of our life is more complicated then a rocket science.

Being a Greek who looks for a life companion in Greece is easy, you just have to find another Greek. It might take time, but eventually you will find the person you want.
When you are born abroad, it is a completely different story. Even if you like your small, Greek community, you meet on different occasions, it can happen that your heart does not want to go anywhere, and waits for another Greek heart, which can be far, far away...

Every Greek couple has a story. Now days the most romantic love stories are born on the Internet. It is the place where the whole world is open, and you can find any Greek you dream of ...theoretically. My three cousins have found their spouses on the net, but it did not work for me, it only made my life miserable for nearly a year.

My older brother Kosta found his future wife on the parking lot of  Rice University. My sister-in-law used to drive an old car, which very often needed a small "push", and one day, my brother helped her to start that car, heard Theodorakis played on the radio of that car, and fell in love with the girl. When he gave her an engagement ring, he also took her to the car dealer to buy her a new car ....but the story had a strange twist. My sister in law, Agathe, revealed that...she has used her mother's maiden name, not her real name, the reason she had driven a creepy car was one: she wanted to marry a man who would really love her. All that because Agathe comes from a very rich family. My brother Kosta was so in love with her, at that point, that he would not mind her being a Chinese Princess. Nothing scared him, he just wanted his Greek girl. Since she married my brother, Agathe drives Porsche Cayenne, a car which never has any problem.... Agathe and Kosta lived a real Greek-Texan Cinderella story before they got married.

My other brother, Giorgos, found his wife in the closet.... literary. He was in Boston, participating in a Greek gathering when he heard strange noises in the closet, near the room he was sleeping. He opened the door and saw a girl sitting between the brooms and the vacuum-cleaner. He asked her why she was there, she told him she was hiding because the company was boring. He had locked the door and sat with Athena for the rest of the party and.... he had never left her after that party. They got married in Summer 2013.

My love story was the most boring. It was actually a set up, one of those set ups Greeks are famous of.. .My husband has seen me in our family movie, fell in love with me and for over a year was asking my brother to set up a randez-vous. When we finally met, I also fell in love with him...

But nobody has a story like my cousin Kalliope. Nobody can even compare the love story Kalliope has lived just before she got married to George. My cousin Kalliope is a classical pianist, a pretty, delicate brunette with a crazy Anglo-Saxon sense of humor. Although an artist, she is generally very pragmatic in her life and counts on facts....Wherever she is, she never answers her cell phone, but expects that we answer ours, when she calls. After she turned 25, she was sure it was a time to find a Greek husband and start a family....
There was one difficulty though, year after year Kalliope was touring a world giving performances, and rarely stayed in one town for longer then 3 days. The place, where she was always very unhappy was Italy, because she was there alone, and working. In November 2012, in Northern Italy, in Milano she stayed in Principe de Savoia, a stylish hotel built at the beginning of 19th century. One evening, before the concert, in the lobby of that hotel Kalliope met a man of her life, and it happened like that: she felt someone was watching her, turned her head and saw a man standing in the end of the hallway, staring at her. When their eyes met, she was struck by the arrow of Eros, a Greek God of Love. The man did not lose the time, approached Kalliope and introduced himself in English:
"My name is George, what's yours?"
My cousin Kalliope immediately remembered that she had a bit strange name for non Greeks, and told the man she would tell him her name, if he would not make remarks how strange the name was... He didn't, instead, he sat on the chair and covered his face with his hands...because unexpectedly he found, what he was looking for: he found his Greek girl.

Nobody should ignore Eros. He is one of the first Gods who came from Chaos and gave the people  an extraordinary energy called a romantic love, but also a sexual attraction and desire. This God is really a wandering fire, which sometimes takes a shape of a man, who has wings and who is an excellent archer; what he creates is essential for our existence. Romans, famous Greek copycats, trivialized the importance of Eros and created their own God of Love - Cupid, a sleazy, little child with the wings and arrows...

So Eros struck George and Kalliope in Italy, in a sad month of November, and created another eternal Greek love.
Next morning Kalliope sent me a message:
"I met a man, he is Greek, his name is George".
When I called her, she did not answer.

A few days after this message she was performing in Rome, George followed her there, went to every concert of hers. Every morning he was taking her for romantic walks.
From Rome Kalliope sent me a message:
" He speaks beautiful Greek, but he doesn't want to tell me his last name, I think he is in Mafia!"

I told my husband that Kalliope met in Italy a Mafia man, and he is Greek. My husband thought for a while and said: "Greeks can easily make money without being a part of a crime organization, if he is Greek, he is not in mafia, there is another catch in that story.."
And it was; George was a Greek-American professional with very good incomes, everybody could find him easily on the net. He just wanted Kalliope to love him for what he was as a man, as a person....
Then Kalliope sent another message:
"He is not in mafia, and I love him!"

The Roman days were over and Kalliope went back to Paris, but not alone, George went with her. They were married one month later, in Paris, in St Stephen's Greek Orthodox Church, two days before Christmas. Everything went so fast that only a few people could attend her wedding.

Those were Greek romance stories happened quite recently in my family. Of course there are many other love stories where one part is not Greek, but those are not Greek stories anymore...

The Art of Being Happy

Peleus and Thetis, the parents of Achilles

Written on 20th of November, 2014

The art, in most cases, feeds on unhappiness....artists are so unhappy, that they create the masterpieces which bleed with sublime feelings they experienced.

And here is my dilemma:
I cannot work when I am unhappy. I live my unhappiness, analyze it, feel it, and cannot work, cannot do anything...I am  "la petite bourgeoise" in many ways. In my everyday life everything has to be balanced: my house has to be spotless, otherwise I become very nervous, my children happy and clean, Maria happy, and of course I cannot forget the man I love. He is my only connection with the real world: a messenger of reality, a walking wisdom with great sense of humor and abdominal muscles any Ancient Spartan would be proud of... I love being married to him, taking care of him...spoil him...

This is also very untypical for an artist, because, artists usually grow their EGO to the point that nobody else fits in the space near by ...So artists are usually getting married for a five minutes, and then say to the world that they made mistake...It wasn't the person they were looking for, they were looking for someone who would admire them all the time, and they found a person who dared to be a person...

Artists don't like marriages that much, so in this regard, I am also not typical, I do like being married....It is this Greek thing I have...We, Greeks, we love to immerse ourselves in deep unlimited togetherness, and taste another Greek soul again and again...

But... there were some artist who enjoyed marriage and did not have any problems to create masterpieces. Not all the artists were sick, alone and dying in poverty, like Modigliani. Johann Sebastian Bach was quite happy in his marriage, so was the great poet Pablo Neruda. He had written the most beautiful love sonnets in the end of his life and an inspiration for them was his wife....

So when my home is clean and everybody is content, I can close the doors of my Studio and move to the space nobody visits, the space of my work. Sometimes I even remember the poems of Neruda, a poet who wrote masterpieces when he was happy...



One Day In August ....

Written on 17th of August, 2014
We are having a great time in Anavissos, going for morning swims, only two of us, the man I love and I, watching the shooting stars and making wishes...every night different.....
During the day, our son Oresti has his time to swim; the youngest one, Odyssea is still waiting for his big day in water. My husband will teach him to swim in September.
Mediterranean Sea is everywhere, wherever we turn our heads, and even when we sleep, it comes to our dreams. The citrus - sweet, salty smell of the air here cannot be compare to anything.
If a happiness is defined, it is NOW. Sometimes, I want to go on the street and shout:
-I have two sons and a husband who is the best kisser in the world!!!
But of course, I will not do it...

We have... a new addition to our family - Maria from Mani. She is no nonsense woman who knows a lot about babies and is a great cook, I can learn a lot from. She comes from the same village as my father-in-law, and our families know one another from the beginning of time...
The man I love told me, he was very happy I am a great mom, but he wanted back his wife and his lover and  the artist painter....So Maria Maniatisa is a relief person in the situations, when I go back to my old self...And I did a few times in my Studio here, in Anavissos, with the South-East windows, like I always wanted. I had painted here only two pictures, because I have no time...I am busy, living the moments of my life...

Today, when everybody was napping, I decided to spend some time in my studio, sketching for a big painting, when all over the sudden the door opened, and I saw a little man Oresti, bare feet, only in a diaper and a t-shirt, standing in the door looking for me...
- Uhhh? he asked, which most probably meant: "Can I get in?"
- 'Ελα, μπές μέσα - είπα (Get in - I said).
He wanted to be sure that he can get in and asked again :
- Uhhh?
When I said  - 'Ελα μέσα! (Get in!) - he finally entered the Studio....He just came to get a few kisses and hugs. When we started to make a picture together, Maria came to the studio searching for Oresti. Happy, that he is so desirable, he got on the sofa near by Maria, ready for hugs and kisses again....and then the man I love has walked in with our son Odyssea hanging off his shoulder. He also sat on the sofa.
So I had them all, in my Studio, sitting on the sofa: my husband was talking to Odyssea with love and  tenderness only a Greek man could give to a baby... Maria was kissing Oresti, and talking about great tasting feta cheese, we bought yesterday, and what we could cook using this cheese ....

My working session was over....

I told them, I put some restrictions, who can come to the Studio:
If you are taller than 70 cm, you cannot get in, without very special permission.
The man I love looked at me seriously and said :
- "I'll crawl, if I'll need to...."

And then it was a time to prepare a dinner....

The Scent of Acacia

Robinia - pseudoacacia

Written on 4th of July, 2014

Two years ago, when the man I love was looking for the house we can grow our family in, here, in Northern Virginia, he had one thing in mind: he wanted to find a property with a similar atmosphere to that of the old summer home (εξοχικό σπίτι) of my uncle in Anavissos, in Greece.  In that home, I used to spend most of my summers, where I was painting and cooking, from where I was going for long morning swims.… For over five years, I spent there three summer months…. alone, because, my uncle was at that time in London UK, where his only daughter, my cousin Maria, is living. My parents and my brothers were spending their summers not far away, in Glyfada, so an old house in Anavissos was a great place, where I could be alone when I wanted to, and I could go to my parents and had a company if I needed one … I was a house-sitter “en plein air” the only thing is: I never paint outdoors and rely on my memory when painting a nature…

One day in June 2012, in the garden of that house, under the acacia tree, I had a “very important” conversation with the man who became my soul mate and my lover, who gave me a world of passion, simplicity, and purity, I had never experienced before, who has given to me a completely new life. He had never forgotten the scent of acacia of that afternoon. And in July 2012, in Virginia, he has seen the house with acacia tree looking into the windows of the master bedroom. He knew he had found our home. We later called it Villa Agapantus.

Our acacia tree survived a few attempts on its life. My father-in-law is convinced that it is a “messy” tree, produces “sticky things” and its roots system is so elaborate and well developed that no other plant can live in the nearest neighborhood, acacia takes all the nutrients from the ground …takes them all. Every summer my husband has a long discussion with his father about the acacia, advocating for our tree... and always saving it.

“Besides”, my husband said, “it is not even a real acacia”…and this is true. The acacia tree in my uncle’s garden in Greece is a real one, from the family of Mimosas. It has yellow blooms with honey fresh smell of something familiar, delicate, and forgotten. In spite of that special scent the branches of acacia have thorns. In Greek ἀκίς -akis means thorn. The name acacia derives from ἀκακία- akakia – the thorn tree. This name was given to the tree in the Antiquity by Πεδάνιος Διοσκουρίδης – Pedanios Dioscouridis, a Roman Army surgeon, who was….a Greek man.
He was the first one who discovered a special beauty of the acacia tree and its medicinal properties. He was the first who described them. The acacia tree was used to reduce stomach and throat inflammations.  Πεδάνιος Διοσκουρίδης – Pedanios Dioscouridis had written  -Περὶ ὕλης ἰατρικῆς-  which was translated into Latin as - De Materia Medica – About the Medical Materials. Dioscouridis was not only a physician and a military man, but a dreamer and a scientist who was searching for medical substances during his long and frequent military postings…His 5-volumes encyclopedia was read as an important source of medical treatments for over 1500 years.

As to our American acacia tree, it is not a real acacia, it is a fake one, my husband frequently tells that to his father. After all, we live in America and fake things are more common here than anywhere else. The tree in front of our bedroom's window is Robinia pseudoacacia, from the family of Peas, and imitates real acacia very well; has intensely fragrant flowers, which are a bit similar to the scent of the orange blossoms, it has also some medicinal properties.

Our “acacia” is well protected by my husband from all sorts of perils. Every morning after his shower he stands by the window, checking out if the tree is there. The acacia is a silent witness of our life.
It always blooms in June; it bloomed before my sons were born, before the birthdays of my husband.
Last night, the man I love was watching the acacia tree before going to sleep.

- Η μυρωδιά των λουλουδιών της ακακίας είναι ένα άρωμα της αγάπης μας, το ξέρεις αυτό;  - Ρώτησε.
-The scent of the acacia blossom it‘s the fragrance of our love.  Do you know that? – He asked.

- Ναι, το ξέρω - Απάντησα.
- Yes, I know that - I answered.









Odysseas

Odysseas (4 days old) is burped by his 

yiayia (grandmother) this very funny way....

Written on June 30th, 2014

Odysseas was a king of Ithaca, an island, people think is mythical, but most of the Greeks know it is not ...

Odysseas is a very important person in Greek and Western history and literature, but also in every Greek individual development. Every Greek knows well how life-wise was Odysseas, how well he had planned his life, and how much he had tried to achieve the goals he had set for himself. He is an ultimate alter ego of every Greek. Odysseas was one of the heroes of the Homer's Iliad, it was him who had an idea to build a wooden horse, which Trojans brought to their city and then.... lost the war. Of course Odysseas is  a hero of the Odyssey, another literary marvel by Homer, a story of a human perseverance in living the life, doing the right things, and preserving the eternal love. Odysseas was the man who had chosen the right woman... Penelope.... she had waited for him for over twenty years, sure that he would be back....and he was back.

When we, Greeks, think about Odysseas, very often we have in mind Ithaca, a small poem written by Konstantinos Kavafys, where he tells that reaching the mythical Ithaca, the synonym of our goals, is not that important, what counts is the journey to Ithaca .....our life itself and our experiences...
From the beginning he says:

"Σα βγεις στον πηγαιμό για την Ιθάκη,
να εύχεσαι νάναι μακρύς ο δρόμος,
γεμάτος περιπέτειες, γεμάτος γνώσεις."

"As you set out for Ithaka
hope the voyage is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery."

Three weeks ago Odysseas joined our little family. He was born early morning on 8th of June. We were ready to name him Leonidas to celebrate a great Spartan king, but.... after he was born, the man I love looked at me and said " He does not look like Leonidas, he looks like Odysseas"
I stared at my son: he was curious, alert, and a bit surprised...he was Odysseas......

A little Spartan Odysseas was born thin and tall, but very strong; doesn't cry much, eats well, sleeps well, and most probably already plans his life..."a long one, full of adventure, full of discovery".....



The Al Bowlly Story



Al Bowlly







Written on 16th of May, 2014

Today, I have gotten by post a small CD - a 'thank you' present. In February, this year, I have given my cousin a stylish dress, so during an elegant dinner on St- Valentine's Day she could look like a flapper girl. My cousin is a classical pianist and the present she has sent me is musical - the greatest hits of Al Bowlly from my most favorite historical time - the time in between the wars - the 1920s and 1930s. I love everything from that period...art, music, fashion..
I started to listen to the recordings and immediately fell in love with those songs.
While day-dreaming about being a flapper girl who dances to that music I discovered inside the cover of the CD a small note written by hand....

"Find out who was Al Bowlly!"

I looked at the photo of the singer and thought: he was a hunk from the 30s, looking kind of Mediterranean, most probably Irish...Celtic dark look...but not exactly ...

So who was Al Bowlly?
He was the greatest pop singer of 1930s, his career had spread on four continents: Africa, Asia, Europe, and America, he was a singer who had "a voice out of this world" and who invented crooning, a very special way of singing, which is more a soft, delicate murmuring....
It became a canon of singing in the 1930s. Al Bowlly was also....a Greek man.

His story began on the boat to Australia. Al's father, a Greek from the island of Rhodes, met during his trip to Australia a Greek girl from Lebanon, fell madly in love with her, and the first thing he did after landing in Perth, Australia - he had married the girl. Australia wasn't the land of opportunities for Bowlly's parents, they moved to Africa. Al was born in Mozambique, and brought up in Johannesburg, in South Africa. There, his beautiful voice of extraordinary range and musical talent became well known. He was performing in the luxury hotels in South Africa and India, and soon was invited to London, to record a few songs. England became his new home, and his career was flourishing. He was singing with Ray Noble Orchestra and Lew Stone Band. Very pleasant personality, good looks, and a charisma helped Al to reach huge popularity in England. Ray Noble is often quoted as saying that Al often stepped away from the microphone with tears in his eyes; "never mind him making you cry, he could make himself cry!"

In 1934 Al Bowlly had visited America and sung with Glen Miller Orchestra. Songs: "Blue Moon", "Easy to Love", "I've Got You Under My Skin" made him famous in the United States. He had returned to England just before the war. In 1941 Bowlly was killed by a German parachute mine that detonated outside his apartment. He was only 43 years old.
Al Bowlly loved many girls, but never found his Greek girl to love... and as we know, a Greek soul needs another Greek soul to survive...

One day, in July, I have to dress like a flapper girl and go for a dancing rendez-vous with the man I love. We would pretend strangers who met while dancing....The only thing I have to do is to tell him about this idea....

Flyin'..... or Dedalos and Ikaros



Dedalos and Ikaros
Museo Correr, Venice, Italy 

 

 

Written on 12th of May, 2014

 Last week -end my sister in law, Agathe, called me from Houston, Texas to ask, if it is true that I am flying in my dreams. It really is.... I do fly. For over four months now, nearly every night, I have a flying dream, and the heavier I become with my child, the lighter I am in my dreams. My usual flying path is always Greek, I am flying over Anavissos (Ανάβυσσος), the village where we spend our summers; sometimes, I even go over Sunio (Σούνιο) and Athens (Αθήνα). Lately, I made a few rounds over Patra (Πάτρα). I have even seen Agios Andreas - Άγιος Ανδρέας - St. Andrews basilica, where my brother Kosta got married to Agathe, one hot afternoon, in July 2012. I fainted in that church during the wedding ceremony, because of the heat. But, in my dreams the weather is always pleasant, and the warm winds move me to the places I like.
Agathe asked me how many domes has St. Andrews basilica, and a few other questions, and then she said:
- Malista - μάλιστα - right.... I talk to you later....
 

When my brother Giorgos learnt about my flying dreams, he immediately remembered the summer week- end in 2010, we spent together in Venice. Like a good Spartan, my brother went to Greece to do his military service, and in the end of it, there was a huge reward - a brand new Greek passport. From then on, he was not only a Spartan, but also ...legally....a Greek citizen. After his army service ended, he came to Italy to visit me. We decided to go to Venice, because, once, the Venetian Republic was a part of a Greek history. And in Venice, just out of the Piazza di San Marco, in Museo Correr, my brother, an engineer, experienced his artistic epiphany; he has seen Dedalos and Ikaros, a marble sculpture by Canova: an old man walks with a teenage boy.... you can nearly hear them talking in Ancient Greek.... about.... flying.
My brother was completely taken by Canova's sculpture.
That summer, in Greece, he has tried paragliding for the first time.. and soon, it became a favourite pass-time for all of us...

Last week-end on Sunday night, when I asked my husband why he loves me, he told me:
- Γιατί πουθενά δεν θα βρώ μία τέτοια κοπέλα, που πετάει στον ύπνο της, στην Ελλάδα....(Because, I will never find a girl who flies in her dreams... in Greece...)
and he added:
- 'Ομος να προσέχεις τους Κύκλοπας ( But watch out for the Cyclopes)
 

I did not fly that night, I was lying near by the man I love, thinking... what could he dream about..He is the only man in the Universe who never snores and understands everything..

 

Lexis...Words





Written on 22nd of January, 2014

Nearly every night, the man I love has a small talk on the phone with his father. It can be a quite ordinary exchange of information, but sometimes the topic evolves and changes into an interesting discussion. No matter what it is, I love to listen to it, because it is in Greek. I love to hear lexis –λέξεις, words in Greek. It gives me a feeling of harmony and perfection enclosed in the sound of the language I love.
Plato -Πλάτων had elaborately explained that the words – λέξεις - lexis and the paintings are of the same, as they convey the same ideas in a different way. Lexis – λέξεις, words, give a mental image, while paintings materialize the image in a picture. Aristole - Ἀριστοτέλης had distinguished a special type of a lexi- λέξις; graphike lexi -  γραφική λέξη - was the one which described the image….and what is interesting, the word painting in Greek - zographia - ζωγραφιά, includes the meaning of writing.

My husband, a son of a Greek philologos - φιλόλογος – a Greek language teacher, speaks impeccable Greek, has a rich vocabulary, and is able to express himself in a very beautiful manner. Greek is a mother tongue for both us, but I speak it with a French accent, and ...and sometimes, I am jealous of his phonetic perfection in the language we both love....

From the time I fell in love with my husband, Greek was for us a language of intimacy, a language of love, we both like to hear it, play with it, enjoy it together. It was our love code; it became recently a home language…The language our son listens to every day… his mother’s tongue.
 
There are two lexis – λέξεις, words, I especially love;  small, not important words –lexis - λέξεις we repeat often without even thinking about them….an adverb…

Malista -μάλιστα, which means - that’s right, of course, definitely yes, very much so…
and
Oriste - ορίστε, which means - I beg your pardon? Yes? How can I help you?
 
This two lexis – λέξεις, words are as old as the Greek language is. They sound the same for over 6000 years…. They stay in the Greek language unaffected for thousands of years because they were too insignificant to be changed….so they stay the same….They were repeated by our forefathers, our fathers and soon our son will say it again…. Two small Greek lexis – λέξεις, words...

Eleni the Beautiful

Helen of Sparta with a Goddess Aphrodite

Written on 26th of December 2013

There is one painting of Michelangelo “Leda and the Swan” I was interested in during all the years I have spent in Italy; not because it was lost, but because it is telling one of the Greek myths. The colors chosen for this painting seems to be unusual for Michelangelo, or maybe the copy was not that precise...The painting was lost, but the story still stirs the imagination...
Here it is...
A wife of a Spartan king, Leda (Λήδα), was admired by Zeus (Ζεύς), who seduced her in the guise of a swan. As a swan, Zeus fell into her arms for protection from a pursuing eagle; this is how the most beautiful woman on earth was conceived. Her name was Helen (Ἑλένη-Eleni). She was half-a human, half-a goddess. We Greeks, call her H Ωραία Ελένη (E Orea Eleni-Helen the Beautiful), but she is also known to the world as Helen of Sparta, and Helen of Troy. She was a wife of Menelaus the king of Sparta, and a lover of Paris, a prince of Troy.
Her story can be read in Iliad because the Trojan War was all about her....

This story is as old, as the story of all Greeks, and up till now every Greek man is in love with an elusive, undescribed beauty that makes people forget the reality, and do what the loving heart says. Every Greek man is in love with Eleni the Beautiful.
Well.....Eleni is still alive, you can find her on the streets of Sparta, doing her everyday chores, somewhere in Athens, busy, going for a meeting. I met Eleni recently....... in England.

It happened unexpectedly, a few days ago on the flight from London to Edinburgh. My 6 months old son was delighted, my husband was surprised, I was stunned. Eleni had big blue eyes, blond hair and beautiful legs. She was dressed in a business suit and had a delicate aura around her. Eleni spotted us in the plane very quickly. It was not that difficult, because Oresti, my son, is right now a magnet to anybody who loves babies. He has a head full of very dark hair, big dark eyes, one tooth which he shows while smiling and...and he is mumbling to himself, nobody understands what is he talking about ...but he is talking. Eleni has heard us speaking Greek and at first sat in her own seat, but soon changed to the seat close to us. In no time she became a friend of Oresti. He was seducing her by smiling and showing his only tooth. Suddenly, she looked at me strange way and introduced herself: ‘My name is Eleni’ At first, I thought that it was a joke, since she can be easily called Helen the Beautiful, but it was not a joke. She opened her purse, found there a small pouch, where she has kept her business cards, and gave one to me.

Her name was really Eleni... the last name was Gaelic. She was..... a Scottish Eleni, not Helen, ELENI. She did not speak Greek, as I hoped for; she did not have any Greek connection except the name.... and the looks....  I was expecting an interesting story, and I got one...Eleni’s mother was so much in love with Greek culture that she not only gave her a Greek name but also cooked Greek food. Eleni was brought up very Greek and was told Greek myths very often. The only thing missing was a knowledge of a Greek language...she did not speak any Greek, but love it... that is why she wanted to be close to us, to listen to our language...her mother passed to her a love of everything Greek....

At the Edinburgh airport Eleni was picked up not by a Paris, prince of Troy, but by a one handsome man who had a very Scottish name... Brian.

Bonding à la grecque

 

 

 

 

 

 

Written in 20th of  November 2013

On Thursday evening the man I love and I went out. Oresti, our son, stayed for a few hours with his grandparents. Everything was very romantic, except that we missed our son. My husband called his parents dozen of times and asked how is Oresti.... On eleventh time my father in law lost his patience and told my husband do not call again, because they were bonding with their grandson and his calls were disturbing the process. After we heard that they are bonding with Oresti, we lost our desire to be out and we wanted to see how their bonding looked like.

When we entered their home this what we saw:
Three of them were in the master bedroom. Oresti, like a little bundle was lying in the middle of the bed. Hypnos, a Greek God of sleep was taking care of him; he was sleeping like a baby.
My parents in law brought two chairs from the dining room, put them side by side in front of the bed just like in the theater, sat quietly there, and watched Oresti sleeping. Our calls disturbed this process…

We were so touched by the picture we saw, we have barely said anything on the way home, and then, half of the night we talked about…love.

Our End of Greek Summer

Anavyssos, Greece

 

Written on 26th of August, 2013

There are two months in a year I love the most: June and August. First, because people I love were born in June: my father, my brother, my husband and my son…and then there is August, the month of fulfilled dreams, the month of lions, I was... born in August…Well, I am not that big lioness, rather a small one…August is also the warmest month of the year, and as long as I remember, we have always spent it in Greece. I love August, the month of the shooting stars. We have seen many of them this year. This August was very special to me. I had the first vacation with the man I love, and with our son.

Our last week-end in Greece is over ….on Thursday we will close the doors of our new home here, and say Good Bye to Anavissos, to Glyfada, to Sparta, and to Gythion, to all those places we have in our blood. Until next summer they will stay in our thoughts and in our dreams. We will remember warm winds in the morning, and the smell of the citrus trees in the yards…

We will miss all that, and we will talk about it ….




 

The Land of Gods

  

Written on August 9th, 2013

We are in the heart of Laconia, in Mani, in the place the man I love comes from….Gythion (Γύθειον) Gy Theon - Γη Θεών- which means - The Land of Gods…..and it really is…Gythio - one of the oldest harbour towns known in the history of human kind. In this port, prince Paris of Troy kept his boat when he was visiting Menelaus, the king of Sparta, and to this boat he had brought the wife of Menelaus, Helen of Sparta, which he had stolen from the king. This is how the Trojan War had started.

Our story here is not that dramatic. We stay in the white house surrounded by red, very fragrant roses. My father in law has already introduced to his world his first born grandson – our Oresti…. they share the same name and surname….the life goes on…

My American Spartan has put our bed on the balcony. We are having here very tender nights, full of love whispers…. We are watching the stars, the stars are watching us, we are a part of the universe….but we have not seen yet a shooting star….this is something to wait for…
.
Today, I have a birthday and my American Spartan takes me and our son to the town where a Greek poet Maria Polidouri was born…to Kalamata… the town of kalon mation- καλών ματιών…the town of beautiful eyes…. Do people have beautiful eyes there? I’ll find it out today..