Italy earthquake

I believe by now the world has heard of the horrible news of the devastating earthquake in Italy. We are very thankful that C's cousin who lives in the area is alive and well. She and her Italian husband are both doctors working at the University of L'Aquila. At the time of the quake, they and their daughter were with her in laws in nearby Pescara. We praise God for their safety, and we pray for the victims and their families, as well as for those who are trapped under the rubble. C and I are considering visiting them over the Greek Orthodox Easter vacation. Easter is on April 19, so I shall keep you posted.

Hiting the slopes and the 4-0

We spent Friday in the snow. Literally. We had had some snow a couple of weeks ago, in our own backyard, which is quite rare in our city.I absolutely loved it! Neighbors must have thought we were nuts as we played in the snow in our perfectly visible from everywhere backyard, but hey, we must do our best with what we've got!

On Friday though, we traveled north with a family of friends to find snow in larger quantities. We, as a family, hadn't envisioned a skiing trip as winter sports are not part of our family curriculum. Neither were they in our friends', as it turned out, although they had all the air and gear of the slopes enthusiast (the things I do to have some friendly company on hand for my kids...).

Anyway, after a long, meandering drive, we reached the ski center. Fortunately it was raining and it was foggy, so we weren't allowed to rent snowmobiles. That didn't stop us from getting our feet wet, and quite happily so. I was rather edgy, as the lady friend chose to stay safe and dry in her car while I was steering on the slopes both my kids and a couple of hers, but the air was refreshing and lifted my spirits. By lunch time, C and I had made up our minds about where we were going to have lunch.

The old teleferique station, was welcoming and the food was OK. But occasionally I get tired of the folksy theme that one finds in most mountain resorts. Inevitable and unimaginative.
Today we stayed at home, instead of venturing out. After shopping for the Sunday papers, carrying images of slaughtered Palestinian children, and a copy of the winter issue of Cote-Est, my favorite winter magazine, I settled myself on the couch. This is something I rarely do, as both my dear husband and son occupy it most of the time. Today I stayed long enough to read the editorial and take the picture below. The Outlaws arrive tomorrow and I had tons of work to do, from cooking to hiding away stuff that may be deemed unusual/interesting and bringing forward clumsy/ludicrous gifts. Quite blurry picture, but, take my word for it, 10 minutes of self-care work wonders.
To finish this post on a particularly joyful note, I gladly present you my birthday cake. Not my making, but my choice. I am officially heading toward the big 4-0, gals. Here, have a piece of cake, and let's have a toast!

Time for Time Travel! I love this meme!

Annie wrote today:
It’s that time of year… graduation! Which made this week’s time travel theme very easy to decide. So, what do you remember about graduating from high school? Was there anything special about the actual ceremony you remember? What did you do after graduation?

I am going to cheat, here, Annie! I am going to write about my graduation ceremony not from High School but from College/University. It is more interesting, and I have the fondest memories.

First of all, we had to wear a special cloak and hat, as you know. My mom insisted on buying it instead of renting it, which meant that I had fittings on the Savile Row, alongside judges and other English old-fashioned dignitaries.

Now, under the cloak, I had to wear a little something, in the form of a dress. So my mom ordered a dress at Nikos-Takis, in Athens. Not exactly my taste, but I could always wear it at a social evening, I thought. However, we agreed I should wear a classic, black wool crepe de Chine dress that she made herself for the occasion.

The ceremony took place at The Royal Albert Hall. As our degrees were called by College, we lined up then got on stage to greet the University's patron, HRH The Princess Royal. Boys bowed, girls curtsied. Some students just walked by, not even looking at her, which was so rude, but she did not show any sign of embarrassment.

When my turn came, I did my curtsy and she smiled back and greeted me.

I absolutely loved my graduation ceremony. Looking back in time, I am grateful I was given the opportunity to study and gather all those beautiful experiences.

Thank you Annie for making me recall them!

This week Annie influenced by her gorgeous daughter's prom party, asks us to travel back to your junior or senior high prom…
Did you go all out? What did your dress look like?
Who did you go with? Any special memories from prom night?

Now that's a sweet time to remember, isn't it? I do remember it, though, to be honest , I don't mind not to!

I went to the dance with my mum. She was very strict and overprotective, and wouldn't let me go anywhere without her, because she was afraid of "what people might say...". So, I went to the prom wearing a pair of black trousers and a white shirt, accompanied by a hounds tooth Chanel-kind of jacket in black and white, and a pair of black Sebago loafers.

I know, I didn't look like a fairy tale princess, rather like a company executive.

My date was waiting for me at the ball. I was very shy and didn't really like him, though he had my mom's approval. I do remember someone telling me I looked beautiful. I know I didn't look the part, but I am still grateful he said it at an embarrassing moment like that! (Thanks D!)

Did anything nice come out of that prom, 21 years ago? Well, yes. The Ancient Greeks had a saying "There exists no evil without some good", or "Every cloud has a silver lining" as we'd say today.

Here is the good part: When my husband and I first dated, I was wearing those same clothes!

Thank you for the time travel, Annie!

Time Travel Tuesday-Dishes

Today we’re traveling back to our childhood, what did the dishes you ate off of everyday look like? Did you have a favorite cup or plate? Did your mother have fancy dishes for company? Tell us all about those special dishes while you travel back in time!

Good question. Everyday objects have such an integral part of our lives, making or breaking our aesthetic world.

As I grew up in the'70s, Tupperware were all the rage. They were colorful and they were thought of as fashionable. So yes, we were eating out of plastic plates most of the time.

Then there were the "good" plates, used for pastry on name days and birthdays.

(Picture from Poppins' Garden)

Our plates weren't decorated with chinoiserie; they were mostly of romantic ladies in romantic springs, and Victorian couches,but the colors, dark pink and blue, were very similar.
Thank you for the travel, Annie!

Time Travel Tuesday

Goooodmorning. It's Tuesday. Time for Annie's meme!
Today Annie (and Jenny) want to know of any smells that take us back to a different time and place. I am not going to disappoint. I am very much a perfume person. I can make out and describe periods of my life book by scent alone. Look:

My friendship with my childhood friend, C, is perfumed with Eau de Patou. As is my first love.

"Launched by the design house of Jean Patou in 1976, Eau de Patou is classified as a refined, fruity fragrance. This feminine scent possesses a blend of clean and tangy citrus. It is recommended for evening wear".

My mum is "Je Reviens" by Worth.
"Je Reviens by Worth Perfume for women. Launched in 1932. Je Reviens is classified as a sensual, exotic, feminine, flowery fragrance. Fragrance notes: amber, bergamot, clove, hyacinth, jasmine, lilac, musk, orange blossom, orris, rose, sandal, tonka bean, vetiver, violet. Je Reviens is recommended for evening wear".

"Je Reviens perfume by Worth became the way to say "I love you" and "I'll be back". It was a farewell kiss which hundreds of thousands of women never forgot. "Je Reviens a miraculous harmony of the most precious scents, strong and fresh yet flowery and warm, it plays a woody major note on a theme of narcissus, jasmine, jonquil and ylang-ylang".
My mum was the epitome of the 1960s style housewife. Always perfectly groomed. She used to keep a handkerchief spritzed with her perfume in her bags. I loved opening her wardrobe and immersing myself in her perfume. That was the closest we ever got. So hurray for Worth.

However, the one smell that I remember from childhood is the polish that our house used to smell just before Christmas. It was a round tin, that you could open by twisting a coin. It was then used to polish the marble floors in the living room and the dining room. This would be combined by the oil burning stove in the kitchen that would make the house warm and cosy.

Great meme, Annie. Thank you.

Time Travel Tuesday-Easter

Growing up, Easter was _________________. A magic yoke. Dread and enchantment.

Share your Easter traditions. Did you have egg hunts every year? A new dress? Was it a spiritual event in your family, or just a fun day?

The Greek Orthodox Easter is not restricted to Easter day. It begins at least one week earlier. I have posted a little about the traditions surrounding Easter here and here, but clearly I have to do better this year.
There definitively was alot of church going and alot of work to be done at home, hence the "dread". On the other hand, once the fuss was over, I loved immersing myself in the divine drama.

One particular year will always epitomise Easter for me, in its most idealistic form. I was 10 years old and with my mother I was spending Easter week with some family firends on the island of Salamis off the Athenian Riviera. My mother was kept busy socialising with the other women (again think "My Fat Greek Wedding"), and, after the innitial disbelief, I was allowed to come and go as I pleased together with the other children. I was taking part in the children's chorous and every afternoon the church bell would ring and we'd go to the rehearsal of the Laments, sung on Good Friday.
In order to get to the hill where the church was, I had to cross a field of wheat that was just ripening. The warm wind was blowing and the field looked like a serene sea of golden yellow, into which I'd gladly bathe.
Easter day was full of comings and goings, red eggs and lamb on the skew. No time limits attached.
There are other Easter days that I gladly recall, like the first one with our baby F. But that Easter will always remain dear to my heart. It is the first Easter that I can call mine.

Thank you Annie. That was a great prompt!

Time Travel Tuesday-Prayer Answered

I haven't written a TTT post in a long time,and I felt bad about it a)because dearest Annie is the host and b) because it is a meme with lots of potential down memory lane! I hope to write and post this one. Annie says:


"Today we are traveling back to a time that a prayer was answered. I have had so many prayers answered and usually in a way that is totally unpredictable and not exactly how I imagined, but BETTER! So, let’s pick one and travel back to that prayer and tell about how God worked it out or answered it for you".

This is a very sensitive subject to me. God has answered some very deep prayers in my life, and I am so very thankful to Him, and all the more sorry I refused my connection to Him in the past.I have long wanted to share this answered prayer with you, but I wanted to find the right words, because it is so important to me. So, when I saw Annie's question , I knew I had to do it now.

Our second daughter, D, was born on December 21st. We went home on Christmas day. What a perfect gift for all of us and especially C whose name day is on Christmas!
A few days later, D got a fever. We thought it wasn't important. Our first daughter, F, was a very easygoing baby and I did not worry about D, either. I had a very painful, induced labor, and I hadn't bonded with her. It actually took us years to bond. Meanwhile, I took everything in my stride.
The fever kept climbing the next day, despite the syrup D was getting. The pediatrician called us and told us to get her to hospital immediately.

There are two pediatric hospitals in Athens, a city of 4,5 million people, built in the 60s and 70s. Through a doctor who was a University professor and a friend's father's friend, we secured a place in intensive care "as a precaution". D was moved to an incubator. I was ment to breast feed her twice a day, morning and evening. My father in law was driving me to the hospital, an 1hour drive, then back home. I had to wear special gowns to enter, then I would hide in a corner, away from tens of other mothers, hug her and feed her, and talk to her.

Every night I would wake up at 2a.m. and pray. I read a paraklesis to Virgin Mary, in whose name D was going to be christened, and then another one to St. Irene, whose name I carry.

The next day C took a leave from work and came with me. A nurse saw us, came close to me, hugged me and said:"I am so sorry! You must be brave". I must have turned into Lot's wife because she looked at me and said: "Don't you know, then?" No, I did not. "She has miningitis".You must know that quite a few children die each year from outbreaks of that disease, often mistaken for a flu. Nobody had let us know. They didn't want to scare us. C contacted the friend's father friend, and he received us in his office. He was in his 70s. I told him: Suppose she is your grand daughter. He said he'd look at her file.

I kept praying every night: "Please God, do not take her away from me. I love my baby". I felt so guilty. Had I paid more attention...

In the morning, as soon as I'd enter the room, D would turn in the incubator and would stretch her arms towards me. Oh I loved my baby!..

Three weeks later, we were released from hospital. I have prayed many times in my life. I am thankful that God listened to me and I am grateful for my sweet, clever, determined little warrior of a daughter.

Time Travel Tuesday-Bad Hair Day?

My dear friend, Annie, hosts Time Travel Tuesday. This week she asks us to travel back to the worst haircut or hair mistake ever.
I thought of three! Here they are.

The first shock was when my mum took me to the hairdressers to cut my long tresses that I had nurtured till I was about 10. As I wasn't allowed my hair down (too foolish) they had become my trade mark. The hairdresser cut them and gave them to my mum. I was so shocked to hold my own almost blond and silky hair in my hands. It was weird and macabre.

Another bad hair day was at my wedding, although not exactly so. The chief bridesmaid, a cousin of C (my husband) and a hairdresser, forgot to unfold the train and my veil. All that beautiful embroidered lace doesn't show up in my wedding pics because it was behind my back!

The most recent one was last October. As my white roots had began showing, I went to the hairdresser's. My hair has grown darker over the years, but you can call it chestnut. Imagine my shock when she washed my hair and I looked myself in the mirror sporting black hair!
That day C vowed not to let me color my hair again! My roots are showing again. But this time I'll let them do their thing. Better totally white than totally black!

Thank you Annie! It was a fun trip down memory lane!

Time Travel Tuesday-Our first home

Our first home was a 3rd floor two-bedroom flat. It still stands on a side street of a mid-class, apartment-block neighborhood of Athens. We had previously spent some months living with my in-laws as we were looking for an apartment that we would like. When C came one evening and told me he had found something he thought I would like, I got dressed up immediately. I can still recall it was a black pair of trousers, a white shirt and a red woolen cardi.
The apartment wasn't big, but it had a wide veranda with fer forge that the previous occupants would leave to us, it had a big looking glass installed to make it look larger and black and white checkered floors. Always the host, upon seeing it I made dreams of having birthday parties and friends in lantern lit nights on the veranda.

There was a living room with the kitchen tucked in a corner, and a bathroom. We first stayed in one of the bedrooms, but with the arrival of our daughter, we moved to the other bedroom that was bigger and could accomodate her cot.

The furniture we bought at the time is still with us. We were both excited about being home and we wanted to recreate a Greek-folk look. So we bought some rustique furniture, including a sofa that has moved with us ever since. It occasionally gets transformed with throws and blankets, but we love its sturdy and obedient nature. (F and J, 2004)
As the apartment was smallish, we opted for a folding table, which over time has served as dinner table and kitchen table. But we always love to entertain, throw a pie in the oven and share whatever we've got. Kind guests, welcome!

(F and D c.1998)
For more first home views, please visit Annie. I loved this week's subject, thank you!

Time Travel Tuesday-My Yesterday

My favorite book of the moment, as some of you may know, is Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World: Finding Intimacy With God in the Busyness of Life (Revised Edition with New Bible Study) .
It seems that it will be one of the most important books in my life, as it takes me from the lithargic state of "I do not know what this is all about" into an understanding of life, my life, and the ways to live it in a way that agrees with my spiritual needs and my busy schedule of the world.
Yesterday DH travelled to a nearby town to deliver a bed, so that left me some time to myself. While the kids were playing games on the American Girl website, I got to read this passage which rung quite a few bells and it made me think.

Because we were created for balance, we feel the difference in our souls when our lives tilt too far in one direction or another. The inbalance will show in our attitudes, our energy level, and in the way we interact with other people.

She then procedes by defining some signs that you may need more time in the Kitchen, i.e. in doing things and being of service, or in the Living Room, i.e. more time spent with God in prayer, meditation or reading.
I felt that I definitively fell in the category of Kitchen, and decided I needed to do something about it. One of my main concerns these days is our diet. I have been overwhelmed by the fires, the loss of human, animal and veg life, and the destruction of my grandpa's village, that I didn't really bother about much else beyond the necessary. I decided that this was an area that needed action.
So, on our way home we stopped at a local grocery store, and bought some frozen spinach, feta and anthotyro cheese, frozen veggies and some eggs.
While everyone was in front of the TV watching a basketball game between Greece and Israel, I started working on the kitchen front.

I let the filo pastry defrost (never be without filo pastry, I say!), and I went on making the filling for a cheese pie and a spinach pie.
Then I asked our elder daughter, F, to help me go through some lentils. She was half asleep, my darling, after her first English class of the season, 3 hours in the morning, 3 hours in the afternoon, so I let her go to sleep and continued with making a lentile soup. I used the leftover greek salad from Sunday for the sauce, minus the feta cheese which I used for the pie, and the olives, which I saved and will serve tomorrow with the soup.

When I finished it was sometime after 2 a.m. I didn't want to go to sleep yet, though, so I leafed through Pottery Barn Home and At Home with White, two of my favorite home interest books, accompanied by some chips and barbecue sauce (I know it is bad for me, and the only thing I regret about yesterday. I should have washed those crisp golden raisins instead!).

When I got myself to bed, J was sleeping alongside his dad, and D was sleeping in J's bed. So I went upstairs and slept on D's bunk bed!

A lovely day with a lovely lesson.

Thank you Annie for hosting TTT!

Time Travel Tuesday-First Car Experience

I get in the car. A sky blue Ford Fiesta. The instructor, a bold, middle aged man, has started the engine. I sit confidently behind the wheel, put the strap on, and I let the car slide down the road and into the highway. My teacher is amazed. I am amazed. I am a natural!
To be honest, I didn't really want to drive. The British railways moving slowly like a dragon accross the peaceful countryside of the South, are my favorite means of transportation. Airplanes are second best.
That is why I learned to drive in my 30s.
C said I needed to learn to drive because he was tired of playing the taxi driver.
What I wanted was a piece of independence. Some moments of peace and quiet, listening to music I like, stopping by the waterfront to read afew pages without being interrupted. And basically make a log cabin out of my car. Flowery cushions and diggling accessories. Bollywood meets the English countryside, with a baguette casually thrown at the rear for a touch of French refinement.You get the picture.
I got my licence the first time . Wow! I am still good at exams, I thought. Yes! I texted my success to my heart's man.
My first car soon followed. A Citroen C3. Basically DH's choice, but I didn't mind, although I had my heart set on a cream Lancia Musa. (I would equally love a 50s coloured Cadillac).


The thing is, I very rarely got to drive it. Whenever I was driving C said I was too slow, or too fast, or too cautious. Or too nervous.
Finally the car had to go. We exchanged it for a Ford mini van. More useful.

I now have my eyes set on this Pashley tricycle. More dear to my heart. Eco friendly. More me. I'll have to wear a helmet though and full moto gear to face Greek drivers who drive like they ride a donkey at Ferrari speed.
But that is trully closer to my dream.

For more great Time Travels, please visit Annie.

Time Travel Tuesday-Cooking

If you have seen Nia Vardalos' My Big Fat Greek Wedding, you are bound to know that food plays an important part in Greek culture. There is no religious feast that is not linked to a particular kind of food.
In a way, food marks the calendar year: Christmas equals melomakarona and kourambiedes. Easter is filled with the smell of baking koulourakia and roasting lamb. In the mind of the Greek housewife, the Annunciation and Palm Sunday mean fish and skordalia (a thick puree of garlic, potatoes, olive oil and vinegar). And so on and so forth.

Every housewife has her own secret recipe that she guards and treasures, and every housewife does anything in her power to learn the secret ingredient that will make her melomakarona more moist and her kourambiedes crunchier. An unending quest for the holy grail of culinary satisfaction that would make her the envy of fellow women cooks, such as girl friends and sisters in law.

Consequently, every Greek mother's task consists of teaching her girls how to cook and bake the traditional dishes that are going to be the core of her household tasks.
Food brings the family together, empowers the woman socially and through it she manipulates her husband and children. Love passes from the stomach is her mantra. I know. It sounds awful, but it is true.

Since moving to Greece, I realise that all that was the case for the Greeks in diaspora, was not true of the Greeks living in Greece. I have never seen in my life more people eating outside. There is a food parlor in every corner, every square, every step, and people eating, eating, eating ready made food. Sometimes I find it simply bad taste, seeing people munching in the streets. Others I look at it as a sign of the disintegrating social structure, where kids no longer go home for lunch. Or dinner. We'd never think of doing that. Full stop. However, the year is still centered around food and the main Christian holidays are still marked by traditional dishes.

My first cooking adventure took place when I was at University. In my microwave sized oven, I cooked a moussaka that would have lasted me an entire week! Fortunately some curious English, Spanish and Colombian friends shared in the feast!

My own family was a little different anyway. My mother wasn't too keen on getting me involved in household tasks. Because her parents had not let her go on past high school, she was eager for me to go to College, get a degree and pursue an academic career. And so I did.

However, there were some occasions when, doing just that,wasn't enough for her. She would then comment that I was not going to be any use to my family, if I ever got around to having one, because I couldn't cook. That wasn't entirely true, of course, but being successful in my studies and very simple in my tastes (I could be satisfied with a simple salad, and I still can) I couldn't get it: what was I doing wrong?

One summer, after my mum had settled in Greece and I was visiting for the summer holidays, she got on and on about my household skills again, or lack of them. Finally, she closed the door and left asking me, -but it did sound like an order-, to fix lunch before she got home.

There I was then, alone in the kitchen. Well, if I could get straight As in my A Levels, I could certainly fix lunch!

Despising the originals, I turned to the new and exciting. My best friend, C, had offered me a Tante Marie book of recipes. I opened it in one of the most traditional and loved recipes:
stuffed tomatoes. Greek food via France. Why not, I thought, and got on with it. One of the good things about Greece is that there is a great supply of vegetables. Off i went to the market and fixed the gemista.
I also made moussaka and a raisin bread (stafidipsomo) which I knew my mum would love. When she got back, I had everything ready. It was tasty and good looking. I didn't get any bravos, but there has been no discussion of my cooking skills since.

The best part of my cooking life began when I got married. I had quit work and I was staying at home. After several years of full time work, I needed to do something to keep myself busy. Moreover, C's mum was a very good cook, cooking complicated and spicy dishes. I wanted to keep my new husband happy. So, I launched myself into becoming an accomplished cook.

I would cook a three course lunch every day. Hors d' oeuvres, main (meat) course, salad and a sweet. No wonder I put on 17 kilos in a year!

But, I am pretty pleased with myself. I obviously have had my good and my not so good moments. But from a cooking illiterate, I slowly carved out a cooking style of my own. I got closer to all living beings, by becoming largely a vegetarian and occasionally raw foodist. I got C and the children to eat veggies, which C never did before, resulting in lowering his cholesterol levels. And I can say that both my husband and children appreciate my efforts.

Thank God!

Annie of My Life as Annie is our host for Time Travel Tuesday. Lovely idea, Annie. Thanks alot!

Time Travel Tuesday-Vacations

We are travelling back (in our minds) to vacations...Either a favorite one, or most memorable.
Do you have any special vacation memories? Where did you go? Did you camp out, or stay in a hotel?

I love this subject, Annie. Thank you for bringing it up.

I remember my first travel to Greece, aged 4. My grandfather's brother put me on his olde bicycle and together we made a tour of the family estate. In my mind and soul, bliss is still an olive grove with an orchard of orange trees and lemon trees, a huge well, and a shady stone built home. And a bicycle.

The main body of my summer holidays during my maiden years is linked to Scout camp. I excelled in my Wood Badge training, and I was allowed to lead camps at a very young age. I recall the freedom and romanticism of life in the woods. Once a Wolf Cub Leader, always a Wolf Cub Leader!

When we moved here, we were like tourists, wanting to see everything at once. A couple of years into it, we realised it was a lost battle. Then I went back to my camping memories, and suggested we go camping. When we first arrived at the camp site, F and D were so disappointed, that C was ready to load the things back on the car. "That's not a holiday!", D said. "Where is the bedroom? Where are our beds?". I was going through a soul searching time at the time ("The Artist's Way" year), and I said something like, "The Earth is our home and the stars are our companions", which in some peculiar way worked. C probably thought I needed some rest, anyway, so we got to put up tent. The girls loved it, and I loved snuggling against them, and seeing them free from the comme il faut constraints, getting their hands and feet dirty and laughing and being happy, normal kids.


We continued going camping, even when I was pregnant with J. He went on his first camp when he was eight months old. There is this photo of them with baby J, that always make my heart melt. I was so glad they welcomed him to the family. The blessing I always give my children is what Jesus wants us to do in life (I did it even when I didn' t want to remember who said it first!..) to Love Each Other. The rest will follow.

Last year and the summer before that, we spent our holidays in Corfu. I began missing the comforts of civilisation and I was craving beautiful architecture. Then I got a commission for a small hotel and a private summer house, and it was the perfect opportunity to getting to know the island.We all grew fond of Corfu. I think it is a lovely place whether you want to go wild or savor the nobility of it.

I don't know yet where we'll go on holiday this summer. Wherever, really, as long as we are healthy and together. Really...

Time Travel Tuesday

"Special times with our fathers", is the theme for TTT this week.
Mine are so few, yet they have their own special place in a corner of my heart.

My dad's memory fits in a red patent handbag and is wrapped with a red crocheted shawl. These were his only material presents to me and I can still recall them as the hight of pampering. But they are not the only reminders of his presence. Sometimes, when I look at D, I can see him in my daughter's features.

My parents separated when I was an infant and fought a bitter divorce battle well into my teens. In my childhood mythology, he is the bad guy. I have no memories of his physical presence. Apart from a kiss on my eyes:"Now we will be apart", he said, and I never saw him again. He got married and had two sons, which makes me an only child with two half brothers.

I never hated him. I never felt close to him. Or my mother. Neither of them came to my wedding. Other people and other places became "home" to me. My godmother, a monastery, my best friend/sister C, a summer in my family's rural estate in Greece, my University years in London, all envelopped in a golden light of freedom and independence are what I used to call home. But I never knew the kind of family I was longing for.

Until I got married and God blessed me with the kind of real family I never knew as a child.

One day C came home from work. I was then a SAHM to our two daughters. I opened the door to welcome him and he hugged me tight. I thought something terrible had happened and I struggled to get out from his grasp. He said that that hug wasn't his. It was from another person... My father. C had moved heaven and earth to reach him because he wanted us to have his blessing. My father gave it to us.

Dad, I ask of you no more.

Time Travel Tuesday

Dear Annie has initiated Time Travel Tuesday which she graciously hosts. I haven't been able to contribute in the past couple of weeks, but do I think this is a lovely idea, so I am posting today about my first post and about how I got into blogging.

I began blogging in April 2006. That is a little over a year ago. And here is my very first post. It reads:

Getting started

The idea has been with me quite some time , now. I wanted to open a lifestyle shop. An on-line shop that would give people the opportunity to taste and feel some of the things that I love; the images, the books, the ideas, the foods, the views... So, here I am, documenting my way to my dream spot. Promising to myself to take a tiny step every day. Tiny, if needed, yes, but, still a step forward, to the direction of my dream. Keeping my blog posted on my encounters, thoughts, travels, in search of the beautiful, the useful, the unique, the humble, the comforting, the exciting. Ahoy!

Wow, what an ambitious statement! It sounds quite romantic to me, too.
Well, at the time it looked such a natural thing to do. I wanted to post for posterity. I had just received a grant from the Greek state, encouraging women under 40 to get acquainted with the Internet and open an on-line business. C wasn't for it at all. He thought that an e-shop would take much of my time and he was afraid I wouldn't be able to help as much.

I thought that would be a great opportunity to get to know the place better, feel positive and independent in our new life and do something for the peasant people and the little local businesses I got to meet while travelling in the still very virgin and unspoilt Greek countryside. There are so many little businesses here and there. They definitively make delicious foodstuff like preserves and sweets from the purest ingredients, and unique handicrafts. Many go through the severe EU regulations and certification system for Bio and Eco-friendly products and they are worth every support they can get to get their products known.

On a more personal level I think I wanted to get to know Greece better, acknowledge it, and feel at home. I also wanted to put to practice my skills, show off some of my work and open up to the big wide world.

However, sometime after I received confirmation that my application had been accepted, and had given an advance of 1000 Euros to the people who secured the grant and would create the e-shop for me, there was just nobody to take my phone calls, no mobile, no e-mail, nothing. I was frustrated, but there simply was nothing I could do. In the end, I got on with life, and nearly forgot about it.

At the beginning of the year I was having a discussion with a client, a Greek-American who is about to start building a new Eco-tourism unit in the village his parents came from. He wanted to consult with us, and as we got along, we began talking about publicity etc. and got into the Internet business. I mentioned the person who was involved in my "promotion" and he said he knew him. He had done the exact same thing to many people, taking advance payment and then disappearing. "If that is a consolation, he said, you are not the only amerikanaki around". Developing my skills in the local jargon, I found out that there is apparently this word translated as "little American", to describe someone who is good hearted, even naif, and trusts easily what he is told. I am a Little American alright. I might even change my blog's name into The Little American. What do you think?

One year on, I still don't have my on-line shop. Sometimes I get sad when I come across the files with those addresses, pamphlets and photos of potential business partners and their products, and my notebooks with plans to get people to experience Greece outside the beaten track.

BUT, I am SO grateful to God for getting me into this, even if that meant my losing my little savings. I got to know women of Faith who discretely and without knowing it encouraged me to rediscover my Faith that was weakening with time, as I got away from the nurturing Greek Orthodox community I grew in.
I slowly begin to feel like wanting to become a member of a new community, one that makes me feel welcome and comfortable. I have learnt that despite or because of our differences, we form such an enriching community in the blogosphere.

I now have an (even more!) open heart, feeling that what unites us is stronger than what might set us apart. We are women and mothers, sharing our Christian faith and upbringing, Western civilisation and way of life, our values and concerns about raising our families in an ailing society, holding hands in an unstable world.

And I feel so very grateful!