Our “golden” Greek summers

We were lucky. Very lucky. Because we all came from a village. And I sometimes wonder how people survive these days without having a village, an island, a place where their heart and body belong.

Our summers were different. Different than the ones of the Millennial kids. Without playgrounds, without all-inclusive hotels with dedicated activities for children, without special protections for stairs, without Clippasafe socket protectors.

Now we want to protect ourselves from everything and everyone, since anything and anyone is a potential threat, our next enemy…

I grew up in a decade when there was no craziness for silly stuff.

Nothing bad happened to me. Nothing bad happened to us.

Ι have and I will always have Amigdali.

There was the core team, but always someone extra would show up.
Sharing was the only thing we knew.
We were drinking from the same EPSA bottles, we grew up wearing each others clothes (handed down over the years, hence I ended up mostly with boyish clothes from my brother.  It wasn’t just the clothes, it was the baby crib, the bicycle, pretty much everything. All would go around in a circle…And everything was bigger, so they would fit next year…
At my grandma’s house, we were all sleeping on old, every now and then on the floor, but we never woke up feeling sore.
I remember my summers vividly. If you haven’t spent a summer in Greece you haven’t experienced a real summer.

I remember the scorching heat at the village, floors and walls burning. No air conditioning, not even a fan. Only the old couch in the balcony would bring some relief as one could catch a hint of the burning southern wind.

We had to sleep after lunch because otherwise “the boogey man” would come and take us away. Don’t ask me who that is. It’s one of the unsolved mysteries of the world. We had never seen him. No one had ever seen him. But there was a whole legend built around him. I kept asking my grandma when he would come and she would say “Be quiet, all good children are sleeping now…” And my imagination would run wild trying to imagine “the boogey man”. The figure of a man-like creature who takes away the children like me who were not asleep…And I wondered what would happen if I just had my eyes shut. Would the trick work?I would never ask as I knew already that the Grown-ups answer difficult questions with questions…

So I read books, many books that my mother would bring on the weekends (under the sheet quietly and pretending to be asleep when someone would walk into the room…)

As soon a book was finished, it would be passed on to someone else in the group. I would sip on every word, as if in a trance. I counted the books, just like we could count the EVGA ice creams we ate every day.

There were no phones. Only Makrogiannis (the mini super market) had one for the entire village and anyone could reach us there…

A summer without a watch, a phone, TV, no tablets, nothing.

We just followed the sun’s course…

We did not lock the doors.

We entered each others houses, just saying: “Hey Aunt! Where are you?”

If you needed anything, all you had to do was shout. Doors, courtyards, hearts were all open.

I remember all our foods. The stuffed tomatoes, the aubergines, the handmade pies by my aunt and grandma…

My beloved grandpa Mitsos would buy us an EPSA and an EVGA ice cream from Bobola’s cafe and my grandma Artemis would  offer us traditional Greek “spoon sweets” such as “vanilla submarine” or vyssino (wild cherry).

I remember the garden of my grandfather, naming our own watermelons, our flowers, our animals, the hens and the ants that we were chasing.

I remember the best taste, tomato with feta cheese and handmade bread by my grandma…The milk skin…The watermelon we all shared. Each kid would grab a big slice and we would hang over the balcony rail. A race to finish the watermelon slice first…

I can still smell the green soap and the ROL detergent…the strong scent of cleanliness in all the houses.

I remember our games. We were playing at the square “over there” (that’s how we called it), playing hide and seek,  statues, chasing but our favourite was the “seven stones”. We would also play on a side-wall at Bobolas’ cafe with EPSA caps, competing who would send it the furthest away…

We were real, authentic kids.

Nobody had his own bed, all the kids were lying where we could find a free spot, and always somebody was covering us with bedsheets of Peiraiki Patraiki even if it was so hot…

Every night we were lighting up the oil lamp with my grandmother and were sharing the same pray

“God, please take care of all the people in the world, of my dad, of my mom, of my brother and of me that I am such a good girl”. That was it. Short and simple. And so true.

So many years. The exact same feeling. 
And I realise how important is for every person to have a base, an anchor.
For everybody to have their own “A”.
One place. Memories. Real Families. 
True hugs.

P.S. Now that we have reinforced doors, alarms and bars on the windows and on our hearts, now that we have tons of keys, passwords and PINs, did we make it? Do we finally feel safe?

Have a great Greek summer,

E