Sophia

“The great gift of family life is to be intimately acquainted with people you might never even introduce yourself to, had life not done it for you”

--Kendall Hailey

On Wednesday, I went to the town of Rafina to visit with some relatives.  Let’s see if you can follow this relationship… My great-grandmother’s brother’s (my great-great-uncle’s) daughter, grandsons, and great-grandson.  The hospitality and welcome given to me by my aunts, uncles, and cousin was astounding.  I had been e-mailing my uncle Vassilis for a few weeks trying to arrange and organize our schedules, so being able to actually meet my family was incredibly exciting.

Vassilis picked me up near my apartment and drove me about 25 minutes away to Rafina.  When I opened the door, I was immediately embraced by Sophia, my great-grandmother’s niece.  She was speaking in Greek, so I couldn’t understand a word she was saying.  Her actions spoke so much louder than her words ever could have, though.  I knew that I was so welcome. 

I also met Sophia’s husband, Andreas.  Sophia and Andreas sat me down on a couch and started to show me all of these pictures.  Some were really old.  I saw my Yiayia and Papou in Greece in the 1980s (I didn’t recognize my Papou for at first).  The next pictures I saw were from a trip that Sophia and Andreas took to the U.S.  Suddenly I was seeing myself as a baby in Andreas’s lap or out on our porch with my parents, grandparents, and Sophia and Andreas.  It was strange to realize that I had me my aunt and uncle before.  Even with a world separating us, I was still in pictures kept by relatives. 

They pulled out pictures of my Papou’s brother’s family.  I felt really bad, but I can’t recall every meeting any of my relatives from that side.  Even though I am geographically so much closer to this part of my family, I have met my family in Greece more often.  Sophia also pulled out a picture from the 50^th wedding anniversary of my Yiayia and Papou.  It was so comforting to see my family again, even if it was only in picture form.  This simple picture was cherished by my family in Greece and gave them an opportunity to view their relatives.  I wished that I had been more familiar with the Greek part of my family beforehand.

Again, they started reminiscing, and I realized how little I actually know about my family.  There were questions about my great-grandparents that I couldn’t have answered.  Even little things like names were not entirely familiar to me.  Stories about how my great-grandparents met were also foreign to me.  I learned so much about ancestors from the stories that were shared.

Vassilis’s son, Andreas, was too cute.  He was enamored with my blonde hair but was too shy to ever speak a word to me.  He was so full of life and energy and played around the house and the beach all day.  I think he went through two outfits on the beach and a third at home.  He was absolutely adorable.

There were a few moments when language was a barrier.  Sophia tried really hard to speak English, but the extent of her English only took us so far.  My Greek is embarrassingly small, so I wasn’t much help.  Vassilis and his wife both work with English at the university, so he helped with some translating.  Dinner was probably the strangest in terms of the language divide, mostly because they would start a conversation, and someone would end up telling me the topic of conversation.  We couldn’t all participate in the same conversation, but it made me really want to learn some Greek.

The table was piled with food for dinner.  The older Andreas cooked the equivalent of at least three meals.  Andreas, whose family comes from Crete, cooked a number of Cretan dishes.  All of the food was so fresh.  They were telling me about how nothing was processed, and everything came either from their garden or town.  All of the ingredients were fresh, which is so different from everything in the States.  I can’t even describe how delicious the food was or how much I ate.  I literally felt like I was about to explode.

Violent protests took place in Syntagma that afternoon.  I was able to hear the reaction from a Greek perspective, which was so interesting.  The images from Syntagma hit close to home, especially since I had walked by Syntagma less than 24 hours before.  Fire, tear gas, and rocks were all over Syntagma.  The violence was saddening to see, and I found myself sympathizing with the police, who themselves must be frustrated with some of the government decisions.  The prime minister offered to resign, and it will be interesting if he actually does intend to resign.

Since then, I have walked by Syntagma a few times.  Syntagma seems to have returned to the regular, peaceful protests.  There are a few new sights in Syntagma: broken glass in storefronts and chipped sidewalks. 

The Greeks love their country, and Greece is at an interesting crossroads.