Every generation...

Here I am once again taking in this gorgeous view. I know by now my words have become cliches and somewhat redundant. But I have to say, as I sit here alone, on the veranda, looking out over the sparkling water of the sea, before anyone else wakes up, I am at peace. I have a metal plaque in my garden at home. It reads "... I am closer to God in my garden than any place on earth". I would now have to add "... in my garden or sitting on a veranda in a small town in Greece overlooking the Mediterranean Sea."

When saying the word village, referring to small towns in far-away countries, the image created is somewhat charming, quaint, and a little parochial. If you use the word "hordio", to me the word expresses depth and character. Beginning our journey to Kokkino, we stopped at a gas station to fill up. Gasoline here is not inexpensive, but to our surprise, a service station attendant appeared to "fill 'er up". Remember those words? "Fill 'er up!" When I was a child, (oh here we go), I remember taking vacations. Actually, taking vacations in the 50's and 60's meant piling into the non-air conditioned car, drawing the imaginary lines between my brother and I; the one who crossed it was likely to "get slugged", and heading off to grandma's house. No Disneyland, no vacation at the beach, or a resort in Mexico. Vacations meant going to grandma's for freshly baked bread, freedom to wear shoes in the house, and lots and lots of grandma love.
(Pause -- My thought process was interrupted. Eeyore was just letting everyone know he is awake.)

Driving to that small town in middle-America meant passing through various little "towns" where houses with closed-in porches lined the highway. There was usually a small gas station or two, a local grocery store with the owner's name displayed with an apostrophe. (Typically it wasn't Sam's). There was always a cafe or restaurant with toilets that didn't flush well and faucets that trickled out water, and always that bottle of Coca-Cola where you used a bottle cap remover right at the machine. After a brief stop of greasy hamburgers and chocolate milkshakes made with real homemade ice-cream, we were "on the road again...", trying to make our destination before nightfall. I remember narrow highways and winding roads and pin-point turns as we climbed through the mountains that separated us.

Our destination for Kokkino the "hordio" began in much the same way. We came to the sign with the designated turn reading "Kokkinou 15". We had three option to read it -- Greek spelling, Greek phonetics and English. Turning left, the road was like turning into a driveway leading into a back alley. Very narrow with buildings on both sides. As we broke into the open, the road became a paved goat path of winding turns. First one way for a few miles and then a sharp turn going back the other way. As we climbed the mountain, the panoramic view opened up into a valley of olive trees, grape vines and various other fruit trees. There were churches placed throughout with their familiar dome of red terracotta rising above everything else. They rested on the top of the hills or crests that were the highest point in the area. We didn't have far to go but the drive was slow. As we got higher and higher the road seemed even more narrow. We passed through 5 villages, at least according the signs, before reaching the summit. Looking out, you saw that familiar majestic mountain view of hills and valley, the blue sky, and the white clouds hovering over distant peaks. But here, we add the deep blue sea. Wow! That's all I can say. Well, I could say more but Wow! is enough.
On the other side of the mountain we continued on for a short distance and and then their it was Kokkino. Nestled into the side of the mountain, it was a mixture of the old river-rock and cement huts and the newer white stucco-like concrete two and four-family houses. Jonathan was the designated photographer of the day. He took shots of widowed yia-yias in their traditional black garbs with their black wool knee socks covering their black stockings. Their heads covered. Their wrinkled leather-worn skin and toothless smiles revealed years of outdoor exposure where Estee Lauder didn't exist, and the obvious poverty that prevailed throughout a war torn country. Vacant homes of broken windows and doors revealed empty relics of a past life. The people that once inhabited them have passed away and the space left behind was unclaimed. Did these people have an option to change and they chose not to? What gave those who left, like Lou's papou, Elias, the desire and the determination to leave? Saying goodbye to loved ones, sometimes forever, or in his case, returning only once to find his bride, Eleni, from a "distant" village miles away. A young girl who after an arrangement between her brothers and a stranger, left all that she knew.
We entered the church centered in the town. It was a solid structure built in the late 1800's. Like many of the old churches around, it smelled heavily of must, incense and oil that had been burned over and over. We did a small prayer service together remembering those of past generations. I felt Chris and Jonathan's realization that this was a part of their heritage when they saw gravestones in the local cemetery with their names on them. On the mountain top behind the village a small church, Prophet Elias, was built in remembrance of how religion was their foundation and strength. After a few hours exploring the old house of FL's grandfather, and visiting with a few of the residents, we left. I have to admit, with a sigh of relief.
Reality is sometimes uncomfortable. There are those that have, and those that have not. Seeing how others live in this vast world is an eye-opener. The people of Kokkino, for the most part must be happy, in spite of their look of tired sadness. Maybe as Americans, our expectations and determination comes from those who left that world. Maybe that is why we expect more, have more and want more. Selfishly, I say -- thank you!
Safe and sound, and plenty exhausted, Nichole, Gus, Telly, Elias and Alexander arrived safely in Kalamata. Again the tears of joy were there. Now there were nine!!!