In central Greece, there’s a magical place called Meteora. It’s a land
where alien rock formations jut out of a lush green forest, and
monasteries balance along the tops of strange rock hills. It’s ironic
that they seem ready to plunge off of those cliffs they perch on, since
they’ve been there for 700 years. After eight months of living and
traveling in Greece, there’s a familiarity to the Greek landscapes—each
place is unique, but similar. My visit to Meteora was a reminder that
Greece is always ready to surprise. Exactly when you think you know it,
there’s something new to see.
My fellowship at the Canadian Institute has flown by, and it’s strange
that my life in Greece has to end just as it feels like it’s taking on a
natural rhythm. Life in our neighbourhood has become wonderfully
predictable: a daily stop at our favourite Greek coffee shop (Coffee
Lab), a few fresh rings of koulouri for the kids to snack on, and the
same park every morning for the kids. We’ve become fixtures
here—especially my kids—and along the street we wave at a familiar face
in every shop. Even the coffee delivery guy waves so wildly at our girls
when he drives by that he almost falls off his scooter. The laiki
(market)—once intimidating—becomes a ritual. The vendors know us now,
and my Greek is good enough to keep up with the numbers being thrown
around, to haggle a bit, and to know if someone’s short-changed me. I
know by this point who has the best olives and which area of Greece
makes the best Feta (I’m partial to Dodoni).
My work here is done, my thesis submitted, the fellow’s lecture
given, and while I haven’t even come close to accomplishing all the
things I imagined before I came, I’m really happy with my time here.
Besides the academic stuff, the last month was taken up with a few more
trips to Tolo, Monemvasia, and Elafonisos.
The kids were eager to get back on the beach with the days getting
hotter—and we find ourselves on the golden sand once again. I must be
acclimatizing, because the water seems too cold now even for a Canadian
who once jumped in with sheets of ice still on the lake.
And from the beaches to the Acropolis, Greece gets noticeably busier
each week. The cruise ships are coming in again, the tourists are
flocking back, and the beaches are covered with pale northern-Europeans
who are eager to cut their long winter darkness short with some
Mediterranean sun.
I’ve watched my kids grow up a lot over the past nine months. They
quickly learned Greek on the playground and easily made friends with
Greek kids. Meanwhile, my 1 ½ year old daughter—who has now spent nearly
half of her life in Greece—is spitting out a few words. She’s just as
likely to say “ella” as “come” and “yah” can either mean, “hello,” “goodbye,” or “yes.”
As you can imagine, this can get a little confusing.
And now it’s off for home, time to leave all this behind and head on
to whatever’s next. Whatever happens, we’ll never forget the time we had
as a family in Greece, the wonderful people we’ve met and the memories
made, and I’ll always be thankful for my opportunity to be a fellow at
the CIG.
Chris Cornthwaite
Neda and Franz Leipen Fellow, CIG
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