My mama was born and grew up in Athens, Greece. And even though she then got married and left for another part of Greece, I always thought of Athens as my hometown, one of two.
As long as I can remember myself, Athens was part of our holidays. The bus ride there, and the later years the car rides there. The sounds of the light traffic at night (I was growing up in the middle of nature so it was something different), the city sounds. The places we were going, the shops, the playground inside one very big park, the big cinemas.
Later on, at 17, I started studying cinema in Athens. I knew from the beginning that I wasn’t going to live permanently at my parent’s home again.
Good things, and bad things, and everyday life happened for the next 11 years, up until now. I have reached a point in my life that Athens is home for me. My parent’s home is the home where I grew up, but Athens is HOME. It’s a feeling that can’t be put in exact words, just that “it feels/is home” (not “like”).
And part of that feeling is that in moments like this one, that I’m just relaxing on my balcony, I can notice the same things that my 6 or 9 year old self was noticing: the city sounds, the life, the summer night in Athens!
I was born, grew up and still living in a Mediterranean country. For us, Greeks, food is a really important thing. It’s an excuse to gather around a table, eat, talk, laugh and maybe talk even louder (well, when we talk loudly isn’t always about arguing).
There’s this aura of having lunch, dinner, any meal, with family. It’s a combination of warmth, a cocoon, filled with taste!
All these, usually remind me of family, but as I grow up and years of living on my own pass, I realize that I have this sense/feeling even when I’m cooking and eating alone at my home; it’s all about food sometimes!