Returning Home

Have you ever wondered where you actually came from? I decided to bring this question to the Altar of the Gods. I took a leap of faith by leaving San Francisco and returned to the home of some of my ancestors, in Greece, to see if I could discover my roots.

I began my quest by driving through winding mountain roads toward the birthplace of my father, on the large Greek island of Evia. I could smell the resin from the pine trees and hear the soundtrack of the cicadas chirping loudly in the midday Summer heat. I was struck by how similar the island landscape was to where I grew up in California, huge forests of pine trees with steep mountains surrounded by a massive body of water.

After several hours on the road, I approached the town that my father was born in called Limni - a town with roots so ancient and a land so lush – according to one myth, Zeus and Hera celebrated their wedding there. The sight of the town was like a postcard - the Aegean Sea’s gentle waves lapping against the shore and the sound of children playing on the beach. I drove past the row of tavernas with freshly caught octopus dangling from the railings overlooking the sea. I pulled up to my rented apartment a local realtor found for me and unloaded my car. There I was, standing in the town that my family left many years ago after World II. Taking it in with my senses, I could hear the sound of the meat grinder in the butcher shop below and conversations of the locals making the rounds for their daily provisions of meat and produce. I wondered what they would be cooking for lunch.

The next morning I woke up early for a hike and upon returning to my apartment, I opened the door and noticed an old photograph sitting on the stairs. I picked up the photograph of two women from long ago, dusted it off and recognized that one of them was my Aunt Orsa (my father’s only sister). I did not recognize the other woman in the photo. Perplexed as to how this ended up on my steps, I decided to walk next door to the fruit stand to see if I could unravel this photographic clue.

I met the tall bearded man behind the cash register of the fruit stand. In my limited Greek pointing to the photograph, I asked, “do you know this woman?” He responded easily, “why yes, that’s Eleni Pavlou - or as we call her Elenitsa (“Little Eleni”)”. I was surprised to have unraveled the mystery so quickly. I soon realized that everyone knows each other when you are in a small town on an island. He proceeded to give me directions to her house.

I walked through the streets of Limni in search of Elenitsa’s home. I could feel the scorching mid-day sun on my neck. I opened the rickety metal gate and knocked on the door of her house. As I stood at the front door, I was overtaken by both fear and curiosity about what was on the other side. A small, slender grandmother in her 80s with short salt and pepper hair opened the door. Greek orthodox religious chants played on her radio in the background as she pulled me in with a smile and asked, “who are you?”

I held up the photograph. With a large grin she responded, “Are you the granddaughter of Marigoula Lemas (I had never heard this nickname for my Grandmother who was named Maria)?” I said yes and she began to cry. She couldn’t believe I was standing in front of her after so many years of not seeing my grandmother after leaving for America. She kept saying you are a ghost, this can’t be real. “I was best friends with your Aunt Orsa when they lived here in Limni as a child.” She gestured me to sit down and I sat on an old wooden chair and she went to the refrigerator to get me some homemade Greek quince spoon sweets. She lived in a tiny house with a couch, bed, kitchen and table all in one room.

She pulled out three old photographs and set them on the table. We spoke about my grandfather. It’s a story of departing and returning numerous times. His journey began when he left Greece for America when he was young. He worked on the ships as a sailor in search of money to support his family. Eventually, he came back to Greece for an arranged marriage with my grandmother Maria and brought her back to America where they started their family. His move to America was an economic choice. He always felt like a fish out of water and never really fit in. So in 1939, he decided to leave San Francisco and move back to Greece, with my grandmother Maria and Aunt Orsa to Limni.

Elenitsa paused and put her hand on my arm and said, you know about the house you are staying in? I rented it from a local real estate agent so I had no information about the history of the house. She proceeded to tell me that was the house my family lived in 1939 in what they hoped was the final move back to Greece from America. Not only was this woman best friends with my Aunt Orsa but she pointed out this house I “randomly” picked 78 years later, was the place my family lived.

Chills ran down my back and I could feel the emotions welling up inside. I felt the wetness of a tear rolling down my cheek. I could feel my grandmother’s presence with me in that moment and felt this immense joy. All of the wondering and questions that kept me from coming here were silenced in this moment. All of the sudden, I knew I was in the right place at the right time.

Eleni told me that her mother and my grandmother were close friends with a deep faith in God. They would walk together to St. Nicholas Monastery for Liturgy on Sundays with their children. After leaving for America after the war, my grandmother never forgot her dear friend and would send money back to her every few months. Eleni said they were very poor but her mother couldn’t bring herself to spend it because it was a gift from my grandmother. She saved every cent of the $1,200 U.S. dollars and didn’t spend a dime before she died. She passed the money onto her children so Elenitsa had it today. Learning about this act of kindness reminded me of the importance friendship and charity that crossed continents. My grandparents did not have a lot in America yet they would always give anything extra to friends and family back in the homeland.

We never know where life will take us. I could feel Eleni possessed pieces of my puzzle through her stories. There we were, not related by blood, but connected through these experiences of the past. Life is filled with so much mystery and magic that it’s not for us to figure out but rather to listen to that deep knowing and guidance from the soul. I could feel my ancestors smiling down upon me with delight to have returned to the land they love and awakened something deep inside me. Something that doesn’t always make sense to the mind but feeds the deepest rivers of the heart. I couldn’t help but feel this deep sense of belonging standing in this far away place that now felt like home.

Eleni Pavlou

Town of Limni (Island of Evia, Greece)

My Aunt Orsa Hadges & Eleni Pavlou