The Mediterranean has long been a dream destination for me, not only for the tantalising Greek cuisine, breathtaking landscapes, and azure waters, but because of my half-Greek heritage.
My journey to connect with my roots took me to Greece for two weeks, but it was the final hours of my trip, a morning in Athens, that left a lasting impression.
My adventure began as the Minoan Line ferry docked at the Port of Athens just before sunrise, after a week-long stay on the enchanting island of Crete.
Excitement filled the air as I prepared to meet my cousin Xristos, who, as it turns out, is a close family friend rather than a blood relative.
With poor signal, I relied on my investigative skills and a photo he had sent me to locate the coffee shop where we would meet.
He welcomed me with a warm handshake, a double shot cappuccino, and a cheek-kiss from his mom – a gesture of affection that transcended borders.
Traveling light is always recommended, but my souvenirs and newfound treasures required a suitcase upgrade. With a new pink suitcase in tow, Xristos and I navigated our way through Athens.
Soon, we found ourselves in the heart of Athens, ready to explore the city by train. My first Greek train ride proved to be a passionate affair, marked by its dramatic and loud departure.
Once in the city centre, we opted for a light beer at 8:00 as a way to bond with my long-lost cousin, taking advantage of Greece’s 24/7 liquor availability.
We found the perfect spot to enjoy our drinks – outside an old church, perched on a short wall, watching the ancient city awaken. Time flew by, and soon it was time to head to the airport. There, we enjoyed coffee and Tiropita, a traditional Greek cheese pie that Xristos insisted I try.
Did my journey to Greece help me find a piece of myself? Undoubtedly, yes. Yet, a more significant part still lingers, beckoning me to return and continue my quest for self-discovery in the land of my ancestors. And I will – during the Greek summer.
