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Monthly Archives: November 2015

I have a group of close friends united by a common denominator: we are all children of the Greek eighties. We have different ties to each other, but we were all nurtured by the spirit of those times, even if we met much later in life and in a foreign place.

Our mothers and fathers became parents in the greyzone between the mid/end of the seventies and the very beginning of the eighties. Our mamas were getting weaned off sleek, flat hair and mini skirts. Our fathers had transited to looser shirts and straight cut pants. Many a sideburns and elaborate mustasches were sacrificed along the way. It was time for change.

Our mamas and papas were leaving  rather dark years behind. They wanted freedom, stability and social justice. They were hoping for a better world for us, their children, to grow up in.

Our mothers unfailingly assumed the duties of the working woman of the time, combining paid work with unpaid domestic chores. Our fathers did their best to provide for their families, stuck to their lifepartners, and most probably kept a lot in.

In the first years at school the war in Lebanon was raging. Alarms went off when our territorial waters were challenged and we were warned not to pick flowers after the Chernobyl disaster. Eating out in a local taverna once in a while, was probably a typical outing for all of us. Greek music in the loud-speakers, bifteki or souvlaki on our plates and fizzy drinks in our glasses.

Meanwhile, the Green and Blue parties competed with each other on delivering empty promises. Yet there was room for justice and equality; for progress and development. Politicians still had some credibility and allure to tap into.

Our parents faced problems of grown-ups; they  fought social and personal battles, struggled with everyday life and lost people dear to them; they were still young though, and would learn the healing qualities of time. They resisted to the sirenes of easy money and social quantum leaps and kept their heads cool and their feet on the ground. With their good sides and with their shortcomings, but most of all with lots of love, they held our hands while we were making sense of the world.

I and my friends now live in different countries, but in one way or another, we remain connected. Hopefully for ever. Some among us have families. Some have lost a parent, and no matter how old one gets, a child will always be a child; a parent will always be a parent…

If there is a dimesion after this, there should be a Greek eighties heaven where the souls of my friends’ parents can find rest and refuge. A familiar and friendly spot from which everything looked as if it was turning for the better.

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And the weekend of the all hallows’ eve has passed us by. If I overlook the more commercial elements of halloween, I think that essentially, this festivity is a particularly meaningful one.

There could not be a better time of the year for remembering our departed beloved ones. I find the sight of a graveyard full of twinkling candles lighting up the dark evening with small flames fed by memories, feelings and thoughts, a particularly soothing one.

kallparkenAutumn is just such a loveable and mystical season. I love the sparkling saturated colours, the crisp yet mellow temperatures, the late harvest of rustic fruit and vegetables. With all the beauty around, I cannot help but wonder why there is not more peace inside of us.vaksala_kyrkaI love the fallen apples, the sunrise and sunsets behind the tree tops and the glimmering whiteness of the morning frost. I love the apple tarts, pumpkin pies, roasted turnips and juicy beets.tunnel1tunnel2More than ever, I am loving my bicycle rides and long walks in the city and its green surroundings. I love pushing the prom of my baby niece and chatting with my sister while discovering new itineraries, old landmarks and great street art.tofu_and_carrotfallen apples

husiskymningI like being out in the sunny lateish afternoon, stepping in thick layers of brown leaves and returning home to a hot drink and some work to be done; my butler standing at the window of my red wooden two-storey house, waiting to see me coming up the road before he turns on the kettle…

sofiawise

Clockwise, otherwise & likewise

The Chick on a Pea

Clockwise, otherwise & likewise

Buttercupgoeswest

Buttercup is a newborn and we are taking her on a 5000 KM journey from Ahmedabad to Kanyakumari

Sadness Theory

Music with passion for the environment

zee pause café

taking a moment, having a coffee, writing down some thoughts