Man, I’ve been struggling with my memory lately.

I just transferred a bunch of old VHS home movies to digital, and sometimes even when I see myself right there on the screen (albeit younger and blurrier), I still can’t call the particular circumstance to mind…

I fared better though when I stopped by a Greek festival in Belmont, California, a few weeks ago. The lively Hellenic vibe brought me straight back to the times when I was lucky enough to travel in Greece! And amid all the sensory delights of the afternoon, I think one thing generated the biggest connection to my days of old –

It was a single word.

Okay, according to an Ancestry DNA test, I am exactly 0% Greek. Yes, I may favor their yogurt, I’ve been known to holler “Opa” on a dance floor, and I hit baklava hard whenever I get a chance. But, in my case, it’s not about getting in touch with my roots. It’s just darn good fun! 

In fairness, it’s also that Greece has always been fascinating to me! As I’ve said before, the first course I took in college was “Classic Archaeology” – not with any plans to go be Indiana Jones, or even with any hope of seeing those places for real. I mean, yes, I was generally more enthusiastic about classes that didn’t start super early – but I swear, the appeal here wasn’t the mid-morning time, but the chance to study the Ancient World!

That’s why when I planned an overseas backpack tour a few years later, Greece had to be on the schedule! So fellow backpacker and dear friend Kelly and I traveled overnight on a ship from Italy to the Greek Island of Corfu! From there, I decided to journey on my own to the mainland because I just couldn’t be so close to the storied city of Athens and pass it by. (My misadventures on the 24-hour bus and boat odyssey that followed are covered in The Thrice in a Lifetime Bit.)

It may be a tad faded (and who isn’t..?), but this is my favorite image of the majestic Parthenon:

It captures the extraordinary moment when I got to climb up to the Acropolis first thing in the morning and experience it almost completely on my own! It wasn’t that my habits had changed and I’d arisen early to beat the crowds – it was that in way more than a day, I hadn’t yet gone to sleep. So yeah, I could have been more rested in that moment – but I couldn’t have been more thrilled!

I thought this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience but, because of my lovely and generous folks, I would make it to Athens again, as well as to Corinth, and the islands of Delos, Mykonos, Santorini and Crete!

And here I was years later, wandering the decorated grounds of Belmont’s Holy Cross Church, sipping seriously concentrated Greek coffee, and positively reveling in memories of those glorious days as they each came rushing back! Like as I watched rambunctious children, all robed, sandaled and ready to hit the stage for a classical performance, I felt so privileged to know first-hand that they were continuing a tradition that could be traced back to the Theatre of Dionysus! 

I do envy the Greeks for – well – getting to be Greek. Talk about having scoreboard theatrically as well as in so many other aesthetic and athletic pursuits! Being an ethnic mutt, myself, the touchstones for my particular heritage are there but kinda spread out – or watered down, I suppose. As I was growing up, aromas from the kitchen were always pleasing, but they weren’t any kind of culinary link to generations past. I fondly remember Mum’s dinner rotation that included spaghetti, pork chops with apple sauce, and my favorite – goulash! Although I’m not Italian, Hungarian – or a Brady – I was altogether content with her rather global approach to cuisine.

And I always loved learning dances from all around the world for the annual Girl Scout Folk Dance Festival – which naturally included a Greek dance to the strains of “Never on Sunday”!

Like I said, while it’s not in my genetic wheelhouse, I can sure still enjoy a good Greek festival! And at the one in Belmont, while savoring great food and terrific live music on a sunny summer’s day, I found myself awash in memories not just of Greece but of my hometown of El Cerrito too – maybe a slightly less exotic locale, but one no less dear to me!

So what triggers sweet reminiscences like these? At times, we’re probably not even aware of a taste or smell that causes a dormant synapse to blaze to life. On this occasion, it’s pretty clear that music and spanakopita got it done! But at the very end of my brief time being Greek-ly festive, one more element did come into play –

I’d arrived just as the event started, so with activities like dancing not yet underway, I didn’t get to test whether memories of my folk dance days reached all the way down to my feet. And I hadn’t really talked to anyone except people at the food booths who I couldn’t help asking if they knew that My Big Fat Greek Wedding 3 was hitting theaters soon. 

Yeah – they were on top of it.

Anyway, I finished a last morsel of baklava (I bought a box of the heavenly stuff for a dinner party later but, somehow, it didn’t all arrive with me…) and, reluctantly, I got ready to leave so I could keep to my tight itinerary for the day. 

I did want to give a little monetary love though to the musicians who’d been providing the score for my line dance down Memory Lane – so between numbers, I headed over to the stage where I was greeted by a female performer.

“Kaliméra,” she offered, pleasantly.

And do you know – I froze!

I’ve tried in my travels to learn a few basic phrases in the language of whatever country in which I’ve had the good fortune to be. And hellooooo – I’ve been in Greece! But in the moment, I simply stood there blinking – trying to hide the disappointment that, yet again, my memory was letting me down…

Of all the treasured recollections the festival reawakened that day – memories of so many wonderful sights and experiences and people – it seemed my little store of conversational Greek hadn’t come along for the ride.

I was just getting around to managing a deer-in-the-headlights sort of smile for this friendly person when all of a sudden, wafting back as if on a warm Mediterranean breeze, it came to me –

The singer was saying “good day”!

I belatedly, elatedly – and quite loudly, I think – blurted out the comprehending reply:

“Kaliméra!” 

And then other words came tumbling forth – words that must have been tucked away in my brain for about 15 years, waiting to resurface and help me make a connection! “Kaliméra” was a greeting for morning or day; the gal would have used “Kalispéra” if it were evening; and “Kalinícta” would have made a proper Greek “goodnight”! Can’t vouch for the spelling, but I was happy to be able at least to utter these words – in fact, to cover the bases with this genial troop of performers, I rather proudly broke out all three!

As I dropped a bill into their tip box, I added one final word that had come to mind – and if I butchered it, the recipients were kind enough not to let on:

“Efcharistó!”

That one’s Greek for “thank you”. And on that day, it served as an expression of gratitude for the music and for the return of precious memories – so many of which, now that I thought of it, were kicked off once upon a time by a similarly cheerful “good day” or “hello”.

Turns out that for recalling old memories and for kicking off new ones, those are valuable words to know wherever one happens to be!

Cheers!