A Canadian House on a Greek Hillside

The killer view from the front of the house

I don't know what my father was thinking.

He never consulted with anyone. Did whatever came to his head and now left me with all this madness. I've decided to finish the house my father built about a decade ago. Its on a unknown hillside in the South of Greece, Kalamata, in the town of Verga.

Verga? Never heard of it before.
I may have driven thru it on my way to my beloved Taygetos, but why should I have stopped, EVER! I'm a mountain girl. Clean crisp air, cold mountain water that makes your skin and hair silky and in the dead heat of summer, only cool nights and no mosquitoes. Not to mention mountain views that take your breath-away.

The house from the back

Verga. Isn't that a switch from a tree that was once used on the back of the legs to reform naughty children? I know that kind of verga very well. LOL.

My dad died. He died on my birthday three years ago this April. People say it was his gift to me. Releasing his life on that day to set me free.  Nonsense.  It was his ultimate final emotional shackle and it took me by the throat.  Yes, he was that Machiavellian.  More on our tumultuous relationship later...and bring bottle of wine while reading, or better yet a very dirty martini.

The house has been sitting for a decade unfinished. Orphaned. I didn't even want to acknowledge its existence. I hated it. I know, hate is a strong word, but I truly had negative visceral reactions to it. Too much history and drama. It sits on a plum spot on a hill overlooking the awesome Messinian Bay, with about 100 olive trees (right Peter?), in parts unknown to me and really of which I have no business traipsing in. I had only ever seen pictures of it and heard comments from relatives. I saw it for the first time this November 2011.

He and his cohorts in Kalamata, built a Canadian House, with large walk-in closets and two kitchens and 5 bedrooms and erected walls that made no sense, obstructed views of the ocean, and ultimately I learned that entire structure was illegal.  Including the land that it was on.  Why was I not surprised.  Dad always had to make things difficult, otherwise I don't think he felt that it was important.  I on the other hand subscribe to Einstein or was it Aristotle who said, "Simplicity is the purest form of genius", or was that "the truest form of wisdom'? 

Genius or Jackass, Foolish or Wise, I'm pushing ahead and finishing this house.  It was important to him and you know what, its become important to me.