Home is where the House is?

I never doubted for a moment that I am Canadian.  And being a Canadian  often means having a duality of the kind that Trudeau spoke of so passionately; Pierre Elliot, that is.  Not his son, the long haired boho Justin, who by the way, is vying for the Federal Liberal leadership.  While he may have a great head of hair and a face that reminds me of Alexander the Great, he is wet behind the ears and when he speaks I cringe with transferred embarrassment. lol. 

Trudeau spoke of a multicultural society that benefits from each others diversity, not trying to assimilate or create a melting pot. My parents were indeed part of Trudeau-mania.  And their children are definite personifications of the all Canadian dream.  Maintaining a double identity to their benefit not detriment. 

Storm clouds breaking over Verga House

And yet as I write this from Kalamata, I feel out of sorts.  Never have I ever felt out of place, but this past week surprised me.   I have never felt more disappointed and heartbroken and bewildered and cold and displaced.  For the first time I feel "off" here. Only when I'm at my Greek House do I feel connected. I visit it everyday.  Sentimental, maybe.  Confused about the rest of the week and how it will unfold, undoubtedly. 

Perhaps its the rain.  Fine weather for young ducks.  Down pour every day, with thunder and lightening that lights up the sky so brilliantly and a cold that chills the bone.  I quite enjoy the dry cold Canadian winters, but there is nothing worse than a wet cold.  Nothing that a hot toddy like a tsipouro with honey and clove can't remedy.

I am without a permanent address in Toronto, having sold the Unionville house last November. Don't know where I'll land or what place I'll call home, but I guess home is where the house is?

A fully Plastered house

And the Greek house, quite ironically, is all I've got.  It's come a long way, but still has many problem details that need to get resolved.  Acquiring the needed 700m2 is still an issue and the back and forth with the surrounding land owners have left my friends, mihanikos/engineer Peter Boufeas and mihanikos/engineer George Giannopoulos (I affectionately call him GG)  bored and restless with the situation.   I, on the other hand, don't mind the waiting game, especially since the deadline for the zoning penalty/fines keeps getting pushed back.

Meanwhile, the majority of the funds have been devoted thus far, to the grading and drainage of the property.   Both very important, but seemingly endless and I've grown bored and restless with this money pit.  My head is still spinning over the cost of the topsoil!  At which point I threatened Boufeas that I'd bring in the soil myself with a wheel barrel...he wasn't too impressed, but leery that I may actually follow through. lol.  The house itself is stunning now and the property is without question, unrecognizable with its gorgeous terraced walls.

Hammer coming down on garage

The structural issues, like the garage and concrete pergola are being addressed.  I had to take down part of the garage because it just didn't make sense to leave it as is when a car could barely get in and the door would have been on the inside rather than the outside.  Sigh.  Exhausting really trying to correct mistakes of the previous mihanikos/engineer Voldemort.  And even though the entire house, inside and out, has been plastered, the concrete pergola continues to be an eyesore...and now the engineers are telling me to add more of it because it isn't symmetrical.  Hmm...



plastered pergola, watching the sunset

I wish I could physically hug my Greek House.   I want to wrap my arms around it and feel it hug me back.  I lean against one of its large columns as I watch the sunset over the Messinian Bay and think of how this Canadian finds herself at this spot, at this moment, at her house.  Her house...on a Greek hillside.