If one is Lucky, a Solitary Fantasy can Totally Transform One Million Realities

Brilliant Sea view in Kalamata

My big, gorgeous, lonely, Greek House may not be getting a lot of physical attention these days, but it has been getting a lot of virtual attention! Through this blog!
Twenty-two posts with over 10 thousand views, which may not seem like a lot in the blogosphere, but certainly more than I would have ever wagered.  Plus, the ultimate compliment... a request to do a public reading! Wow. 

This upcoming momentous event will be held in a chic Montreal boutique bookstore and I am flattered to learn that I am slotted in with  two seasoned travel bloggers.   I thought perhaps if you were to categorize this blog maybe real estate or even memoir.  Hmm, travel blog...why not?!

A little bit shocking, really, to be asked because as a very close friend said to me, "why would they ask you?  You're not a published author."  Well, he is right and his comment practically took the bloom off the rose, but he is unaware of the social reach of blogging and just between you and me he doesn't fit the right demo anyway, lol. 

The organizers have requested that I read excerpts from four blog posts and one from a new one that has yet to be posted. 
They've given me their four selections:
"My Greece is the Taygetos Mountains"
"Where's the Street Wise Hercules to Fight the Rising Odds"
"The Reluctant Employer Part 2" and
"Perfect Imperfections"

Funny that they chose these posts because they actually are some of the more popular reads!  They range between 225-475 views.  I'm glad they selected for me though, because it would truly be a difficult task.  Every word, sentence and paragraph resonates deeply with me and it would be like picking a favourite child. Oh, please tell me which posts you like best.

Now the fifth selection poses a problem.  I have six posts in draft mode and I'm not sure which to put a finish on.  To be honest...I've kinda lost my muse.  My brain is scattered with too many incomplete thoughts and feelings and emotions.  

You see, it wasn't long ago that I wrote about how my Greek House wasn't touched by the pressure of the country's or even the world's economics and politics, but I was naïve.  I had pulled together a dream team of builders which resurrected it from its questionable start and had wrapped their collective arms around it, to shield it from unsavory characters and nurture it from its past neglect. 


But all that flurry of activity around my house has come to a grinding halt due to tumultuous circumstances beyond my control and it has weighed heavily on my chest.  And once again, it has been sadly neglected and with its faulty window installation has become damp and cold.But I remain passionate, warm and enthusiast and perhaps this opportunity to present this personal journey live, is what I need to encourage my muse to reawaken.  And to tell a personal story that readers can relate to, is what a writer, any writer, published or otherwise, strive for!  I'm beyond flattered!

I guess that when you share some of your own pain, difficulties, and setbacks, and then show how you recovered or learned a valuable lesson, you become more real and human to your readers and  allow them to see the person behind the computer.
 

leaky window

For example, one of the current setbacks are the faulty windows.  Now, I'm not an engineer/builder, but I need to understand why the windows leak.  I will research it and find a reason and when my mihanikos begins to offer his professional  take on the situation I can meet him in the middle and I'll be coming from a place of understanding and basic knowledge.   It's not that I don't trust my mihanikos, I do,  he's just not on site all the time,  but I need to always be a step ahead.  I am my father's daughter after all. You see, I can accept failure, I can't accept not trying.

Which brings me back to finishing one of the six posts that await in the drafts file.  I could do a part 2 to an existing post or better yet, a Directors Cut!  Actually, in my wildest of thoughts, I  dream that this blog gets optioned for a movie like Julie and Julia. LMAO!  Hey, like the immortal Maya Angelou said, "If one is lucky, a solitary fantasy can totally transform one million realities."

Well right now my reality is a bit like fantasy.  I feel little like Carrie Bradshaw, from Sex and the City, when her new book just gets released and you see her reading from it at a book launch in NYC.  Ok, a bit of a stretch...its not a book and its not NYC...yet ;)



Can I Love You?

With Christina Boutari enjoying
 The Grand Reserve
 

It all started with a glass of Grand Reserve with Christina Boutari at a one of kind North end upscale Greek resto.   It was a wine flight featuring new offerings from the Boutari wine appellations.  She was on a North American tour, as the Ambassador of her family business.  Lovely and charming, we had a moment that will be seared in my brain for an eternity.   A group of us were invited and I decided last minute to attend because it was round the corner from my mums house and typically these events don't happen North of city and certainly not in my hometown.  

Boutari was making the rounds and greeting guests and when she made her way to our table she chose a wine for us to sample ahead of the flight.   In her perfect English with the sweetest of Greek accents she says directly to me, "I think you'll like this one."  My group and I were delighted that we were having a personal tasting with her and anxious to try one of the new arrivals. But she only poured for me and insisted that I'd adore it.  Odd.  I take the glass from her and do my best impression of a wannabe sommelier, swirling the glass and taking it up to my nose.  And as I do, my heart skips a beat and begins to race.  I inhale deeply and I'm transported to my parents dining table. In a flash I can see the Sunday dinner spread out and the familiar wine bottle being opened by my father.  I know this wine and I know it well. 

My eyes welled up unexpectedly and I tried to hide it.  "What is wrong?  Have I chosen incorrectly? she asks.  I felt exposed and vulnerable and not wanting to come off as a snob, I beamed up at her and exclaimed in a shaky voice, "This is a classic!  It's the Grand Reserve, isn't it?"  I prattled on trying to conceal that while I may physically be sitting next to her, mentally my mind has taken a trip to the spirit world...or has the spirit world come to me? Yes, indeed it was my father's all time favourite wine.  Dad's 'go to red' that never disappointed and always made an awesome gift.  I haven't tasted it for a least 10 years and there I was having a glass with Christina Boutari herself in a restaurant 3 minutes from my dads house.  Startling.

And then it happened again.

The Complete Works of William Shakespeare was sitting lonely atop a pile of bargain bin priced hard cover books.  I stopped and did a double take and stared at it for a moment.  I was in a massive hurry, cutting through the downtown subway tunnels to make my Bloor train.  The tunnel shops were busy and people were whizzing past me but the world just seemed to stop as I zeroed in on this book. My hand reached for it and it felt like a veil was coming down over me.  That familiar book, its colour and size, its pencil sketch of Shakespeare, those thin almost newsprint pages took me back 25 years when I was a young girl dusting the window display at my dads bookstore. The Heritage Shop, on Yonge Street, was only up and running for one year, but what an indelible year indeed!  Part bookstore, part art shop, it was his best and worst business ever. 

The clerk interrupted my mind trip, "Hey, how did that book get into the outside bargain bin?  Oh well, it's $3.99!  Crazy right?  It's asking you to love it...", I put the book down.  The clerk picks it up, holds it out to me and continues "...or maybe its asking Can I love you?"  The colour drained from my face and a chill ran up and down my spine.  "I beg your pardon?  What did you just say?  Why would you say something like?  What do you mean?" The clerk stepped back and I stepped toward him, clearly making him uncomfortable.  "I don't know, just said it, don't take offence, just sounded poetic...the book made me say it!" He started to laugh and I started to feel ill.  "Are you alright?" he queried and offered me to come in and have a seat and glass of water, but all I could choke out was, "'I'll buy the book."

It was a one-two punch.  I was winded for the rest of the day.  Finding the book, or more like the book found me, was one thing, but when those familiar words, Can I love you, tripped out of the clerks mouth...I knew it was no coincidence.  What kind of a question is that?  Who says that?  My father did.  It was his catch phrase.  His trump card.  I never did understand the question and what kind of a response did he expect? Was it rhetorical? Nevertheless, I've never heard anyone, before, during or after, ever ask that question. 

Why I haven't thought of The Heritage bookstore in decades is a mystery!  Gosh, I had great fun then and met some real interesting people.  The book and art suppliers were an eccentric bunch and dad enjoyed introducing me because I had practically read all the books in the store, Lord knows he hadn't.  The courage my father had!  Truly.  English as a second language and the only thing he'd ever read from cover to cover was the daily newspaper, but there he was selling The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, amongst other classics, without a flurry of doubt and with complete confidence.  Wow.  I do remember this one book supplier, Wil, that frequented the shop on his off hours to chat with dad.  What a card!  He totally loved my dad!  And now that I look back on it, I wonder if he was writing a book of his own and profiling my dad for a character! I guess I'll never know, but dad as a character, is multi-faceted and you can't deny the tension that a love/hate relationship so deliciously provides for good story telling.

My girlfriends think its time we take a road trip to Long Island...and it wouldn't  be for the ice-tea! LMAO!  Although I'd likely need a very tall cold Long Island Iced Tea, if we were to ever get an audience with the Medium that resides there.  Too funny!  For those of you who don't know her, she apparently speaks to the dead.

A couple of friends are unabashedly addicted to the Long Island Medium, Theresa Caputo and her TV show on Sunday nights.  It certainly is entertaining and I've become curious, considering all this "paranormal activity", yet cautious. My experience with the paranormal is limited and I'd like to keep it that way!  I'm not so sure I should consider a trip to visit Caputo to find out what, if anything, dad is trying to communicate to me.

I'm not an overtly spiritual person and I'm rather quick to dismiss any ambiguous sign or symbol that could be interpreted as a form of communication from the other side.  But how can you ignore this?  Sure, I've dreamt of dad a lot since his passing, especially now that I'm building this Greek House and they have left me frightened.  But I'd always conclude that they were, well...just dreams. However, these events are certainly not ambiguous!

But wait, there's more.  Yes, that's right and as worn out, distraught and confused as I am, the rains in Kalamata this Spring brought a delightful, miraculous, thoughtful and hopeful sign.  Irises. 

Irises, from my Uncles description,  aren't seen around Messinia.  And there aren't any small animals, like squirrels, that would have dug the bulb up and transplanted them onto the Verga property.  And even if there were, the soil isn't any good for growing much of anything especially these delicate and elegant flowers.  The only catch here in laying claim that my dead father had something to do with this, is that his favourite flower is the Sunflower.  However, having said that, this flower has become significant to me these past two years and the portrait that my dad gave me of himself year ago has a pewter frame of iris flowers!  Not to mention that I've always enjoyed them in print form by Van Gogh and other impressionist artists and they have adorned my walls for several years and have brought me great joy.  From what I understand, there are about a dozen of them, a sparse amount, surrounding my large Greek House as if to give it a gentle embrace.  I'm overwhelmed.

February, March and now April all brought harbingers of dad's presence.  This being the fifth anniversary of his death, I  must admit, has been a positive reflection.  I am quite grateful that I've been able to remember him and even experience him in softer, quieter and gentler ways.

And it isn't until this very moment that I finally understand this quote,  "If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die."

And I guess in this case, destiny demands that every moment has a purpose.

.

Verga, the Beverly Hills of Kalamata

Springtime in Greece is divine. While the olive tree does dominate the Greek landscape, its the Almond tree with its blossoms bursting with white, pink and fuchsia that leaves you stunned this time of year.  Their colour and fragrance just leaves your mouth agape, wanting to drink them in.  Its one of natures moments that you must experience because its so very brief.

I don't have an almond tree on my property in Verga.  Just olives and spring wild greens that my friend tells me are mixed with some edibles. I'd also love to plant a couple of lemon trees near the kitchen and mini French lilacs leading up to the front walk.  And the pan-ultimate would be to have Lily of the Valley carpeting every spot with their perky green leaves and most delicate uber fragrant, tiny, white flowers.  That is my most favourite flower, nothing compares!  I'm hoping to anyway. Because that's what you do in the Spring right?  Hope.

Amongst many other things, I was hoping that the Canadian dollar would rebound in the new year.  But it continues to take a beating next to the inflated American dollar and as a result the exchange rate with the euro is deadly, hence one of the main reasons for the construction delay.  I'm not horribly disappointed, just slightly bewildered.
 

 

But my spirits are high, I remain unflappable with my desire to complete this house. And steadfast that Boufeas will continue to buff and shine this rare gem, until it meets his high standards. My house is not immune to typical construction delays, but I guess slow and steady wins the race.  Even though that cliché doesn't fit my personal outlook on various endeavours, it does however seem to fit this circumstance quite well.  Especially when it comes down to the legalisation of the house and property because the bylaws keep changing.  For example, up until a few weeks ago, I thought that I had legalised the "house" the entire "structure" by paying a lump sum, but I was surprised and shocked to learn that I had only legalised the first floor of the house and not the second.  Talk about a cash grab.  After my head stopped spinning and having thrown a very controlled, even-tempered adult tantrum,  mihanikos Giannopoulos calmly and patiently stated, "that this current situation is the best so far and may end this for once and for all!" Please, no more surprises, I detest surprises.  Then again, you are only safe from surprise when you're dead.

 

But sometimes, very rarely, surprises can be enlightening! And I was quite pleasantly surprised to have read that the house is in what is now considered the Beverly Hills of Kalamata...Verga! Can you believe it? Verga?  I still can't stop laughing. 

 

A Self-proclaimed Beverly Hills, no doubt, but the moniker has picked up steam.  Some real estate sites are using this label quite liberally and with abandon and why not?  Its certainly does conjure up the right images.  Or does it?  The urban dictionary describes Beverly Hills as the playground for the ultra rich and famous and identified by its palm tree-lined streets, sunshine and atrocious property values. A city of about 30,000 residents almost completely surrounded by the city of Los Angeles between Hollywood/West Hollywood to the east, Bel-Air to the West, Westwood and the campus of UCLA to the south and the Hollywood Hills to the north. Some of its most famous streets include Hollywood Blvd, Sunset Blvd., and Doheny Drive. Rodeo Drive and the Beverly Hills Hotel are probably its two most famous icons. B.H. is the world's capital of plastic surgery, bods and beamers. Its rich, arrogant, pretentious pricks can be frequently seen with sunglasses driving an expensive car while talking on their cellphone. It has become a hideout for the rich and famous. Perhaps that's why the city has so many rehab clinics for Hollywood stars.  Charming place, lol.

Verga is lined with olive trees, sunshine and the beginnings of atrocious property values.  Its just outside the borders of Kalamata and doesn't  boast any Universities or even a library. It does however have some great chic nightclubs.  The winding roads have no names and if they do only the water department knows them. Everyone does have a cellphone and while they certainly are calling their plastic surgeons, they are mostly on facebook being insufferable.  I personally wouldn't want to live in Beverly Hills, California, I'm a mountain girl who enjoys pressing olives for oil, and visiting NYC on a whim, but then again Greeks have this obsession with all things foreign, or all things "not-Greek".  Hence the steady and systematic chipping away of their culture.  This disorder even has a name, "xenomania". 

 

But what I do like about Verga being associated with Beverly Hills, it that it suggests luxury.  Not just in the quality and amenities that the current houses have, (the neighbour behind me has an elevator), but in its location.  Verga may not have all the bells and whistles as its twin, but what it does have is its plum sprawling upper and lower mountain position with grand sweeping vistas of the magnificent Messinian Bay and the ever present Taygetos in Southern Greece. Verga is Mediterranean, while Beverly Hills is a wannabe, its fake, its "faux-med"! lol.   For sure the rich and famous could hideout here and likely already do. Location in real estate is everything.

 

I'm no expert, but finding that new, trendy, up and coming location is what makes real estate so seductive and addictive.  And that's what's happening in Messinia.  To my horror, its no longer Greece's best kept secret, but to the delight of my mihanikos, Peter Boufeas, the budding real estate mogul.  What used to be a 10 hour drive from Athens to Kalamata, is now only 3 hours since the new super highways that got blasted through the mountains.  Posh hotels are popping up this year and a Spaceport in 2015 will commence construction.  Yes, Kalamata is the new Cape Canaveral.  Crazy.  Wonder what my dad would have thought of all these astounding changes happening in his home town.  He wouldn't believe it!  Or would he?  Perhaps he was a visionary, who always played his cards close to his chest.  He would mutter rather frequently, "I know nothing, I come from a small village," most times being sarcastic but perhaps pretending on occasion, it seems, to be out of the loop.  Hmm, rather clever.



Look at the vintage tiles and the ladder!
 Love to have this.

And while location is a huge deal worthy of all the attention, its also really important, in my opinion,  to focus on the other aspects of the house that are also permanent – the layout and the exposure to natural light, which my house excels in.  My house has unique outdoor spaces, which Boufeas gets full credit for, and takes advantage of all the natural light that Southern Greece has to offer, but so do most of my neighbours. Some even have self-cleaning pools, others have elevators but none will have coffered ceilings, two master bedrooms and the ultimate...two massive walk-in closets! Well, three, if you count the front hall closet.  So very North American. Brilliant.

Selling this Greek House was always the plan, but I don't think I ever could.  How could I?  I completely adore it without any reservation.  Now, I do read a lot, in fact a really close friend said that to me, almost as a criticism, but from what I've read, when it comes to selling, the bottom line is: List when you need to. And I really don't need to.  Besides, I would never sell it for less than its worth, unlike the Greek Government who is selling because it needs to.  Selling the old Athens Airport, Hellenikon, which is considered a piece of prime seaside real estate and considered the biggest free space in the whole of Europe, 6.2 million square metres to foreign investors makes me cringe.  China's Warren Buffet is being lauded to have picked this up at a low-priced, high value investment and chooses to take advantage and buys into bottom of Greek market, for what is considered a bargain at $1.2 billion.

My father was by no means the Greek-Canadian version of Warren Buffet, but it seems that he had the sense to do the same and pick up this Greek property during the drachma days.  And now, this Verga property has become My Beverly Hills East House, a high value investment. 

Well played dad, well played.