My time in Poulithra was unbelievable, like something out of a movie. Serendipity moments, chance encounters, unforgettable experiences, and at the center of it all, my friend’s big fat Greek wedding.
Just like a Movie
It all seemed to follow a Hollywood script, the likes of Mamma Mia or My Big Fat Greek Wedding. The story followed me of course, the protagonist, burned out from a demanding corporate job in Middle America, eager for a spark in my life that would dissipate the grueling daily monotony I found myself in.
Enter my Greek American friend Maria, who had once lived in the same Midwestern city as me, but then decided that she would move to Greece after being laid off from her job. There she met the Greek love of her life and sent me an invitation to her wedding in Poulithra, a small village in the Peloponnese, the hometown of her parents and relatives.
It was a once in a life time opportunity. The chance to jet set to a beautiful country, submerge myself in a different culture, get a tan, and perhaps even meet a Greek man! What was not to like?
As the Hollywood script dictates, I jumped at the opportunity, brushed financial inconveniences aside and purchased the ticket with my hard earned airline miles because as they say, YOLO (you only live once).
Travel Troubles
The start of the trip was classic Hollywood at its best where the stressful realities of air travel were comedically present throughout. Weather caused cancellations, missed connections, long calls to customer service, anxiety inducing flight delays… I even had to spend the night in Cincinnati!
The travel troubles didn’t end at the West side of the Atlantic. Like any good comedy, I arrived at the bus station just in time to see my bus to Poulithra roll off without me. I would have to wait hours for the next one. Set the scene at a very hot bus station where the toilets are a hole in the ground (although very clean) and no one speaks English. Through broken Greek I navigated my way around, avoided gypsies, and ordered countless freddo cappuccinos (the Greek equivalent to an iced latte).
The Bus Ride
It was at this location where fate started setting up those unexpected serendipity moments that will begin shaping the story. As I waited for the bus, an Irish woman about my age asked if I could watch her stuff while she used the toilets. We began chatting. She was very nice and interesting. She was living in Athens, working for the EU, and would be moving to Marseilles in the fall. We sat near each other and sometimes exchanged words or worried expressions whenever the driver would take a very sharp turn while he smoked or talked on the phone (sometimes both at the same time).
The bus ride was unforgettable. Constant breathtaking views of the sea as we rolled around the mountains. Also… constant nausea from unending twists and turns. The Irish woman grew quiet as she fought back the nausea. The man next to me blessed himself. And I popped endless Tic Tacs into my mouth because their minty freshness kept the nausea at bay.
At Leonidio, the last bus stop, I got off and met Georgia, Maria’s younger sister. As it turns out she was there not just to pick me up, but to also pick up Aideen, the Irish woman! Turns out she was one of Maria’s friends and was also coming to the wedding. Yay! Now I had someone to hang out with at the wedding!
The Hotel Manager
In the movies, there are always those supporting characters that add magic to the story with their cheerful personality and unexpected connections. I found my supporting characters in the shape of Christos and his family. Christos was the hotel manager at Byzantinon, a small, family run, boutique hotel in Poulithra. As it turns out, he knew Maria and her family because he was somehow related to one of the aunts. He was also related to the owner of the taverna that would host the Welcoming Dinner. It seemed like he was related to everyone in the village. He asked about my trip and I told him and his mom all my travel troubles. To cheer me up, they bumped me up to a suite. As he helped me with my bags, he also recommended a good restaurant by the sea that was walking distance from the hotel. After a quick shower, I left the hotel straight for the restaurant he had recommended. As I stood waiting for a table, I glanced over and saw none other than Aideen, the Irish woman, sitting alone. She invited me over and we shared a nice dinner. This trip was full of serendipity moments.
A Perfect Day
The next morning I had a wonderful breakfast at the hotel. Christos’ mom would prepare most of the dishes. She even made her own jams and honey, which she proudly served over toast and smiled when in Greek I said it was delicious.
I walked to a beach club Christos had recommended. I spent the entire day floating in the sea and reading under my beach umbrella. I thought about my life, my troubles, my plans for the future. Just then Aideen made her appearance and sat on the beach chair next to me. I shared with her my thoughts and we began discussing our personal worries, our views of the current world, politics, the promise of the future and our place in it. It was the type of conversation you don’t have every day. I tried to savor it, to really grasp her point of view, to counter ideas and build upon them… Eventually, our intellectual pursuits gave way to gossip about Prince Harry and the hope that there would be some hot Greek guys to dance with at the wedding. It was a perfect day.
The Foreigners Table
I was looking forward to the Welcoming Dinner. It also turned out to be the setting for the introduction of more characters. The first person I saw was Maria, looking radiant in a simple white dress. We gave each other a long hug. She said things like “I can’t believe you made it all the way from Des Moines.” Her mom thanked me for coming from so far away and introduced me to the rest of the relatives, always stressing how far I had to travel and how it took me three days to get to Poulithra. “Such a good friend,” she would tell them.
Aideen arrived soon after. Georgia, Maria’s sister introduced us to more aunts, uncles, and cousins. She walked us over to our table where we met The Australians. The Australians were a total of five. Jess, a middle aged woman who was Maria’s second cousin, her husband George, their two teenage kids, and Jeff (Jess’ brother). They all had come in from Melbourne and were ready to have some fun! I liked them immediately, mostly because while introducing themselves, they offered me a glass of wine without having to ask. This is the fun group, I quickly determined.
Also at our table, sat Linda and Tom, an American couple living in San Francisco. Linda had been a fellow ice skating coach with Maria while she lived out west. They both oozed easy-going, techy California vibes.
Maria introduced us to her childhood friend from New York, Val, who was also her maid of honor. Val and her wife Tiffany also sat at our table and apologized for being late. They had experienced travel issues at the Mykonos airport and had to hustle to get to Poulithra. I could relate.
Food began to be served. You can picture it as a movie montage. Course after course, wine carafe after wine carafe. Light conversation. Another course. Beautiful Greek food. Lamb, meat, fresh salad, cool tzatziki sauce, Kalamata olives, feta cheese drizzled in olive oil, hot moussaka… We all lost count of the number of courses (and glasses of wine) we had. The conversation was loud, jovial, and entertaining. It kept flowing like the wine and food. And within all the jokes, laughter, and stories, I had made new friends.
A Beach Day
The next day I went to breakfast early. Maria had hired a shuttle bus to take people to a beach 45 minutes away by car. The shuttle would pick me up at my hotel.
“Are you going to the beach party?” asked Christos, the hotel manager as he brought me more fresh coffee and a flaky pastry. I nodded as I sipped the hot coffee. “My cousin owns the beach bar in Fokino beach. It’s nice. You will love it.” Of course his cousin owns the bar. Christos knew everybody! “And,” he added, “did you know that Princess Diana used to go to Fokino Beach with Dodi?” “That’s amazing!” I said, feeling immediately glamourous.
When the bus picked me up, I was happy to see that many of the people I had met the night before were there. We called our little group, The Foreigners. The shuttle climbed up through the center of Poulithra and drove up the mountain giving us a spectacular view of the coast. We passed small villages surrounded by acres and acres of olive trees. We slowed down to let goats cross the road. We could see the beach from the mountain.
If this were a Hollywood movie, the location scouts would have received an Oscar for finding the most beautiful beach imaginable. Clear blue water. White, rounded pebbles. Beach beds, umbrellas, and a tiny bar where Christo’s cousin and his staff dispensed drinks and snacks. The Australians were already in the water. I ran to join them, slipped on the pebbles, and tumbled into the sea. Clearly, I was no Princess Diana. But I wasn’t the only one who struggled. The pebbles were treacherous. It was like stepping on a bean bag chair. It was hard to keep your balance. Tiffany waddled over the pebbles, clawing her way out, while Val, her wife, captured the entire ungraceful incident on her phone.
The water was refreshing. I spent most of my time in the sea, relishing in the waves, conversing with the Australians. When in land, I would float around spending time with various groups. Maria and Georgia. Aideen, Val, and Tiffany. The Australians. Linda and Tom. During lunch I exchanged numbers with The Australians in case they decided to do something fun that night… which I knew they would and I wanted to be part of it at all costs.
Under the Moonlight
The Australians did not disappoint. Once I was back in the hotel, Jeff gave me a call and picked me up in his rental car. The Australians had found a restaurant by the sea. The table was inches away from the water. The sound of the calm waves was relaxing. As we ate, drank, and laughed, the full moon shone above the mountains of Poulithra.
Find me a Fan
It was the day of the wedding. I blew dry my hair and took my time doing my make up. Confident, I stepped out of my suite, my blue dress swaying behind me. Down in the breakfast room, Christo’s dad gave me a nod of approval and said something in Greek which I assume was a compliment along the lines of “you go girl.”
The shuttle picked me up and dropped us off in front of the Maria’s house. She was getting ready. The Foreigners, with the exception of the Australians, stood outside the house. Family members began to arrive in steady numbers. Soon the courtyard was full of people, refreshments, and anticipation. It was hot. Very hot. Only the olive trees provided shade. There was no breeze. I could feel sweat running down my legs and back. I was scared it would soak through my dress. I saw various women carrying paper fans. Aideen and I were in a mission to find one. We did. And I was very grateful, fanning myself vigorously: face, neck, underboob, repeat.
To the Church!
A man began playing the violin. At that moment, Maria emerged from the house in her beautiful, white wedding dress. Her parents walked beside her in either side. Georgia and Val followed behind carrying her train. She looked radiant, surrounded by her family, as she left her family home. Soon the crowd began to follow and we all walked to the church.
The church was not far (thank God because it was so hot). Other guests already crowded the courtyard. Aideen and I spotted the Australians who were standing under the shade, holding refreshments provided to the wedding guests. We waited outside the church until Maria arrived. She joined Vassilis, and together, bride and groom entered the church. As we entered the holy building, the celebration had already begun. The guests were standing around Maria and Vassilis. The priest chanted in ancient Greek. People blessed themselves. The Foreigners sat together at the back of the church, taking it all in, asking clarifying questions from Greek family members who spoke English so they could explain the ceremony to us.
The priest placed a crown on Maria and Vassilis’ heads. The two crowns were attached together by a white ribbon. Then they circled the altar, three times, as the priest chanted. And then, it was over. The guests were handed small sacks of rice and we left the church. When the newlyweds stepped outside, rice flew everywhere.
To the Party!
The shuttle drove us north of Poulithra to the neighboring village of Tyros. The reception was taking place in a resort nestled atop the mountains with a breathtaking view of the coast. The reception was held on two different terraces. The top one was reserved for the cocktail hour and the bottom one, where the outdoor pool was located, was reserved for the dinner and dance. Both terraces were open with a stunning view of the sea. The Aegean was as blue as my dress! The guests chit chatted as the staff delivered drinks and canapes. The Foreigners grouped together. Soon, Maria and Vassilis stepped into the resort. As soon as they arrived, the guests began cheering.
We descended to the lower terrace and began searching for our dinner table. No surprise, the Foreigners were all in one table. And what a table! We were loud and joyful! We were declared the most fun table at the wedding. A title that I’m very proud of. The dancing started. First, it was only family dancing traditional Greek. They all held hands. The person at the end was designated the leader. The leader would weave the dancers around the dance floor. Aideen and I joined the circle of dancers, learning the steps on the fly.
Two Women In The Dance Floor
Aideen and I looked around for signs of hot, single Greek men. But to our dismay, the only single Greek men were still in their teens or in their twilight years. Bummer! But that didn’t faze us. Aideen and I danced and danced. Sometimes we were the only two people in the dance floor, but we didn’t care. We were having a great time. Soon, we were surrounded by dance partners of all ages. The more the merrier, as they say. There were traditional dances, were men danced around shots of ouzo which were placed on the ground. There was also Latin music like Shakira and Bad Bunny.
And to my surprise, there was another Mexican girl at the wedding. She was married to Vassilis’ cousin. We danced to Shakira and to some reggaeton.
Back to Athens
At the end of the night, we took the shuttle back to our respective hotels. I only got three hours of sleep. My bus back to Athens left at 8:30 in the morning. The hotel breakfast didn’t start until 8:30, but Christos’ mom wouldn’t allow that I leave without a proper breakfast. So she made a pot of coffee and had a selection of pastries ready for me before the taxi drove me to the Leonidio bus station.
Farewell, Poulithra, I thought as I finished my last bite of pastry.
I spent three days visiting a friend in Katerini, north of Athens. We spent time in the beach and touring around Mount Olympus. On my return to Athens, Aideen invited me to dinner. We were having dinner at a nice taverna in a quiet neighborhood near her place, when her Hungarian friend joined us and invited us to the Athens Anti-Racism Music Festival. We ordered a taxi and left to the festival where we listened to some interesting bands.
A Greek, Irish, and Mexican Brunch
The next day, Maria invited us to brunch. She was back from her mini-honeymoon and wanted to meet with us before we took off. We had a lovely time eating pancakes drizzled in local honey and talking about the wedding. Maria thanked us both for coming. She was grateful that two friends who she regards as family had made the trip to share in her special moment. I was even more grateful that she had invited me because the whole experience was unforgettable. I will probably talk about it for the rest of my life.
A Final Farewell
Aideen bid us farewell. She needed to catch a ferry to a nearby island to meet up with a friend. Maria and I took a taxi to my hotel where we continued our conversation. I had forgotten how much I missed her. She had been such an important person in my life when I moved to Des Moines. I was happy to realize that our friendship had not been transactional, but rather something permanent, a bond that would continue to evolve with time. As she called a cab to head back home to Vassilis, she said to me, “I’m glad you came. In Des Moines, you weren’t just my friend. You were my family.”
The Moral of the Story
So in the end, I didn’t meet the Greek man I had yearned for. No, in fact, this is a much more modern Hollywood movie. I didn’t gain a romantic liaison, instead, I got a new perspective on life, on culture, on friendship, on the world. And in the end, that’s what this burned out protagonist with a demanding job in Middle America had been wanting since the beginning. A spark of joy! And that’s exactly what I got.
An Ending Worthy of Hollywood
And like any true Hollywood comedy classic, the seeds of a sequel were strategically sowed. On my last day in Greece as I drank a glass of wine at a taverna steps away from the Acropolis, I received a WhatsApp message from Aideen. “You should come visit me next year in Marseilles.” Can you picture the end of the movie now? I, sitting facing the Acropolis in my white dress, shades over my eyes, drinking elegantly from my wine glass. The camera closes in on me, a slight smile spreads over my red lips as I deliver my last line. “And so I shall.”
Love. This! Opa! El of