It has been ages that I have not been writing here...I can not do without writing, I need to express myself...and probably I express myself too much most of the time... Writing is tears, writing is smiling, writing is precious...My father was very strong in expressing himself, he was asked to speak in marriages in the old times...My brother is very good in it as well... He has been also asked to speak on specific occasions...My mother has still the love letters that my father had written to her... All the letters of my father are locked in a wooden box and this box stays in a very precious place of my mother's house...

I am crying all the time when I read the letters that my father and my brother has written for me...The letters that he has written during my birthdays, the speeches that he has done during the special days of my life...

And then come the letters that I have written to the ones that I love and the ones that I have loved have written to me... I can not burn any letters, I can not delete any emails... Because writing is precious to me... And I guess that it is the reason why I have a "writing collection" with nice pens and notebooks...

Time flies, memories fade away, but letters stay...

Stelios Kazantzidis

Stelios Kazantzidis (August 29, 1931–September 14, 2001) (Greek: Στέλιος Καζαντζίδης) was a prominent Greek singer. Between the 1950s and 1990s he was considered the voice of the Greeks. His death was an emotional event for the Greeks; the obituaries gave full appreciations of his life and his importance.

Such was his emotional attachment to the people of Greece and its migrants, Kazantzidis was given a national funeral through the streets of Athens which was broadcast live on Greek Television.

His death saw Greece and its millions of migrants scattered all over the world, with whom Kazantzidis had formed a bond through his songs, for in Stelios they had a means of expression. His music captured their feelings in the difficult post-war period.

He was considered by many as the most prolific and stirring singer of Greek popular music, or Laïkó, and he worked with many of Greece's most renowned composers and writers. One of the first composers he ever worked with described his voice as "made for expressing anguish".

Here are two songs from him, with black and white photos...

Her Yer Karanlık

The lyrics of this song is a part from a poem by Abdulhak Hamit Tarhan, one of the most influential poets of the late Ottoman period. In 1885, on his way back to Istanbul from Bombay where he used to serve as an Ottoman Ambassador, his wife died in Beirut. In this poem, he expresses his grief stemming from his wife's death.



Bekledim de Gelmedin

Bekledim de gelmedin / Sevdiğimi bilmedin
Gözyaşımı silmedin / Hiç mi beni sevmedin?
Söyle, söyle! Hiç mi beni sevmedin?
Bir öpücük ver bana / Yalvarıyorum sana
Beni kucaklasana / Kollarına alsana
Söyle, söyle hiç mi beni sevmedin

Translation from the original song:

"I waited for you
but u didn't come.
Didn't u know that I loved you?
Didn't u know that I loved you?
U didn't wipe my tears.
Hadn't you loved me once?
Tell me tell me hadn't you loved me once?"

Somewhere in between...

Having a great pleasure and enthusiasm for writing my blog, I had a quick look at the layout. I thought to myself I should take out the impressionist paintings, as some people would find it weird and even funny to have Renoir on a blog where the title and the photos are about kafenios/kahve. Then I decided to leave it as it is. The page was us, were not we always a bit between the West and the East?

There are times that I feel the 'orient' in the depth of my heart... Are not we the ones who can cry hours and days listening to a song or looking at a picture? Are not we the ones for whom the coffee is not something that you drink while walking to the office or standing on the tube? Are not we the ones that have written unbelievable lyrics in which there are tears and pain in every word?

I think the life would be easier, if we probably were doing only the above. But there is also a part of us which is looking to the west and I think trying to be somewhere in between is probably the most difficult one when you search for the meaning of life...

I dedicate this blog to all the ones who feel somewhere in between the east and the west.

Kafenio (Kahve) Talks

In the region where I grew up, everyone talks about everything. We love talking. We talk about the things that we do not know, that we do not understand and we are not expert. There are special coffee/tea shops where people play tavla/tavli (backgammon), drink tea or coffee and talk. This is like a hobby. Pensioners come together and they talk. About what ? About everything... Politics, parties, economy, wifes, neighboors -the ones living at the next door or in the next country-...

So why I would not talk ? People that I love love/loved talking... So now it is my turn...

Good luck and bon courage for the readers...