_ “Don’t shout,” my cousin yelled, “you’ll wake up yiayia (grandma).”
“What did you say?” I bellowed as we noisily careened through the darkened house just after 2am. “I can’t see anything!” Yiayia, who was deaf, slept peacefully in the next room, oblivious to our hilarity and collisions with the furniture.
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“So you’re half?”
“No, I’m double.” My Japanese students looked at me, perplexed. “I’m Greek and Australian,” I explained. “I’ve got the benefit of two cultures.” “A nap? But it’s the middle of the day!”
I adamantly refused my aunt’s suggestion for an afternoon respite. “I’m going out for a walk.” I trudged through the empty streets alone, past all the closed shops: A foolish tourist out walking in a 40-degree heat wave. 5.30am one balmy August morning.
Stacey and I stand bleary-eyed outside the security gates of the Faliro Sports Pavilion in downtown Athens. We’re waiting on a delivery of Olympic merchandise for our retail outlets at the handball and taekwondo venue - our "home" for the next three weeks. “Aaaaiiiieeee…”
My aunt raised her hands in despair, the colour draining from her rosy cheeks. “What will I tell your mother?” she wailed, clawing at her hair. “Mum already knows.” “But what…” gasped my aunt, “will you eat?” There aren’t many people you can call at 2am when you arrive in town unannounced.
There was only one aunt I could phone without alarming her at that hour of the morning – but she wasn’t listed in the phone directory. Neither was her married son who lived upstairs. |
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December 2019
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I acknowledge the traditional Custodians of the land on which I work and live, the Gubbi Gubbi / Kabi Kabi and Joondoburri people, and recognise their continuing connection to land, the waters and sky. I pay my respect to them and their cultures; and to Elders past, present and emerging.
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© 2024 HARI KOTROTSIOS
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