I was born to two different cultures, religions, languages, and traditions… The spicy nature of having a mother from the world’s capital (that is New York) and a father who is of a settled bourgeois family of the Middle East was my reality while growing up. But the only places where I felt “at home” were always the little towns that resembled the one that I grew up in…

Whether I visited towns in Greece, Portugal, Spain, or my maternal grandfather’s ancestral home Italy, I always sought the familiar tastes and surroundings of my own little world…

 My town of Yenikoy…

Where I was born, raised and shaped…

The yalis on the shores, the little seafood restaurants dotting the seaside, the cool and chic cafes surrounding the neighborhood and the remaining Greek society that is a reminder of a story that was left untold, a song that was cut short, a lover who left abruptly…

I love hearing the neighbors laugh, the church bells ring, the greetings and embraces exchanged during the Eid…

I am a hopeless romantic, I know…

But believe me, the town that I grew up has made me so… Even though the past two decades have been severely disappointing at “home” due to an oppressive “person,” my eternal love for the beautiful capital of the Eastern Roman Empire keeps me captive and enamored.

No wonder I feel attached yet distant to the country I live in…

The famous Greek writer Constantine Cavafy said “You can’t find another world, nor another sea. This city will follow you anywhere” about Istanbul…

I am no poet.

But I can understand his eloquent and magical way of describing something that is as simple as love…

I love my home…

I always thought that I could go away and live in a familiar “surrounding” but that is not so…

I love Neo Khori, Yenikoy, my little Greek fishing town, the apple of my eye…

 I have to say that despite living in a country with exposure to constant oppression of all sorts, it still does not change the fact that my home, my town, my city makes every hardship worth living… It truly and simply is addictive…

I can understand the contradictory nature of the love of Cavafy’s feelings towards the der saadet… the door of happiness as the Ottomans called Istanbul… This place drives you crazy and in fact consumes you… But your passion does not allow you to walk away from it…

At least this is how I feel…

Despite all the craziness I find comfort and pleasure in the history, music, and taste of my home…

The Michelin-starred restaurants, the taverns where the locals start sober and end up inebriated with classic acts of love and affection…

The local wine, the tastes of the mix of civilizations, the rhythm of the city that carries itself in the music, art and the faces, names and stories of people and places…

From now on I will be sharing wining and dining experiences with a splash of art, culture, history and music… Things that make life sweeter…

So…

This is about one person who belongs perhaps nowhere but finds herself attached to her childhood memories, and simply clings on to all that… Wherever she goes, she seeks and finds resemblances and learns to love and appreciate them.

And yet, she is a loyal lover of her own town and city…

Just like Cavafy said…

I may love and enjoy anywhere in the world.

But my true love remains…

I carry my empire and its eternal city within me…

No matter where I go.

Cheers to you all…