My origin is from a small village in Thessalia, Gorgovites the name close by city of Karditsa.
I grew up in Ionian islands and Peloponnese, but used to visit the village every Easter or some of the summertime if not vacation over the sea.
I still have memories of the old house when my granny used to bake in stone oven and my granpa, wounded from the war, all enjoying stories at the ‘hagiati’, the open yet sheltered area at the back of the house.
I guess most girls used to playing with dolls, but I had my summer gang to care of, so I was teaching them to make wooden archs and arrows (I guess I learned through teaching).
I used to make pottery too, paint them, and such ‘artisan’ works, when not strolling in the fields with the animals. Nature was so beautiful in cotton fields and by a small river.
But as a teen I never went back. I’m sorry I had not even been in funerals of my grandparents. I can’t recall what happened to my traditional clothes too. Only some decorative things remain at home. My granma when had to let behind the traditional clothes following modern era said she felt nude. It was strange for her to keep her head without her scarf.
Wild youth may not evaluate much and I was capable to be thankful of being born in Thessalia, the land of silence and humble people, the land of mythical Centaurs. But I will talk to you for Thessalia some other time.
At the moment, I will share with you, the only cards from the village traditional society a century ago. Pardon the condition views.
Photographs: Replicate images personal collection.
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