After the huge earthquake in 1953, my grandparents and their whole community moved from the mountainside down into the valley to rebuild Valsamata, their village, which was completely destroyed by the quake. The house that my father, aunt, and uncles grew up in is the house that I've known as home in Kefalonia. It's where my sister and I spent summer months playing with our cousins, where I met some of my best friends in Greece, where I spent probably half of my childhood birthdays, where I listened to my grandmother's stories of growing up in Greece, and where we played in the streets of the village until midnight - without a worry in the world.
Even though we won't be staying here much anymore, it will always be my favorite place because of the memories it holds for me.
L to R: My dad and uncle picking figs; The 'formal' kitchen; The 'summer' kitchen - basically where we used to hang out all day, where my grandmother cooked, where they stored the barrels of wine and olive oil, where we ate dinner.
L to R: Front entrance to the 'summer' kitchen; Wine barrels; Yard entrance to the 'summer' kitchen
L to R: The back yard/looking out to the stables, chicken coup, room with the bread oven, and the detached bathroom; Inside the detached bathroom: the story here is that the light blew out a few years back, so now if we get home late from the beach, we shower by flashlight. It's not as bad as you think.