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**CONCOURS TERMINÉ / CONTEST CLOSED**
Félicitations à Rebecca Mazar! Congratulations to Rebecca Mazar! Merci à tous pour le partage :)

🎃👻 Alerte au concours de costumes d’Halloween!
Dis-nous en quoi tes enfants seront déguisés pour courir la chance de gagner une carte-cadeau Cora d’une valeur de 50 $!🎁 Un gagnant sera sélectionné au hasard parmi tous les commentaires reçus.

✨Fais preuve de créativité et montre-nous les costumes!
Règlement complet dans les commentaires.
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✨Get creative and share those amazing looks!
Complete Contest Rules in the comments.

👋L'Expo Franchise de Montréal se déroule ce week-end!
Futurs restaurateurs, trouvez l'équilibre parfait entre une occasion d'affaires éprouvée et une qualité de vie personnelle rayonnante en choisissant une franchise de restaurant Cora. Croyez-nous sur parole, vous allez adorer faire partie de notre grande famille!
Prenez vos billets gratuits ici et réalisons votre rêve👉https://www.franchiseshowinfo.com/visiteur-automne-montrealais/billets-gratuits-montreal-2
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👋Les Mordus de Cora obtiennent 2 $ en points bonis lorsqu’ils ajoutent un café spécialisé à leur repas favori!
Pas encore membre? 👉Demande ta carte fidélité en restaurant dès maintenant!
Fais vite! Plus que quelques jours avant que cette offre exclusive ne disparaisse.
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👋Cora Enthusiasts members enjoy $2 in bonus points when they add a specialty coffee to their favourite meal!
Not a member yet? 👉Ask for your loyalty card in-restaurant.
Hurry! Only a few days left before this exclusive offer disappears!

Cette offre est exclusive aux membres détenteurs d’une carte fidélité Les Mordus de Cora et est applicable à tout achat d’un repas du menu déjeuner jumelé à l’achat d’un café spécialisé (totalisant 14 $ ou plus) en salles à manger ou sur le site chezcora.com. Une seule promotion de 800 points bonis par carte, par visite. Sur présentation de la carte fidélité. Ne peut être jumelée à aucune autre offre. Aucune substitution de produits. Pour un temps limité, dans les restaurants Cora du Canada. / Exclusive to Cora Enthusiasts program members with a loyalty card and is applicable to any purchase, totalling $14 or more, of a meal from our breakfast menu combined with the purchase of a specialty coffee in dining rooms and on chezcora.com. One 800 bonus points promotion per loyalty card, per visit. Upon presentation of a loyalty card. Cannot be combined with any other offer. No substitutions. At Cora restaurants of Canada. For a limited time.

HUSBAND’S DREAM, MY NIGHTMARE – CHAPTER 8

Pour lire la version originale française, cliquez ici : https://www.facebook.com/corarestaurants)

Dear readers,

I’ve finally decided to pour my heart out. Over the next 10 weeks, starting September 8, I’ll be sharing with you the almost year-long period in my life I lived in Greece. You’ll relive with me the events that occurred in the poor and almost deserted village where we stayed.

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We’d been in Greece for more than seven months. Husband still hadn’t found a job. He’d come home empty-handed from his trip to Cologne.

I never wanted to be a prophet of doom, but I dare say that I had a sense of what was coming. A man like Husband doesn’t change easily. According to his sister Despina, he’d spent his youthful years chasing the county’s prettiest girls. The most handsome Romeo in the village, he of course caught them all. And after his mandatory military service, his seductive power only increased when he returned as an army officer.

Shortly after our wedding, this Casanova even told me that the love of his life was a certain Helena, a teacher and mother of two, who had the distinction of being elected the most beautiful woman in her village three years in a row. Had he visited her since our arrival in Greece? Had he spoken to her once, twice, three times? I couldn’t help myself and asked my sister-in-law Despina if Husband had visited his old flame. She replied that yes, he had seen her, “but only twice because her husband Theodoros is still jealous of him like a tiger.”

Husband had certainly forgotten to tell me. In any case, he hadn’t told me a thing since he’d returned from Cologne. What had he done there for three weeks? Had he found job opportunities? Highly unlikely. A pizza or souvlaki counter? Maybe a foreman at a manufacturer? Nothing would be good enough for his standards. Would he finally explain to me how we were going to live with two old women and three kids at home?

There were no English or French schools in Krya Vrysi, and the two eldest ones barely spoke Greek. Did Husband really want to live in Greece? His clean hands would certainly not be dirtied helping the gypsies harvest cotton. I was at the end of my rope, morally exhausted, discouraged, broken and totally disappointed. Soon I’d have to sell something to buy onesies for the baby who was growing quickly. My wedding ring, perhaps? I no longer wanted to wear it anyways. I tried to calm down instead of dissolving into tears. I took the little one in my arms and sat with him in a rocking chair in the room upstairs. He babbled away and then fell asleep. The cold, rainy weather put me in a blue mood. Was it the right time to speak to Husband about our future? Was he still asleep?

It was his mother who spoke first.
— “Yavrum (or, my dear child), life in the village is more and more difficult. We don’t have enough money to install running water or electric heat. And even Despina is getting too old to chop wood. We have a garden that’s too big to w**d ourselves. Our vegetables generally end up on the neighbour’s table because we have a kind heart. All the grandmothers head to America to help their children with the grandkids. We want to do the same! Despina and I want to live in America. Your two brothers earn good money there and they’ll help us. Yavrum, para calo (or, my dear child, please), let’s go to Montreal as soon as possible and Despina will cook a nice lamb to celebrate our reunion, all of us together.”

And I, the good French Canadian wife, quickly added that I’d cook my Greek specialties. “I’ll make stuffed vine leaves, my traditional yuvarlakia soup (meatball and rice soup in an egg and lemon sauce), spinach puff pastries, delicious kourabiedes (almond and butter cookies) and baklavas. My sister-in-law didn’t miss her chance to go one further and said she’d be delighted to babysit my children.

Husband stayed silent and smoked one cigarette after the other until his mother and sister stopped speaking. I, like Lot’s wife, transformed into a statue made of salt. Would mommy’s sweet yavrum agree to go back to Canada? My eyes teared up, my heart beat faster and the sky turned a beautiful purple. Is happiness a stroke of luck, a state of being that falls into our lap without warning? I remembered the quote by Goethe I learned in college: “The highest happiness, the purest joys of life, wear out at last.”

Life saw fit to make me suffer; but happiness, I tried to convince myself, would surely come later. My eyes suffered, my heart suffered and even my intelligence suffered. I thought of everything I’d had to give up since our wedding: my scholarly studies, the writing I loved so much, my family, my liberty and my own agency. As the wife of this Greek god, under his yoke, I had no rights, no authority, no love, no real intimacy and no right to decide anything. What could I hold onto? This marriage was like a halter that kept getting tighter and tighter, preventing me from moving forward.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Cora
❤️

LE RÊVE DU MARI, MON CAUCHEMAR… CHAPITRE 8

(To read the original English version, click here: https://www.facebook.com/corarestaurants/)

Très chers lecteurs, j’ai finalement entrepris de me vider le cœur. Depuis le 8 septembre, je vous raconte cet épisode de ma vie en Grèce et vous fais revivre avec moi près d’un an de ma vie passée au fin fond d’un village pauvre et quasi déserté.

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Nous étions en Grèce depuis plus de sept mois. Le mari ne s’était toujours pas trouvé d’emploi. Il était rentré bredouille de son voyage en Allemagne.

Je n’ai jamais voulu être un prophète de malheur, mais j’ose dire que tout ce qui est arrivé, je l’avais pressenti. Un homme comme mon mari ne change pas en criant ciseau. Toute sa jeunesse, selon sa sœur Despina, il courait après les plus belles filles du canton. Il les attrapait toutes parce qu’il était lui aussi le plus beau Roméo du village. Comme il a dû faire son service militaire, il est devenu encore plus attirant à titre d’officier de l’armée de terre.

Un peu après notre mariage, ce Casanova m’avait même confié que l’amour de sa vie était une certaine Helena, enseignante, mère de deux enfants et élue la plus belle femme de son village trois années d’affilée. Était-il allé la visiter durant notre séjour? Lui avait-il parlé une fois, deux fois, trois fois? Je n’ai pu me retenir et j’ai demandé à ma belle-sœur Despina si mon mari avait visité son ancienne flamme depuis notre arrivée. Elle m’a répondu qu’il l’avait effectivement vue, « mais seulement deux fois puisque son mari, Theodoros, était encore jaloux de lui comme un tigre ».

Le mari avait certainement oublié de me le dire. De toute façon, il ne m’avait rien dit depuis son retour de Cologne. Qu’avait-il fait là-bas pendant trois semaines? Avait-il trouvé des opportunités de travail? J’en doutais. Un kiosque à pizza ou à souvlaki à gérer? Contremaître dans une manufacture? De toute façon, rien ne serait à la hauteur de ses attentes. Allait-il finalement me dire comment nous allions vivre avec deux vieilles femmes et trois enfants à la maison?

Il n’y avait pas d’école anglaise ni française à Krya Vrysi et les deux plus vieux ne faisaient que baragouiner le grec. De toute façon, le mari avait-il encore l’idée de rester en Grèce? Ses blanches mains n’iraient certainement pas aider les gitans à récolter le coton. J’étais au bout du rouleau, moralement épuisée, découragée, brisée et totalement déçue. Bientôt, j’allais devoir vendre quelque chose pour acheter des chemisettes au tout petit qui grandissait. Mon alliance, peut-être? De toute manière, je ne voulais plus la porter. J’essayai de me calmer au lieu de pleurer. Je pris le tout petit dans mes bras et le berçai dans la chambre du haut. L’enfant gazouilla et s’endormit. Le temps froid et pluvieux me donnait le cafard. Était-ce le bon moment pour parler de notre avenir au mari? Dormait-il encore?

Finalement, ce fut sa mère qui parla la première.
— « Yavrum » (enfant chéri), la vie au village est de plus en plus difficile. Nous n’avons pas assez d’argent pour installer l’eau courante ni le chauffage électrique. Quant au bois, même Despina est trop vieille pour fendiller les bûches. Nous avons un trop grand jardin à désherber. Comme nous avons bon cœur, nos légumes aboutissent généralement sur la table des voisins. Toutes les jeunes grand-mères partent en Amérique pour aider les enfants de leurs enfants. Et nous, nous voulons faire comme elles! Despina et moi voulons aller vivre en Amérique. Tes deux frères y gagnent bien leur vie et ils nous aideront. Yavrum, para calo (enfant chéri, s’il te plaît), allons à Montréal au plus vite et Despina cuira un bel agneau pour fêter nos retrouvailles, tous ensemble. »

Et moi, en bonne épouse québécoise que j’étais, je m’empressai d’ajouter que je cuisinerais mes spécialités grecques : « Je ferai des feuilles de vigne, ma traditionnelle soupe « youvarlakia » (soupe aux boulettes de viande et de riz dans une sauce aux œufs et citron), des feuilletés aux épinards, de délicieux « kourabiedes » (biscuits aux amandes et au beurre) et des baklavas. La belle-sœur ne manqua pas de renchérir elle aussi en disant qu’elle serait très heureuse de garder mes petits.

L’homme muet grilla une cigarette après l’autre jusqu’à ce que sa mère et sa sœur arrêtent de parler. Moi, comme la femme de Loth, je me suis transformée en statue de sel. Le yavrum à sa maman allait-il être d’accord pour retourner au Canada? Mes yeux se mouillaient, mon cœur s’affolait, tandis que le ciel là-haut devenait mauve et empli de beauté. Le bonheur serait-il un coup de chance? Un état qui nous tomberait dessus sans crier gare? Je me souviens de cette citation de Goethe apprise au collège : « Le plus pur bonheur du monde renferme un pressentiment de souffrance ».

Peut-être qu’en ce qui me concerne, la souffrance arriva la première. Mais le bonheur, j’essayais de m’en convaincre, arriverait plus t**d. J’avais mal à mes yeux, mal à mon cœur et surtout mal à mon intelligence. Je pensais à tout ce à quoi j’avais dû renoncer depuis notre union : à mes grandes études, à l’écriture que j’aimais, à ma famille, à ma liberté et à ma propre gouverne. À titre d’épouse de ce dieu grec, sous son joug, je n’avais aucun droit, aucune autorité, ni véritable amour, ni intimité valable, ni la capacité de décider de quoi que ce soit. À quoi pourrais-je m’accrocher? Ce mariage se transformait en un licou serré, tellement serré qu’il m’empêchait de progresser.

À SUIVRE…

Cora
❤️

HUSBAND’S DREAM, MY NIGHTMARE – CHAPTER 7

Pour lire la version originale française, cliquez ici : https://www.facebook.com/corarestaurants)

Dear readers,
I’ve finally decided to pour my heart out. Over the next 10 weeks, starting September 8, I’ll be sharing with you the almost year-long period in my life I lived in Greece. You’ll relive with me the events that occurred in the poor and almost deserted village where we stayed.

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I didn’t know what to do! I still hadn’t heard from Husband, who was supposed to have gone to Cologne to find work. Our friend Thanassis, who was travelling with him, had come home a few days ago, but still no trace of Husband. Desperate, I decided to go back to the small village library to speak with someone who knew nothing about my life.

Knock, knock. The old woman opened the door and recognized me immediately.
— “What can I do for you, young girl? You were inquiring about Cologne the other day. Did you hear the big news?”
Terrified, shivers went down my spine. My eyes teared up. Had something happened to Husband? Was there a sordid story I didn’t know about? I finally uttered, “Did something happen to a newcomer?”
— “HENRICH BÖLL is no stranger. Born in Cologne in 1917, he’s considered to be one of the greatest post-war German authors.” He still lives in Cologne, the city you asked about a few weeks ago.”
— “What about him? Why is this important?”
— “Young girl, he just won the Nobel Prize for literature! Speaking of which, I have two or three of his books, translated into English, that I could lend you.
— “Thank you, but I only read in French for now.”
— “But you speak Greek very well!”
— “I’m French Canadian, from Montreal. I speak Greek because I married a Greek man who’s originally from Krya Vrysi.”
— “Are you here on vacation?”
— “The truth? My husband came back to his village supposedly to settle, but he hasn’t found a job that suits him in the almost seven months we’ve been here.”
— “Has he tried everything?”
— “Shortly after we arrived, he wanted to export flokatis, but he quickly changed his mind. He’s lazy to be frank. He prefers to live it up and doesn’t like to work.”
— “Oh, dear. Lazy men are all the same! Old ladies like me know them like the back of our hands. Certainly, many hard-working Greeks earn a good living in America, but all the laziest ones come back to cry on their mother’s shoulder, pretending to be homesick. Isn’t that what’s happened to you? How many kids do you have? The information about Cologne, was that for your husband?”

I then poured my heart out to this old wise woman. Forget Cologne, Berlin, Hamburg and Munich. I’d never learn to speak German. I’d never visit the Frauenkirche (Church of Our Lady), taste an authentic “apfelstrudel” (apple strudel). I swore I’d never let Husband touch me ever again!

Back at my mother-in-law’s house, the first thing I saw were Husband’s shoes. They were filthy and covered in dry mud, but I certainly wasn’t going to touch them even though I was expected to clean them. When I walked into the kitchen, my mother-in-law whispered that Husband was sleeping upstairs. He’d finally come home from his journey. After 20 days without a word, I had no desire now to hear how it had gone. To hell with him! My kids were at the neighbour’s with their aunt Despina. I fought the urge to go to the rooftop and throw myself off it. Instead, filled with love for the children, I ran to them in search of their affection.

They were lying on the old flokati when I got there. They were screaming and playing. The baby was sleepy but wasn’t crying. I noticed a platter of galaktoboureko (a syrupy pastry filled with cust**d) and a large pot of tea on the kitchen table. Having barely eaten anything in two days, I devoured the sweet cake she offered me.

Back at home, Husband was still sleeping like a log. I was curious but had zero intention of waking him. I ran to Thanassis’ home and found him there, thank goodness. He hadn’t much to tell me since he had gotten into an argument with Husband on the third night they were in Cologne. I could easily imagine why. Thanassis had quickly realized that Husband slept until noon every day. When he’d finally wake up, he’d shower, get dressed, drink four or five coffees and only go out at 3 p.m. in search of a souvlaki bar. “His day starts around 3 or 4 in the afternoon!” exclaimed Thanassis.

The tale he told came as no surprise. I had hoped naively that, once back in his homeland, Husband would finally act like a man.
— “I was worried he’d do the same thing as in Montreal! I’m at a complete loss. We’ve been in Greece for nearly seven months and the oldest one is already behind on his school year.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Cora
❤️

LE RÊVE DU MARI, MON CAUCHEMAR… CHAPITRE 7

(To read the original English version, click here: https://www.facebook.com/corarestaurants/)

Très chers lecteurs, j’ai finalement entrepris de me vider le cœur. Depuis le 8 septembre, je vous raconte cet épisode de ma vie en Grèce et vous fais revivre avec moi près d’un an de ma vie passée au fin fond d’un village pauvre et quasi déserté.

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Je ne savais vraiment plus quoi faire! J’étais toujours sans nouvelles du mari qui devait s’être rendu à Cologne pour tenter d’y trouver du travail. L’ami Thanassis qui l’accompagnait était rentré depuis quelques jours, mais aucune trace du mari. Au désespoir, je décidai donc de retourner à la petite bibliothèque du village parce que j’avais drôlement besoin de parler à quelqu’un qui ne connaissait rien de ma vie.

Toc, toc. La femme m’ouvrit la porte et me reconnut immédiatement.
— « Que puis-je faire pour toi, jeune fille? Tu me parlais de Cologne l’autre jour. As-tu appris la grande nouvelle? »
Un frisson me secoua. Apeurée, j’eus soudainement la larme à l’œil. Serait-il arrivé quelque chose au mari? Y avait-il une histoire sordide que j’ignorais? Je réussis à articuler « Est-il arrivé quelque chose à un étranger? ».

— « HENRICH BÖLL n’est pas un étranger! Natif de Cologne en 1917, il est considéré comme l’un des plus grands auteurs allemands de la période de l’après-guerre. Il habite toujours Cologne, cette fameuse ville dont tu cherchais la démographie il y a quelques semaines.
— « Pourquoi me parlez-vous de lui aujourd’hui? »
— « Petite demoiselle, parce qu’il vient tout juste de recevoir le prix Nobel de littérature! J’ai d’ailleurs deux ou trois livres de BÖLL traduits en anglais que je pourrais te prêter.
— « Merci, mais je ne lis qu’en français pour le moment. »
— « Mais tu parles très bien le grec! »
— « Je suis une Canadienne francophone, de Montréal. Je parle grec parce que j’y ai épousé un Grec originaire du village de Krya Vrysi. »
— « Et vous êtes ici en vacances? »
— « La vérité? Mon mari est revenu dans son village supposément pour toujours, mais depuis presque six mois, il n’a rien trouvé qui lui convenait pour gagner notre vie. »
— « A-t-il essayé quoi que ce soit? »
— « À notre arrivée, il a voulu exporter des flokatis, mais il a vite changé d’idée. Fainéant comme tout, il préfère fêter et n’aime pas travailler.
— « Pauvre petite, les paresseux du genre sont tous les mêmes! Nous, les vieilles, nous les connaissons comme si nous les avions tricotés. Je n’ai jamais eu de bébé, mais dans ma longue vie, j’en ai vu défiler des maris qui ont ramené de l’étranger de bonnes mamans avec deux ou trois bébés dans leurs bras. Oui, beaucoup de vaillants Grecs réussissent très bien en Amérique, mais tous les fainéants du monde, sous prétexte d’avoir le mal du pays, retournent pleurer dans le tablier de leur mère. N’est-ce pas ainsi que ça se passe pour toi? Combien d’enfants as-tu? Les informations au sujet de Cologne, c’était pour ton mari? »

Devant cette vieille femme philosophe, je remplis mon tablier de larmes. J’oubliai Cologne, Berlin, Hambourg et Munich. Jamais je n’apprendrais à parler l’allemand. Jamais je ne visiterais l’Église Notre-Dame de Dresde, jamais je ne goûterais un « apfelstrudel » (un strudel aux pommes). Plus jamais je ne laisserais le mari me toucher! Je le jurai.

De retour chez la belle-mère, la paire de souliers du mari me sauta aux yeux en premier. Je n’allais surtout pas y toucher, même s’ils étaient bariolés de boue séchée et que j’aurais dû les nettoyer. En entrant dans la cuisine, la belle-mère me chuchota que l’homme dormait à l’étage. Il était enfin rentré de son périple et, vingt jours après son départ, je n’avais plus du tout envie de le questionner. Qu’il aille au diable! Mes petits se trouvaient chez la voisine avec leur tante Despina. J’avais vraiment envie de grimper sur le toit de la maison et de me jeter dans le vide, mais j’ai hésité. J’aimais mes bébés et je courus les chercher tellement j’avais besoin d’affection.

Je les trouvai tous étendus sur le vieux flokati. Ils criaient, jouaient. Le tout petit bâillait de fatigue, mais il ne pleurait pas. Sur la table de la cuisine, un plateau de galaktoboureko (gâteau feuilleté à la semoule avec sirop aromatisé) et une carafe de thé attirèrent mon regard. Je n’avais presque rien mangé depuis deux jours et je dévorai le gâteau qu’elle m’offrit.

À la maison, l’homme dormait toujours comme un ours et, malgré ma très grande curiosité, je n’avais aucune envie de le réveiller. Je courus plutôt chez l’ami Thanassis et, Dieu merci, il s’y trouvait. Il n’avait pas grand-chose à me raconter puisque le mari et lui s’étaient disputés la troisième soirée après leur arrivée à Cologne. J’imaginais facilement pourquoi. Thanassis avait vite constaté que l’homme dormait jusqu’à midi chaque jour. Puis il se levait, se douchait, s’habillait et buvait quatre à cinq cafés pour ensuite trouver un comptoir pour avaler un souvlaki vers 15 h. « Avec lui, la journée débute vers trois ou quatre heures de l’après-midi! », s’exclama Thanassis.

Ce qu’il me dit ne me surprit absolument pas. J’avais pourtant espoir que, dans sa terre natale, le mari se dégourdirait enfin.
— « Je me doutais tellement qu’il allait reproduire la même routine qu’à Montréal! Je ne sais plus à quel saint me vouer. Nous sommes en Grèce depuis près de sept mois et le plus vieux est déjà en ret**d pour son année scolaire ».

À SUIVRE…

Cora
❤️

👋Amateur de cassolettes? Amoureux de gaufres? Adepte de combinaisons sucrées-salées?
Peu importe ton choix, ajoute un café spécialisé à ton repas favori et reçois une valeur de 2 $ en points bonis!
👉Viens profiter de cette offre exclusive dès maintenant. Valide jusqu’au 3 novembre 2024.
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👋Craving a skillet? Perhaps a waffle? Or maybe you lean more sweet ’n salty?
Whatever your taste style, add a specialty coffee to your favourite meal and enjoy $2 in bonus points!
👉Take advantage of this exclusive offer, but only until November 3, 2024!



Cette offre est exclusive aux membres détenteurs d’une carte fidélité Les Mordus de Cora et est applicable à tout achat d’un repas du menu déjeuner jumelé à l’achat d’un café spécialisé (totalisant 14 $ ou plus) en salles à manger ou sur le site chezcora.com. Une seule promotion de 800 points bonis par carte, par visite. Sur présentation de la carte fidélité. Ne peut être jumelée à aucune autre offre. Aucune substitution de produits. Pour un temps limité, dans les restaurants Cora du Canada. / Exclusive to Cora Enthusiasts program members with a loyalty card and is applicable to any purchase, totalling $14 or more, of a meal from our breakfast menu combined with the purchase of a specialty coffee in dining rooms and on chezcora.com. One 800 bonus points promotion per loyalty card, per visit. Upon presentation of a loyalty card. Cannot be combined with any other offer. No substitutions. At Cora restaurants of Canada. For a limited time.

Retrouvons-nous dans un restaurant Cora pour un bon déjeuner en famille! ❤️ Créons des souvenirs inoubliables autour d’une table remplie d’éclats de rire et de plats savoureux.
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Join us at one of our Cora restaurants for a heartwarming family breakfast! ❤️ Let’s make unforgettable memories together around a table full of delicious treats.

HUSBAND’S DREAM, MY NIGHTMARE – CHAPTER 6

(Pour lire la version originale française, cliquez ici : https://www.facebook.com/corarestaurants)

Dear readers,
I’ve finally decided to pour my heart out. Over the next 10 weeks, starting September 8, I’ll be sharing with you the almost year-long period in my life I lived in Greece. You’ll relive with me the events that occurred in the poor and almost deserted village where we stayed.

---------
Thirteen days without news about Husband, who was likely still in Cologne searching for a job. My mother-in-law was starting to worry about her son and Thanassis, the family friend who’d joined him. Would the two travellers run out of food? Despina, my sister-in-law, said she was certain they’d surprise us with good news upon their return. She’d discussed it with her mother: They’d agreed to move to Germany and live with us. Despina would babysit my little ones and I could get a job to help out.

In early October, the gypsies who picked cotton were starting to arrive in our village of Krya Vrysi. They put up their tents a short distance from the houses and dug a hole in which the women and older kids kept a fire to cook and stay warm when night fell. What an experience I had! When they were all set up, I visited and brought them a dozen of the baker’s day-old pastries. The women and children had a feast! Even the smallest ones pulled on my skirt to get a taste too.

After more than six months, the five suitcases Husband had shipped by boat, in which I’d put all our belongings, had finally arrived. Since Husband was out of the country, Despina and I arranged for the suitcases to be delivered to the house. I didn’t open them, however. Weren’t we going to leave any day, as soon as our two prospectors came back from Cologne with good news? The three of us women were worried and prayed in silence, but outwardly were waiting as if summer were around the corner. I’ve never forgotten this verse from Matthew: “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

This worry, this cruel wait, destroyed any hope I had. Maybe Husband had met another woman? In 1972, we didn’t have mobile phones capable of saving a life (like my own). Suddenly, imagining the worst, I was overcome with dread, which I didn’t dare share with my sister or mother-in-law. One night, I tried sleeping snuggled with my kids, my breast warming the littlest one. A thousand horrible ideas flooded my head and I fought to keep them at bay. I wanted to escape and discover the promised land the Great Manitou was keeping for me somewhere.

The next day, tired, battered and discouraged, I got up and warmed a big pot of water on the stove to wash my babies. I dressed and fussed over them and did their hair before asking my sister-in-law to watch over them for an hour. I went to the village baker to question him. He was dressed in his usual large white apron. I asked him if he had any word from his son Thanassis, who was travelling with good-for-nothing Husband. Did he know when the two travellers would be back?

The baker remained mum, and only spilled the beans after I cried my eyes out. Thanassis had arrived home three days ago and was forbidden to let us know that he had returned. I felt my knees going weak.
— “Please, sir, may I talk to your son?”
— “He’s in Veria (neighbouring village) buying a new type of yeast for croissants.”
While I wept, I told him that my kids and I really loved his croissants. I was very grateful to him that he had told the truth about Husband although he was sworn to secrecy, and for all the day-old breads and unsold buns he so generously offered me.

Every family moves at its own pace, but mine was moving in reverse and was at risk of collapsing. As soon as I returned home, I went upstairs without saying a word and I went to the little one, who was sleeping like an angel, to hug him. Crouched down on the kitchen floor, my sister-in-law was washing hers and her mother’s bedsheets in a large bucket. Water was starting to quiver in the large pot on the stove. Once that was done, Despina would hang the sheets outside and wash the children’s clothes. Just like a real family, we helped each other.

My spirits were low; I was totally dejected. I wanted to talk to my mother-in-law, but I stopped myself. Where on earth was Husband? I would have to wait for Thanassis to get back to the village to talk to him. I dressed the two oldest ones nicely and we went to a coffee shop on the main street to share a small baklava. The delicious treat raised our spirits a little.

I loved my mother-in-law and her daughter, but I was fed up waiting for a man who wasn’t a husband or a father. I’d only ever seen him once with a child in his arms. There was only one conclusion: He didn’t love us. This man never cuddled me, protected me, encouraged me, congratulated me or loved me. I never saw him show affection to the little ones or spend time playing with them. It was the cold hard truth.

I was simple and naive when I met him. He lost no time deflowering me and I was oblivious then about how babies were created… Nine months later a baby boy arrived. He wrongfully accused me, for the rest of our married life, of lying to him about being a virgin when we’d met because there was no telltale red stain that night he stole my innocence.

He had wanted me to get an abortion, but I refused. So his two brothers forced him to marry me and I said yes. A yes I quickly regretted. Even 50 years later, it’s still like a drop of poison every time I think about him. My biggest regret is having met him.

While I was languishing away in a poor, almost deserted village in Greece, what was Husband doing in Germany? Was he even there? Why had his travel companion returned home without him? Not only was I regretting some of my life choices, but I cursed everything he forced on me.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Cora
❤️