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Paraskevi Contos from the Assumption Greek Orthodox Church of Long Beach and Aris Yortzidis of St. George's Greek Orthodox Church of Downey were the 1996 FDF Scholarship to Greece recipients. They attended Yvonne Hunt's Seminar in Siderokastro, Serres. The following article appeared in the August-December 1996 issue of the Laografia Newsletter.

This summer I went home to the villages of each of my grandfathers, and in between, attended Yvonne Hunt's seminar in Siderokastro. I began with my paternal grandfather's village of Antipata, carefully hidden in the Pilaros mountains on the Ionian island of Cephalonia. Louis de Bernieres eloquently writes in Corelli's Mandolin(1994)

The dark green on the pines is unfathomably and retreatingly deep; the ocean viewed fro the top of a cliff is platonic in its presentation of azure and turquoise, emerald, viridian, and lapis lazuli. The eye of the goat is a living semiprecious stone halfway between amber and arylide, and the crickets are the fluorescent green of the youngest shoots of grass in the original garden of Eden. Even the seawater of Cephalonia is easier to see through than the air of any other place; a man may float in the water watching the distant sea bed, and clearly see lugubrious rays that for some reason are always accompanied by diminutive flatfish.

Even his literary craft does not do justice to the island

The senses are hit all at once upon entering the horio(village): the smell of basil from Thea Eleni's herb pots, the sound of bells hanging round the necks of lambs on the way to pasture, the color of wine saved for years to celebrate my arrival, the warmth of marble under my feet. I was known here. I last visited in 1988, and have kept close touch. Cephalonia is 277 square miles in area. In my village there are 25 homes and 3 permanent settlers; as on many islands most people live elsewhere, they work in Athens, or like me in America.

A dancing circle of unthwarted energy was a nightly activity: divaratikos, our local syrto named after the village of Divarta; manetas or mermingas, a two-part dance named after an old sea captain; and ballos, a dance for couples common to islands where there has been Italian influence. We call our songs cantades. Their warm melodies captured everyone's heart.

The great earthquake of 1953 brought down the beautiful architecture, but not the spirit of Cephalonians. In Antipata nearly everything was levelled. My grandfather's house was three stories high, the envy of the village; one story is rebuilt. Luckily much is preserved at the Laografiko Museum in the capital, Argostoli. Here I saw exquisite exhibits, including town costume, dresses with intricate laces and trims in the style English-speakers associate with Queen Victoria of Britain. People answered the earthquake by developing a stronger appreciation for what was lost in the catastrophe.

From crystalline waters of the Ionian Sea, I went to the lofty mountains of Serres. Here folklore is wonderfully varied with all the people who live in Macedonia; gypsies, Pontians, Slavs, Thracians and Vlachs. The dance seminar I came for included village excursions, including Chrisohorafa, Pontismeno and Xiropotamo. In the morning Yvonne Hunt or perhaps a villager would show us a local step, and in the evening we went out to try it. Even in a formal lesson we were not to expect villagers to analyze what they were doing; it was for us to interpret as well as we could.

In Chrisohorafa we found Thracian refugees. In Pontismeno, the only village in this area that dances to the lira, we met two lira-players, and yerikos, a dance Yvonne rightly called subtle. In Xiropotamos we saw a Vlach dance troupe and two others. The Vlachs had brought a band; after the performance we all danced. They have their own version of the dance gaida.

Generally in this region we saw the popular Macedonian dances eleno mome, paidoushka, and tsourapia. Each village possessed its unique style of dancing and music, but no one could say which village was the most hospitable.

Here is a bagpipe-player I met in the city of Serres. I was at a restaurant with Aris Yortzidis(on my left in the picture), my fellow recipient of the 1996 scholarships from the Greek Orthodox Folk Dance Festival(FDF), Diocese of San Francisco. It was during afternoon siesta, not many people about. The bagpipe-player was walking across the street. We hailed him and asked if he had time to play for us. He was on his way to a wedding. For an hour he gave us the Thracian dances mandilatos, syngathistos, and zonaradikos. I was so glad we had eyes open to see him, money in our pockets to reward him, and hearts ready to appreciate the wonderful music.

Throughout this trip I was embraced by people who were elated to see a Greek form America share such enthusiasm for their culture. Indeed, I expressed countless times to the horiani(villagers) that they should be proud of who they are and never lose touch with their roots.

My sister and I returned to our roots in our maternal grandfather's village of Kastaniani, Epirus, the last village before entering Albania. It was my first visit, in time to celebrate the 15th of August dancing sta tria, sta dio, zagorisios, and kleftes(like tsamikos) round the great chestnut tree in the platia(village square).

The famous clarinetist Kostas Roundas astounded our ears and lifted our hearts with the heavy, powerful music of Pogoni. We drank soup and ate goat with wheat porridge. Pericles Halkias, who must be nearly 90 and whose clarinet-playing is nearly a legend, sat with the other musicians, and stayed up all night with us, though I did not hear him play.He and my grandfather grew up together. The clarinet is the vital instrument of Epirus, but there is also violin and laouto - only that night it was a guitar. (In the picture, Pericles Halkias is in the middle next to the guitarist, Kostas Roundas is next playing clarinet.)

Everyone danced in a single curved line. We hosted the other villages, each taking its turn at the head of the line, the host village last. One musician held a basket to collect money for the community; this is how they repaired the platia. My papou(grandfather) never lived to see me dance, but I believe his spirit was present that night when my sister and I were brought to the front of the line to dance in his memory. Papou would have been proud.

The trip was also a religious pilgrimage. The spiritual legacy of Byzantium came to life for me all over again as I journeyed to the monasteries of Meteora, the crypt of St. Demetrios in Thessaloniki, the Byzantine Museum of Ioannina, and the churches of the Panayia("all-holy",i.e., the Virgin Mother) of Tinos, St. Nectarios of Aegina, and St. Gerasimos of Cephalonia. The awesome mystery of the Orthodox faith could be read in the pictures of the saints who struggled for their belief, in the air filled with the aromatic haze of incense, and in the dances of the prayerful and humble worshippers.

At the Greek Folk Instrument Museum and the Benaki Museum of Athens, the Demotiko Museum of Ioannina, the Laografiko Museum of Aegina, and the Sarakatsan Museum of Serres, I admired the effort to preserve our heritage, but at the same time I realized the paradox of Greek folk culture exhibited behind glass. Yes, these specimens should be analyzed and documented. But shall we leave them for dead? Cultural identity, tradition, and preservation were important themes I encountered everywhere.

Technology and the name of progress are heated issues. I am not sure Greece, and Greeks abroad, are moving "forward" in the cultural sense. We have created a reason to fear that any day the current generation of folk musicians and craftsman may become our last. To misunderstand the comforts of modernity is to make and abyss. If we honor and participate in what is here with us now, we may sail on, our rich treasure safe.

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Paraskevi Contos has been one of the Olympian Dancers for 18 years, and now also directs the Junior Olympian Dancers in Long Beach, California. She is studying for her Master's degree in history at Pepperdine University.

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