"Greece is magnetic, they say. Once you have stepped on the Greek ground it's hard to shake yourself free. Myth has it that it's because your feet become stuck in the rich honey coating this country. It's the only place where people have always wished me a good week, month, day, summer, winter, life, work...and a birthday wish to grow old with white hair."
"The smell that hit you upon arrival in Nicosia was those jasmine bushes flanking the front door. Their syrupy delicate fragrance waltzed smoothly with the summer night heat. We would lie on the marble floors, soothing our bodies, hoping that some cooler air would arrive from somewhere. Still now, when I smell jasmine at night, I feel I could embrace the moon."
"Pappou was quiet; he had integrity and no flashness about him. He always wore a perfectly ironed shirt, gilet in winter, polished shoes and had his hair slicked back with the special cream he ordered from Italy. He never demanded acknowledgement, but dashed around quietly with the energy of milk just at that rolling boil."
"There are some things that don't change much. I find the smell of a dish, or the way a certain spice is crushed, or just a quick look at the way something has been put on a plate, can pull me back to another place and time. I love those memories that seem so far away, yet you can hold them and carry them with you, even forget them, and then, with a single taste or hint or a smell, be chaperoned back to a beautiful moment."