Until a few years ago, during a walk in the villages, mainly the mountainous and less popular ones,
the visitor of the island would meet sweet grandmothers who proudly and stubbornly wore their traditional costume.
The beloved grandmothers of our childhood in Lefkada. Always with a smile and a hug for their grandchildren.
To offer us a “ladopita” (oil pie, the typical Lefkadian sweet) and other traditional delicacies (like loukoumi, ladokoulouro…)
He would meet them, alone on the doorstep of their house knitting their lace or in small groups talking to each other,
arranging their never-ending household chores, talking with pride about their working children and grandchildren.
White hair carefully braided, under the brown, the black, or the green headscarf, face dug – every wrinkle has its own story,
eyes dulled by the time, but a clear, honest look, reflecting the pain and joy of their lives at the same time.
Figures that looked like old postcards.
They may have been looking good-naturedly but also with disbelief when a stranger invaded the village uninvited, in the alley of their street.
But they would always ask the characteristic “whose are you?” or “where are you from?”.
The beautiful grandmothers of Lefkada who always honor the costume of their island and look down on those who wore “European” ones.
Now only few of them remained, rarely found.
Aged and tired. Figures tender and nostalgic.. they may appear like a dream in the window of their house with a bewildered and frightened look in the face of the changes that tourism brings to their village.