This summer I spent 3 weeks at Ionian Village, a Greek Orthodox Church camp that offers Greek-American children an opportunity to walk in the steps of their ancestors. We venerated relics of walking saints, bathed in clear Ionian, sang Byzantine hymns, and danced to the buoyant rhythm of the bouzouki in classical songs such as Kalamatiano and Samiotisa. In a way my faith gave me an opportunity to meet 200 bright souls, my pilgrimage community. I have been building my Greek network since age 5, my entrance to Greek school was my ticket to Hellenic society. Greek Orthodox Youth Association (GOYA) basketball, volleyball, and dances were like training wheels for Ionian Village. The friendships I made through all my cultural extracurriculars and experiences gave me community in a city, my home, where I never felt entirely accepted for my heritage. It offered me unconditional love and security when I was feeling most vulnerable, college applications. Therefore, the chapel is rather a concept than a religious house. It is any safe haven, any space that creates warm, soothing energy. To me that feeling arises from the smell of burning incense at church services, the deep, radiating voice of the priest singing hymns, from the lack of responsibilities, from the emptiness of the pews, from the solace of my prayer book: my break from reality.
