Cicada | Τζιτζίκι

In the 1950s my Papou and Yiayia (grandpa and grandma) immigrated from Greece to the US. Growing up, I traveled to their horio (village) every other summer — experiencing life without AC or fans, romping around the mountainside, learning to milk goats and watching old men endlessly play backgammon in the shade of the plaza’s centuries old platanus tree. The horio and its people were critical to informing my own love for place, while also showing me the vitality it can bring to others, especially my Papou and Yiayia.

On New Year’s Day in 2021, after years of struggling with Alzheimer’s, my Yiayia passed away. For more than 60 years my grandparents traveled back to their village every summer together and now, Papou returns alone.

In the summer of 2022, I visited the horio to capture my Papou’s new experience. This trip was the convergence of my desire and responsibility to tell a personal story strongly rooted in place, love and passing on tradition. This film pays homage to my Yiayia, the village of Kriopigi and, ultimately, my Papou’s changed sense of belonging. Amid quiet moments, the constant chorus of cicadas and the unhurried pace of Papou’s storytelling, the film portrays the difficulties of finding meaning in loss.