Written by Giannis Th. Patellis
The relationship of Greeks with the house, the “hearth,” has deep roots, stretching across historical time and social life. And it’s no exaggeration to say that the bond of the people of Kalymnos with their home includes all of the above to the highest degree. Anyone who doubts this has surely seen or heard something about “anglaves” (large, elaborate balconies or extensions). In the not-so-distant past, the very first question a prospective groom’s family would ask about the bride’s background was certainly: “Does the girl have a house?” This held true whether it was an arranged marriage or a romantic relationship.
Later, post-war — especially from the 1960s onwards — a future bride’s value skyrocketed if she owned even a modest “three-room flat” in Athens. An apartment in Athens had, in a way, replaced the substantial dowries of gold sovereigns that accompanied well-off brides before the war. Investment in a home, in real estate, had the character of securing one’s children, a safe form of savings. A property owner held prestige, peace of mind, and a sense of security.
In the 1980s and 1990s, however, things slid into excess. Hard-earned money from ships and emigration, along with not-insignificant bank loans given out liberally, went to fuel a mania for larger homes and luxury. The grand and impressive house with gardens and flower beds became a status symbol and a display of upper-class pretense. Lavish properties stood as substitutes for a hollow identity. Material wealth filled empty spaces and satisfied fleeting vanities.
Then came the decade of the great economic crisis. Wages, pensions, and daily pay were slashed dramatically; loans went unpaid and turned “red,” while property values plummeted to humiliating lows. The once-prized asset of real estate turned from an unparalleled, safe financial advantage into a crushing burden, sliding toward foreclosure. What had been acquired through years of toil and sacrifice by parents and grandparents to support their descendants now ended up a “hot potato” in the hands of a generation battered by unemployment and starvation wages. The gift of property became a weight, the “dream of a lifetime” a nightmare.
Now, as we enter the third decade of the 21st century, the economic crisis may have somewhat subsided, but the risk of resurgence looms, and a reassessment of lives and assets is imperative. We maintain what is necessary and rediscover moderation. Today, the housing crisis has once again become the most pressing social issue of our time, and society is split in two: property owners and renters. On one side, those who benefit from the rise of Airbnb, seeing their income increase with relative ease; on the other, those watching a significant part of their paycheck vanish with the rent on the first of each month.
The dream of homeownership has faded for many, as today’s thirty- and forty-year-olds face the largest gap between housing aspirations and reality. We are no longer talking about 130 square meters of a comfortable home, but rather the 60 square meters that might just hold the hope of starting a family. The “little house of the people,” the sacred hearth, remains where we always return. To be homeless and destitute is the ultimate condemnation. It is an Odyssey without an Ithaca…
Kalymnos, May 2025
