“We have discovered a Greek coffee shop in Dublin. Let’s go there”: that’s the message I receive from Ioanna, my Greek friend and ex colleague who now lives in Dublin with her boyfriend. A few hours before our flight to Edinburgh, a quick, Greek reunion is about to take place at cafe “Filo”, a small coffee shop/ mini market/ bakery based in a neighborhood a bit outside of Dublin’s city centre.

To be honest, I don’t really care about the place of the gathering. The fact that I will get to meet the only people in Ireland that I’ve known before coming here, having some common reference points, similar memories and maybe a better understanding of what we have left behind, what we miss the most and what’s better here is enough for me. And to be fair, I would even prefer to have that coffee in a closer location, where I wouldn’t have to walk 45 minutes just to taste a Freddo espresso again.

Nevermind, let’s go there! As I mentioned before, on that occasion is the people that matter. “Glasnevin”, the neighborhood where the coffee shop is located, is on our GPS and we are now heading towards Filo cafe. Our surroundings are not that appealing: grey colour all around, big roads, quite beautiful detached properties, a bit of traffic and the green of an industrial park spicing up the grey ambiance.

After a right turn, on the opposite side of the road, I can see the Greek cafe. I unconsciously skip its decor details and its snack options on the window display and I am focusing on locating my friends. After a quick “scan”, two familiar faces appear at the back of the shop: Ioanna and Stathis.

I met Ioanna the past Summer. We were both working for the same hotel- at the same position- during the summer season in Corfu. Her boyfriend and my “emerging partner” were also working there. Not even a year later, the four of us accidentally ended up in Ireland. And even if our relationship before that was limited to the workplace environment, the “immigrant” identity quickly empowered its nature.

After the firs eye contact we share, we immediately run towards each other, leaving exclamations of joy and excitement. Hugs, kisses and Greek words create a noisy, celebratory atmosphere.
-“Go order, they have Freddo espresso here!”, says Ioanna with enthusiasm. “They also have Greek pies, desserts and local products as well”, she continues.

We go back to the entrance of the shop to have a look by ourselves at what she just described. And that’s when Cafe Filo becomes for me something more than a simple coffee shop. That’s when it gets flooded from an invisible, sentimental dimension, which brings me back memories and feelings of closeness, familiarity and a well rooted sense of self.

The chocolates, the pies, the cocoa powder, the desserts that are on every Greek table during Christmas, the wide selection of coffees and the different styles of preparation: literally everything brings me back home. And specifically, at my grandma’s home. There, I always had the opportunity to uncover my chocolate addict side and enjoy the chocolate bars she was buying for me without feeling guilty: grandmothers have the magical power to make calories loose their value.

Traditional Greek products and desserts at Cafe Filo.

I order a cappuccino and I join my Greek friends at the table. We give each other a heads up and I bring “Caprice”- one of my favourite Greek deserts- to snack on while talking. Each bite corresponds to the realization of how much I’ve missed my family, my home, my culture. No, Greek culture is not that related to chocolate. The colourful, familiar packages, the Greek letters on them, the memory of my younger self, opening my grandma’s fridge, the advertisements of local chocolate brands during the breaks of my favourite TV series, my mum and I, unable to resist our late night sweet cravings, heading to the 24- hour kiosk to buy our favourite chocolate on a Friday night. All these moments come in my mind and I find myself drowning in nostalgia.

My train of thought gets interrupted when a man enters the coffee shop.
Right before leaving the place, my homesick feeling multiplies. -“Is my coffee ready?”, he asks in Greek.
-“Not yet. Same as usual?”, replies in half Greek half English the employee of the coffee shop.

And the conversation goes on. In Greek. But in Ireland. Contradictory emotions rise up. Feeling at home, away from home. Overwhelmed by some chocolates and a range of coffees.

Time flies and I have to say goodbye to Ioanna and Stathis. I have to leave behind “Filo Cafe” and the emotional shelter that it created for me. Let’s expose myself to the world. Edinburgh is just a few hours away.

I put the rest of the “Caprice” in my bag and I head to the airport. In that way, I will carry “home”, away from home,

Fedra Mour