In Krakow’s main square — the very heart of the city — beneath the warm glow of lanterns and the hurried rhythm of passersby, I met Dimitris. What began as a simple travel conversation did not remain that way. It became a confession. It turned into a story of two homelands.
Dimitris, a member of the Greek diaspora with family in Ukraine, speaks of roots that cannot be cut, of a war that leaves wounds, and of a Greece that remains a place of return.
He introduced himself with a calm voice and a clear gaze: “Good morning, my name is Dimitri Ivanovich Zurnachidi. Welcome to Krakow.”
Then he smiled. A smile — and a slight bow — carrying far more than it revealed.
“I was born in Ukraine… but my grandfather was Greek”
Dimitris was born in Zaporizhzhia, Ukraine. His grandfather was Greek — one of the most prominent engineers in the country. Relatives in Athens. Roots in Rhodes. Summer memories. A family divided between two homelands.
“The last time I was in Greece was ten years ago, in Rhodes. I want to return. I want to find my relatives. I want to tell them about our family, now scattered across different countries.”
He did not say it with bitterness. He said it like a promise he must keep. Like a deep need to reconnect with his roots.
“My father is near Donbas”
His voice softened when he spoke about his father. “He is a doctor and a nurse. He doesn’t carry a rifle. He tries to save lives. Civilians. And sometimes soldiers.” Nothing more needed to be said. In a world that is breaking apart, some choose to hold life together. His family lives the harsh reality of war. And yet, he stands far away, in Krakow, welcoming people from all over the world at one of the city’s central restaurants — with a smile. The contrast is striking.
“Enjoy your life”
At the end of our conversation, as the square continued to buzz around us, he turned and said something that did not feel like a simple wish. It felt like a life conclusion.
“Enjoy your life. Smile a lot. And never live with regret.” He said it calmly. Without drama. Without emphasis. And yet, within those few words lived two homelands, a war, and a family scattered across maps.
So simple. And precisely for that reason — so difficult.
Behind every journey, there is a human story
Diaspora is not a statistic. It is people. It is families crossing borders. It is homelands that fit inside a single sentence. It is roots that endure. That night, Krakow was not just a beautiful destination. It became the setting of a story that reminds us: behind every journey lies a human path.
