It all started back in the 14th century on the island of Chios, Greece. Saint Markella was born and lived in the village of Volissos where her mother raised her with love for the Christian faith, but her father disagreed with this. When Markella was just a young girl her mother died, but that did not stop her from reading the bible and keeping up with the Christian faith. As she grew older into a beautiful woman, so did her faith and so did her father’s hate. Markella became afraid of her father and to escape his ungodly hatred, she left from her home and prayed for protection against him. Markella’s father began chasing her and so she ran for hours through the rough roads in between the high mountains and along the rocky coast as she cut her feet on the rocks. Her blood painted the rocks beneath her a dark, red color, but she did not let her pain stop her from running for her life. She made it to the edge of the island where there was nowhere else to go and all she could do is pray. Suddenly, the earth opened for her where the ocean was, so that she could hide in it. As she cried out loud with half of her body in the earth, her father came from behind her and sliced her head off with his knife.

Every year on July 22nd is Saint Markella’s feast day, which Greeks from all over the world celebrate. Those who are named Markella celebrate their name day on this day. People in Chios walk to Saint Markella’s monastery where she has performed many miracles, and to the place she died to commemorate her for the faith and love she had for God.

It was on a relaxing summer morning on the island of Chios, Greece when I woke up and realized that today was going to be the day of the pilgrimage to the holy site. I stepped out onto the balcony outside of my room and saw the fantastic view of the colorful village, the rocky mountains, and the ocean which is the same exact white color as the sky. I rushed downstairs to the kitchen with my sister and saw my grandmother making coffee for my grandfather to eat with his favorite crunchy Greek biscuits.
“Kalimera sas!” I said as I gave both of my grandparents a hug: Good morning!

“Kalimera koritsia, elate na fate,” replied my grandmother: Good morning girls, come and eat.
Seeing my grandparents every morning in Greece made me so happy but, it’s kind of upsetting that they look older every year I visit them and that I’m getting older too. I finally made it up to my grandmother’s eyebrow, but I’m still below my grandfather’s shoulder since he’s the only tall one in the family. My grandmother’s light brown eyes are always gleaming. It amazes me that at the age of 76, she is full of so much energy in everything she does. The fact that I have the same name as my grandmother makes our relationship closer than the relationships she has with her other 8 grandchildren. My grandfather is a handsome man with hair as white as snow. He always has a bright smile on his face when his whole family is in Greece with him. I appreciate my grandparents so much, and anything that would make them proud of me, I would do.
After my grandmother had finished stuffing eggs and a hot grilled cheese sandwich down my throat, I put on my bathing suit to walk to the beach with my family, just like I did every day, to meet my cousins at our beach house. My grandmother explained to me that every year in July around the feast day of Saint Markella, huge waves in the ocean form because the Saint gets angry about her death. My grandmother was not lying; as soon as I turned the last corner before the beach, I saw the big waves crashing down onto the rocks. People were still swimming, there were beach parties going on, Greek music was blasting from each restaurant, and the food of course smelled delicious.

When I got to the beach house my cousin Eleni and her brother Kosta, were talking about walking to the holy monastery later that night.

Kosta asked my sister and I, “Hey twins, are you guys going to walk?”
“Yeah, twins, you should walk, you’re old enough,” said my aunt.
Nicoletta quickly responded and said, “No of course not, I don’t think we would be able to make it without having to call someone to come get us in the middle of the night.”

I just laughed and agreed because at that time I really thought it would be impossible for my sister and I to walk for hours, but at the same time I kind of felt like maybe we should be walking to the holy monastery.

A couple of hours went by on the beach, I was relaxed from the calming sound of the waves and because I was in my motherland; my home. After my sister and I got tired of laying in the scorching sun, we began to walk back up to the village. Walking uphill was so much harder than walking downhill, but every day my sister and I managed to do it without losing our breath.

When I got to my grandparents’ house, I went upstairs to rinse off on the roof because that’s what villagers do. My mother called me down and told me that in a half hour everyone who wanted to walk was going to meet at the basketball court in the village to leave at 9.

For an opinion, I asked my cousin Eleni if she thought my sister and I would be able to make it if we walked and she said, “No, haha!”
As soon as she said that I told her, “I think I might do it then.”

I convinced my sister into walking by telling her that I felt the need to walk because of my name and our grandmother’s name. My mother was unsure about letting us walk because she wouldn’t be able to walk since she was sick at the time, but she finally agreed too. She knew we were walking for a good reason and she reminded us that the purpose of the walk is going to the monastery to pray for the health of our family, not just to hang out with friends.

My sister and I quickly got dressed in the tennis shoes we brought from America and packed our bags with water, snacks, and a cell phone. My grandmother was so happy that we decided to walk for something so important, which motivated me even more to make it to the monastery. She had a huge smile on her face from the moment I told her that I was going to walk.

I ran to the basketball court with my sister and met up with my friends Peter, another Eleni, my cousin Kosta, and Angelo. There were so many people there ready to walk, which made me feel a bit safer about the whole thing. My grandmother soon walked down to the basketball court to wish me a safe trip.
“Kalo taxidi.” she said: have a safe trip.
As my grandmother placed her soft hand on my left shoulder, she pointed with her right hand towards the ocean and said, “You see that foggy mountain far way at the end of the island? That’s where you are going. Be safe girls and I’ll see you both in the morning.”

My sister and I gave her a big hug, we knew she was already proud of us for wanting to walk. We waved goodbye to those who were staying behind, and so the walk began.

I must admit, I was a little scared. The thought of walking at night on the mountain roads without my mother made me very nervous. The group began walking the road of the first mountain we had to pass through. What if a rock from the mountains next to me fell on my head? What if someone accidently fell off the cliff and drowned in the deep waters? I found myself thinking about things that could go terribly wrong, but then I realized I needed to keep a positive mindset. The view was breathtaking. The sun was setting and the beautiful colors of pink, purple, and orange against the clear ocean looked as if I was standing in an actual painting.

Without even realizing it at first, I found myself surrounded by only Kosta, Nicoletta, and Peter.
“Kosta, where did everyone else go? Weren’t we all just together”? I asked.
“Yeah, everyone just split up twin. I guess it’s only the three of us for now until we run into the groups ahead of us.”
“You’ve done this before, right Kosta?”
“Like five years ago. Hopefully we find another group because I don’t know where we’re going.”

An hour had not even gone by and we were already alone in the dark. I turned back to see how far we had gotten, and I was not surprised that I could still see my village’s lights from where I was. I knew at that time that this walk was going to take forever.
The first obstacle we came across was an uphill road.
My friend Peter who had also walked to the monastery before, turned to me and said, “If your legs don’t hurt now, just wait into we walk up this big hill.”

He was right, the slower I walked uphill, the more painful it was. The numb feeling that started in my feet traveled up through both of my legs; the extra weight on my back from the backpack I was carrying did not make the walk any easier. I had never experienced something that exhausting and painful in my life.

We finally got to the top of the hill after a while and we all dropped dead on the edge of the road. I unzipped my backpack and reached for a water. The water was not cold anymore but, it still quenched my thirst. I saw my cell phone at the bottom of my bag flashing on and off; I had received ten missed calls from my mother but, there was not enough signal for me to call her back.

It had just turned midnight.
“Happy name day sis!” screamed my sister.
“Aw thanks Nicoletta. I totally forgot about it,” I said.
Everyone suddenly wished me a happy name day after my sister reminded them about it.

A couple of minutes later, my friend Eleni, Angelo, and his father who knew the directions, caught up with my group. Having more company during the walk made it a bit more interesting. The more the people, the more laughs we shared. We continued walking until Angelo was completely out of breath and needed another break. As I was sitting on the side of the road, I saw bright head lights from a distance. A big blue truck pulled up in front of my group and Peter’s parents came out of the car carrying big, juicy watermelons as a snack for my group to enjoy. I couldn’t help but notice the bright stars in the night sky as I took the time to eat my watermelon. There was a big difference from the night sky in America, which barely has any stars compared to the clear, star-filled sky on the island.
Next, we came across the dirt road. It was very difficult to walk on top of rocks of all different sizes, which made me think of how painful it must have been for Saint Markella to run for her life across rocks. My group got lost a couple of times because there were so many little roads that branched off from the main dirt road. This made it so much more difficult to choose the correct path. With wrong turns my group and I ended up at a random beach or a dead end, but we managed to get back on track with the help of Angelo’s father. At this point, the numbing pain returned to my feet again and this time my legs were shaking, but there was no giving up.

After the dirt road came the long beach shore that we had to cross. My legs sank into the deep, white sand which filled up everyone’s shoes and made it even more difficult to walk across. On the right side of us were mountains, to the left was the ocean, and ahead of us were the mountains close to the monastery. We were getting close to the end of the beach, so I began running to get the pain over with. Everyone else followed along and we finally made it to the end of the beach. We were all very hot and sweaty, so we laid down on the big rocks in front of us to cool down and eat some snacks.
We were so close to the monastery, yet so far.
We eventually made it to Saint Markella’s village, Volissos.

“Guys, I need to take a break, I can’t do this anymore!” Angelo said while gasping for air.
“Angelo we literally just took a break. How lazy are you?” asked Eleni.
“Chill Eleni, I know you need a break too.”

We all sat at the empty tables in front of a club at the village until Angelo caught some of his breath. As soon as I sat down, the pain I was already feeling felt even worse. No one wanted to stand up, we were all so tired of walking. Everybody was half asleep, especially Nicoletta but I forced everyone to get up. For the rest of the time, my whole group was laughing uncontrollably because of how tired we all were. Angelo’s dad was singing Greek songs nonstop to make the time go by faster. Peter would not stop trying to scare my sister and I by telling us all the village ghost stories. Even though I was exhausted, I honestly did not want this to end.

After the village, we made it to the last of the mountains. I could feel the wind slapping my face as we walked up the roads on the mountains. The fresh air felt very good considering that everyone was sticky and hot from walking for so long. It was dark outside the whole time we were walking through the mountains. I could not believe that I was almost there. The sky suddenly changed from a pitch-black color, to a magical pink and orange color. At this moment, I was watching the most wonderful sunrise that I have ever watched. The mountains still looked black, but the colorful sky behind them made everything seem like a dream.

At around six in the morning, my group and I made it to Saint Markella’s monastery. I looked towards the ocean and in the distance, I was able to see the village that I walked from. My village was very foggy from a far, but I could tell it was mine because of the three big ports at the right of the beach I swim at.
As soon as we made it to the entrance, we took a very long break before walking to the monastery to pray. I finally picked myself up after a while and prayed at the monastery for a healthy and happy life for myself and for the ones I love.

Peter’s father took me, Peter, Eleni and Nicoletta home in his big truck. We made it home around seven in the morning where I found my grandmother cooking once again, my grandfather sleeping, and my mother waiting to see how the walk was. My mother and grandmother rushed towards my sister and I as we entered the door, hugging and kissing us.

“Xronia polla Markella!” they said: Happy name day Markella!
“Thank you! “Xronia polla yiayia!” I responded: Happy name day grandmother!
All the noise they were creating woke my grandfather up.
“Xronia polla Markella!” my grandfather said as he struggled to get out of bed. “We’ll celebrate later today.”
“I knew you could do it girls! At age 14 you’ve both accomplished something so important. Saint Markella will always protect and watch over you both.” said my grandmother. “Now go up to bed and get some rest.”
My smile would not leave my face after all the name day wishes I received and because I was so happy that I completed the pilgrimage to the monastery.
My sister and I went straight to bed to get some sleep before driving back to Saint Markella’s; this time to go see the actual site she got killed at and to light a candle.

Today I am so glad that I walked to the monastery because those nine hours were some of the best hours of my life. Not only was it a fun time with the best group of people, but I also got to venerate an important saint; the patron saint of Chios who kept her faith in God no matter what and the saint that my grandmother and I share the same name with. If I had not decided to walk, I would have missed out on so much. I had never experienced so much in one night and I cannot wait to do it again every time I go to Greece. I have more respect for my religion today and the celebration of my name day is even more important to me because of this experience.