Here we are again, with another update from Crete. It’s been a while since our last post in August, and that gap in time reflects the reality of building a home here: sometimes things move forward, sometimes they stand still, and sometimes you simply have to pause and wait.
August: The Silence of Summer
August in Greece is not just summer—it’s a season of pause. People take time off, shops close, even construction sites go quiet. For us, that meant weeks of waiting while our walls stood unfinished, not because there were no materials, but because there were no trucks or drivers to deliver them.
At first, this was frustrating. But slowly we began to see the lesson in it: not everything bends to our schedules. Sometimes, the world around us simply moves at its own pace. And that’s okay.
When Plans Collapse
Another reason we paused our updates: the financial reality of building revealed itself. Our architects finally presented the next phase’s cost estimate—and it was far higher than anything we had budgeted for.
The reasons were many: outdated (or no) planning, lack of competitive offers, a shortage of builders, inflation, and taxes we hadn’t accounted for. Suddenly, we faced a crisis: should we move forward, or stop?
This was a hard moment, but it forced us to become active participants, not just observers. We applied for a loan increase, renegotiated, sought second and third offers, prioritized what truly mattered, and adjusted our plans where we could. In the process, we learned to see building not just as a project, but as a journey that requires resilience, flexibility, and humility.
Life in Between
Beyond construction, life happened. Births, deaths, and personal events touched the people working with us. Sometimes these delays were joyful, sometimes heartbreaking. They reminded us that behind every delay is a person, and that compassion matters more than deadlines.
Moving Forward
By September, the site began to come alive again. Plumbers and electricians worked to bring the house closer to life—pipes and wires marking progress. We even had to apply for electricity ourselves, a reminder that sometimes the only way forward is to take responsibility directly.
And while we waited for others, we chose to move forward in ways we could. We built a fence ourselves and worked on the land. There was something deeply grounding about it: the rhythm of hammering, digging, and shaping with our own hands. It reminded us that progress doesn’t always come from big milestones—it can also come from small, steady actions that connect us to the place we’re creating.
This is another truth about life in Crete: things do not follow a fixed rhythm. Sometimes progress feels impossibly slow, other times it comes in sudden bursts. The key is patience, persistence, and trust that in the long run, it balances out.
The View That Holds Us
And then there are the moments that give everything meaning. Standing on the upper floor, looking out at the horizon, the sea stretching endlessly into the blue—we remember why we are here.
Yes, there are setbacks, delays, and financial surprises. But there is also gratitude, beauty, and the quiet joy of knowing we are slowly creating a home.
This journey teaches us more than construction. It teaches us patience when things are out of our control. It teaches us resilience when plans collapse. And it teaches us presence—to appreciate what we have already built, rather than only what lies ahead.
And so, with patience and persistence, siga siga, step by step, we keep going. Because sometimes the greatest progress is not in walls rising or wires connecting, but in who we become along the way.
One response
Love seeing the progress. Sounds like you had your fair share of challenges along the way. Looking great x