June 23 – Greek Day on Broadway

West Broadway in June has always been a riot of colour and sound, the unmistakable scent of souvlaki wafting through the air, drawing everyone to the heart of Vancouver's Greek community.

Greek Day was more than just a date on the calendar; it was an annual pilgrimage, a day to bask in the glow of our shared heritage and culture. As a young child, I was always giddy with excitement, decked out in either a navy skirt and white shirt or, if I was lucky, the traditional Amalia Greek costume.

The highlight was always the parade.

I'd watch with envy as the older girls floated by in convertibles, dressed as ancient Greek goddesses, their costumes flowing and ethereal, while I walked amongst the crowd. But pride kept me moving, singing and cheering with unbridled enthusiasm.

My most vivid Greek Day memory is a bit of an odd one. Picture this: me, about 10 years old, marching along, belting out a song with my best friend from Greek school. The sun was shining, the crowd was cheering, and in a particularly exuberant moment, I opened my mouth wide and – bam – swallowed a fly. Right in front of everyone. I coughed and spluttered, my friend laughing so hard she nearly doubled over, while I tried to regain my composure. It was a quintessential childhood moment – messy, unexpected, and absolutely hilarious in hindsight.

Fast forward 20+ years, and I’m back.

This Sunday marks the 50th anniversary of Greek Day (#greekday50), and oh, how it’s grown! The setup is more sophisticated, with over 100 vendors and a large main stage hosting non-stop entertainment. This year, I’ve traded in my traditional costume for a lime green (!) volunteer’s t-shirt, where I'll be manning a raffle booth (corner of Balaclava and Broadway) selling e-tickets for a trip for two to Greece (the grand prize).

But the best part? I’m bringing my young adult daughter along to volunteer.

She’s heard my stories, seen the photos, and now she’ll get to experience it firsthand. I can’t wait to see Greek Day through her eyes, to watch her soak in the atmosphere and, hopefully, feel that same pride that filled my heart all those years ago.

As I stand there, selling raffle tickets, sharing stories, and reconnecting with my Greek friends and family, I know I’ll be hit with waves of nostalgia. The festival may have grown, but the spirit remains the same. It's proof of our community's enduring love for our heritage.

And who knows? Maybe my daughter will have her own – swallowed a fly – moment to laugh about in the years to come.

So, here’s to 50 years of Greek Day – to the memories we’ve made, the traditions we carry, and the new stories waiting to be written.

I’ll be there, with my daughter by my side, celebrating the past and looking to the future.

And maybe, just maybe, keeping my mouth closed this time around. Opa!