Easter in Greece - A Tale of Burnt Hair and Lamb

“Do you have your camera?“…err….“no I didn’t think I would be allowed to take pictures” (I had been trying to take pictures at the Monastery but I was not allowed so I thought the same would apply here and just didn‘t bring my camera) “But this is the best event to take your pictures” oh dear…it’s Easter Friday and Giorgos has invited me to the local village ceremony. It is close to midnight and we meet up with his mates, the guys from the bar the night before and wait for the ceremony to begin. There are many people gathered outside the church with lit candles clenched in their hands. An old women tries to sell helium balloon figures of mermaids and batman by walking through the crowd but the cartoons look out of place for the occasion and noone buys them.

The activities start with ten alter boys in red and gold robes marching out of the church holding tall poles with golden ornaments on top. They are followed by singers and a white breaded priest who’s face is radiating a huge smile. This is followed by an ornate wooden box structure  called a scepulchre that is decorated with flowers and girls bearing small bowls with rose petals. The group move down the road followed by what seems like the whole village holding candles. As we pass by people on their balconies, they throw scented water into the scepulchre or swing incense containers so that every now and then you get a whiff of exotic perfume. The procession moves around the town and every now and then, the scepulchre stops, the priest says some words and the flower girls through rose petals into the air. I catch glimpses of faces in the flickering candle light I feel the atmosphere is welcoming, friendly and peaceful . Slowly the procession makes it way back up the hill to the church where we crowd to go under the scepulchre (another tradition) and into the church. We hang back until the families have gone through, then as we are approaching I notice the guys holding up the scepulchre are getting a little weary and hope that they don’t drop it when I walk under. For good measure I manage to bump my head on the religious item and wonder what that might mean!

Entering the church we kiss an ornate bible and then walk through large carved wooden chairs, candles, religious murals and people to exit out the other side. Giorgos tells me that the older people who are sitting in the chairs will stay in the church now until 3 or 4am in the morning. It’s a great first glimpse into the traditions of Easter in Greece and I can’t wait until tomorrow night.

I 'borrowed' these photo from the web so you could see the scepulchre, poles and what the crowd looked like
 heading down the village streets

My photo inside the church the next day

On Saturday night we drive to the Monastery at 11pm. This time I have come prepared and wear the only dress I have (one with violent white and black stripes) over my jeans - I don’t look even vaguely coordinated and immediately regret it when I see that other people waiting outside the Monastery have just worn pants (minus 1 for Helen’s fashion savour fare). We wait until Giorgos’ friends join us, and then enter the Monastery. The skirt nazi greets us and is making all the other ladies wear the skirt slip over their pants so now I don’t feel so bad (bad Aussie fashion sense 1, ugly floral slip 0).

We purchase candles for the ceremony and squeeze inside the chapel just as all the lights are extinguished. Standing in the dark, Giorgos whispers “this is the special part” so I strain to see what is happening. The nuns chant and then from behind a panel the priest brings forth a single lit candle (this is to symbolise God’s light in the world). The flame is then past from person to person (symbolising the spreading of God’s word - I think) and out the door to the waiting crowds until everyone‘s candle is burning. Again, the smell of beeswax fills the air so I breath deeply - it’s so soothing. The priest and nuns file out of the chapel into a clearing and begin reciting ancient texts - the crowd quiets down and Giorgos whispers in my ear again “there will be kissing - just to warn you”…Ok…let’s have a little look see at this then! The church bell rings and cheers go out…there is kissing….kissing all around us….kissing between Giorgos and his mates (right cheek first then left cheek) and then I get a go…although I go for the left check first which tended to make it quite awkward. Just as I’m finishing the Easter celebration kiss with Giorgos the candle that I have been holding in front of me decides to try kissing my hair. I don’t realise I’m on fire but one of Giorgos’ mates does and immediately thumps out my burning tresses with his hand…and then has a look of horror on his face as he realises that to put out the fire he actually had been thumping my breast. I just laugh amidst the smell of burning hair and beeswax and take note that it happened to one other lady….Beeswax candles 2 - long hair 0.

The light of God's word and burnt hair

Tradition dictates we need to get the flame back to the house so it can be passed around the residence and any other objects to inspire good luck for the year. The wind is blowing so it took a couple attempts but we made it to the car and heading back to the hotel Giorgos stoped at his motorcycle shop to bless it as well. I pass the candle over my motorcycle gear, I can’t do it for the bike, so I figure that my protective gear might be the next best thing and say a quick prayer for safe journeys on the road ahead.

Stumbling out of bed the next morning. I decide to go for a ride to the hill villages. I have my sour cream and cheese sandwiches washed down with the last of the green tea for breakfast. The bread is getting quite stale but the shops wont be open again until tomorrow. Even the dog takes some time to decide whether he will eat the leftovers. But, I haven’t been sick so “what doesn’t kill you…” I now ride a 200cc motor bike (Giorgos swapped it for the scooter). It’s Korean and vibrates like something you’d pay money for so I head off to the inland villages and enjoy my ride. The road travels over rocky land with olive trees. I was told that the island was occupied by Germany in WW2, and after the war, rather than give people land they gave them olive trees. If you happened to have ten olive trees all together, you could claim this as your land. It’s just that most olive tree allotments were spread apart so that as you drive you see different markings on them to signify who’s plant is who’s.

Easter Saturday with the new ride

Even the dog wasn't sure about this one

Red markings on these Olive trees

The road then winds through forests and streams and as I pass homes, people are out on the grass feasting with lamb on a spit and tables overloaded with goodies. My mouth starts to water, the smell is incredible. I reach the hill top village and walk it’s narrow streets loving every twist and turn. I can see now why they have those “British couple renovate a home in the Greek islands’ shows. There are many old abandoned homes in beautiful spots. As I walk around more and more cars come into the square - people coming to spend Easter lunch with family and friends. I’m constantly bombarded with roast lamb smells and my stomach is gurgling so much I scare a small child into hiding behind it’s mother. One place looks to be open to the public and I tentative walk in but I think it’s a family affair and sneak back out feeling I’m like an overseas traveller that has unknowingly arrived at a wedding and sits down asking what’s on the menu. I go back to the motorbike and decide to head home to the hotel - cranky with myself that I didn’t at least ask. Miserable, tummy grumblings accompany me all the way home. All I have to eat is cold cheese, olives and some left over tomato…I might have been having roast lamb if only I asked!!!!

To warm myself up I take my measly lunch downstairs onto the grass to at least lap up the sunshine. Gorgios’s mother comes out and we talk…well…since she can’t speak English and I can’t speak Greek we gesture. She points to the grass and makes a food sign...I think she is saying “we need to mow the grass so could you take your food somewhere else” and start to move off, but she stops me and after some more sign language, I finally get it…she and her family are having an Easter feast on the grass and did I want to come. DID I WANT TO COME??? I think my tummy jumped in with the worlds largest gurgle before I could answer…YES YES YES!

One hour later…oh the joys...I’m having roast lamb with potatos and wonderful Greek salads and red wine…Bliss. The lamb just melts of the bone and to top it off I get one of the homemade Greek specially sticky cakes called something that sounds like ‘Finekah’ and a chocolate. We each have a boiled egg that has been dyed red and use it in egg cracking challenges to see who’s egg is the strongest. Not sure what it means but it’s a tradition and I attack with a crappy game plan because I die after one battle. I don’t understand a word of the conversation but I don’t care - burnt hair and lamb, I couldn’t want a better Easter away from family and friends.

Easter feast with Giorgos (end of table) and his family

The lamb queen

Days until I’m with my bike: 3
Awkward wrong cheek kissing incidents: 7
Number of red eggs my egg cracked before it lost: 1
Tummy rumbles that people in China could hear: 12
Beautiful people that share Easter lunch with me: 5