Is it wrong that I spent Saturday feeling patriotically...Greek? Could I perhaps be had up for treachery for parading around Kalamata in Greek national costume? Saturday was the commemoration of Metaxas’ ‘Megalo Oxi’ (Big No) to the Italians’ demand for surrender at the beginning of WWII and has consequently become a day to celebrate Greek resistance in general. So, one by one all the primary schools followed by all the secondary schools followed by all the dance schools (in national dress, that’s where I came in), followed by brownies, guides, cubs, scouts, policemen, firemen (with their engines), army, 3 fighter planes in formation etc get paraded around the streets to the sounds of a very impressive military band which is loud-speakered all around the town. We had to arrive 2 hours before the beginning of the parade to get dressed. I took a book expecting a lot of waiting around ready, but no, it really does take 2 hours to get into any of the 3 different costumes the women from my dance class were ‘exhibiting’ for the parade. If I manage to get the photo online, you’ll see why... Nadine, standing next to me (if you can work out which one’s me- I was unrecognizable enough for several of my freinds to walk straight past me, thankfully!)- was dressed as a ‘zitsa’ from Ipeiros (the area round Yiannena) and I was a ‘litsouria’ from Thessaly. The third costume variety can be seen from behind leaning against a car. And then of course there were lots of men in foustanellas and pom-pom shoes. My hat- a kind of metal fez with dangly bits and a long red tassel down the back- was particularly exciting, although it took a good 10 minutes to secure to my head and was feeling quite heavy by the end of an hour’s parade. The costumes were all very hot, totally impractical for the Greek climate, and with 3 or four heavy layers, we’re hoping we get a dress rehearsal before we actually have to dance in them for the next lot of festivities in March...

Sorry Raj, not back in the UK till Christmas Eve! Looking forward to hearing all about the Snowball though.

It’s really happened. I’ve actually got to the end of my first week of lectures. When the lecturers’ union declared a strike on Wednesday I did think briefly that I would never start at all, but the strikes don’t seem to have affected Kalamata, or at least not yet... Lectures are 3 hours, which is quite exhausting but I’m only following three courses- Modern Greek Philology, Theoretical Linguistics and Byzantine Philology, which at the moment I don’t understand at all, but maybe I’ll get used to it...
I’ve also joined a Greek dance class which is great fun, although for a beginners’ class it assumes a lot of prior knowledge. We turned up at the first lesson, and the teacher put a CD on and said, “right, let’s warm up with a Kalamatiano”, so Nadine and I cast worried glances at each other and stared at our friends’ feet for the next hour. We’re getting the hang of it now though. It’s a great social event, a group of 6 of us decided to go together and we quite often stay together afterwards for a drink and a chat. The dance school also takes part in all the local festivals, so there’s just a chance that I may be able to get photographic evidence of being dressed up in traditional Greek costume dancing around the plaza!
Oh, and I’ve got a bouzouki :-)
Chaos has hit the country once more this weekend, this time because of local elections. I couldn’t work out why it seemed so difficult until I realised that Greeks aren’t registered to vote according to their address, but according to their place of birth. I’m not sure why you would be interested in choosing a mayor for a village you only go to in order to vote but apparently everybody does. Students have headed back to remote islands for the weekend after only a week of lectures and 23000 people are expected to be on the roads every day from now till Monday, making this one of the worst weekends for car accidents in the year. Maybe somebody needs to introduce Greece to the postal vote?

I have just had a very soggy weekend. Nadine and I (Nadine is my German au pair friend) decided to go on an expedition on Saturday. Rain was forecast, which we didn’t take very seriously but we at least decided not to go to a river as we’d previously planned. Instead we headed off to a temple that Nadine had heard about which was designed by the architect who designed the Parthenon. It sounded impressive so I smiled and nodded and off we went. Well, 4 hours later via a very imaginative route (it’s really not much more than an hour away) and an hour’s detour to find petrol when we realised we were halfway up a mountain and running out fast, we made it to the temple just as the rain was starting. Never trust Greek road signs. They laugh at you when you pass them on the way home having finally found the sensible route. Well, for future reference the temple of Epicourios Apollo, just north of Kyparissia is really not worth a 4 hour hunt. It’s been declared an international heritage site, so they’ve put it in a tent, taken all the important bits off to the Louvre and put a rope round it so all the visitor can see is a couple of Doric columns and a video that proudly tells you all about the construction of the...tent. Ah well, we were just pleased to have got to a destination, any destination so we absorbed the Doric columns for about 15 minutes and decided to head down the mountain for a warming hot chocolate in Kyparissia on the way home. By the time we left, the cafe was beginning to flood and we had to wade past our ankles through the parking lot to get back to the car. Thankfully the car is a jeep, so it started. Sadly, it’s an exceptionally old jeep with feeble headlamps, windscreen wipers that really couldn’t cope and holes. One of the holes is just about foot level above the passenger seat. I didn’t notice this hole until my right trouser leg had been soaked from below and I then spent the rest of the journey cross-legged and soggy. The rain was quite scary- we really couldn’t see the road in front of us- but it showed no signs of letting up so stopping and waiting wasn’t really an option. It was also accompanied by impressive purple lightning. Sadly, the weather was so bad, I didn’t feel I could ask Nadine to detour via a village I saw a signpost for called ‘Meligala’ (Honeymilk). I wonder if there really is a Promised Land about half an hour away from my house. I’ll have to go and investigate one day...