In Kalamata the streets are alive with miniature Zorros, Spider-Men, fairy princesses and clowns. My vote goes to a tiny Charlie Chaplin, possibly two years old and possibly a girl, who is complete in every comic detail, even down to the pencilled moustache. Bunting is strung everywhere, paper streamers fly through the air: Carnival is here, and so is Lent.
Western and Orthodox Easters are separated by more than four weeks this year, with the latter falling on 27 April. Easter is the Feast of Feasts in the Orthodox Church, and even in an increasingly irreligious age, Lent is accorded great significance. It is still a fairly strict period of austerity, which is one reason for Carnival: traditional societies have long understood that let-your-hair-down sessions of high spirits are needed before and after difficult times. They are also undisturbed by the blurring of the sacred and the secular.
Clean Monday (last Monday) begins seven weeks of meatless days: well, that's the theory. Fish, eggs, cheese and olive oil are given up in turn. Coming as I did from an Australian Nonconformist background, my first experience of this day was something of a surprise, to say the least. Nothing much happened during Lent for us in Oz way back then. As we were teetotal, that line of sacrifice was out; there was an occasional mention of giving up cigarettes and/or sugar, and to this day I have a friend who gives up chocolate for the duration.
My first experience of Clean Monday was in 1981, when we visited the monastery of St John the Baptist, near Dimitsana, a very old structure built into the side of a gorge. It requried a few deep breaths and an act of faith to venture out on to the wooden balconies. Opposite was a minute church, apparently unconnected to the world by paths or tracks, while far below a stream moved so slowly that it looked like a frozen blue ribbon.
Inside the building lay the mortal remains of St Athanasios. The sight of brown bones peeping through rich lace, and a row of teeth surrounded by gold, rubies and pearls repelled me immediately. But my Greek sister-in-law was overcome, and did not want to leave. This sighting of a holy relic on a holy day was a sacred, significant moment for her, and as I watched her light a candle and cross herself reverently,