April 28th, 2023 – Kalo Pascha!

Kalimera Magic Mike, or appropriately, Kalo Pascha, which means, “Happy Easter.”

Now, I know what you’re thinking.  “Zack, what are you talking about?  Easter was like 2 weeks ago.  Get with the program!”  And if you were here in Greece, I would say to you, “My fellow Greeks, forgive him, for he knows not what he does!!!”

Don’t worry, because this isn’t the first time this has happened, and even our highly esteemed buddy Rich would’ve been confused.  And personally, I don’t know what’s going on.  Something to do with a different calendar and the moon or something, so it’s usually a week off so they say.  BUT… that doesn’t mean they don’t take their easter seriously.  Mikey, you gotta know, Easter here… it ain’t no joke!  They go all out, even going as far as churches shooting rockets at each other! 

It’s almost like you have Eagles fans, who are pretty serious, but then you have Cowboys fans who take it to a whole other level, or in some cases it’s like, “What’s the matter with you guys?!”  I guess the only difference is, with Easter, it’ll eventually pay off when the good Lord returns, unlike the Cowboys who will perpetually be doomed to pain and misery as long as Jerry’s still around.

First off, people go on a fast for a week, and as pretty much an honorary Greek, I did the same.  That means, no meat, no oil, no dairy products, nothing!  Squid and shellfish… well, that’s ok, and thankfully Mcdonalds had me covered for most of the week with their McShrimp.

But Hershey’s chocolate, ice cream, spanakopita, souvlaki, aka, all the good stuff… sorry, no can do. The hardcore ones, you know, the bishops, priests, and other big timers, they’ll do it for 40 days straight!  Now, you know me, I love the Lord and all, but I’m just not there yet.  Maybe next year, but as for now, one week is about all I can handle.

Friday rolls around, and at first, you think it’s going to be a decent day, because everybody gets it off.  But around 7:00 at night, things start to get a little gloomy.  People start gathering to their local church, and the crowd keeps growing a growing.  Now, I’m not Greek Orthodox, but I go in to pay my respects, do the whole cross thing, give the relics a quick smooch, and go up to the front.  The priests are speaking in these incantations and stuff and I think telling the story about how Jesus died on the cross, at least I think since they’re all speaking in Greek for some reason.  I go up there and see what looks like this giant bed frame entirely covered in flowers all with these other trinkets and icons around it, like it’s somebody’s casket, except this somebody’s a pretty big deal.  I didn’t exactly know what was going on, but I just did what everybody else did so I wouldn’t look like a freakin’ idiot inside the church, which was bow their head, give the sign of the cross, bend down and give the icon a kiss, and then moved along my way. Turns out, I made it out of there with my dignity still intact.

Oh, and if you want, you can pay a euro or so and light at the entrance of the church too, just get on the Big Man’s good side.

10:00 rolls around, and the whole place is packed now, both inside the church and in the parking lot.  Thank God they’re a little relaxed on fire code regulations this time of year.  The priests come out, one carrying a giant cross and the others carrying the casket thing that I paid my respects too about an hour or two before, and their followed immediately by a marching band.

They start a funeral procession throughout the neighborhood with the band playing a gloomy song, and everybody follows them.  And when I mean everybody, I mean everybody! 

The streets are packed, and the entire neighborhood is out, and everyone has brown candles in their hands.  So, I followed, with a candle of my own. You know how they say, “When in Rome?” Well, when in Greece, you better not mess around like a taki boy!

Saturday rolls around, and still people seem to be down in the dumps a little.  Partly because Christ hasn’t risen from the grave yet, but I think too because on Saturday, you’re supposed to go hardcore with your fast and you’re not even allowed to cook with olive oil or anything, which can make a man grumpy, because frankly, at this point, we’re all ready to eat some real food again! But until Sunday, it’s still pretty much boiled vegetables, pita bread, and a few other things, so no McShrimp for me!

Things are looking brighter as it gets closer to midnight, for the masses are back in full swing at the church waiting for the clock to strike 12.

This time, we all have white candles, and as soon as the church bells start ringing, the candles are lit, and fireworks are going off, people are hooting and hollering, and we’re all feeling good again.  Well, as for me and the wife, we didn’t exactly appreciate all the loud noises since it was past the little guy’s birthday, but we were happy the Christ finally rose from the grave.  And I for one, was happy that I could eat again!

I got home, candle in hand, and mark the cross on the top of my front door, which is what everybody does when they get home (I think it’s like you get protection or your house gets a blessing from the Lord, but don’t quote me on that).  There are even people who drive home with the candle, but lucky for us the church was close enough that we didn’t have to.

Now, tradition has it, that at midnight, you’re supposed to go home and have this soup made with the intestines of lamb or something to prepare your body for the big feast the next day, since you just ended your fast.  But me, that sounded a bit disgusting.  I mean, really? The first meal I get to eat after a fast is going to be lamb guts? I don’t think so. And besides, I’m no sissy!  I don’t need some gross soup to prepare my body!  I just went in the fridge and got a few snacks, just a small reward for finishing it.  You know, just a few things, like a block of blue cheese, pack of salami, some chocolate, a pork gyro my wife bought the day before, chicken, chips with dip, olives and olive oil, some more cheese, and a beer or two.  And man, for some reason, I went to bed with a little bit of a stomachache. I don’t know, maybe the gyro was bad.

Easter morning rolls around, and there’s no trace of that little turd of a bunny running around.  Instead, the women are up early, spending all day in the house cooking and preparing food while the men sit outside and roast a lamb on a spit.  According to my friend Niko, it’s a very hands-on process, where one guy turns the lamb, another who tends the coals on the fire pit, and the others have to stand around with beers in their hands telling them what they’re doing wrong.  It sounds like a tough job, but it’s tradition, so if you ever go to Greece for Easter and the wife complains, just remind her that it’s very important to keep with tradition and it would be insulting to break from it, especially the beer part.

So, after the guys cook the lamb and the women cook everything else, it’s time to feast.  You pretty much eat the rest of the day.  And the best part is, everybody gets Monday off as well, so you can recover from eating so much. And one of the things they make is this sweet bread with these eggs on it. The wife didn’t do such a bad job this year either!

Then you take the eggs and have egg battles with it. I’m not quite sure how you’re supposed to the battles, because I kept winning, but my wife said I was cheating or doing it wrong or something, so apparently, I didn’t win after all…

All in all, not a bad gig if I say so myself.  I wouldn’t mind doing Easter the Greek way a few more times.  We didn’t have enough room for the fire pit, so I had to cook my lamb in the oven.  Didn’t turn out as well as I would’ve liked, but I can always try again next year!  At least we got some good pictures of the family.

So please, on my behalf, wish everybody back in the office a Happy Easter, or as they say over here, Kalo Pascha and Christo Anesti!

Part 8: Summer 2023