Greek Easter

Greek Easter
Greek Easter
Greek Easter
Greek Easter
Untitled
Greek Easter
Greek Easter
Greek Easter
Greek Easter
Greek Easter
Greek Easter
Greek Easter


Before I met my husband Easter was just an ordinary, fairly inconsequential, public holiday. A time to stock up on chocolate for the coming months, only to consume your entire stash in one sitting, leaving you feeling sick, ashamed and wallowing in your own self-pity for the remainder of the day. Then of course you have to repeat the whole thing again annually. Or, in my case, several times a month.

The first time I was invited to a Greek family Easter gathering by my then fiancĂ©, I was slightly dumbfounded. “But it’s just Easter. And your parents aren’t even religious”. Plus, I preferred my solitude during the I-just-ate-twice-my-weight-in-chocolate aftermath. Trust me, no one wants to witness that. I must admit, It took me a while to understand to the whole Greek Easter thing. It’s a bit like Christmas, not so much a celebration of the birth of Christ as a time to catch up with distant family members, most of whom you are fairly apathetic about anyway. I joke, I love my uncle’s, nephew’s, cousin thrice removed. Easter is the biggest Greek event of the year and they go all-out. Ouzo, haloumi, olives, feta, revithokeftedes (a real word, I kid you not) and enough meat to kill a small army. And compound chocolate, lots of delicious (ahem) compound chocolate. By the end of the day you’ve lost count of how many cheeks your kissed or how many opa’s you’ve sung. Your belly is fat, your children are sleepy and your heart is full. All-in-all I can safely say it’s a better alternative to a lonely, chocolate-induced coma.