Bizarre Sunday

Our house is just around the corner from the town church. Sunday mornings are filled first with the sound of church bells, and then with the broadcast sound of the priest's sermon, which is sung in a rather monotonal voice for what feels like weeks, maybe months. It's enough to drive two atheists out of town. We headed towards the beach, hit some unexpected traffic, and saw crowds of people parking, walking, buying things. A big sign said "Volks Museum, Free Entry," so we parked and joined the all-Greek crowds.

We joined them as they headed up a steep and winding mountain road, 90% of them walking, the other 10% heading up in cars, some of which were clearly not prepared for the steep angle; both cars and people were seen in various degrees of failure on the side of the road. The road ended, and was replaced with steep and winding stairs, 300 of them. And finally at the top was a church where people were making offerings of round, Greek bread.

Oddly, along the way, several stands had been erected for selling things. Some offerings were obvious: religious jewelry, candles for the church, cold water, grilled corn on the cob, cotton candy. (What religious ritual is complete without packaged cotton candy which looks to have been made in New Jersey in 1982?) Other wares were less obvious: realistic looking plastic water guns shaped like AK-47s, Barbie knockoffs, plastic lawn chairs, large ceramic pots, potted plants. All of which would have to be schlepped back down the mountain.

It was worth it for the view, and for this glimpse into Greek life.