The return of the natives

OnGoodFridayinthemonasteryofPantanassa, temptation goes hand-in-hand with sanctity. Pantanassa is the last inhabited building in Mystra, the deserted city that was the final stronghold of Byzantium, and busloads of tourists were climbing noisily up the overgrown steps to its clean, whitewashed courtyard.

The nuns were in evidence only by the troughs of daffodils they had planted, but notices stated that visitors must respect the monastery's custodians by "proper dress". That holy day there was no admission charge and among the rabble climbing the steps were the bowed forms of local people from the village below, coming to pay their respects to the saints.

In the chapel, a man stooped to kiss an icon. But his eyes were not on the saint, they were diverted by a pert French bottom showing below a flimsy sundress. It was a Rabelaisian moment in the church. Shunted by the queue of black-clad worshippers, the man moved on, all the time casting sly looks in the direction of the girl.

Outside Pantanassa, however, even on Good Friday it was not difficult to break away from the crowds and explore Mystra's less-trodden paths, moving through dark chapels with rough-hewn cloisters and derelict houses where mulberry trees now grow. Only 40 years ago Greeks were living here, camping in the churches and mansions with the few belongings they had scraped together before fleeing their villages during the civil war.

I had been invited to share Easter with an Athenian family whose own lives were shaped by the civil war. My friend Nikos's father was imprisoned by the military government for holding Communist rallies. During that time, the family was in hiding here in the Peloponese.

Because of the family's Communist history, I wondered quite how religious our Easter was going to be. Would they have any truck with the Orthodox church at all? But I'd failed to understand the cultural significance of the festival. Easter is an enormous and emotional homecoming, going back to the family village. The church is the essential meeting place.

When we arrived, Nikos's father had a hero's welcome from friends and relatives in the nearby village of Tsitsina. We stood outside the church, while the population filed in and queued to approach the epitaphios - the rose-petal-filled canopy bearing the icon of Christ. We had only minutes in the church before we were marched off to the graveyard to witness a "unique" happening that Nikos's father was keen that I should see.

As we hurried through darkened lanes to the cemetery, we were overtaken by diminutive, scurrying widows. All around us, windows suddenly lit up with the glow of myriad tiny candles. We arrived at the graveyard and looked down on the sea of tombs, each one illuminated by its own candles.

By now the epitaphios had left the church and was swaying through the village streets, followed by the multiplying congregation. This procession is a tradition known as Christ's funeral, but the episode in the graveyard was, apparently, a peculiarity of our village. As the epitaphios neared us, a low keening began from the people among the tombs. The procession waited in silence while this went on, and then the priest began to intone his prayers. Soon they were off again, followed by the swaying crowd, candles in hands, and bleated at by bewildered goats.

The evening service next day seemed even more magical. Crammed into the tiny church, we watched the entire village file in. At the pulpit, two lay preachers struggled to intone passages from the great book over the rattle of money at the back, where people were buying their candles. As the service reached its climax, the priest made a great entrance from behind the screen, holding aloft a huge cross. Following him and a procession of icon-bearers, we surged out the of church where, under the stars, the words "Christos Anesti" - Christ has risen - were triumphantly announced.

The great fast-breaker is the Easter Sunday lunch the next day. Meat is off the menu during Lent (alcohol, however, is acceptable). As we drove through the lower-lying villages that Sunday, the smell of roasting lamb wafted from lunch parties sitting by their spits. Our village, like many in Greece, has a winter village and, about six kilometres above, a summer village, with the same number of houses.

Nikos's family has a stone house on the edge of the summer village. It has its own bread oven built into the wall, an irrigation system, and the old stone circles for grinding grain can still be seen in the grass. There is no electricity in the village but plenty of fresh water from a spring. We rushed from room to room, opening the shutters. Preparations were already under way in the kitchen, where the women were arranging pyramids of red-dyed eggs.

We were enlisted for the gathering of horta, a weed to which the Greeks have a great sentimental attachment and which is an essential component of the Easter feast. Clutching our knives, we set out. I thought I was looking for a plant like spinach, which is what is normally served in restaurants under the name "horta", but was directed to some measly specimens of dandelion. The horta was washed repeatedly, then boiled and soaked with olive oil and lemon juice which made it just about palatable.

We ate it with lamb grilled on the open fire and washed it down with local wine. Then followed the breaking of the dyed eggs: one is knocked against another and the "winner" is blessed with good luck. I felt I didn't really need any.

FACT BOX

How to get there: Mystra is 8km west of Sparta, which you reach by bus from Athens. One of the cheapest flights to Athens is on British Airways (pounds 128 from Trailblazers, 0171-727 1898). Availability over Easter is limited. For the hardy, Eurolines starts a weekly coach service, costing pounds 218 return, to Athens on Friday 28 June. It leaves 9am on Friday and arrives for lunch on Monday, including 34 hours on the ferry from Ancona to Patras.

What to do there: the site at Mystra is open from 8.30am to 3pm daily except Good Friday and Easter Sunday, which fall a week later than ours on 12 and 14 April. Easter Monday is a public holiday, but the site is open in the morning.

Where to stay: Mystra has one hotel, Byzantion (0731 93309), and several pensions. There is a variety of accommodation in Sparta.

What to read: The Candid Guide to the Peloponnese (pounds 14.95, Ashford Buchan & Enright), Visitor's Guide to Greece (pounds 12.99, Moorland Publishing) and the American Express Guide to Athens and the Classical Sites (pounds 8.99, Mitchell Beazley).

Who to ask: The Greek Tourist Office (0171 734 5997) can provide information before travel, and the National Tourist Organisation of Greece (2 Amerikis St, Athens 322 31111) will help you once you are there.