I was up with the larks this morning to sample the twice weekly food market up near the castle in the old part of town.

It’s about 20 minutes away from me and the streets were pretty near deserted except for a fair few older people pulling along wheelie shopping trolleys, all heading the same way.

It reminded me of a pied piper style TV advert I’ve seen, although I can’t recall what for, possibly Coca Cola? It starts with one person heading somewhere who’s gradually joined by others until eventually there’s a crowd. It wasn’t quite as dramatic but at virtually every junction another wheelie shopper appeared. It was forecast to be 35° by midday so perhaps, like me, they were making the most of the mere 20° before things hotted up (apologies – I know how things are back in Blighty).

It was well worth a visit. Over 450 growers from all around the region set up stall, hundreds of people come to buy and there’s a vast range of stuff to choose from. It’s all cheaper than in the local shops and much cheaper than at home. The largest of these 4 radishes (rapanákia) is almost 3 inches long and they cost about 40p.

The cherries (kerásia) are a treat too. I’m not sure of the weight but I bought a big bag of them for €2 and they’re delicious, and the transaction was a joy, although embarrassing too.

The elderly man they belonged to had them displayed on a sheet of plywood about 3 x 2 feet, resting on 2 crates with a bicycle propped up beside his pitch. I don’t think he’d come far or was going to make much even if he sold the lot.

When I presented a 10 euro note he’d asked me if I had any change, which I didn’t, and he shook his head apologising. He suggested I come back when I’d done my shopping and had change. Saying that I would I walked off and, as I did, he started shouting at me, which I couldn’t quite understand.

I thought it best just to keep on walking until another stall holder called out to me in English “You forgot your cherries. He wants you to come back.” I did and he handed them to me, apologising again. Me, the relatively well-heeled tourist turning my back on a kind poor bloke who’d probably make less from his pitch than I’d spend that day, and who trusted me to walk off with his produce and that I’d come back to pay. Humbled I immediately bought something I didn’t really want and went straight back to pay up. I felt such a twat.

I spent the rest of my visit to the market trying not to be a twat, left with bags full of lovely stuff and took a few photos. This first one is of another seller a bit like the cherry man, set up in the less visited perimeter of the market, presumably because he didn’t have enough produce or money for a proper stall. I’d stopped for a coffee and had watched him for the 20 minutes or so I was there, during which he didn’t sell anything.

This last picture was taken near the market as I walked home. It’s of the Church of the Holy Apostles, Kalamata’s most important Byzantine monument. The Greek War of Independence actually began a few days earlier than its official declaration with the liberation of Kalamata right here on the 23rd March 1821.

That’s all. A siesta beckons ….