December 6 – Saint Nicholas Day. As I stood in front of the Christmas tree at the entrance to Kalamata’s Central Farmer’s Market, I immediately understood the meaning of Christmas in Kalamata, Greece.
Two families approached. As he led his children up to me, one father pointed to my white beard: “Santa Claus!” Looking a little sceptical, but their eyes still sparkling, four little kids peered up at me. I reached down to the nearest one and pulled a 50-cent coin out of his ear. Smiling, he showed it to his father, who nodded approvingly as the child happily clutched it tightly while they walked off.
The holiday spirit of Kalamata is a time of intense family outings and celebrations. I asked friends Elena and Stavroula what young people do for Christmas. “Do you go to parties and clubs?” They look confused. “We all go to our parents’ homes.” Sokratis, my go-to sage, confirmed. “For us, Christmas is a time for families and eating.” He paused and smiled. “Especially for eating.”
My wife and I followed the crowds into the market to gather food for their tables, special treats and daily cooking. No roving elves, no red reindeer sweaters, just shoppers looking for the best of the abundance of the local farms and fisheries. Ordinary people in a purposeful, festive mood.
Kalamata is the capital of the Messenia region in the southern Peloponnese. Pressed up against the blue Mediterranean by the Taygetos mountain range, it is surrounded by olive orchards and orange groves, which for three millennia have been part of the settlement and city.
My shopping list included walnuts, oranges and honey to make the Christmas cookies called melomakarona. Meli in Greek means honey, and especially in the mountains, one sees beehives everywhere. Everyone agrees melomakarona are THE Christmas cookies. Every café and coffee shop feature them in front-row display cases.
I also bought bright orange persimmons for a holiday bread and some pale-yellow quince for marmalade. They are just coming into season.
And of course, we tasted olive oil. Kalamata gives its name to the famous olives and renowned olive oil exported and enjoyed around the world.
“The 2025 season has been mixed,” my friend Nico – who owns 3,000 trees – told me. “The crop quantity has been disappointing, but the quality results have been extraordinary. The bouquet, light colour and taste are exceptional.”
We are the only ones we know here in Greece who don’t own at least one olive tree. Late fall and early winter are harvest time for the trees. Country roads are lined with battered pick-up trucks carrying rakes, green nets and brown burlap bags full of the fruit.
There are community presses everywhere running late into the night to produce the precious oil. Neighbours give us five-litre cans as presents.
What about other presents? Sokratis told me that New Year’s Day is the traditional time of gift-giving. But when we visited Spinos, our favourite coffee grinder, Daphne, the assistant manager, told us her daughter wakes her up early every morning to announce how many days are left until Christmas. Traditions change by family. Afroditi, the Spinos owner, confessed her favourite cookies are gingerbread men.
Leaving the market, we strolled Aristomenes Street, the wide pedestrian way named for the half-mythological Messinian warrior who held off a Spartan siege in a mountain redoubt for eleven years, longer than the Trojan War.
Lining the way were little bright-coloured booths for costume jewellers and in the middle a carousel, the only ride in the city. Families were lined up, 50 strong, to get tickets. Oddly, the stores sported few decorations, a red bow here or a dark green garland there over the doors. A solitary busker, and no food carts anywhere.
No stalls of roasting chestnuts or hot mulled red wine. Nothing like the teeming acres of the Christmas markets of large northern cities like Vienna, Nuremberg or even Athens. Here, a large mural of Maria Callas overlooks the scene.
Farther on was the pride of the city, a giant evergreen. “Kalamata has the most beautiful tree,” Amanda told us at Leonardo’s, our favourite gelato place on the entire coastline. “They got it from the Taygetos mountains on the back road to Sparta. The government marks the ones available for cutting.”
We saw only one tree, other than the giant in the main square and the one at the market. The other was in Freedom Square, dedicated to the leaders of the Greek Revolution of 1821, who, after 400 years of subjugation, finally pushed the Ottomans out of Greece. Kalamata was the first city liberated.
“We Greeks are seafaring people,” Amanda continued. “Every village on the coast has a light ship in their harbours. That’s our real Christmas symbol. Have you seen the one in Kardamyli? All wires and light strings. No boat. It’s a disgrace.”
And sure enough, in the Kalamata harbour, there was a ship covered in lights. The Mayor of Kalamata leads the lighting of the boat and the tree, accompanied by local orchestral groups and attended by hundreds of families.
We finished the morning at Ari’s for souvlaki, hands down the best in Kalamata. Cubes of meat, usually pork, on skewers grilled over charcoal fires, souvlaki is the most popular dish in Greece. We favour ours wrapped in pita bread with French fries, tomato and tzatziki, the cucumber/yoghurt dip. A tasty way to finish our market day.
From Kalamata, Kalá Christoúgenna!
