Tuning into the May sounds of a Greek village in the Pelopponese.

Silence … no traffic, no background hum of cars, trains and planes pierced by ambulance sirens like there is in west London where I live in a quiet road. Returning to Megali Mandinia, a village on the Mani peninsular, this is one of the first things I notice. Then my ears tune into a new set of sounds that typify rural Greece.

Sparrows chirp abundantly and I can hear their wings beat as they fly from tree to church roof. The black and white and swallows that nest in our archway, soar over the olive groves, then spiral down for a chat on the telegraph wires. There’s a light swoosh of air as they swoop low and fast, targeting precisely the tiny opening back into their nest.

Songbirds find their voices in the early evening and vie with tinkling goat bells from the herd scattered over the opposite hillside. Later, in the gorge below, owls hoot softly in the still blackness.

But this is a living village of around two hundred people, so discussions, laughs and rasping [at least to English ears] instructions occasionally drift through the air along with the buzz of a moped or rumble of a truck, not to mention hammering on wood or stone. And the cracked church bell usually rings flatly every third Sunday preceded by the bellringer’s rapid footsteps down the lane.

Then there are the travelling salesmen. Urgent beeping announces the baker as he loops through the village. Timing is all if you want bread – it’s easy to chase through the side lanes only to see the van scurrying off to the next stopping point. The fishmonger has a high, tuneful call, but buyers beware, he serves newcomers with older fish than he displays. The greengrocer uses a loudspeaker to announce his range stacked precariously in the back of his pick-up – tomatoes and potatoes are year round staples supplemented by seasonal treats like strawberries and cherries.

This week’s special must be the chicken seller whose loudspeaker message echoed across the rocky fields some way before the village to the amusement of the builders working on an isolated house. Even with my limited Greek I could here them repeating it and laughing for a while after the van had passed. The back of it was specially constructed and open revealing a central aisle with cages of yellow chicks cheeping away on either side. Short term animal welfare issues aside, these guys were probably the lucky ones. They would find homes in one of the many outdoor chicken coops where they could scratch around happily under shady trees. Or that’s the rural idyll I’d like to picture.

For more information -

On the Mani: http://www.maniguide.info/

On swallows: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barn_Swallow