Not really a tradition, perhaps, but my fondest (and most romantic by far) memory of Bright Week was visiting a remote and delapitated monastery in the outskirts of Kyiv on a Bright Tuesday. I met a novice there, with whom I had become friends. He was very cute and we spent the whole afternoon on a long walk through the forests and he showed me all his favourite spots and took me around the neighbourhood to meet all the local grannies, etc. He gave me a gift of monastery honey and pulled chunks of Pascha bread from his pockets, which we ate together. I wasn't yet Orthodox then, and I remember telling him about my church and him shaking his head and saying, "But you can't force people to live like that!". He took me to the bus stop and as I prepared to board it, he bowed and said "Christos Voskrese!". It was one of the best days of my life. Not a tradition, as I said earlier, just a fond, sentimental memory of happier times...