Syntagma Square had even more Christmas lights than I had expected from photos friends had sent me. It was drenched in Christmas lights, enthusiastically drizzled over the trees like Greeks drizzle honey over their yoghurt, plenty and all over the place. I thought back to Maastricht and the man I had heard cursing up in the tree there, while installing the Christmas lights, very precisely, one by one, carefully balanced along the branches. His colleague, also up in the trees, was laughing out loud at his frustration. But here, the oranges, hanging like Christmas balls in between the lights, made there to be no mistake I was in Greece now.
To my left, I saw the Voúli, the building of parliament, solemnly overlooking the square, as if trying, though not really succeeding, to impose some fear, demonstrations often defying its authority. In front of the parliament, two Evzónes in traditional uniforms and tsaroúchia boots, characterized by pompons on the noses, were guarding the tomb of the unknown soldier. Their presence gave the square a sacredness. Every hour, you could see them walking up and down for the change of guards between the tomb and their home base behind the Voúli.
I often ended up walking behind them on my way to the city centre, three in a row, a soldier in the familiar army green uniform walking with them. Sometimes they were accompanied by yet another man, often wearing a jogging suit, hands in his pockets, happily chatting away with the green soldier, while the Evzónes looked sternly in front of them, as if unaware of their environment. Was this man a friend on his day off? A policeman gone undercover? It was a ridiculous sight, yet exactly what I loved about this city, the two extremes of the spectrum being served to you at the same time. To me, it was as if Athens in such absurdities showed a great appreciation for the nature of life, embodying the most sacred and the most banal in unseparable unity.
While following the Evzónes to Syntagma, at a safe distance, I tried to copy their march, left-right left-right left-right. It reminded me of fanfare and parades and happy days. After a couple of times, I started noticing they were following a special line of tiles in the pavement, indicating their route. At one point the tiles indented a little to the right and the Evzónes naturally swirled right with them.
Then suddenly, as often happens in Athens, there was a períptero, selling newspapers, water and souvenirs, obstructing their route. At night, when closed, it was okay. However, during the day, with marquises opened and merchandise displayed, the Evzónes were unable to follow their line of tiles. Not to be bothered by such a minor disturbance though, unblinkingly, they flowed their march a little to the left, around the kiosk, and then right back to their baseline, once they had passed it. I admired their capacity for discipline yet flexibility, their order in natural symbiosis with the chaos of this city. And I felt there was wisdom to be found with these Evzónes.
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