Free Girl Gone Greek by Rebecca Hall

But a lot of Greeks aren’t. You will find, at this time of year, people on television debating the issue. Some claim that non-Greeks shouldn’t be allowed to carry the Greek flag—even if one of them happens to be the brightest in school—since they are not true Greeks. We invented the word ‘xenophobia.’” Silently I marvelled at how the Greeks got away with being so openly nationalistic, almost racist by my standards.
    Were there parades held at home in which a marcher struts in front, proudly waving the Union Jack? I couldn’t recall any, and if there were I doubt there’d ever be a televised debate about the multicultural origin of the flag carrier. I couldn’t decide whether Greece was excessively celebrating their nationhood, or if the UK was trying too hard to remove any celebration of theirs. Not coming from a county that had ever been occupied, at least in recent history, I doubted I’d fully understand the concept of nationhood and how important it is to its citizens. As if reading my mind, Dimitrios said:
    “I’m not making excuses for racist attitudes, but when a country’s been occupied as much as this one has, you can understand where they come from, especially the older generation who’ve lived through a lot.”
    I watched the excitement on everybody’s faces…seeing them come alive at the memory that their country had fought so hard. My history has been a lot easier than that of the people of this nation. We’re all forged in the crucible of our nation’s history. When I came here I just wanted sunshine and beaches, but there’s so much more to discover. Given my different historical upbringing, I wondered about my empathy and my ability to become as excited as the Greeks about such events.
    After the parade, we went to eat in a place that resembled a New York City delicatessen that displayed a selection of freshly prepared food and salads: I chose my dish and it was heated and served with a glass of wine and water. I perked up when I saw the homemade desserts on display. As I tucked into a tiramisu, Kaliopi arrived and plonked herself next to us.
    “So this is Exarchia—traditionally an ‘anarchist’ area of Athens where it’s thought people from the left meet to ‘plot’” she informed me.
    “Plot what?”
    “You know, to overthrow the government.”
No, I don’t know!
The concept seemed so far removed from my everyday life that I found it difficult to imagine.
    “
So that
explains why there are so many police around here.” Every street corner seemed occupied with men clad in navy blue uniforms,
Top Gun
shades and desert boots; they carried riot shields, gas masks, guns and canisters of tear gas.
    “Yes, don’t be alarmed,” said Nektarios. “But also don’t think that these are your friendly neighbourhood policemen either, because they aren’t,” he continued.
Clearly not,
I thought.
Look at their get-up! They look like they’re ex-Navy SEALS.
“Don’t ask them for directions. They will ask to see your passport and proof of who you are without any reason…just because they can.”
    “Should I be worried then?” I asked. “I mean, all I’m doing is eating tiramisu, not planning to overthrow the state.”
    “No,” it was Dimitrios’ turn, “Nektarios is exaggerating. Although they look scary with their uniforms, I’m sure if you were lost they would help a pretty girl like you.”
    I wondered what would happen if I weren’t so ‘pretty?’ At least we’re not afraid of our police force in the U.K., or more to the point, at least I feel comfortable asking for directions. These guys? They look like they’d relish the chance to stamp on me.
    Kaliopi leaned in to polish off the last mouthful of my tiramisu, literally just as I was about to fork it. “Let’s take Rachel to the Acropolis, there’s more to Athens than military parades.”
    “Too tired. You go” Nektarios bowed out and told us he was off home to sleep.
Shame, I’d been enjoying his