“Non –violent resistance implies the very opposite of weakness. Defiance combined with non-retaliatory acceptance of repression from one’s opponent is active, not passive. It requires strength, and there is nothing automatic or intuitive about the resoluteness required for using non-violent methods in political struggle and the quest for Truth”
--Mahatma Ghandi
There are times when I will look down and not recognize my hands. The color of my hands has darkened slightly, but it is noticeable enough that it shocks me a little when I see them. They don’t look like my hands. I did make it a week in Athens and most of my week before my program without getting badly burnt. That lasted until the beach this weekend. My shoulders, back, and chest bore the worst of the sun. My back, in fact, is bad enough that I have an awkward hair tan line. It almost looks like I was wearing a strange racer back tank.
In order to get to the lovely island of Aegina, we explored the metro and the ferry. We also found out just how long it takes to find a good beach and how difficult the times of public transportation can be. To get to a beach farther from the port, we would have had to rely on a bus, which had limited hours and would only give us a couple hours on the beach.
The night before, I visited the protests outside Parliament. I walked over with a guy from my program. We tried to walk by Parliament at night, but the first thing we saw was a huge bus blocking the road and a line of police officers with their riot shields. After seeing these intimidating men, I started to get a little nervous. We had to detour around the front of Parliament by a few blocks. We found our way to the protest, and at first I was underwhelmed. I didn’t see the entire square full of protestors behind me, only the ones directly in front of Parliament. While there were a number, the number was not what I had been expecting. After realizing the extent of the protest, it seemed much more impressive. We walked in a big circle around Syntagma Square, which was where the majority of the people were. I was beginning to feel more comfortable in the crowd, as the riot police were still on my mind.
Honestly, the protests seemed to be more of a social gathering than a protest to most people. Plenty of people were simply watching and listening to the protestors. There were a number gathered and chanting or shouting, but everyone else was very relaxed. I saw more vendors in that square and on that street than I normally see at baseball games. While there was a purpose to the gathering, the social atmosphere seemed vastly more important than the political reasons.
After our time at the island, we walked by the protests again. This time, we didn’t pass the front of Parliament and therefore did not see the same intimidating riot police. While there were lines of riot police in front of Parliament, they simply looked to be patrolling the area rather than blocking cars and stopping people. I noticed plenty of children and families among the protests, which furthered my opinion that the riots were peaceful.
I went to church today (finally) for the first time in a few weeks. Traveling makes church rather difficult to arrange. The mass was entirely in Greek, but it was a Catholic church. I said some of my prayers in English, but it is weird to realize how important the community is. Without the English support, I was getting lost as to where in the mass we were and what I needed to do next. I couldn’t understand the readings or homily or songs, obviously. It was strange to see how the locals viewed mass. Many were coming and going throughout the service, which was a little foreign. Some would walk in mid-mass with their shopping bags in hand, which looked as if they were shopping instead of attending mass. I was surrounded by Asians in a church in the middle of Athens. One of the weirdest parts was the sign of peace, when the Asian women I was near refused to shake hands and simply nodded the peace.
The Cathedral of St. Dionysious was absolutely beautiful. There were some amazing murals on the wall and ceiling. There was gorgeous gold glittering in the candlelight. Incense must have been the priests’ best friend, considering how often they used it. The archways were also amazing. Above the arches, there were shields with the names and images of saints with a lovely blue molding above those. The stained glass walls and areas dedicated to different saints were so pretty. The entire church was such a pleasant place.
The guards made my day a little more exciting. On my walk to church, a police officer tried to hit on me. I believe he asked me what I was going to do, but the last word sounded like “chica” en espanol. It sounded something like “Tha canes, chica?” Of course, it was all in Greek, so it wasn’t like I could really understand or speak anything. On my way back from church, I found myself in the midst of a crowd following the parade associated with the changing of the guards. At first I thought it was another protest, since I was going the wrong way against a group of men who were walking on the sidewalk beside the guards. After I got far enough through the crowd, I could see other families and children again.
My life here is a little insane. It feels like it has been at least a week since the last time I posted something, but it has literally been only three. Just as my hands no longer are my own, time has found a new master and has changed its speed.
No comments:
Post a Comment