From Paradise to the Crusades in Geraka

I took the garbage out to put it in the bin around 14:00 this afternoon. The sun was shining, there was this marvelous quiet, and the temperature was about 20 degrees.

Along the way, I fell in with a short man in a black wool suit who was doing the same thing. “Kalimera!” I said, catching his eye. “Kalimera,” he responded.

We dumped our bags, and started walking back up the hill. Along the way, he turned to me and asked “Aren’t we in Paradise?” (Δεν είμαστε στον Παράδεισο?”).

“Actually,” I responded, “this is Geraka.”

He stopped, waving his arms a bit at the sky. “No, I mean to say, look around, isn’t this Paradise?”

“Yes, from this viewpoint, we are. If only there were fewer thieves and criminals.”

“I agree,” he responded, "these politicians are really too much." And so we got to talking. A little while later, he asked me “Why don’t you join the Association of the Cross?” (Γιατί δεν γίνεσαι μέλος του Συλλόγου του Σταυρού?”)

I reflected how joining a Crusade would look on my CV, and responded “Well, actually, I do go to Church.”

“No,” he said, “not THAT cross. This Stavros – you know, the neighbourhood of Stavros? If you don’t start screaming a bit, nothing gets done in this country.”

Well, I took his leaflet for the “Association of the Cross” (which turned out to be a neighbourhood association), shook his hand, and went back to the comfort of home. From Paradise to the Crusades in the two minutes it took to empty the garbage bags one sunny afternoon in Geraka. And here I thought work was interesting.