My first Greek protest or how I nearly choked to death

So there it was, at last, long expected Sunday, a day I had been waiting for all week, as I I had to work on Saturday.  I woke up in the best of my moods, even though it was raining, as it always does when I have a day off. This is one of Murphy’s laws that always messes with me. Today, for instance, when I left home for work, sun was up and shining at 16 degrees. 

Never mind, I said, it’s going to be a day of joy and glory! Rise up and shine, everybody in the house, let’s make something out of this day! My respectable apartment mates (aka my boyfriend and my cat) do not always share such enthusiasm early in the morning, but I don’t get discouraged by that. So what to do, what to do, too wet and cold to lie on the beach, not in the mood for purposeless walks, oh, wait, I know, let’s go to the protest!

As everyone knows, yesterday it was supposed to take place in Athens one of the greatest  protests over the last years in anticipation to new imposed austerity measures to be voted by the Greek Parliament. And it was, indeed, one of the most violent riots that Athens has seen lately, with nearly a hundred thousand people out in the streets, buildings on fire, lots and lots of tear gas, dozens of injured people and vandalized stores. 

I am quite a fan of mass human gatherings. Whenever I take part in one, I kind of picture myself as a musketeer, you know, ‘all for one and one for all’, we are all here thinking the same thing and fighting for the same cause, we are a force! True, all the protests I had witnessed so far had been quite peaceful, in my country they even dance or sing every now and then during the protest (they just feel like it). And in my country they have all the reasons in the world to go more violent, but it’s just the way it goes. Even recently we had some mass movements on the streets, also against poor country management, and the worst thing that happened was that there were a few stones thrown at the police officers. And afterwards, a Greek journalist came out and said that in Greece more damage would have been caused by a divorced middle aged woman and a bunch of kids that reached puberty.

Anyway, as an expat, had no idea what protests are like here. So, I dressed up all in colours and  was ready to go, when my boyfriend told me to put a thick scarf and two  lemons in my purse.  Kind of weird, I said, but aren’t we all, sometimes? So I obeyed and off we go, on the motorcycle, wind in my hair, camera and lemons in my purse, good mood all the way. 

We park at Monastiraki and we continue on foot towards Syntagma Square, where I was about to take great photos, eat a snack and protest like a warrior!  On our way we see people lazily filling outdoor cafes, sipping their cappuccinos, smoking their cigars, laughing, music singing, such a normal Sunday afternoon.

We get close to Syntagma, we can see the square and further ahead the Parliament. Lots of people surrounding the square, slowly moving forward, very few right in the middle of the square and bunches running from the Parliament towards us. These ones running got my attention, cause their eyes were full of tears, some were wearing surgeon masks, some had some kind of white powder on their face, they didn’t seem to run for the sake of exercise. So then I see it, it’s tear gas, I can feel it too, I start to sneeze, my eyes get wet, I say, oh boy, my mascara! My boyfriend doesn’t seem to share my worries, he grabs my hand, asks me to take out the lemons, covers his nose and says ‘come on, are we going or what?’ And there it was, the moment of truth. Didn’t want to look like a chicken, but breathing was getting really hard and those people running from the exact direction where he was taking me seemed quite scared. Plus that white stuff on their face, thought something had exploded right under their nose (actually turns out it’s a cream they put on to ease the effects of tear gas). Plus sounds like small bombs could be heard from all directions. Was also hard to see what exactly was going on due to smoke, tears and running make up. He, on the other hand, no problem, just squeezes a lemon over his eyes (apparently just what you need to get over tear gas) and he’s ready to go! I was offered a lemon, too, but politely declined, a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do, rather cry to death than entirely mess up my make up. 

So there and then I decided to come clean, I’m a chicken! I want to go back, not forward. I can see the warrior look in his eyes, but what can he do, he cannot leave me there. So we slowly start the walk of shame back to where we came, it’s just that now it’s all crowded, we are all headed to a narrow street as we are being pushed from all sides by bunches of runners, tear gas bombs explode every minute behind us, every time closer, I see an old lady next to me, she makes strange sounds as she cannot breathe, people are pushing, some are yelling, some are coughing , eyes and throat sting. It’s like a river of people who can almost breathe try to squeeze into a very narrow place and they try to do it fast.  So many people everywhere, all look disappointed or angry, all shouting at once whenever seeing police officers. Police officers with shields up and ready for attack at every corner. Eventually we manage to turn left on another small street and there the air is clean and lungs are happy again.

And so we’re out and I was a chicken on my first Greek protest. When I got home, I saw on TV how people were standing in the square until late In the evening, shouting, facing the tear gas that never seemed to stop (apparently it could still be felt this morning on the streets), running from and towards the police, waving their statement banners. Such a chicken.

So here is my resolution for next protest: buy a gas mask. And even better, buy few thousand cheap Chinese gas masks and sell them on the spot, to make some extra bucks. If we sold one for 5 euros, let’s say, we would have hit the jackpot. And protest like the warrior that I am, of course!

*blue shrimp*