Easter in a Greek town
Posted in Personal on April 4th, 2010 by atma – Be the first to commentThis easter I stayed home. Last easter too. Easter at home sucks, big time. Okay, first thing first… Easter in Greece consists of the following things: Watching old movies – especially “Jesus from Nazareth” - eating anything but meat and derivatives - I never made it for an entire week, this time is no exception of course – skew a lamb on Sunday to celebrate Jesus and all these boring staff. Wait there is more, in theory you have to go to the church and listen some naive, right-wing speech from a mid-school preacher with no idea of sociology, politics, psychology or maths for what matters… Then, there’s this entire thing with the relatives. It’s widely known that you can’t choose your relatives. Well there is a good reason for that! If we could choose our relatives they would be considerably less…
So what remains? Except from you getting more weight, not much. But wait!!! Yes, wait again! We don’t live in Athens!! We live in a small country city!!! Since we are “a” modern town we don’t have universities here, so we expect people who left for universities or in order to find a decent job come back for hollydays, so it’s a good opportunity to see people you don’t usually see every day.
The problem is that the place remains the same, which adds an utterly bored theme to the already fucked up situation. Now that I’m thinking of it, it’s boring to see the same faces, listen the same answers to the same questions.
The only solution I can come up with is leave the fucking town while you can. Yes, organise your self with a couple of friends and leave!
After 12 o’clock, the religious ceremony is over. We will come home, eat a chicken soup then hang out with our friends. Try to have good time and note the word “try“. Rarely you have good time, when it’s holly-days. This is mostly true, when you pass over 25 and you’re relatively independent from your parents or tutors and you can go out and have fun every fucking day of the 365 and a half.
Then, there’s this fine collection of candles that goes out every year at the same and date to celebrate the rise of Christ from the dead. Okay, so imagine like 2.000 people holding a candle with FIRE on it. How many are the chances of someone NOT getting on fire? Well, considering that the IQ of most people is approximate to 80 here, if “n” is the number of possibilities for someone NOT getting on fire, “n” is converging to zero. If you listen the conversations taking place at the spot, you will agree on the IQ avg!
The one thing I never understood, although I steadily do it every “this time of the year” is the bars that we choose to dump ourselves like chickens. I mean, it’s the culmination of irony: We prepare ourselves for about 40 minutes or – for mens – 2 hours maybe more – for women – to go and stuck in a small bar that was made to hold half the people it has. So we cross each other foot, avoid cigarettes, the waiter who is acting like a moving bomb, holding about 3 lt of several alcoholic liquids – If you are *lucky* you get the wine glass of wine on the new Gucci sark you spend your pay-check on – and when you’ve done all that… There you go! You face the girl with whom you slept a couple of days earlier without clearly explaining that this was not meant to be a relationship… And you change like what? 5 colours in a raw, try to be nice because hey, this is a small city and it’s really unprofessional to act like a bastard. After all she has friends that you don’t want to know that you slept with her, so you just play nice, but your temper is about to explode. So, while you feel like Dexter1 when he fails to capture the victim and complete the kill, you have to salute all the dear friends and the friends of friends because HEY!! YOU MADE IT!! You reached this holly table where you will be stuck all night wondering why the fuck you’re not sleeping or how the hell you’re going to reach the toilet and then get back before the clock shows 6 a.m. .
There’s a good part though. Tomorrow we will go to a family friend’s house, whose cooking is the finest! So we will happily kill our selfs eating like porks. I like it, can’t wait actually, because it’s the only really good part that stays the same every fucking year.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved this ritual for years but now I’m just repelled to the idea of having a night like this. I love well dressed people and I spent money on Gucci jackets just because I found them beautiful. Yes I love fast cars and fancy ladies with long legs and tight assess accompanied by a sweet, sexy or just plain beautiful face. But, Jesus, I’m too old for this. I’ll get the ladies and the cars and all the glamorous environment a regular day when the expectations will be low and the actual happenings will be interesting.
The good thing though is that, I’m too old to create my own fate, so If it’s boring I just say “bye” with the same lightning speed I say “hi” and change place or bar. If this does not work for three times, there’s always my bed waiting along with a fine reading.

