“The Metro”

Stamatis Sassilaros, Greece

Creators of Justice Award 2022 | First Prize: Essay

Stamatis Sassilaros was born in Athens on 2/18/1932. He spent his youth in Egypt until 1949 when he graduated from the Abetio School

of Cairo. In 1949 he graduated the Medical School of the University of Athens. Immediately after receiving the degree, I went to Cleveland, USA. Where

he completed his residency in General Surgery. He then completed his residency in Surgical Oncology at ROSWELL PARC MEMORIAL HOSPITAL in

Buffalo, New York. In 1964 he returned to Athens, became an Assistant Professor at the University of Athens and continued to practice Surgical

Oncology until 2015..

 THE METRO

The metro is the umbilical cord to the centre of Athens. It is my contact with the Athenians, who are struggling to make ends meet in this society full of surprises.

Only when you use public transport do you realise that you live in the city that hosts you. Because most of us are guests in Athens, even though some people insist on saying they’re Athenians because they happened to be born here. These are the ones who have not maintained their connection with their family roots. You can say I’m old-fashioned. I feel sad for those who claim they’re Athenian without being from here. I always say I’m from Ikaria, born in Athens.

I was saying that it’s important to use public transport, because, being in the same place with all these people, you might even sympathise with their problems. And if some honourable residents of the northern suburbs used public transport frequently, it might change the profile of our country.

The Μetro, on the other hand, gave a fast and dignified solution to common people’s transport. For those of us whose contact with the centre was not a daily obligation, it gave us the pleasant opportunity to visit the city more often. The mere announcement that the Metro, after so many decades, was now a reality, made us feel, for once, victorious.

For me it was a joy, because I didn't have to drive in difficult areas, begging the excellent taxi drivers, and I could enjoy the ride by reading those around me or a book.

When you go down the Metro for the first time, you leave the Athenian reality behind. Ιn the bowels of the earth you expect to hear, if you believe in the Olympian gods, Hephaestus’ curses or cries of the damned, if you’re Christian. Ιnstead you're surprised. A dreamy surprise awaits you. You are embraced by easy-to-understand music, classical or modern, that makes you a different person. I see the others around me behaving differently as well. It is unbelievable how the Greek transforms in the underground galleries of this saving medium. Everytime you walk down the stairs it feels like you’re migrating to another country. The transformation of the Greek immigrant is impressive. He speaks softly, doesn’t make any gestures, understands the concept of time with the consistency of the itineraries, respects the people around and the rules of the place, which he doesn’t litter. The tough attitude he has in the upper world is gone. He does things that surprise you.

Some time ago, while I was waiting on the platform, a young girl next to me bowed and grabbed a small piece of paper from the floor. She wasn’t the one who had thrown it. You’ll tell me: that’s extreme. I agree. But, here, her education had the first say. I was proud of her. I was instantly reminded of a similar act I saw in Finland, when a child turned around to pick up his ice cream cone that he had dropped to throw it in the trash can. This lesson stayed in my memory and I was glad I saw it again, at the Metro. I’m not saying in Athens, because that’s a different world. Don’t ask me if I’d do what the girl did, because I’m ashamed. Maybe the Metro hasn’t transformed me completely yet…

The worst moment in this underground labyrinth is when, after a hard metallic sound, the employee's voice sounds strongly imperative. The advice she gives is important. But, what for? It takes you to a prison yard or a crematorium. Say it softer. Don't take me out of musical paradise so abruptly.

The train will be here in four minutes, the bright sign was saying. 

As you wait for the time to go by, your gaze wanders across the platform. How many times do you get the chance in the upper world, when you're running to catch up on your business or that green light that is only for the fast ones, to observe your fellow citizens? Almost never. But here, waiting for the train, you see the people across the platform and for the first time you realise they look like you. The way they speak, they move or stay still, silent, lost in their thoughts, it challenges you to guess their problems.They all have almost the same problems as you.

The bright sign says the time has passed.

The train appeared just on time. While the doors were opening, there was a little mess. Little by little everyone got calmer when they realised everyone can fit.

The employee’s voice sounded again. I thought it was more melodic this time. I smiled and I entered the carriage. 

Now, sitting or standing up, cramped or comfortable, you live in the mass, listening to its rhythms. Little things will happen around you that will go unnoticed by most people. Sensitise your antennas and hold them back. Try to find the reasons behind different behaviours. 

Little by little, while you worry about the safety of your pocket, you develop the ability to suspect the pickpocket couples. 

You are given material on the statistical conclusions about the appeal of Greeks to reading, and much more.

It’s interesting how the digital era has affected human relationships. I’m standing in the middle of the carriage, looking at the door. On the left, there’s a beautiful girl, standing up with her eyes closed, earphones on, swaying slightly to the rhythm. Right across, a young man, also with his eyes closed and earphones on, enjoying his music. 

Seeing these two young people, I think back to the days before earphones. If at least they had their eyes open, would any of them find anything interesting about the other? Would they exchange smiles perhaps? While I was thinking these thoughts, I heard a sigh. I believe it was coming from Cupid, who stood at the corner terrified. He was afraid they might erase him from this century. 

The mobile phone industry, apart from its positive contribution, has skyrocketed the cost of living. This has been achieved by the special companies by convincing the brainless that they are distinguished when they use their mobile phone almost all the time. When I saw for the first time a serious sir walking calmly and talking to himself, I remembered the local town fool, Trellantonis. The difference was that the latter was gesticulating and, occasionally making an abrupt turn, tried to disperse the annoying tiny girl that followed him. You’ll tell me, lately lots of people mutter on the street. Well, they belong to another story. But the metro young lady, squeezed in next to us, took a call and responded. In the beginning she was talking very quietly. But the tension increased with the turn the discussion took. The people around, forced eavesdroppers, getting into the issue, they started to take a position. One of the more impudent ones, thinking he was now in the conversation, stepped in and dared to advise the speaker of the answer. The laughter brought a happy ending, of course, without any misunderstanding.

I have to confess that I am a conscious citizen. If I notice that something goes beyond the limits of tolerance, then I react, usually with letters. I’ve heard from friends that some of them were published. I say “I’ve heard”, because I'm not an avid reader of the press.

So you can understand how I reacted, when on the 15th of March in 2004, I noticed that on the back of the metro ticket, which I had just bought from the ticket office at “Megaro Mousikis” stop, was written:

What awaits you at the next stop?

Call 1400 and COSMOTE

Will “tell” you the future through the signs of the zodiac and cartomancy

Charge €0,005/sec Νo VAT 18%

I kept the tickets and tried to collect some more. With these facts I started a fight, alone. My scathing letters were answered with silly excuses.

After my last letter to the Minister of Finance, on the 19th of April in 2004, I felt like a winner. He didn’t respond to me, but the ad was withdrawn. I was stuck with the habit, everytime I buy new tickets, I always check them just in case I catch them again.

The connection with the Eleftherios Venizelos Airport, especially for the travellers without or with very light luggage, is a piece of cake. If you are a senior citizen it’s almost free.

On a Sunday early afternoon, coming back from Ioannina, I got on the Metro to get me a block from home. I was in no rush. The weather was lovely. I sat on a single seat and started reading my book. A young, female voice interrupted me. I looked up and saw a beautiful girl, slightly bent over me. 

“Excuse me, sir”, she started saying, “does this train go to Monastiraki or do I need to change?” 

I reassured her by saying she was on the right train. She sat on the single seat across from me. She justified her decision to stop and ask me for instructions.

“I crossed the whole train and, when I saw you reading, I decided to ask you”. 

She neglected to say that it was my age that gave her courage.

During the next ten minutes I learned that she was twenty four, a philologist, working at a travel agency in Ioannina. Moreover, it was her first time coming to Athens by aeroplane.

She wanted to know where I worked. When I told her I’m a doctor, she looked surprised.

“You are a doctor!”

I, amused by this youthful spontaneity, dared to ask. 

“My young lady, how do you imagine doctors?” 

She didn’t complete her answer, but we both understood what she wanted to say.

She showed interest in my job, my specialisation, my name, that she didn’t know.

My age obviously played an important role, when she asked me:

“Tell me, I want to know, when does someone feel complete? That he succeeded in life?”

I have to confess that I wasn’t expecting that, after the small talk that preceded, I would have to answer such a question. I felt awkward. I wanted my answer to be honest and express myself.

“I believe”, I started saying, “that a complete person respects the others and doesn’t want to harm anyone, and is not afraid of the rules of the society he lives in, or the others”. 

“Interesting”, the young lady said quickly. “But that’s what Socrates said in his Apology…”

You see, I had to deal with a well-read philologist. Very kindly she told me that I was not the first, since this had been heard in Athens two and a half thousand years ago.

With the pleasant chat I didn’t realise how fast time had passed. I greeted her, I wished her all the best and we separated without me asking for her name.

I went up on the surface, where the bright blue Athenian sky made everything look so serene.

I walk joyfully to my apartment and I think that the faces of passers-by are more familiar now than in the pre-Metro era.