Even if you don't anticipate giving your camera away, by all means take it to Greece. It is the magic key to personal popularity. For the Greeks perpetually relive the legend of Narcissus, substituting the camera lens for the fatal pool. They pose at the drop of flap, instinctively striking a photogenic attitude against the most picturesque of backgrounds. Take color film for the white-skirted evzone sentinels at the Royal Palace in Athens. You can bank on finding one or two of these wellgirdled, luxuriantly-moustached soldiers on the Acropolis on Sunday. It is their day off but they are waiting in full dress uniform, ruching and all, for you and your camera. At sight of the latter, the evzone's eyes glow with pleasure, his moustache bristles with pride, his chest swells, and he strikes a superb pose. He will ask you for that most desirable of all souvenirs: a copy of his own likeness which he can show to his friends.
The self-esteem of the evzones is just one facet of Greek national pride in general. "If you don't sing the praises of your house," says an old Greek proverb, "it will fall down on your head." Greece is an old house with a glorious history. It has survived four centuries of occupation by uninvited Turkish guests, more recently a horrid tenancy by the Nazis, and the horrors of being divided against itself, but the roof is miraculously intact and the legal tenants have the right to sing its praises. Greek chauvinism is inoffensive. More positively, it operates as what Madison Avenue is pleased to call a plus value for tourism. The Greek wants you to share his admiration for his country. He wants you to life it too.