(All right, Classics majors, do your translation magic on the title. I will award ten Internet points to the first person to do so; these can be redeemed at all major social gatherings for nerd cred.)
First off, my apologies for the late posting of last night’s blog entry– our hotel was very, very nice, but the WiFi was basically non-existant. If I’m ever late posting to the blog, please don’t worry– it’s likely a WiFi issue, since the coverage is much more spotty than it is in the States. (If you’d like to check up on how things are going with the kiddos, please also check Mr. Stephenson’s pictures and Mr. Auld’s blog. They both make an effort to post multiple times a day, if possible.)
Today began at the oh-so-unpleasant hour of 4:30, since we needed to make our flight to Athens, which required us to be at the airport by 6:30. So it was a short night, and a fairly wakeful one for me– I never sleep well the night before a flight, too busy thinking I’ll oversleep, or forget something. But we were all up and moving by the time we needed to be, and headed off to the airport in good– if sleepy– fashion.
Check-in at the airport was slow, but thankfully uneventful. We made it to our gate on time, and the kids had a chance to grab some snacks in anticipation of our having a rather late lunch today. I saw some of the kiddos load up on Pringles (excuse me, sorry, there’s a soccer promotion on right now, so the packages all proclaim that they are “Pringooooals!” instead) and Nutella and giant bags of M&Ms, so the kids were definitely happy, if not nutritionally balanced.
Our flight to Athens was quick– only about an hour and forty-five minutes. While many of the kids conked out and slept (which was a good idea, considering our early morning), I wasn’t able to fall asleep. Luckily, I had a window seat this time, and it was a cloudless day over the Mediterranean, so I could see the passing ships and islands and tiny white-capped waves below. We hit some clouds and rougher air as we descended into Athens, but the landing was smooth, and overall it was a pretty easy trip.
Once everyone had picked up their luggage from the carousel, Alex walked us to our new bus, and we headed out of the Athenian region, and south towards Delphi, which is where we are now.
Delphi, if you know, was a sacred site in the classical Greek world, as it housed the oracles– called Pythia– who could tell men their destinies and give them advice. That advice was rendered through the Pythia, who sat and meditated while breathing in the volcanic fumes (and other substances), and would then be prompted to respond to the questions of petitioners. Her responses– the Pythia was always female– were often garbled and fragmented, and priests would then interpret her statements in order to give the petitioners their answers. The responses were usually ambiguous, and allowed the petitioner to interpret the statement many ways– which meant that the oracle was rarely entirely wrong.
Delphi is located on the slopes of Mount Parnassus, which– like most of the mountains in Greece– is limestone, craggy, and spotted with olive trees, wild lavander, and some very tough, clinging shrubs. So! That’s where we headed off to: down a long, broad highway lined with flowers (with virtually no one on it), towards what was once known as the “navel of the world.”
After about three hours, we stopped for lunch at a place that Alex assured us was her very favorite place to eat on the trip. Alex hasn’t steered us wrong yet, but the way she talked it up, I really wasn’t sure that the restaurant could live up to her praise. But– yeah. Oh, man. I had a few good meals in Italy– lots of pasta, not all of it memorable– but that lunch was incredible. I got a sort of sampler platter with spinach pie (spanakopita), some sort of fried zucchini hush puppy thing which was AMAZING, the best tzaziki I’ve ever had, stuffed grape leaves with lemon sauce, and this fried cheese thing wrapped in phylo dough. It was cheap, and delicious, and Alex is taking us back there tomorrow– and none of the kids are complaining about it because it was all so, so good. I think I’m getting lamb this time….
Okay. Yes. I’ll stop writing about food now, because we just ate dinner and I have no reason to be hungry.
At any rate, after we gorged ourselves, we drove about half an hour up the winding roads of Mount Parnassus, past the ruins of the temple of Apollo, and into the tiny town of Delphi. And by tiny, I mean that there are two main streets, some terraced gardens, a church or two, and a whole bunch of tourist shops, hotels, and cafes. This place clearly lives and dies by tourism– and given the state of the current Greek economy, things do feel a little worn and desparate around here. But the people have been friendly, and the views are gorgeous. After all, you can’t possibly complain when the view from your hotel room is a broad valley carpeted in thousands of grey-green olive trees, the white escarpment of limestone hillsides, swallows swooping in the late afternoon sun, and there, at the end of the valley is the Bay of Corinth, separating mainland Greece from the Pelopennesian peninsula.
Because our tour of the ruins at Delphi isn’t until tomorrow morning, we were able to give the kids a leisurely afternoon, during which they could shop or wander the village, or take photographs, or possibly nap. (Or play Risk. Someone bought an Italian version of Risk in Rome, and it’s become a thing amongst some of the kids.) I spent a good bit of the afternoon out on our balcony (I know), listening to the sound of swallows chirping and the wine glasses in the nearby cafe clinking as folks had a late afternoon meal. We then had a late dinner with the kids at the restaurant next door, chatting with them about some of their purchases. I saw several “evil eye” charms, and one enterprising group of young men all purchased traditional style Greek shirts in varying patterns of white and blue. They look pretty awesome as a group.
So, that was Day One of Greece. I liked Italy a lot, but I have a feeling Greece might be even more my speed.
A History of Adventure 