Greece in Hindsight

My return to the states was bittersweet. Of course at that point I was going on 30+ hours without sleep and essentially stumbling through the fog of fatigue, but it felt as though absolutely nothing had changed. Time here had stopped while I was in Greece, and was forced to slowly get back in gear when my plane touched down. Despite America's traditionally breakneck pace of life, the world around me plodded onward as if attempting to run underwater, drowned out by the brilliance of life in Greece.

Since I've been back, everyone with whom I've spoken has offered the same answer to the question, "so what'd I miss?"

"Nothing."

Many websites were viewed, many movies were watched, many meals were thoughtlessly swallowed. Weeks were wasted on nothing. I'd sit there listening as my friends recounted with arduous detail how utterly uneventful the past month had been, and I kept thinking, "so this is what you're doing with your life?" 

I just got back from a world-altering trip to Greece. My next step is to move out of the dorms into off-campus housing for the first time and kick-start my life by recording an album for iTunes before I graduate and figure out where I want to end up. In the words of Dan Millman, there's never nothing going on. 

It's said that only people who want everything done for them get bored. Opportunities are there to be seized, and if you're sitting alone in your room mindlessly browsing meaningless websites indefinitely, what can you expect from life?

It just reaffirmed my suspicion that no time had passed since I left. But since I've been back, I got news that Eυγενία visited the Acropolis Museum for the first time in her life. She posted pictures, and I saw places from the other side of the globe where I had been not two days before. This was a strange feeling: time was still flowing there. The Acropolis Museum was still open, and other tourists were flocking to the place and snapping photos of the Byzantine village underneath the glass panels, even if I wasn't there to be a part of it.

Back in America, I'm virtually surrounded by stagnation. The ruins of the Byzantine baths felt more alive than PLU does.

So what are you doing with your life? 

When I started this blog, I wrote about Erikson's stages of psychological development, and discussed my current stress in the crisis of Intimacy vs. Isolation, in which you ask, "Am I loved and wanted? Shall I spend my life with someone or live alone?" Now that I'm back, it seems telling that the first thing I thought was that the world is stagnant. Erikson's subsequent stage is called, "Generativity vs. Stagnation," in which you ask, "Will I produce something of value?" (This stage is typically associated with middle aged adults, but we often dabble outside of our current crises). Have I grown up so much in a month that I should be concerned with an altogether different life process than I was when I started?

What's the takeaway, here? Aside from a wonderful romance and a bacterial present from some goddamned stray that's eating my face and won't go away, I've come back with a sense that life is doable. This strikes me as a fairly valuable mindset. If you only reap what you sow, then one must be certain to sow as much as one can at any given moment. As we've seen, seizing these moments makes the moment yours. When your reaction to opportunities is not, "no," but rather, "why not?" the world opens itself to you. Should I hop on the metro and visit some section of the city to which I've never been? Why the heck not? Let's do it! Should I order the bizarre dish that involves lamb entrails wrapped in intestine? Sure! Want to arrange a meeting with a Greek girl and see where it goes? Do you even have to ask?

Things from Greece that I will miss:

Eυγενία

Crossing the street whenever I damn well feel like

Authentic souvlaki

Looking up and seeing either Lycabettus or the Acropolis and instantly knowing where I am

"People!"

Purposefully walking through Athens

Athens in general

Freezing cold nights huddled up on a park bench

Ben & Jessica's totalitarian government

Stray dogs joining our pack

"6:00 at Evangelismos?"

the Herodian Hotel jacuzzi

Ελληνικά

This blog

These people

Greece

Things I will not miss: 

Smoke

European showers. Good god.

This rash

Goody's burgers

Being an outsider

Trashing rather than flushing toilet paper

Surprise oranges for dessert

Not being able to understand people who need help

Goodbyes

Things I really don't want to think about right now:

Everything.

Parting is sorrow

This is the best kind of exhaustion -- fatigue after a month of the most fulfilling traveling I've ever done. I'm sorry to see it end, but I am so happy that it happened. 

Now, for fear of diving into the redundant, inane, or cliché, it is time to end this post, conclude this experience, and prepare to seize the next moment.

For Those Moments in the Woods

"Oh if life were made of moments -- even now and then a bad one -- 

but if life were only moments, then you'd never know you had one."

You want me to pick one moment to define the entire trip? Surely you can't be serious.

I've spent the last few days laboring over this question. In search of inspiration, I sought the opinion of a certain Greek girl who had shared a lot of the experience with me. She responded, "Think of the moment you said, 'that's the reason I won't regret [having taken] this trip.'"

Which moment was that? I'm trying to remember all the sights, smells, and tastes; all of the walks, the conversations; and more notably, all the moments that made my jaw drop.

But I think the defining moment would be the one in which I picked my jaw back up again. 

Travelers have no trouble experiencing awe in Greece. It's a rather awesome place, especially to foreigners. Everyone walks around the Acropolis and marvels at the manifestations of Greece's exotic culture, but then they leave again, eager to take pictures of the next awesome place. We, by comparison, had the benefit of sticking around. After the initial magic had dissipated, most of us discovered a much more profound relationship with the country. As with interpersonal relationships, we began to see beyond the flashy exterior to find the real beauty beneath (or perhaps just a subtler version of the exterior, considering that we still hadn't quite become entrenched in the country's political atmosphere and economic drama).

I wrote often about feeling or striving to feel like a local. When our group first arrived, we were just like every other tourist group, pausing to snap photos of anything with mass, but as the days progressed, we became comfortable in the new setting, and preferred to live in the moments, rather than attempting to document them before they disappeared.

Local v. Tourist is not defined by the amount of pictures one takes, but it is the most quantifiable example. In truth, the way we carried ourselves had fundamentally shifted, and so we weren't gawking at the sights, but we weren't taking them for granted either. We had found a sweet spot in the middle (where sweet spots so often are), and the moments ceased to be fleeting.

In theatre, they say that one can only start to act once the script is memorized and out of hand. Getting the lines down is the easy part -- the challenge is then to make the play yours. Picking up my jaw is a very similar experience to being off-book: I know this place; I'm no longer taking it at face value. It becomes, if you'll excuse the cliché, a living, breathing city, rather than a collection of things at which to stare, or to maintain the theatre metaphor, a series of words that flow straight from one's eyes to one's mouth, bypassing both the brain and the heart on their way out.

I've taken a piece of Athens home with me, and I know that a piece of me remains there. Both are profoundly connected. I've learned to see Greece through the eyes of both a tourist and a local. I learned to see the present -- not just the past symbolized by monuments, but to actually be present for the present: The moment that the moments became mine. That is why I won't regret having taken this trip.

"Let the moment go... Don't forget it for a moment, though.

Just remembering you've had an 'and' when you're back to 'or' 

makes the 'or' mean more than it did before."

Vanity of Vanities

Life is Vapor

I was back in Athens. It was like returning home in a dream -- we drove by most of the places to which we had wandered over the past month, and I fondly remembered everything that had transpired in the few square miles of downtown that was my home for two weeks. But it wasn't real. I was just traveling through my memory banks. There's no way I was back in Athens. 

Here's what I remember of the dream: I was standing outside of the Acropolis museum, vacantly staring down into the open archaeological site in the atrium. I was waiting for someone. 

The streets had been busy -- busier than they were the last time we had been in the city. New, wide-eyed faces ambled slowly around the shops and cafes. There were all sorts of languages floating around the Plaka, but none so dominant as English. English was present in all of its various modern iterations.

A middle-aged couple approached the archaeological site from across the square. They leaned up against the glass and started to vocally marvel at the scene. "It looks like some kind of a bath, or well!" They started taking pictures. Gradually, the square filled with similarly bewildered-looking people, gawking and taking pictures. I was reassured to learn that I'm not the only one who uses his iPhone as his primary "photography machine," but more than anything, I felt fatigue. I had already taken those pictures, I had already asked those questions. I knew the details of the scene intimately, and despite myself, I looked at the other tourists with a bemused disdain. They're coming into my neighborhood and discussing it as if it was a show that had been put on solely for their satisfaction. 

"Well, it's fine." I thought. 

Who knows, maybe in some sense, I really am Kyle the Greek. 

But at some point in the near future, I'll have to wake up. Basking in a jacuzzi on a rooftop with a clear view of the illuminated Acropolis and a beautiful woman in your arms is not real life. It's a movie script ending. 

However, as I mentioned to one who shared my dream, I have a sneaking suspicion that this is only the end of Act II. Act III may in fact turn out to take place in waking life.

A leap of faith

What's the moral of this story...?

Settle down, children; I have a tale to tell:

When I landed in Rhodes, I was certain that I was becoming sick. I was indefatigably fatigued, it hurt to swallow, and of the Top 5 (food, water, sleep, exercise, breathing), the only one that I had been successfully taking care of is exercise, by virtue of walking everywhere every day. So when I started getting red dots on my face, I figured it must be some kind of stress acne. I hadn't shaved in a few days, so this morning I decided to shave so as to avoid trapping additional bacteria in my stubble. 

That didn't help. The acne broke out like hives. I was embarrassed and disgusted, knowing that tomorrow I would have to say goodbye to Eυγενία, blemishing her last memory of me, not to mention the final pictures of my time in Greece (I'm not particularly vain, but every picture I took of myself today looked like my face was melting, hence my concern). Besides, I spent 5 months on Acutane. 5 months of HELL. My skin was beaten into submission -- it should know better than to get acne again. 

This evening, Dr. Ihssen pointed out that my neck was looking "angry," and decided that I should go to a hospital. 

Yes. Yes I am.

It was at this point that I began to suspect that this wasn't acne, but rather a genuine rash: some allergic reaction to some unknown plant or animal that I had touched and then stupidly transferred to my neck. Marvelous. 

Megan said that if I had shaved, that would make it much worse. Marvelous.

Dr. Finitsis asked the hotel receptionist about a hospital. The man took one look at me and asked if I had used a razor. Yes, I shaved. "That probably made it worse." Marvelous. 

The professors took me to the hospital, where I was promptly asked if I had shaved. Good lord, I thought, Am I really that stupid?

My mother is quick to express her loathing for Athens. Her single experience there was being airlifted away from her family to a hospital to get her appendix removed. At least I was fortunate enough to have Dr. Finitsis around to toss out the word, "Αγγλικά" whenever someone assumed I spoke Greek. After all my complaining about not blending in, having people finally think I'm Greek is really more frustrating than anything. Think about how many times I would've had to tell them that I don't speak Greek, and how many times that would've broken my heart. I just felt useless. Such a typical tourist. With control issues.

So now I have an ointment and some pills, as well as newfound humility and a sense of submissive acceptance with which I must trudge home.

On a brighter note, we'll be flying back to Athens tomorrow morning, arriving around noon, and then departing for the States at 3:30 the following morning. Those 15 hours are crucial. Crooooooshul. But not really -- I just mean that in the sense that they must be maximized. 

Eυγενία and I are making elaborate plans for these hours. The plans will probably be discarded in favor of something simpler, but either way, it will be a night befitting the occasion (the occasion being, of course, our last night together in Athens, which is kind of special). Then again, it is 2am here, and we leave the hotel at 9am. These plans may end abruptly in Kyle passing out on the floor of the Plaka. 

Bad Romance

Tonight, having virtually nothing to add to this blogosphere, I opted instead to concoct a tune to be the opening fanfare for my album. No regrets.

The opposite of this blog's title.

It's unfortunate that the blog title has to involve a negative image of connection (not to mention the unavoidable word association that leads one immediately to the new face of Amurika), because everything I have to say about romance on this trip is joyful. 

The hotel has suddenly livened up significantly -- there are several tables' worth of very cockney British accents (damned close to Australian, for some) floating around the room. Curiously, I'm having more difficulty understanding them than I do Greek. I write about language a lot, I think. Couldn't say why. 

I am, to my knowledge, the last remaining American in the lobby. I am going undercover, observing the mannerisms of this strange new flock of people who apparently are in the lobby of this hotel due to someone having a heart attack on their plane (or something). They are more boisterous and annoying than our class of Americans, who are stereotypically the loud and callous ones. They also all opt for tea over everything else, which is more amusing than surprising. Scratch that. Now they're moving in for the cocktails.

Hah! One just asked about "a Kentucky Fried Chicken shop." Ok, I'm done.

Oh! Ok, I have a meaningless connection to make.

As per my enlightened last post, Lady Gaga = Sacha Baron Cohen. Cohen transforms into several different people, and no one recognizes him. In this case, he becomes Lady Gaga.

In the story of Joseph and Aseneth, Aseneth converts and becomes unrecognizable, even to Joseph, who had previously spent a fair amount of time getting to know her with his hands. 

In the story of Kyle and Eυγενία, after a series of delightful rendez-vous, she recounted that her friends barely recognized her as she had opened up and come out of her shell. 

Yes, I just simultaneously related Eυγενία to both Aseneth, arguably the most beautiful woman since Helen, and Lady Gaga, arguably...well....Sacha Baron Cohen. I know, I'm a charmer. 

Does this mean anything? Probably not. But I tied the text together with the class content and my experience in Greece, so I'd say that this constitutes a passable blog entry. 

Now, THIS would represent a bad romance.

Body & Soul

I was originally going to write this blog about my personal struggle with the issue of reason v. emotion (which has shattered many close personal relationships during my life) and how today's lesson corroborates my position, but my family seems to think that that wouldn't be the most interesting thing ever, so instead I shall provide a description of the day's events. 

After spending nearly 4 hours in a dreadfully hot and muggy classroom, we ventured out to visit the Acropolis of Rhodes. The view isn't nearly as delicious as that of the Athenian Acropolis, nor are the ruins as exciting, but it did provide opportunity for some decent pictures.

This was immediately followed up by a fantastic sunset over the Mediterranean, and a photobomb that I'm rather disappointed to say has not yet appeared online.

Walking back to the hotel, I made a new best friend in a precious beagle-something hybrid that followed at my heel. We wrestled a bit, and he would run up to my extended palm when I was walking. Easy training, clearly not always stray. He ran in front of me as I turned a corner, continuing down the street off of which I had just turned. I looked around just in time to see him silhouetted in the distance staring at us as we left. It was very slightly tragic. 

...Descriptive narrative really just doesn't excite the mind. I can write words about activities, but lacking any particularly apt anecdote for the day, there's no context. When the most I have to say about the day is regarding a jovial stray dog..... I shall refrain from further explanation.

Body and Soul is the title of this entry. It reminds me of an advertisement here at which I've gawked every time I walk past it: 

This isn't the argument I'm trying to make....but it's kind of the argument I'm trying to make (The ad above this one reads, "Smart Critiques, Stupid Creates," so although I completely disagree with that statement, it's evident that the use of the word "stupid" here is not meant to be derogatory). I have absolutely no idea how this slogan is relevant to a clothing boutique, nor why kissing out of a bus would indicate that these models are anything but stupid, but perhaps that is the point. I have come to believe that they are advocating stupidity, considering the cliched idea of "listening to one's heart" (like...with a stethoscope?). 

Tangent aside, if we equate this advertisement to the lesson of reason v. emotion, or body & soul, we have Smart v. Stupid, where 

Smart = Reason/Body

Stupid = Emotion/Soul

I'll get back to this in a minute, so keep it in mind.

Body

Every day I've been here, I'm reminded of how thankful I am for my body. As senescence begins to set in, I appreciate my youthful knees and tolerable depth perception that allows me to nimbly ascend mountains and ruins. These are blessings that will fade in time. 

Mortality is not an issue for me -- I'm not so attached to this existence that I'd fear death -- but I know that there will come a time when I am physically unable to play the piano, for example. That mental image is more upsetting than the idea of no longer being.

Soul

I typically interpret "soul" as "consciousness." If nothing else, consciousness would be the effect that the soul has on the body. I can get behind the idea that the soul is piece of an infinite energy source in the universe, but when people describe it as the typical white ghost that floats up from one's body after death, maintaining the body's physical shape and characteristics, or that one is still one's same person in Heaven (but with wings and a harp), it gets a wee bit too....human(?) for me.

At first glance, it may appear as though Smart trumps Stupid by default. But there's clearly a benefit to the idea of Stupid = Emotion/Soul. Our peripherals have changed -- I'm currently writing this on a computer courtesy of Reason -- but our emotions, and the manner by which we emote has not changed. Shakespearean love sonnets resonate today as they did back in his time. This echoes in the idea of the soul, which emerges as an immortal projection of humanity's physical inadequacies. It is unchanging and everlasting, likely similar to humanity's emotions, but on a much larger scale. 

I was trying to argue for Stupid, but instead I found that Smart triumphs for the same reason (hah). Throughout history, the critical reasoning faculties of humanity has been largely what set us apart from the rest of the animal kingdom. Similar to our emotions, our reasoning process has not advanced in any great way -- but the products of our reasoning have advanced us in a great many ways. Though the body breaks down, Reason continues to push us through.

Reason has yet to produce an infinite battery, however, so I am forced to cut this thought short, with the hope of finishing in either a subsequent post or in the final paper for this class.

Kyle the Greek

I'm not Greek. Just in case there was any doubt. I'm about as American as they come.

Now you Symi, now you don't.

On the catamaran ride to the island of Symi this morning, I flipped my iPod to shuffle and was met with the delightfully meaningless Owl City, whose song, "Early Birdie" begins with, "Good evening, shuttle bus -- tell me where you're gonna take us. Some place that I have never been." And although this whole trip has consisted entirely of places that I have never been, I felt a very fresh thrill at the thought of actually going somewhere to which I'd never been. It was a beautiful little town, and I've decided that I will set up a hermitage there. I will become a legend among the children of the island, and they will seek me out to learn the answers to life's mysteries. Of course, I will be about as effective as the Oracle at Delphi, considering that I will be speaking a strange, Greeklish dialect that will probably not make sense to them.Αλλά it will come from the hermit on the top of the mountain, and will therefore be absolutely credible. Plus it'll give the kids bragging rights among their peers. 

...where was I going with that?

Something about community, cultural identity, and the like.

Point is, I didn't like Zorba the Greek. Perhaps I'm just not particularly insightful, but I was expecting something more along the lines of Fiddler on the Roof. I expected to see a noble tradition upheld in the face of foreign opposition, but with compromise on both sides. Y'know, that nice little Hollywood ending thing?* Instead, Zorba provided a glimpse into a civilization akin to a pack of dogs that will be nice to you only as long as you're dropping pieces of meat for them. I suspect I'm no better than the clueless protagonist regarding my comprehension of the community, but what I saw was borderline cannibalistic. It should go without saying that this analysis comes out of my own experience as a not-Greek person, but when you ask for my analysis, my experience is what I have to offer. 

If now was three or four hours ago, I bet I could have really dug down into this idea of cultural identity, but alas, it is now (hah! What a phrase!), and I refuse to start writing in my sleep again. 

Instead, I'll leave you with a picture of an appropriately sentimental and ephemeral sunset to give the impression that I am concluding this post on an equally brilliant and contemplative note, and a picture of a cute girl drinking coffee....just cause:

*I mean, Fiddler doesn't exactly end with a big red bow, but at least you care about what happens to the characters. Sure there's the aspect of honor versus shame, and the idea of saving face in a patriarchal society, but as Ben observed, there are infinitely better ways to convey these notions. The only humanity I perceived in this movie came at very strange moments from the aging French diva, Madame Hortense, and even then I was torn -- are we supposed to sympathize with this pathetically nostalgic woman?

Valiantly Hurdling the Language Barrier

Last night I finally had the opportunity to use my favorite Greek phrase – to ask for the check. We were sitting in a loud, smoky café, anxious to leave, but we had yet to pay for our drinks. For once the check had not appeared alongside the alcohol, so even though I had not personally imbibed any of it, I sat at attention, eagerly poised to flag down the waitress and show off my awesome Greek prowess.

“ Συγγνώμη!”* I caught her eye, she diverted from her course. This was my chance.

The line is “tov λογαριασμό παρακαλώ,”** which is pronounced, “toh logariasmo, parakalo.” I’m particularly fond of this phrase because of the way it rolls around the mouth and off the tongue. When speaking, my tongue often gets locked in the middle of a movement and syllables are dropped, so because this phrase flows so nicely, I like to mutter it to myself just for the feel of it.

“Toh logareesmo, parkal.“

Godamnit.

She tilted her head with a look on her face that burned, “aww, isn’t that cute,” into my exposed and vulnerable soul.

She understood me, but I decidedly failed myself. With alarming frequency, I forget that people don’t already know what I’m going to say, and that I have to utter complete words & thoughts to be understood. This is why the punchlines that I think I deliver too slowly are the ones that get the most laughs.

Definitely the face of cluelessness.
By Eυγενία 

It wasn’t even a bad attempt – I just slurred over a syllable and trailed off at the end because she knew what I was saying anyways. The people of Rhodes are very accustomed to tourists, so they may respect that some of us at least try to communicate on their terms.

Vendors can sniff out American tourists. Listening as their calls morph from Greek to English as we approach is very interesting. Even among two or three other people, they knew we were tourists. But when I am by myself, I am greeted in Ελληνικά.*** I play along when I can, but eventually I have to tell them that I have no idea what they’re saying. That moment always breaks my heart. “I hope you don’t think less of me as a person!” it seems to say. Still, perhaps in part because of my cluelessness, I managed to snag a nice coat for 65€ -- half the sales price. This place is neat.

*Sig-nomi = Excuse me

**To logariasmo, parakalo = The check, please

***Ellinika = Greek

I can see Turkey from my House!

My feet are resting on the railing of a balcony overlooking the warm Mediterranean sea. To my left is the shoreline of Turkey. To my right, the bay over which the Colossus of Rhodes – one of the seven wonders of the ancient world – may have stood. The vibrant colors have retreated from the sky to the west to be replaced by a few celestial dots of million-year-old light.

What just occurred in my head was a twitch of sympathy for the stars. The light that we see on Earth was originally emanated long before humanity even existed. It has finally reached the end of its journey, and chances are no one’s even looking.

Hah. Sympathy for stars. What a quaint, egocentric, and anthropomorphic concept….And a rather passable band name. Hmm….

I’ve done a lot of world travel in my life, but this is the first time I’ve been outside of the States without my family. This is partly the reason why this trip is and has been so deeply gratifying. The benefit of staying in one place is the arrival at complacency. Whereas in the past my family would have been constantly traveling from hotel to hotel or from port to port, living in a regular apartment allowed me to feel rooted; I was a part of the Athens scene, and not merely another American tourist. Independently wandering the streets of Athens at night or hopping on the metro, bus, or tram to get to a spontaneous destination meant a significant amount to me, as I have up until this point been living largely in time with my family.

Being as I am in a wholly different time, I become my own person.

Unless the entire class was traveling together, I didn’t ever feel like a tourist.* I successfully integrated with a delightful group of locals, was recognized as a regular at several nearby cafes, and even became someone’s first American boyfriend.

Now I’m back in a hotel for the remainder of my trip. This is not a bad thing in itself (naturally it’s a few steps above the old and minimalistic apartments), but it does foster the mindset that we are just visitors, paying for an experience instead of a lifestyle. So in that sense, I can’t actually see Turkey from my house, but I could almost see the Acropolis from it.

*I certainly was one, though. We still did not have to deal directly with day-to-day politics and the economic crises, and our daily grind typically involved sipping coffee at cafes and taking pictures of old things. 

This. Is. SPARTI

Standing alone on the top of the castle at the summit of Mystras, I was facing down a sheer cliff face, waiting to see which of us would be the first to flinch. 

Out of childish curiosity and fascination, I picked a loose rock off of the ruined tower and inconspicuously dropped it into the valley. As I watched it slowly shrink into nothing, I really wanted someone to admonish me, saying, "do you realize that if every stupid tourist felt the need to knock a rock off of these structures, there'd be nothing left?" to which I would dramatically don my sunglasses and reply, "yes. You might even say that I...understand the gravity of the situation."

YYYYEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!

I giggled to myself and hopped back off the wall. 

This has nothing to do with anything, but it is a cat.

Subsequently, we had settled down and 5 of us were sitting quite a ways apart from the group. One of us mentioned whether or not we should start going back down the hill. Megan said, "Oh no, I'm not moving until I hear the People! call."

For those not in the know, the People! call has a very mysterious power among this particular group of tourists. When uttered with a particular Greek accent to sound like, "pee-puhl!" our attention is immediately, inexplicably, and inexorably caught. It indicates that action may be required on our part, and so we are keen to respond. 

Now, let it be known that the 5 of us were the only ones who heard Megan.

Literally 3 seconds after her remark, Professor Finitsis stepped into sight from 20 meters away.

"People!"

Remember the Titans: The Evolution of God

"Humans -- like the gods of old -- living in the sky."

-- Sagan

Courtesy of an overzealous 6th grade history teacher and Disney's Hercules, I am rather fond of Ancient Greek mythology. I love how colorful and intricate the stories are, and how they always seem to weave even more elaborately the more you dig into them. I love the flawed, humanoid gods and goddesses, and enjoy pondering whether the ancients believed these stories literally or deliberately wrote them as metaphors? 

A popular saying among the secular camps is, "we are all atheists regarding most of the gods that humanity has ever believed in -- some of us just go one god further." I've seen people laugh at ancient mythology, offering comments like, "how could they believe this stuff?? It's ludicrous!" before dressing up and listening to someone tell them about a man who came back from the dead and flew away.*

I often wonder what a new religion would look like. If we had no history of religion, what would a mainstream tradition formed in the 21st-century encourage? Would it acknowledge a divinity at all? Would it embrace a more universal outlook towards the end of creating a widespread peace? Or would it be scientology?

Studying the evolution of humanity's perception of the Divine, there seems to be a gradual shift towards universalism. The ancient Greeks believed in gods that were, for all intents and purposes, human with superpowers. The God of Genesis (ok, one of the "God"s) is a god that physically walks in the garden, and who regrets actions that he took, or who did not seem to be omniscient. Subsequently, that God morphs into a much more abstract concept that gains omnipotence, omniscience, and the other omni-s. It becomes less jealous and more loving, and less vengeful and more forgiving. More recently, New Age philosophy has had an influence on some churches, and communities like the Unitarian Universalists are thriving in its wake. 

I'm daring to hope, therefore, that as our understanding of our place in the cosmos expands, humanity will grow into an idea of the Divine that does not exist merely to fill gaps in our knowledge and address our existential insecurities, but instead one that is understood as an intrinsic part of existence -- impersonal, not sentient, and not deliberately influencing earthly affairs, but instead one that holds them all together.

Yeah yeah, wrong trip, but it works. 

*Heaven's in the sky? I heard once that even if Jesus has been traveling at the speed of light ever since then, he would not even be out of the Milky Way Galaxy by now. But now I'm wondering what that would mean for someone traveling at the speed of light, considering that time is relative. Psh. Ludicrous. 

On the Coast of Somewhere Beautiful

"I don't know what you've heard about Greece and Athens specifically, but don't expect something extraordinary...it's nothing special!"

This is what Eυγενία (pronounced, "Evienia") said to me when I first contacted her about my trip. Subsequently, whenever I marveled at some European idiosyncrasy, she would reply, "yeah, it's fine," as if to say, "meh, I'm sure it's better elsewhere."

Today, we hopped on the tram in Syntagma square with no clear idea of where we were going. West, obviously, to the sea, but the amount of stops on the tram's route was far more perplexing than I had anticipated. Eυγενία , being the directionally-challenged dear that she is, was unable to provide any guaranteed advice, and so pointed to one of the stops seemingly at random, suggesting we disembark there.

We were at the sea, but there was not much else of which to speak. Regardless, we wandered down to the beach and strolled along the rocks, serenaded by the gentle sound of the calm Mediterranean.

"I want you to know that I have changed my opinion about Athens. Really."

This was a surprise. 

"I read the blog for your class, and your friends kept saying, 'Athens is so beautiful,' 'Athens is so wonderful,' and I thought, 'I live here, it's not that great!' It's not the most beautiful city in the world, but I thought, if everyone likes it so much, maybe there is something to like."

<3

"I promise, I will explore Athens. I will go to the Acropolis museum, and I will know my way around. Next time you are in Athens, I will be better."

I chose to share this with you for two reasons. First, to demonstrate that our presence here as tourists has, in some small way, positively affected Athens, and second, to remind you to always be appreciative of all that you have in this life.

Oh, and Smile. :)