Between Parkland & Pagkrati

I gave Jet Lag a very stern talking-to last night, at which point it tucked its tail between its legs and hobbled off down the street. In case you're wondering, Jet Lag is the name of the stray dog that followed me home.

I lied: he didn't actually leave. He just waited in front of our apartment.

Deliberately misleading introduction aside (he didn't actually leave), today was our first full day in Athens, but looking back on it, it feels like three different days. We woke up, wandered around the Acropolis and the surrounding neighborhoods, watched Rachel Weisz be gorgeous in Agora, had a fabulous group dinner, did some additional wandering, and then spammed unsuspecting Chatroulette.com users with unintentionally awkward poses. If you're concerned about that last bit, just know that it wasn't the worst thing they'll see on that site tonight. 

My recall process did a few double-takes ("That was today??") because there was so much going on at any given second. The Acropolis adventure alone is worth three or four hefty posts: Should I discuss the glorious lunches we shared? How familiar the flea market seemed after I had seen similar ones around the world? Or should I mention the second stray dog that followed us around the Acropolis (Animal magnetism, what can I say)?

Do I talk about how beautiful Rachel Weisz is, or how perturbed I was by the actions of the Christians in the movie? Do I describe how we appeared to swarm the streets of Athens at night, or do I apologize to the poor guys whose digital presence we momentarily suffered?

I shall do none of those things. I utilized creative exposition to convey the ideas for me. You read about my day without even knowing it. So there.

See? Robert, Ted, & Ivory approve of my wit...and the food. 

I do, however, have one story to share: during dinner, I was issued a threat from Dr. Finitsis. According to his rules, we (the students) are allowed to fall in love in Athens, but we are not allowed to date. I said, "Of course I won't date. Or at least I won't tell you about it." As the class laughed, he looked at me solemnly and replied, "Kyle, I'm not taking any chances. I will castrate you."

Subsequently, my peers poured me some wine, saying, "This'll make it easier," before brandishing a butter knife.

I'm locking my door tonight.