On Monday I went to the ATM for the first time since arriving back in the states. I don't know why I conceived that the machine would release colorful Euro bills, but when the greenbacks emerged, a vile mix of disappointment, depression and distress boiled at the pit of my stomach; I wanted to cry. I stared down at the face of Andrew Jackson, and my brain had great difficulty transmitting the message to my hand to retrieve the two bills. A few seconds passed before the moment of sweeping realization arrived that "Oh, yeah, that's right. I'm not in Greece anymore." The machine beeped maliciously, as if sneering at my despondent state, and I hesitantly reached for the money, shaking my head in confusion as to why I felt so dejected.

I'm sure a certified psychologist could analyze and construe why I acted so dolefully toward something as paltry as an ATM, but one word comes to mind in my self-diagnosis--homesickness.

Yes, my family winces when I explain I never, not once during my trek abroad, felt homesick. I futilely attempt to make clear to them that it's not because I did not miss or think about them; I simply was just too busy absorbing every facet of life abroad, and I knew if I did think about home, I may not grasp all the opportunities presented to me. The transition to life in Greece also went effortlessly and, to be honest, quite naturally; I felt at home immediately with my roommates, classmates, site directors and professors. So a moment of "Get me the heck out of here" never occurred.

In these first 12 days back at home, though, I find myself longing for Greece already. I'll say it: I am homesick for Greece. It's not a sit-around-in-pajamas-all-day-eating-junk-food-and-weeping, depressed kind of homesick. It's more of a reminiscing, wish-I-could-have-brought-back-the-Greek-lifestyle, exhale-a-deep-sigh-at-a-display-of-graphic-novels-about-Greek-myths-at-Barnes-and-Noble kind of homesick. Oh yeah, and my watch is still set to Greek time. I can't find the will power to change it. Denial? Maybe, but I've accepted the fact that it may just take me a good while to fully transition back to life in America.

I've been bombarded with questions of what I liked the most, what I'll remember the most, what I'll miss the most. Although a few special memories stand out above others, it's really the entire, enmeshed montage of experiences that serves as my mental scrapbook--glimpses of the Acropolis everywhere I walked, seeing the Parthenon up-close for the first time, spending an afternoon on a farm with an Egyptian family, ferry rides to blissful islands, trying exotic foods, holding a three-minute conversation in Greek with a souvenir shop owner, eating gyros at 2 a.m., drinking ouzo on my apartment balcony... These are all snippets of a magnificent mosaic illustrating life-changing, exciting events, encounters and experiences.

One thing I do miss is walking down the spiral, marble steps in my apartment building, and, no matter if I turn left, right or continue straight ahead, passing a multitude of specialty of shops--bakeries, sweet shops, shoe stores, alarm clock stores, jewelry stores, toilet-paper stores, book stores. I could find all of life's necessity within a short walk. Walking to the driveway, to get in my car, to drive a few miles, to take part in one-stop shopping just feels...so anomalous now.

Although I couldn't bear bidding farewell to the Aegean sunshine, delicious food and unperturbed lifestyle, the toughest part of leaving Greece was saying goodbye to my roommates and friends. Besides three of us, the other 19 students all reside in Oregon, California and Washington. Of course, now I have more reasons to visit the West Coast, and technology makes it easy for us to keep in touch; but we shared each and every experience, traveled and embraced the culture together, and developed very strong friendships. In a way, I feel as though I'm homesick for them, too...

Academically, I acquired adoration for art history, as I greatly enjoyed the course on the archaeology, art and history of the Acropolis. It's fascinating to explore the sculptures, pottery, vases, statues and other works of art that were dedicated to Athena and other gods and goddesses on the Acropolis over two millennia ago; even more intriguing is to then examine the historical events and political climate that can be associated with different forms of art. Grasping the information certainly proved an easier task since after class, I could ascend a flight of black, spiral steps and gape at the Acropolis itself or visit it at any given time; also, we were taught by THE leading scholar on the Acropolis, Jeff Hurwit, an amazing privilege. I wish I had an opportunity to take more art or ancient history classes, but they're subjects I definitely plan to continue studying and exploring on my own.

Now, although officially wrapping up this blog prompts emotions like those felt at the ATM, I would like to encapsulate my time abroad with a poem we read in our Cultural Communications course. Ευχαριστω πολή (Thank you very much) for all of your support, encouragement and comments! I hope you enjoyed following my adventures as much as I treasured experiencing and writing about them.

I leave you in the words of Constantine Cavafy:

"Ithaca"

1911

As you set out for Ithaca
hope the voyage is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians and Cyclops,
angry Poseidon- don't be afraid of them:
you'll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians and Cyclops,
wild Poseidon- you won't encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope the voyage is a long one.
May there be many a summer morning when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you come into harbors seen for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfume of every kind-
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to gather stores of knowledge from their scholars.

Keep Ithaca always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you are destined for.
But do not hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you are old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaca to make you rich.

Ithaca gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you would not have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca won't have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you will have understood by then what these Ithacas mean.

Although the story is a little old now, I thought I would share my flying adventure back to the states. If any of you faithful readers have had similar experiences, please divulge.

My flight from Athens to Munich, via Lufthansa airlines, was scheduled to take off at 1:10 p.m. on Saturday, June 20. I arrived at the airport around 9:45 a.m. with a friend who was catching a flight to Rome at 12:30 p.m. Everything went smoothly as far as checking in weight-complying bags and clearing security. After passing the time reading up on the situation in Iran, I realized it was 1:20 p.m. My plane was supposed to take off 10 minutes ago, and we had not even been called to the gate yet. Panic began to set in when I double-checked my boarding pass for my connecting flight--after a 2-hour, 15-minute flight to Munich, I was scheduled to catch a connecting plane to Newark at 3:20 p.m., German time.

After a rushed boarding, the plane took off at approximately 1:40 p.m. I performed a quick calculation in my head--arrival at Munich at 3:55 p.m. Greek time, 2:55 p.m. German time. Not good.

I tried to keep calm by reading and conversing with the two girls sitting next to me--sisters from Washington, D.C., one of whom studies political science at Boston University, who were visiting family in Greece. But I couldn't keep myself form glancing down at my watch.

We landed on a soggy Munich airport at 2:57 p.m. I stepped off the plane at 3:08 p.m. and immediately began high-tailing it up the escalators and through the airport to passport control and Gate H-14. Another young woman around my age who sat near the back of the plane near me was also on the connecting flight to Newark, so although we never exchanged names or information, we made a silent agreement to book it together.

I believe we boarded the plane at 3:19 p.m.

What irked me about the whole conundrum, though, was the woman who checked my boarding pass before I entered the gate area. With her tight ponytail and yellow scarf around her neck, she uttered, "You should hurry." I stared at her in disbelief and wanted to exclaim "This is not my fault!" When a plane is scheduled to land at 14:40 and a passenger's connecting flight is set to begin boarding at 14:40...well, what do they expect from us? Although a bit inflamed, I put all of my energy into making the last dash to the gate.

But then, even though I was obviously in a full sprint, another Lufthansa official said, "Hurry, you can breathe once you're on board." If I wasn't out of breath, I would have shouted a Greek profanity at him.

Of course, my luggage did not receive such a pleasant an opportunity as running through the airport, so it got left behind and did not accompany me on Lufthansa Flight 412 to Newark. It all arrived intact three days later, and the baggage claim personnel acted courteously. And I don't mean to gripe, but the whole situation leaves me flabbergasted, specifically about the system used for planning connecting flight itineraries. The madness unraveled because the plane that left late from Athens was an incoming flight from Munich that arrived late. Why do airlines schedule back-to-back flights like that, fully realizing that planes rarely take off on time and then only set off a domino effect of succeeding flights departing late...leaving passengers desperately bounding through the airport?

Although it's hard to believe I made the trek nearly a month ago, I visited Rome over a free four-day weekend in the beginning of June. As you may have read in an earlier post, upon arrival back from my Roman respite, I found myself swamped with school work and a long list of things to see and do in my final two weeks in Athens. So as promised, here is an account, albeit a bit delayed, of my adventures in "Roma."

I flew directly from Athens to Rome, arriving on Thursday night around 8: 30 p.m. After a 30-minute ride on the "Leonardo Express" from the Fiumicino Airport to Termini Station, I began my search for the Legends Hostel, located within a five-minute walk from the train station. A few of my friends in the Athens program stayed there when they visited Rome over spring break and highly recommended the facility. You definitely can't beat a clean bed, hot shower, free breakfast and free pasta every night for about 30 Euros a night.

Although it was close to 11 p.m. after I checked in, I felt famished, so I took a short walk around the corner to a small restaurant, where I found a delicious margarita pizza and glass of red wine. Just a short distance from there, a cone with two scoops of chocolate and strawberry gelato was waiting for me. And these scoops are literally what three or four scoops of ice cream are in the states. So, pizza, wine, gelato...I was certainly enjoying every second of embracing Italian food.

On Friday I woke up early to walk to the Coliseum and Forum. Along the way, I stopped at a few piazzas, fountains and walked through two churches with beautiful frescoes inside. As I walked along the one main road, I could tell I was approaching the center of the city, as I could see some columns inside the Forum straight ahead. I glanced to the left as I crossed the street--and the Coliseum was...just...there. I didn't realize I stopped in the middle of the street with my jaw wide open until I heard an angry driver beep his horn. I scuttled to the sidewalk and began walking slowly toward the ancient arena, in a complete daze. I arrived shortly after the site opened, so it was virtually empty of tourists, allowing for a slow and tranquil walk around every nook and cranny.

After about 90 minutes in the Coliseum, I made my way to the Forum, passing first the Arch of Constantine and then walking around Palatine Hill. Although most of the sites in the Forum are simply foundational remnants, it's easy to imagine Romans hustling about through the political center thousands of years ago.

After meandering through most of the historical segments of Rome, I walked toward the Trevi Fountain. Although the fountain and sculptures are incredibly beautiful, what was most amazing about my experience, at least, was that I could hear the water a few hundred yards away before I even approached the fountain.

From the Trevi I walked to the Pantheon, which is unbelievably much larger than I ever imagined. I actually ended up sitting inside for about an hour, just absorbing every little detail.

Then after strolling by Piazza Navona, I somehow ended up down by the Tiber River, so I crossed a pedestrian bridge, found gelato, and then made a slow walk back to the hostel for free pasta at 7 p.m.

The hostel operator cooks pasta every night; it's just simple noodles and sauce and sometimes vegetables or different cheeses, but it's tasty and above all, free! And it's great because the kitchen serves as a large gathering room, so I got to converse with all of these travelers, some from Australia, New Zealand, others from Canada, but most from the states. It's neat to sit around and swap stories and share ideas about what to see in Rome and other parts of Italy. Talking to all of these adventure-seekers definitely has me considering taking a few months to just travel. In the kitchen, there's also a TV and DVD player, and after some of the guys were done watching the French Open semi-finals, a group of us decided to watch "The Gladiator"...we thought it would be fitting. One of the women I began talking to, Tara, just graduated from Purdue University and is spending a few months traveling around Europe. It turned out, though, that she was heading to Athens on Monday, the same day I was returning to classes, to meet a friend of hers who studied in Athens last year. We exchanged contact information, and that Thursday we met up and went to dinner at my favorite restaurant in Athens! It's just insane how small of a world it can be, and now with technology, it's so easy for us to keep in touch.

On Saturday, I met my friend Elena, who lives in Chieti, a town about two hours outside of Rome. Elena visited my hometown, Tamaqua, two summers ago for an exchange program, and I showed her around LVC, took her to Chocolate World, and we promised to keep in touch, which we have. When I first met Elena, I was just beginning to think about studying in Greece, so I told her if the plans became definite, I would make it a priority to visit her in Italy. We spent most of the day meandering near the Spanish Steps, visiting the Keats-Shelley Memorial House, where John Keats retreated to stave off tuberculosis and where he wrote poems like "To Autumn" and "Ode to a Nightingale;" I saw where his desk would have been, overlooking the steps!

We of course ate some delicious Italian food at this quaint little restaurant, and Elena took me to the "best" gelato place in town. You walk in, and there are literally at least 75 or 100 flavors from which to choose. My indecisive self had so much difficulty selecting, and although the mango and pineapple were delicious, I definitely regret not trying some of the unique flavors. They all just sounded too tasty.

That night I joined three other travelers from the hostel on a night tour of Rome. We first walked down toward the Coliseum, but we were disappointed to find it not lit up. So we headed toward the Trevi Fountain instead, where we tossed coins over our shoulders to assure our returns to Rome one day. The others stopped for gelato, but I was on a mission to find tiramisu, and I finally stumbled upon a little restaurant that would let me order some to go. We then bought a cheap bottle of local red wine and sat on the steps of the fountain in front of the Pantheon, conversing about a myriad of topics.

On Sunday Tara and I woke up early to visit St. Peter's Square and the Basilica. Since it's a trek, we decided to test the metro system, which is actually relatively easy to navigate and costs only 1 Euro to ride. Our feet were happy to make the monetary sacrifice.

It's impossible for me to put into words the beauty found inside St. Peter's Basilica. Every square inch is covered with ornate art; the mosaics were most amazing to me, as from a distance they appear to be paintings or frescoes, but looking at them up close, I was astounded that such exquisite art could be formed by thousands of small fragments.

We attended the 10:30 a.m. mass, thinking it would be a neat experience to hear the priests speak in Italian, but ironically, they spoke French, which ended up being even more interesting. The mass ended just after noon, when the Pope delivers a blessing over the square. Since we just exited the Basilica, we could not get out to the square in time to see him from the window, but we did get to hear him and watch the crowd's reaction. So, I did hear the Pope, in real time, from just a few hundred yards away.

After we realized we could not get back into the square in time to see the Pope, we began our ascent to the top of the Basilica. Although it requires walking up hundreds of spiraling steps, the view from the top is wholly worth it, as a panoramic view of the entire city unfolds before your eyes. It was a little overcast, but we could make out the Coliseum in the distance. We could also look down on the Vatican and see where the Sistine Chapel is...I evidently didn't do my research thoroughly, because I planned to visit the Vatican Museum to see the Sistine Chapel on Sunday after walking through and to the top of the Basilica; but, the museum is only open on the last Sunday of the month. Oh well, it just means I must return to Rome, an occasion guaranteed by the coin I tossed into the Trevi, anyway!

Finals are over, and I just completed my last class, not only here in Greece but also as an undergraduate student. A big part of me wants to skip around and whistle, but I have to admit I feel a bit crestfallen that this experience abroad has come to an end so swiftly.

In less than three hours, the Athens Centre will bestow upon us “graduation” certificates; then I’ll join my friends and professors for one last round of Greek salad, red wine and laughs together. I’m dumbfounded that it has reached this point.

Tomorrow I plan to take one last walk around the Plaka, the Agora, National Gardens and the Pangrati neighborhood. Then a few of my friends and I will walk up Philopappos Hill for one last sunset and glimpse of the Acropolis at night.

As inconceivable a fact it is, I depart the Athens airport at 1 p.m. on Saturday, flying first to Munich, Germany before continuing to Newark with a scheduled arrival of 6:30 p.m. It’s so strange to think about returning to the routine I established before I came to Greece in March. Walking back to my apartment after finals yesterday, I bought a gyro (possibly my last authentic one) and while strolling by one of the shops, a woman retailer ushered me inside, speaking Greek. I thought to myself, darn, I feel like I belong, I guess I look like I belong—but in three days, I pick up and leave this “temporary residence” that has really begun to feel like home.

Now awaits the arduous task of packing and finding space for all the souvenirs. It’s not even so much actual souvenirs of which I have an abundance; rather, it’s a collection of rocks and pine cones, ticket stubs and programs, newspapers and chocolate bar wrappers with Greek letters, etc., that are finding their way home with me one way or another.

Once I’m home safe and sound and satiated with peanut butter and cranberry juice, I’ll write a reflective post for all of you faithful readers (and I still owe you a synopsis of my Rome excursion!).

Spending my last weekend in Greece on an island was by far the best decision I've made these last 12 weeks. The Aegean Sea is dotted with a plethora of islands called the Cyclades, each one having something special to offer visitors. Although I hoped to see Santorini before I return to the states, I was drawn to Naxos early in my research, and I decided before I even arrived in Greece if there was one island I could visit, it would be Naxos.

Blissful is the word that comes to mind to describe this island defined by serene mountains and villages. A classmate, Spencer, joined me. We left on a five-hour ferry Friday evening, viewing a beautiful sunset and playing cribbage (a card game esteemed by my West Coast colleagues that I never heard of before I arrived in Athens) and arrived just after 1 a.m. George, the friendly owner of the Windmill Studios where we were staying for the weekend, was waiting at the port for us with his red van. I could immediately sense a lifestyle reverse of Athens, exactly what I was searching for in this weekend getaway.

We woke up early on Saturday to begin our exploration of Old Naxos Town. From our hotel, one road leads to the main square, where a sign outside a trellis-covered tavern reading "Waffles with fresh fruit, 5 Euros" charmed me, and "Eggs with bacon and filtered coffee, 5 Euros" charmed Spencer. So we sat down and had ourselves a delicious breakfast. The fruit mixture of peaches, apples, oranges and pears was so fresh and drizzled in honey, and the waffle was sprinkled with cinnamon, my favorite, and yoghurt. Again, blissful is the word that comes to mind.

A short walk from the main square is the harbor. Even with it being around 10 a.m., I could not get over the area's tranquility. We walked along the water for awhile, the harbor filled with boats, and a tiny, solitary monastery sits on an islet. Naxos is known for its Portara, an ancient archway on its own little peninsula overlooking the remains of an unfinished temple to Apollo, began in the 6th century B.C. From the top, you have a panoramic view of Naxos town, the white stucco houses atop the hills and the sea stretching to the horizon.

Stretching from this peninsula is a long row of jetties, of which most of the rocks appeared to be marble. We walked rather far out on the jetties and spent about an hour just sitting, listening to the waves slowly roll in and crash against the rocks. I had a book to read, but after reading a few pages, I kept finding myself getting lost in the rolling in and then the ebbing of the tide. The Aegean Sea is crystal blue and glistens so brilliantly, you can't help but listen and get lost in your thoughts.

We then spent the afternoon exploring the kastro, where a Venetian castle once crowned the town. Walking through the village, we discovered one sun-drenched white stucco house after another, with all different kinds of flowers, plants and trees covering trellises and roofs, as well as cats sleeping on banisters. We visited the archaeological museum, where we saw a number of Cycladic marble figurines from the Mycenaean age. The building is where Nikos Kazantzakis, the famous author of Zorba the Greek, studied in the former College Francais.

After a few hours virtually by ourselves walking around this village, we made our way back down toward the waterfront. We planned to head back to the hotel and change into swimming gear, but on the walk back, restaurant special signs caught our eye declaring "Happy Hour 2 p.m. to 2 a.m.," "We serve 101 Cocktails," and the clincher, "4 Euros." Mixed drinks in Greece run an average of 9 or 10 Euros, which converts to about $15 a glass. Spencer and I looked at each other, and our eyes both revealed recognition that we would regret not taking advantage of such a deal.

Naxos is one of only three places in the world where fragrant Citron trees grow, and two families have used the rare plant and its juices to produce a unique alcohol called Citron. Because of a shortage of trees in the last couple of decades, the families have not been able to continue exporting around the world, so Citron can only be found on Naxos.

So we sat down along the water, ordered two glasses of Citron to partake in the island's culture and chose our 4 Euro cocktails. Thinking it fitting, I ordered an Aegean, made with rum, banana liqueur, orange and pineapple juice, blue caraco and grenadine. Over politics, it was a perfect way to spend an hour on a Greek island.

Anxious to get ourselves in the Aegean, we walked to the nearby beach around 6 p.m., so only a few other people were around. What I especially enjoy about swimming in the Aegean Sea and the Saronic Gulf is that the water is so calm; you can swim so far out and just float. There was a slight wind, just enough for a little wave action, so I swam to the buoys and then just floated along the small waves

After showering, it was time to eat the Greek way. We found a charming little restaurant along Old Market Street around 9:30 p.m. We ordered several appetizers, including zucchini balls, "cheese of the 12 Gods"--local cheese wrapped in a pastry with honey and sesame seeds--and tzaziki. The bread was warm and fresh, and again we ordered Citron. For the main dish, Spencer ordered rabbit stifado, and I got lemonada, but we ended up trying a little bit of each other's. I never imagined rabbit could taste so delicious!

The next day we took a bus tour of the island. We thought about renting a moped or four-wheeler, but we saw a sign for Blue Star Ferries, and it was only 25 Euros for an all-day tour from 9:30 to 5. There were only 10 other people, so it was a nice intimate excursion. That's what I like about island life--everything's so much more personalized and friendlier.

I could not get over the breathtaking views of the countryside. Naxos is actually one of the most fertile areas in Europe, producing, according to our tour guide, the "best" potatoes in all of Europe. Dotted with Venetian towers and early Christian churches, marble quarries and olive groves, Naxos emanates tranquility in the bona fide sense of the word.

In Halki, we went to one of only two Citron distilleries in the world, and then in Apollonas we swam at a small beach where you could swim out to a stretch of rocks. What was neat is that you could see the difference in depth beyond the rocks because the waves were crashing and the water was a deeper blue. I swam out as far as I could, but the wind actually stimulated some stark spraying the farther I went, so the rocks remained elusive.

Before meeting up with the bus, we had a delicious lunch along the waterfront of fresh shrimp, octopus (quite tasty) and again, a number of appetizers, including olives, cheese, and the obligatory Citron. In such a relaxing setting, I almost forgot I had to catch a ferry back to Athens in a few short hours.

Along the drive back to Naxos Town, we saw one of the famous kouroi of Naxos, an 11m- tall statue from the Archaic period that stands with his arms at his side, looking straight ahead. We also stopped at an olive press and viewed emery caves. The sprawling fields and mountains were just simply beautiful, especially with the sea extending in every direction and other islands cresting in the distance.

Unfortunately, my ferry was scheduled to leave the port of Naxos at 6:25 p.m., and the bus arrived back at 5:45. Rather than enjoying my last bit of time on the island, I rushed back to the hotel to grab my bag that I kept in Spencer's room for the day, then sprinted to the port. I arrived at 6:20, and I thought for sure I might have to pull off a scene from the movies and leap on to the ferry...but there was still quite a line of people waiting to board. Spencer got to stay through Monday since he's not taking the classes I am, and I was utterly envious giving him a hug goodbye at the port. I honestly wish I could have spent my last week in Greece on Naxos rather than in Athens. Athens definitely has its historical significance, but in the end, the city itself is large, condensed metropolis with an overabundance of traffic and pollution; it's exciting in the sense of things are always happening and you're always meeting interesting people. But I'm definitely drawn to the quieter life of the Greek islands like Naxos.

Now, back from paradise, I'm trying to fathom the fact that not only do I have a mere four days left in Greece; this is also the last week of my undergraduate career. On Wednesday, I’ll take a written Greek final, and that test will be the last final exam for me…ever. At this thought, I feel elated, but a bit dejected as well. Testing my knowledge of Greek verb conjugation sure is a heck of a note to go out on, though!

I apologize for not writing sooner about my wonderful weekend in Rome. With only 9 days left in Greece, course work is rapidly wrapping up. This afternoon I had a major exam in my Greek history class, and I have a short paper to write for that same class. In addition, next week there are two final exams on tap. So, my time in Rome certainly proved to be an excellent respite, and I have a great number of tales to share of the sites I visited, the history I absorbed and the people I encountered…and I promise to put down all my thoughts in blog form soon, but for now you must simply wait in anticipation. I of course kept records each day in my journal, so I just need to find the time during study breaks to enumerate my thoughts for you!

Tomorrow we make our last trip as a class to the ancient site of Eleusis. Then tomorrow evening a classmate and I are taking a ferry to the Cycladic Island of Naxos, where we’ll spend the weekend immersing ourselves in “real” Greek life. We’ll be staying at the Windmill Naxos, a house made of white stucco with the legendary light blue roof shingles. Naturally, I’m trying to savor every last moment here in Greece! Again, I'm sorry for not writing much these last few days. Of course writing is a stress reliever for me, so that's where I'll place my thoughts when my brain starts screaming for relief!

The last couple of days here in Greece have been considerably humid, but relief arrived this evening with a brief thunderstorm. I love the smell after a summer rain shower, and even in a city like Athens, the scent is refreshing and invigorating. After the storm passed, I sat on my apartment balcony with a cup of cranberry tea. At breakfast at our hotel in Olympia last week, I discovered the most delicious cranberry tea; although I realize I'm incriminating myself, I pilfered a few packets. Trust me, if you were fixated with cranberries and cranberry juice as much as I am and chose to study in probably the one country where cranberry juice proves nonexistent, you would have overindulged yourself.

Anyway, I sat on the balcony, taking in the sweet smell of rain, drinking my cranberry tea, reading the International Herald Tribune--and I had a sweeping feeling of comfort. With less than two weeks left, I've reached the ultimate level of acclimation. I’ve adapted to the rhythm of life in Athens, I know my way around, I can speak basic Greek phrases, I have the shops and taverns I go to on a regular basis where the owners and workers recognize me…and although I am excited to return home to see my family and share all of my experiences with people in person, a distinct part of me aches at the thought of leaving something behind that’s become so familiar. But after pondering and sipping some more tea, I realized that’s what life will always have in store. The future will continually bring new experiences and new people, which prove to be mere stepping stones on my ever-evolving path.

Speaking of the future, we visited the sanctuary of Delphi, site of the famous oracle, on Monday and Tuesday. A few columns of the Temple of Apollon remain, where Greek pilgrims in antiquity sought answers and solace from the deity. Our professor knows of a crawlspace that runs for a short distance underneath the temple, and he willingly shared this secret with us since there was no guard nearby. So, we crawled under an ancient temple! It only took around three minutes to inch our way through, and light spilled in from small openings, so it wasn’t exactly a scene from National Treasure or anything. But it was still pretty darn cool. The site also includes treasury buildings, a theatre, and a stadium where the Pan-Hellenic games occurred. Located high up in the mountains, the site offers gorgeous views of the surrounding villages and sea. Unfortunately, the oracle no longer provides her services, so I guess I’m still on my own addressing the upcoming crossroads in my life.

At this moment though, I’m seizing the day and traveling to Rome for four days, where I’ll explore the ancient sites, visit museums, sit in piazzas and eat heaps of delicious food. On Sunday, Europeans will be voting for European Union deputies, so I’m hoping to witness some aspects of European voting procedures while I’m there as well. As always, I’m sure I’ll have a number of stories to share when I return. Ciao!

I now understand why Greeks in antiquity, as well as other civilizations, devoted so much of their time to pleasing the gods and goddesses they worshipped: deities can unleash their fury in an instant.

I'm not unveiling my adoption of a polytheistic dogma. But I did experience the wrath of Zeus, in full force...literally.

Last week I shared that I would be climbing Mt. Olympus in northern Greece with five other students this past weekend. And everything went swimmingly...for awhile.

We arrived in Litochoro, the village at the base of Olympus, as planned Friday morning after a midnight train from Athens. We began the first leg of our journey around 9:30 a.m., a five-hour hike along a gorge to the trailhead at Prionia. This first part of the hike brought beautiful views and the freshest of air. Because it travels through a canyon along a river, we hiked steeply for about 30 minutes to an hour, but then back down to cross the river, and then back up; this occurred about six or seven times, but the small waterfalls along the way made it worthwhile and less intimidating. The temperature was perfect, not too hot, and it was also a little overcast, which was much more bearable compared to a beating sun.

Caleb was the only one in the group with extensive hiking experience, so we took our time since we were in no rush. We arrived at the trailhead around 2:30 p.m., took a break on some benches, eating the snacks we had packed. The plan was to hike for 3 hours to Refuge A, where we would spend the night and rest up for our ascent to the top, or at least close to the top, the next morning. This time it was a straight climb up along the well-defined E4 trail, which actually starts in Spain and extends across Europe into Greece.

About 20 minutes into the hike, it started to mist and drizzle a little. At this point, we were at an elevation of 1,100 meters, so the vegetation was still rather lush. Walking along the path, listening to the soft drizzle on the treetops and seeing nothing but dense fog swirl around us was quite the ethereal experience; I was in love with this hike.

But then, although we were still ascending, everything began to go rapidly downhill. The thunder started rumbling, and we knew things were going to turn interesting very fast. None of us brought along extensive raingear or extra plastic bags, but we accepted the fact we might get a little wet.

Not yet too worried, I began seeing these little white dots blowing softly around the ground, and I thought to myself, oh, those are pretty petals, I wonder where those flowers are growing. As I raise my head to take a look around, those whisking white "petals" multiply by the hundreds, and I realize they're falling from the sky. Hail. It's hailing, and we're hiking...up Mt. Olympus. Some profanity must have floated through my head, aimed directly at Zeus.

And fitting for the moment, the lightning came, which is when I switched into panic mode. By this point, we were a couple hundred more meters in elevation, where the trees aren't so flourishing, so most of the trail is in the wide open. We all knew we had to just keep going; there was no way we could just stop, and we were too far in to turn around. So we trekked on, hoping we would soon spot the refuge.

But then in the steepest part of the trails, it started to flash flood, and that's when I switched into ultra-panic mode. I can't put into words what ran through my mind, as I stopped, hail pounding my body, a flash of lightning filling the sky, in the middle of the path just a river of dirt and rocks. And I will admit there was a fleeting second where I truly thought I could die. I dismissed the thought immediately, but it was there...

I just kept telling myself to keep going and that I would have a heck of a story to share once I reached safety. With the increasing elevation, I was losing my breath more easily, so I had to keep stopping for a few seconds, so the others got a little ahead of me. There was another party of hikers behind me, though, so that helped me regain some stamina. Finally, the refuge came into view, and I asked one of the guys in the other party how much longer, and he said about 30 minutes. I thought it would have been much longer, so I was happy to hear that and had a renewed burst of energy. With the hail and cold rain, though, it was hard to keep going, but I knew moving would keep me warm and also stop hypothermia from setting in.

After what seemed like a journey through Dante's last circle of Hell, we arrived at the refuge, where a warm fire, dry clothes, a comfortable bed with three wool blankets, hot tea with honey, and a bowl of noodle soup awaited us. We all crashed by 8:30 p.m. and slept until 7:30 the next morning. Although it was only about a 2 1/2-hour hike to the summit, we were somewhat demoralized and taken aback by Olympus' ferocity, and simply lacked the energy to continue. Caleb did make it to the top, so we experienced the peak vicariously through him.

We had planned on taking a bus to Edessa to relax with the waterfalls in the countryside there, but we decided it would be best to just get back to Athens. By early afternoon we arrived back in Litochoro and caught a train home. The ride actually proved a good stress-reliever, as it traveled through the countryside of northern Greece, which has many more rolling hills and plains than Athens. At some points the tracks went through mountains, and it was neat to look back and see the entrance in the side of the mountain and where the trellis emerges.

I'm sure looking back on the experience in a few years, it will just be a crazy story from my youth. I mean, seeing thunderbolts on Mt. Olympus -- how many people get to witness that in a lifetime? It was my first true test of stamina and faith, though, and I think I've had enough adventure to hold me over for just a little while.

Lesson of the story? Do not make jokes about Zeus while climbing Mt. Olympus.

Although my time in Greece is quickly fading, I'm still embracing every opportunity to experience "firsts" before the onslaught of "last" gyro, "last" walk through the gardens, etc. ensue. On Wednesday, I went to my first opera; I've always wanted to dress in a red gown like Julia Roberts in "Pretty Woman" and go to the opera (Richard Gere as an escort is an added bonus). So when I learned Verdi's "Aida" would be playing in Athens, my ears perked at the idea of attending my first opera performance in Greece, of all places, and it's a story that takes place in Egypt, a country I also recently explored. All the more, the performance was to be held in the Odeon of Herodotus Atticus, just below the west slope of the Acropolis. Watching a renowned opera with an Egyptian setting in an ancient Greek theatre equals one heck of a cultural experience in my book!

On a beautifully warm evening under an as-clear-as-Athens-can-get sky, I was enamored by every aspect of the performance--the costumes, the music, the stage art. At some points I found myself absorbed in watching the orchestra, with all of the violin and viola bows moving skillfully together in measure and the conductor vigorously guiding them. We sat at the very top in the center, the best seats in the house in my opinion. I had a rough idea of the plot, but even though I didn't understand the language (Italian), it's so easy to get lost in the emotional emanations from the performers, their voices so rich and resonating. The theatre was filled almost to capacity, and I would say 80 to 85 percent were Greeks; there were not many tourists, so it was incredible to blend in with the natives, illustrating how expanding one's cultural horizons and appreciating the arts are universally shared notions.

When a four-day excursion to the Peloponnese includes hiking to the summit of an acropolis for a view of the Corinth Canal, sitting in an ancient Greek theater, sleeping in a cabin-like hotel in a remote mountain village, and running 200 meters on an ancient Olympic track, a plethora of stories clearly needs to be shared.

As a class, we traversed to the other Greek mainland, the Peloponnese, on Saturday morning, traveling by bus first to the ancient site of Corinth. On the way, we crossed over the Corinth Canal, a project that was completed around the same time as the Panama Canal. The canal provides a safer and shorter passageway for ships traveling between the Saronic and Corinthian Gulfs. At Ancient Corinth, we had a guided tour by the director of excavation, Guy Sanders. He led us behind ropes prohibiting public entry to areas of the site, so it was absolutely thrilling to have the one guy who knows everything about the site show us around and share the back story, providing anecdotes and helpful facts on the geology and geography of the area. At one point, he led us down to an ancient spring house, and we could see tourists looking down at us with looks of bewilderment as to how to access the area.

Our next stop was the Acrocorinth, or the Acropolis of Corinth. On a side note, many people (and I was one of them) refer to the acropolis in Athens as "The" Acropolis, but many cities in ancient times had an acropolis, which literally translates as "the high point of the city," with acro as high and polis as city. They were essentially defense measures. Compared to the Athenian Acropolis, the Acrocorinth is much higher in scale, as it was a good 20 minutes of steep hiking to the summit, where we could see remnants of the original fortress. From the summit, we could also see the Isthmus of Corinth and the two gulfs connected by the canal.

We then visited one of the sites I have been anticipating to see for the last two months--the ancient theatre at Epidaurus. I could not get over how intact the theatre still is; we walked all the way to the top, and Professor Hurwit stayed down in the performance area to demonstrate the acoustics of the theatre; he dropped a coin in the "prime" spot, and we could hear it so clearly from the highest row. As with the Theatre of Dionysus, I tried to imagine myself as a Greek in antiquity, watching the tragedies of Sophocles and Aristophanes.

Our lodging for the night was in the beautiful harbor town of Nafplion. In the evening, a group of us went to a local winery for wine tasting. The owner shared four Greek wines with us, discussing each in detail, as we observed the color, smell and ultimately the taste of each. There were first two white wines, and then two red, as well as ouzo and rocky. He had a young son and daughter who helped pour the drinks and pass around the cheese and olives. All around Greece, it's so refreshing to see the thriving family businesses.

A small group of us then went to dinner at a nice tavern along the waterfront. I shared a dinner of linguini with fresh shrimp with a friend --between the two of us, we still could not complete the dish. It was one of the most delicious meals I've had here in Greece--the shrimp was perfect. Before we called it a night, we went to the "best" gelato place in town, an authentic Italian joint where the workers greet you with "Ciao." Two scoops of pineapple and mixed berry filled my cone--a refreshing treat.

Day two was spent exploring the ancient sites of Tiryns and Mycenae, palaces of the ancient Mycenaean civilization. In class we discussed the functions of the palace, learning the different areas and rooms and their purposes, as well as learning about the Mycenaean's' religious practices and pottery. As with all of the sites we've visited, it's much more impressive to be walking across the grounds of the site while looking at the plan we've discussed in class beforehand. Mycenae is the site of the famous Lion Gate, which you may have heard about.  

From Mycenae we traveled to Adritsena, a small village in the mountains in the northwest corner of the Peloponnese. We stayed in cabin-like rooms with the most gorgeous views extending to the horizon. What a contrast to Athens; the fresh was air was, well, refreshing. Part of me ached to stay there for the next month, getting to know the locals. There's only one main road, and since we arrived on a Sunday, virtually all of the few stores were closed. I diverted from the road to explore some of the side streets, finding the most beautiful and charming houses. I came across this old iron gate that led into an abandoned garden, full of all kinds of plants and trees; I couldn't help but think of "The Secret Garden."

On Monday we visited the Temple of Apollo at Bassia; it's one of the temples that has faced the most destruction, after earthquakes and the fact that it's built near the top of a mountain and has therefore been exposed to the elements more significantly over the years. It's also unique because it stand on a north-south axis, whereas most other Greek temples stand east-west. Conservationists have placed a large tent over the temple to limit more exposure, and they're slowly moving the temple a few meters forward to more stable ground. This stimulated some discussion from our professor as to whether such tampering with the past is archaeologically ethical or not. I'm on the fence, as I covet palpable history existing for many more generations, but maybe there is a certain point where you treat temples and other ancient buildings as having lives of their owns, and you let nature take its course.

Monday evening was spent exploring Olympia, site of the first Olympic Games and a colossal bronze-ivory statue of Zeus, one of the original wonders of the ancient world. We saw the remnants of the temple, as well as the foundations for the gymnasium where athletes trained and the hotel where family members and friends stayed when the competitions occurred. We saw where the Olympic Flame was lit in front of the altar to the Temple of Hera. Perhaps most exciting, we explored the stadium where running events occurred. It's roughly 192 meters in length, and you could see where the original starting blocks stood. We took turns running--how cool is it to say I ran in the stadium of the first Olympic Games!

Tuesday morning, we visited the museum of the Ancient Olympic Games, where we saw bases for victory trophies, tripods, shields, as well as a large floor mosaic depicting athletic, poetic, musical and dramatic competitions. Our last stop in the Peloponnese was the Archaeological Museum of Olympia, the "crescendo" according to Professor Wede. He was absolutely right. In the center of the museum stand the remnants, but more often quite intact, sculptures from the metopes and pediments of the Temple of Zeus that stood at Olympia. The  metopes represent the 12 labors of Herakles, a myth describing the tasks, including the slaying of the Nemean lion, the mortal son of Zeus must accomplish to earn the status of hero and immortality. The west pediment depicts a centauromachy, or a battle between Greek Lapiths and centaurs, half-human and half-horse creatures, after the centaurs get a little too inebriated from wine at a wedding. One of the sculptures is virtually unbroken of a centaur wrapping its hoof around the bride, and the bride jabs her elbow into his face. These sculptures emit such extraordinary depth, and I found myself gawking at them, drawn in by their impressive force. The east pediment represents the oath of Pelops (after whom the Peloponnese is named) and Oinomaos before their chariot of race; Zeus, the judge of the race, stands in the center. It was truly amazing how these colossal sculptures, so intricately detailed, and most of all, still intact, are around for us to observe millennia later.

Now I'm back in Athens for two days before a small group of us travels to northern Greece on Thursday night to spend the weekend climbing Mt. Olympus, exploring waterfalls at Edessa, and viewing the monasteries on top of sprawling cliffs at Meteora.