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.