We are on our last ferry ride, and boy am I glad. Our ferry from Crete to main land Greece was terrible: there was no where to sleep comfortably, and they docked an hour early. When Scott woke me at 5 am I rushed to the bathroom because everyone was getting ready to leave, but when I left the stall I found my toothbrush alone on the sink. "Someone stole our toothpaste!" I shouted, tossing the toothbrush into the air towards a bewildered and exhausted Scott. The rest of the day was shadowed by that moment. I didn't mind all the transfers--taking the metro from the Pireaus port into Athens, the city bus to the main station, or the long bus ride to Delphi--but I could never quite get in a good mood, even as we entered the funky lobby of our beautiful hotel.

My excitement returned at breakfast the next day, where I wolfed down yogurt, eggs and bread, and stole some cookies for later. I was looking forward to the site of ancient Delphi--the Sanctuary of Apollo where kings and heroes once asked the wise Oracle for guidance, and where prosperous city-states left vast treasures in thanks. I don't really remember my first visit to this site, other than how my mother was in awe of the beauty and spirituality she found there. The summer I turned 11 I decided that I would never wear glasses again, so my visual memory of Greece is pretty fuzzy. I do vaguely remember the huge mountains looming over me, and that's still the most impressive part. The tall columns, massive treasuries, and the beautiful stadium with a view are all a great way to travel back in time. But all of that seems like rubble compared to the work of the gods over head. Every time I looked up I realized what Mom must have felt.