6 June: Delphi

Another writing assignment! I'll stop being lazy soon and write an original post.

“I’m fairly sure that you can take a harpoon gun on a plane as long as it’s in your checked baggage,” Michael says, causing me to look up from my blank Word document. It’s late in the afternoon and this homework party is not going well, probably because harpoon guns are not even close to the most off topic subject that has been discussed. 

            “I’m not letting you buy a harpoon gun,” I retort, because I like to think of myself as some sort of mother to this group of boys, even though they’re only a year younger than me. “Also, you guys need to write so that you’re not doing it all tomorrow night.” 

However, ten minutes later finds me throwing some Greek version of Cocoa Pebbles in the air, trying to land them in the mouths (and ears) of my “study” partners. There is very little work getting done, and I know that I will pay for it in the coming days. In third grade I remember Mrs. Nofsinger teaching the class about metaphors using the example “I am swimming in a sea of homework,” and that phrase keeps coming back to me now, although drowning is a more accurate word than swimming.

The funny thing is that the workload for this trip is miniscule compared to what the average honors student copes with during the semester. I’m routinely asked to turn in analytical papers far longer than ten pages for my literature classes, yet when I’m asked to write 500 words I freeze up and suddenly decide it’s really important that I organize my pictures by date, and then alphabetically, and then by date again. “It’s the surroundings, the culture,” I rationalize. “How can I be expected to do homework when I’m in another country, one that I’ll probably never be in again? Wouldn’t it be sacrilegious to sit in my hotel room when I could be out there, experiencing Greece?” I cling to this thought for a second, then admit that the amazing scenery and culture should only make it easier to write.

Today, for example, I spent two hours exploring the ancient site of Delphi. Making my way through rocks that have seen more lifetimes than I can imagine, I was surrounded by manmade majesty rivaled only by the mountains rising above me. Reaching the top of the stone steps, out of breath and sweaty, to be greeted by another magnificent structure was more accomplishment than I experience most days at home. Seeing midday sunlight illuminate hidden corners of the monumental stadium was an occurrence that clearly trumps my normal summertime activity of waiting tables, and it’s scarcely comprehendible how much history I’m taking in as I look out over the places where visitors would once pay to have their questions answered by a middle aged woman in virgin’s clothing.

My reminiscing is interrupted once again by Michael, this time nearly screaming “Knives are the best!” and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know what conversation prompted that comment. I turn back to my (still blank) Word document and try to capture the glory of my day in words that are so clearly inadequate.