Where do I begin? Emerson came to visit for twelve days. During the few moments that we weren't playing backgammon (we literally played over 300 games during his visit), we experienced a plethora of what Greece has to offer: three days in Athens; a quick stop in Delphi; a seven-hour layover / severe windstorm in the small town of Levadia; three days in Thessaloniki; a Mount Olympus climb; and a bus, two trains, and a ferry en route to the island paradise of Skiathos. I could describe in detail each roll of the dice during each 'gam' battle, or I could describe every minuscule detail of each leg of our travels, but for now I'll stick to Olympus -- a definite highlight of the past twelve days. Without further ado:
-Ralph Waldo Emerson (not to be confused with James Alex Emerson)
The quote above rings true in many aspects of life. However, if taken literally whilst climbing Mount Olympus, following Ralph Waldo's advice could lead to trouble. Sidenote: Ralph and Waldo are both awesome yet somehow unpopular names. If I hadn't vowed to name my first-born Otis (regardless of gender), both of these names would be in the running; maybe my second- and third-born babies will receive these names...Where were we? Ah yes, while ascending Mount Olympus -- or any mountain for that matter -- sticking to the trail is usually a good idea.
Alex and I were tested physically and mentally during our hike to the thrown of Zeus; the experience was surreal. Physically, we traversed several different ecosystems during the two-day, 2900 meter (roughly 9500 feet) climb. For any STM elementary school alum readers, it was like stepping into and voyaging through the notorious biome project we all had to complete in Mrs. Fink's 5th grade class. The overall climate change resembled a journey from grassland to forrest to tundra. We experienced a wide variety of temperatures and precipitation on the way up: a light rain became a heavy rain became a light hail became snow. Bottom line: Zeus was testing us with increasingly inclement weather, but we pushed on.
After about five total hours of moderately difficult hiking, we reached "Refuge A", a log cabin-esque hostel and our home for the evening. We were wet from the assorted types of water that Zeus had flung at us during our trek, and the refuge was freezing; somehow the temperature inside was much colder than the snow-covered peaks we would encounter the next morning. So it goes. After the long day of hiking, we were exhausted. We rolled a few games a gam, carbo-loaded with a pasta dinner, then fell into a deep slumber (fully clothed and bundled in three blankets) by 7:45 pm. Yes, you read that correctly: a 7:45 bedtime. To put it in grandparent friendly terms, we were in bed just after Wheel of Fortune and sound asleep before final Jeopardy.
The next morning we were up early and on the trail by 8:00; we were off the trail and crawling slowly up a steep, snowy cliff by about 9:30. Ralph Waldo would have been proud; Mama Edeline would have been terrified. Zeus had taken the liberty of painting the upper trail with a fresh layer of snow the day before, so we unknowingly hiked directly off the trail into a terrain consisting of loose rocks and slick, icy snow. It was one of those experiences, of which I've had several this year, that puts things into perspective. To an emotionless, 9500 foot mountain, a few pesky human beings are nothing; to Zeus, all mortals are expendable. It was hair-raising for a while, but once we appraised our situation for what it was, Emerson located the proper trail and we got back on track.
The trip down was fast but bizarre. As we descended, we came across a large section of forrest where most of the trees were snapped in half or totally uprooted. The destruction was obvious and thorough, yet we hadn't noticed the damage the day before during our ascent; it played with our minds. Did a violent windstorm crush thousands of trees overnight? Wouldn't we have heard something? Were we physically and mentally exhausted and hallucinating? Did we simply not notice on the way up? We also came across a set of peculiar footprints that resembled those of a goat, however they were in sets of two instead of four; we joked that the tracks belonged to Pan, the half-goat half-man Greek god who was known to enjoy tricks and illusions. As weirder things occurred, such as several segments of the mountain looking identical as if we had gone in a large circle, the Pan explanation became less of a joke and more of a frightening possibility. Bizarre things were happening on that mountain, and our main concern became getting down the mountain. We eventually reached the bottom safely, celebrated with a gyro, then hopped a bus back to Thessaloniki. The whole experience was exciting, challenging, and mysterious -- one might even say mythical.
Having Emerson around was a blast. We experienced so much of Greece; played gammon until our eyes, necks, and Emerson's wallet hurt; and -- just like when Amos visited -- having such a good friend around created nonstop laughter for twelve days to the point of stomach pains.
I'll be home in about two weeks. I'm not ready to leave, but I can't wait to see everybody.
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