After Oxi Day, two friends and I took the incentive to plan out a trip to nearby Mount Olympos and then succeeded in convincing the program director to allow us to go to the park. We caught a 8:08 train to the nearby town of Litohorio which was loaded with friendly elderly people. After a few mix ups, we found ourselves 4 kilometers in on a 18 kilometer road to our destination, attempting to hitch hike. I don't know why, but hitchhiking seems less dangerous in a park. After several failed attempts, we made the girl with us attempt to signal a car and voila! we got a ride to a monastery up into the mountains. The guy who gave us a ride was actually a guide for the mountain, very friendly, and spoke some english (enough to make a few jokes about how tall my buddy was and advise us on the trails). We spent some time at the monastery, which interestingly enough was destroyed during the Nazi occupation and rebuilt, ate some peanut butter and jellys, and hit the trail. Right: View of Mount Olympos and the Throne of Zeus from town.

     Try to imagine hiking through a gourge, looking up at rolling mountains with steep cliffs on their faces holding trees with the most beautiful shade of oranish red leaves, the clearest river that appears grey due to the rocks on the bottom showing through, and, the trump card, the overwhelming peak straight ahead, the throne of Zeus glaring down upon us. It was a beautiful afternoon. I spent a lot of time on our roughly 14 mile hike reflecting on what it would have meant to be in this valley as a Greek citizen during the age of mythology. I tried to compare it with visiting the Vatican back in Rome. Would the pilgrim be overcome with awe and a desire to praise the gods? What would be learned by traveling amongst these mountains? Were these mountains so sacred that no mortal were allowed to traverse them? I always find myself reflecting on my life during long hikes and musing the mysteries of life. I thought back to what I would be doing if I were at Wabash around 9AM on a Wednesday afternoon, weighed the pros and cons of being a doctor, and even had some very "Wabash Friday evening conversation" about being successful vs. being happy. Once we made it back to town and onto the train, an hour flew by, and I awoke to see the other two sleeping and Thessaloniki only 5 minutes away. Left: a view of the fall leaves (dearly missed from IN) from the monastery. Right: Clear water scene in the park

     Friday only added to the trip. We started off with a trip to Pella, near Macedonia, which was a bit of a bust, mostly because of the sights we have seen thus far, before heading to the school of Aristotle in Macedonia. Grey skies and a somber chill in the air, I arrived with a bit of curiousity regarding the site. My philosophy professor gave an awe-inspiring talk that rivaled a Wabash chapel talk and sent me craving to learn. He spoke of Plato's claiming, "Man has an apetite for learning," and finished with the claim without this school, the world as we know it would not exist. I stood in the cave where Alexander the Great was educated. I walked the foot paths some of the most brilliant thinkers the world has ever seen wore. It occurred to me also that the philosophers of this time were so much more than philosophers, but more "Liberal Artists" who had mastered so many areas of study it was unreal. It had me craving for knowledge and wishing I could complete every major Wabash had to offer. Above Left: The site of Aristotle's school and the little cave like thing to the left of the picture is the cave in which Aristotle taught Alexander

     From there, we visited Vergina, the site of Philip II and Alexander's graves. It was simply neat to be standing staring at the closed doors behind which possible the most charismatic leader of all time was buried. I'll leave it at that. It was a day that inspired me to want to learn more and realize how little I already know. Right: Alexanders Tomb

     Bear with me, I know this is a long one. Saturday, we woke up and went to a war memorial. Maybe it was simply the mood I was in, but I loved this site. We had about a 70 year old Serbian tour guide show us around the site and explain the burial customs and how the Serbians not only drank with the dead, but visited with them. By drink, I mean they would take a shot glass of some Serbian liquor, pour some on the ground, since the dead drink first, and then drink the rest before visiting the burial sites. It was a pretty cool monument and dedicated mostly to World War I veterans and victims. Combined with the day before, I was shot into a reflection on death and really was struck by this site. I had an immersion learning experience; I can tell you 8,000 Serbians died on this site in World War I. You can imagine how many that was and yadda yadda. Then I can show you a picture, but until you're standing in a field of 8,000 white crosses commemorating those lives, you don't understand. Left: The Serbian Monument

     The weekend really came together for me, we got a good taste of Greek pride from World War I to now and a good understanding of it too. I know for a fact, had we sat in a classroom for a week and tried to learn all that we saw, it would not have "stuck" in my head, nor would I have really grasped it without visiting these sites.