Athens: A Symposium.

We are about to delve into the world of whirlwind European vacations, full of hostels, overstuffed backpacks, and early morning trains. Deep breath. Here we go.

I arrived in Athens on Friday afternoon with two other girls. The rest of our ridiculously large group of 9 was to arrive later that day, which meant I was largely responsible for navigating from the airport to the hostel. This transit turned out to be the most violent bus ride in recent memory, and the driver would periodically yell angry things back at the passengers for no reason. At least, I think he was angry. I don't speak Greek, but tone of voice speaks for itself.

By the time we reached the center of town an hour later, we were bedraggled, motion sick, and exhausted from a day of traveling. And I have to be honest, Athens did not make the best first impression. Graffiti plagues the city, stray dogs wander the streets, and corner vendors try to hawk knock-off Louis Vuitton at every possible opportunity. We wandered the street our hostel was supped to be on, looking for number 14, until we finally found it tucked next to a side alley. Oy vey. Exposed concrete, dangling wires, dingy lighting, strains of loud Greek conversations floating through the air. Ohhh no, this could be a very long trip. We walked up several flights, Athenians peering curiously out of their open doorways at us, until we decided something must be wrong. Back outside in the late afternoon sun, we discovered the main offices of he hostel were next door to the building we had entered, and immediately my uneasiness eased up. (I recognize the extreme awkwardness of that sentence but I am going to keep it there out of defiance. I did something similar recently on a paper that I had to turn in for a class I don't like very much... went over the word count but basically told the prof to deal with it. Ooooh. Rebel. Born revolutionary right here. Move over, Che.)

ANYway. The hostel HQ was actually really nice... free computers, rooftop bar overlooking the Acropolis, and an exemplary breakfast. It turned out we actually were staying in the rather janky building next door, but the room itself was perfectly nice. Our group of 9 stayed in a 10-person dorm-style room, so we had a space to ourselves. Once everyone arrived and the spartan linoleum floors and metal bunks were coated with a layer of girls' clothing, it felt much cozier.

As I lay down to sleep that first night, I felt oddly comfortable, more so than I ever would have expected in a strange place after a hectic day. The bunk beds and the room full of girls reminded me of Interlochen, and the mattress was soft and lovely. I felt comfy, safe. Even as my brain softly buzzed with exhaustion, I marveled at how, given the right circumstances, one can feel at home anywhere in the world. It's not a location, home, but a mindset. And at that moment, I felt as delightfully sleepy and warm as I used to as a child in my bed in the corner room facing Dobie Road in Okemos, Michigan, on a snowy night, after my mom had tucked me in.

Look how much I've grown, and look how much I've stayed the same.