Day 23: Athens (Round 3)!
Saturday, August 16th
Today’s travel blog is brought to you by Cooper in Ms. Amelio’s English class.
I couldn’t breathe. The walls of the ferry cabin felt like they were shrinking around me, pressing closer with every groan of the ship. The air was hot and stale, the kind that makes you feel like you’re breathing through a wet cloth. I had tossed and turned all night in a bunk that felt more like a coffin, and by the time morning came, I was already exhausted. That’s how my day began—claustrophobic, dizzy, and desperate to escape the boat.
Stepping onto the dock in Athens felt like waking from a nightmare. The ground wasn’t moving anymore, and I inhaled as deeply as I could, letting the fresh air clear my head. A bus was waiting for us, and though I tried to stay awake, I kept drifting in and out, watching Athens blur past the window.
When the bus pulled up to our hotel, I felt a strange rush of nostalgia. Earlier in the program, this same hotel had been my home base—the starting line of all my adventures in Greece. Leaving it felt like turning the page of a book. Now, coming back, it was like flipping back to the first chapter. Everything was familiar: the lobby, the smell of the hallways, even the way the light hit the building. I realized how quickly a place can go from being just a hotel to feeling like a memory.
Our first stop was a restaurant called Stone. The name was simple, but the food was unforgettable. I ordered a chicken gyro, and the second I bit into it, I forgot all about the ferry. The pita was soft and warm, the chicken perfectly seasoned, and the tzatziki tied everything together with a garlicky kick. It was comfort food in the best possible way. I had eaten here on our very first day in Athens, so it felt like the city was welcoming me back with open arms.
Food here isn’t just about filling your stomach—it’s about energy, culture, and connection. A gyro isn’t just meat and bread; it’s Greece on a plate.
In the afternoon, my two friends Charlie and Colt and I went for a massage. We laughed while walking in, joking about how weird it felt to be “fancy tourists.” But the moment it started, we weren’t laughing anymore. I hadn’t realized how much tension I was carrying until it melted away. Every knot in my back, every sore muscle from walking, loosened.
Charlie walked out and said, “I think I just met a new version of myself.” Colt smiled and added, “Best decision we’ve made.”
It wasn’t just relaxing—it was healing. After days of nonstop walking, that hour gave us space to breathe, reset, and feel completely restored.
Dinner that night was a feast: plates piled high with chicken and pork, passed around the table until everyone was full. It wasn’t fancy, but it didn’t need to be. Sharing food with friends made it taste better, like the laughter seeped into the meal itself.
But the real magic came after dinner. We stepped out into Athens at night, and the city was glowing. Shops were still open, lights bounced off the cobblestones, and there was this hum of life all around us. We wandered aimlessly, ducking into stores, pointing out random things in windows, and just letting ourselves get lost.
At one point, I looked up and saw the Acropolis glowing faintly in the distance, a reminder of how old this city really is. That’s what makes Athens surreal—you’re surrounded by modern shops and neon signs, but history is always watching from above.
I asked a couple of classmates about their day to see what stood out to them.
From the Photography class: “I caught the light hitting the Acropolis just as the sun dipped down. It was awesome. Honestly, it’s one of the best shots I’ve taken all trip.”
From the Ancient Civilizations class: “Seeing the Acropolis again today really hit me. I love it.”
Their perspectives reminded me that everyone on this program is seeing Greece through a different lens—some through art, some through history, and some, like me, through the everyday experiences that shape our journeys.
Lying back in my hotel bed that night, I thought about how strange travel is. That morning I had felt trapped and claustrophobic, convinced the day was going to drag. But by evening, I was full of good food, laughing with friends, and wandering through one of the most historic cities in the world.
The ferry became more than just a bad night—it became a metaphor. Sometimes you feel stuck, closed in, like the walls are too tight. But once you push through, the world opens up again. That’s what this day taught me: even the worst beginnings can lead to unforgettable endings.
