Roots: The Ship Is In Shipshape, And The Whotu Uprising Is Over, Over

Unfortunately, unlike Fred Randall, for me, the Whotu Uprising is not over, over. If you are unfamilar with the Whotu Uprising, it's an event in the glorious Rocketman. It was also the name of a three-on-three team I played on, in eighth grade. It's also the broad sweep term for Greek civil unrest.

The past three days have been shaken by the earthquakes of the Hellenic proletariat. He has stood his ground these days past and shouted, "There shall be no more garbage collection! There shall be no more running of national monuments! There shall be no more electricity!" And after a few more moments consideration, he also shouted, "And there shall be no more nonsense! I've had quite enough of it!" When we ported in Patras, the streets were filled with garbage that looked like beaver dams - the city's workers were on strike, against what I do not know. Possibly over the level of nonsense in the Attic government. The national government workers also went on strike, and shut down all archaeological sites for one day (as they promised: they notified all that they would only strike on Wednesday, then go back to work. Not very effective bargining). From Patras we were supposed to travel to Olympia; this was ruled out, as well as the possiblity of any fun, given the surrounding trash and bad weather.

After a gloomy morning, we finally made it out of the city to an old German winery named Achia Clauss. A Grecian suggested it, as a model Grecian winery, which was founded by a German and run by his Germanic family. But wine crosses all borders. Being the off-season for tourism, the winery was open but only staffed by two: a receptionist and a bartender. The tour guide called in sick. So we made up our own tour, climbing into windows and scaling buildings, taking cover at the sound of footsteps or conversation, and pretty much trespassing all over the vineyards.

I will say that this trip has showed me how sovereign God is, concerning transportation. If I was an atheist coming into Greece, I would be a theist leaving it, on account of the miraculous happenings of arrival. No matter how late the bus is or how confused I am towards the route to take, God always delievers my party and I back to the ship.

From Patras we sailed to Itea, from where we took a bus to Delphi. Delphi was the ancient site of the Oracle of Delphi (go figure), the main consultant of antiquity. It was also the ancient site of a city built at a 45 degree angle. Climbing all the way to the top, to see the complete ruins, I think I doubled my exhaustion, and doubled my sweat, by trying not to show that I was tired. I'm traveling with two girls, and thus I cannot show weakness.

The museum at Delphi is home to most of the old things recovered from the archaelogical site, including the statues of Kleobis and Biton. I had actually studied these in my Classics classes, and once translated their story, which went like this: Kleobis and Biton's mom had to get to Delphi for an engagement, but their oxen weren't running properly, so Kleobis and Biton hitched themselves to the ox cart and dragged their mom the whole way. Once there, their mom was so grateful that she prayed to the gods to give the two brothers the ultimate gift. Thus, Kleobis and Biton lied down that night and died in their sleep. In a completely unrelated note, I almost died of heat exhaustion.

When night came, we found out about the third strike: there was no electricity in the whole port of Itea. Sad day. This, however, was balanced by a chance encouter I had. An old man, who came from our boat with way too much to drink, hailed me as the Duke, due to a Duke University shirt I had on. I was slightly embarassed, and told him, no, sorry, I'm not a duke - I'm a Captain. Immediately he saluted me. Then I gave him leave to get some Rest & Relaxation.