Must We Do The Time Warp Again?

Anonymous First I will apologize for my last entry, and say that I wrote this one on the bus ride back from Delphi so as to avoid posting another entry from my subconscious.
So here goes:
I'm sorry for my last entry. You will be pleased to know that I wrote this post on the bus ride back from Delphi so as to avoid posting another entry from my subconscious.

I don't have a very good sense of time.* Some people call it "perspective," or "scale," but I just have a hard time appreciating the oldness of ruins (I'm also terrible at gauging distance).
What I see are rocks. I take peoples' word that those rocks were once significant structures and I try to imagine them as they were then, but soon I realize that I'm just replaying bad Roman coliseum movie scenes in my head.

Still, ever since I learned about the Oracle of Delphi in middle school, I have wanted to visit the place. I don't know why, but I was enchanted by the idea. So today's trip was literally a dream come true for me. I spent most of the experience wrapping my head around the fact that this was real.

(to be honest, I'm still in awe that I'm in Greece at all). 

What little is left of Delphi has been reconstructed by modern hands. Because of that, it's difficult to separate the old from the new. But I'm torn here: If they had made no attempts to restore it, but instead merely excavated it, the entire place would likely look like a graveyard with random blocks littering the mountainside. That would make very little sense. If they had gone the opposite route and reconstructed everything to the point that it actually looked like Delphi in its prime, one might more easily appreciate the architecture and the achievement of the ancients, but it would look and feel like a tourist trap similar to the faux pottery and sculptures sold en masse in the many shops lining the Plaka. So in that sense I'm thankful for the recovery work that they have done, but I can't help myself from wondering how much they just made up.

Ben and I went spelunking in tunnels under the foundation of the Temple of Apollo. A lot of it was pitch black, but we navigated it smoothly....for the most part. I wonder if this was how ancient priests snuck into the Temple to steal the offerings to the gods? Actually, it probably wasn't. They weren't very hard to find.

Subsequently, I went on a culinary adventure. The highlight would be a dish that is pronounced (i.e. probably not spelled as such unless it was French chicken, which it wasn't), "coq-au-retsin." It consisted of lamb entrails wrapped in its own intestines and roasted, and it was actually delicious.
An observation I've had about Greek food is that a small amount can be incredibly filling. In America, one could inhale a cheeseburger, a plate of fries, and two refills of soda and look around for more. At this restaurant, we passed around plates of what would otherwise be considered small hors d'oeuvres -- local cheeses, stuffed eggplant and potatoes, etc. -- and scarcely were able to finish it despite a long day of high-altitude exercise.

Now I am eagerly looking forward to whatever happens next. 

What an amazing trip this has been -- and we've only been here for less than a week!

*I like to tell myself that it's because I have an enlightened view of time and can see through the illusion of its linear progression. But I might just be incompetent.