Week 8. If I were at Union, I would be nearing finals, but dreaming of the first snow, the holidays and the food that comes with it. It's kind of insane how much we think about food... I understand we physically need it in order to survive, but still. ~tangent over~ Instead, I am sitting in the library on a rainy Saturday, yes you heard correct, a SATURDAY, stressing about midterms. Anyway, I still have some time in this amazing city.

Once a week I have been volunteering at an abandoned hotel that now houses refugees. It is mandatory for each Union student to volunteer somewhere and my job is working at the so called, "cafe," and serve those residing in the hotel espresso, frappe, and not much else. I had a quick tutorial on how to make the drinks and that's it. Why on earth am I to be trusted in serving coffee to these poor, poor people. They are going through enough as it is and here I am serving espresso that looks like a hot cup of watery dirt.

My class hiked to the top of Mount Lycabettus, which has a beautiful white washed church and some cafes at the top. From here you can see the entire city of Athens and it is absolutely gorgeous. We were asked for write a small reflection of our surroundings and for some reason, I began to write a poem so here it is with pics at the bottom:

What do I see?

I see a blanket of concrete restricted by mountainous borders.

I see a never-ending spread of buildings, cars, people.

I see a city.

I see the ant-sized ships slowly approaching the port carrying its passengers.

I hear prayers climb their way up to my ears from a church down below.

I see small patches of green fighting their way through the concrete, demanding a presence.

I feel the sun’s rays shimmer it’s warmth across my cheek.

I see the ball loom in the haze above the city, casting itself among the infinite sea, waiting for its time to descend behind the tremendous heaps of land.

I hear unfamiliar tongues laughing with one another.

I smell the faint aroma of bitter Greek coffee coming from a nearby cafe.

I feel a cool breeze dance along my skin.

I hear an elderly man sellings trinkets from his stand

I see yiayias clothed in black knee before the white washed walls.

I see, hear, feel, smell, Athens.