Going to the Mountain

I was writing a poem about Hercules for work last night–like ya do–and it got me thinking about Greece. Greece is one of those Big Destinations that I haven’t made it to yet (at least, depending on your ideas of when life begins. My folks honeymooned there, and I showed up about nine months later, so…).

Greece has good reason for being a Big Destination. It is, after all, the birthplace of so much of what we think of as our Western culture, but it’s not a place I usually think of traveling to. Some combination of the economic and political uncertainty there, plus the thought of Greek isles full of fat sunburned Brits, makes it not immediately appealing.

But my mom has a really good reason why they went there for their first big trip as a married couple. She was of the opinion that there are a lot of things–art, food, etc.–that would eventually come to you. Monet’s paintings tour major museums. Great chefs from all over the world emigrate and start new restaurants. But huge monuments, like the Parthenon, aren’t going anywhere. They’ve earned the right to stay put. So you have to go to them.

There isn’t much more to this than that stray thought. Going to the mountain, so to speak, is not a bad way to pick your destination. So Greece, at last, is on the list.