Some day I might actually blog about something other than the trip I took 3 months ago. Shocking!

But seriously, now. Delos blew the top off my head. I was Not Right In My Mind (even more than usual) for about 6 weeks afterward, and my internal landscape has permanently shifted.

Our ship docked at Mykonos, and it was about a 45-minute boat ride to Delos through that lovely blue water, with small, austere islands on either side:

The entire island is an archaeologic site. The only people allowed to stay there are scientists, who live in small houses clustered together at one end of the island.

We climbed off the boat and saw this large bed of crazy succulent plants:

We had an excellent tour guide. I’m not sure he meant to be as funny as he was, but he was very “Greek pride, y’all!” Here you also have a view of my mother Paying Attention and me probably looking at a plant.

This post is late in coming, because I’m not sure what to say about what went on in my head on Delos. When the poem I wrote about it finds a home and gets published, you’ll get a hint of it.

It was hot that day. The chamomile and wild herbs made the air thick with a green scent that I can still smell if I think about it. It’s a slightly mad scent.

And the houses, the streets are so well-preserved that they don’t look like piles of rocks.

It’s easy to hear echoes of the busy town that used to be there.

And it’s so small that you never forget you’re on an island, the whole of which is sacred, one big temple.

With ghosts looking out from the shadows of houses:

(can you see them?)

A theater with excellent acoustics

And reminders of how long the years have been:

Just when I thought I might pitch over sideways, we stopped in front of the temple of Dionysus, with the penis-headed chickens and 2-foot high balls. Seriously. And THAT was a whole different kick in the head, to be reminded that poetry is also about laughter. That the madness of Dionysus is sometimes just silly.

There are two mosaics that made my head buzz like a robot with a shorted fuse. One outside:

In this one, the winged Dionysus rides a tiger. The one in the museum

shows him riding a leopard. I didn’t get a picture of that one, because by that point I had Pop Rocks inside my head. Mom and my sister were exhausted and hot after our tour through the museum, so they had a sit-down while I climbed the hill up toward the temple of Isis:

I didn’t make it all the way up there, unfortunately. Fortunately? By the time we got back to the ship, I was on the verge of tears, so I stayed back to take a nap while Mom and Sister went shopping. Poetic Readjustment is exhausting. When they got back, they excitedly told me all about how they had met Johnny Depp, which turned out to be this cat:

And here’s a token picture of Mykonos, because I understand that people who are not me think it’s just as interesting as Delos. (I guess those people don’t have Dionysus for a muse.)

Then we sat on the deck of the ship for a while, still in the heat but at least in the shade. Mom and Sister slept while I knitted on my friend A’s kilt hose. A huge ferry came in, and for many minutes I heard a woman’s voice on a looped recording that lulled me into a doze of black wool, sun on the water, her voice. (Still Readjusting in the background.)

And just in case you think I’m exaggerating about how I went crazy that day, check out my photo at dinner:

Told you. I had a good whack of Bonkers. When I got home I spent over a month with almost no sleeping or eating because of ALL THE WORDS falling out of me in huge clumps. It was rather disruptive.

Also, I have forgotten to mention that each night on the ship, we got a towel animal. You know who loves a good towel animal? My sister.

After climbing the volcano, our tender pirate ship tootled over to a hot spring. We declined. Too much folderol of wet clothes and mineral-stained bathing suits, and we decided we’d rather explore the island later than float around in the water. Mom and I put our legs in the Mediterranean. It was cold. Really very cold – resulting in photos so unflattering that I decline to post them.

But! On the uninhabited island near the hot springs: goats! We watched them climbing around on impossibly small ledges and heard them call to each other. Goats are neat, except when they are butting you in the Parts.

When we got back to the main island, we had three choices to get up to the town of Fira: walk, ride donkeys, or take the funicular. For me, that was no choice at all, but the funicular goes up at 70 degrees and my mother does not love heights. However, she ALSO does not love Donkey Smell and we had just walked up and down a volcano.

Funicular! Let’s say that 7 times fast. Have a picture:

It was awesome. Mama was very brave.

The front row of buildings of Fira, which overlook the cliffs, are extremely touristy. Have another picture:

That’s the volcano and our ship.

We bought some touristy things, and my sissa had a long and hilarious conversation with a woman about the “Mediterranean booty.” I do not have one. It was in every way awesome to watch the hot men of Greece and Italy checking out my sister’s badonkadonk. And bafrontkadonk. But I digress.

We stood on a balcony and looked at donkeys:

The donkeys were coming home for the evening, and they were READY. They walked right by us, but there are no pictures of this because we were too busy jumping and squeaking.

Then Volcano Climbing descended upon us, and lo! dinner was needed. We wandered hither and yon until we ended up on some deserted back alley and climbed a bunch of stairs to a nearly empty spot.

I had squid:

The *only* thing that would’ve made this dinner better would have been a pile of tzatziki. This dinner was our first exposure to Greek Jug Wine.

Recommended.

The restaurant looked out over the back half of the island:

We could also see a billboard advertising the wine museum, and we were sad that we had no time to see THAT. Clearly we need to go back.

Here’s a view of Santorini’s alleys:

Sissa and I mooned romantically at the view while Mom stood way back from the cliff edge. We took the funicular(!) back down, which was rather faster and bumpier than one might like.

We sat in our accustomed spot in the forward bar and watched the ship pull out of the dark cove with the cliffs lit up by Fira and Oia in the distance. It was utterly peaceful and lovely.

Then we fell straight over.