Colossus, did you say?

Colossus, did you say? Likened to Helios? Perhaps it was one of the nymphs who made you weak in the knees, possibly with just one kiss. I can attest to having that effect on men. Here’s where we get into trouble—I’m accustomed to weak knees revealing the colossus, not collapsing it. Nevertheless, being sold as scrap metal must have been a blow to your ego.

The gift shop was cute; presumably, selling the statue in a chop-shop fashion ignited a thirst for profit, capitalizing on that infamous idea so fashionable today: if we can’t show them something, let’s sell them something. Pure trumpery.

On the note of the statue being gone—selling guided tours of what once was is presumably considered genius in some circles, but I was, shall we say, disappointed. I suppose it’s easy to find guides who are well-versed in nothing, as that doesn’t necessitate a university degree. Perhaps guides versed in botany or geology would be well-advised going forward, as they would be able to tell tourists more than “something used to be here.”

Hindsight suggests it would have been wise to send an errand boy to Delphi before beginning construction, although I suppose it did create considerable employment. Nonetheless, this wonder of the world left me wondering whether or not I should continue to impressed by Rhodes Scholars; I presumed there was a bit more to it. Perhaps I’ll ask the oracle when I arrive at my next destination, Delphi. In retrospect, I should have gone there first, too.