5 - The evening of the Oracle.

After dinner, people from the tour group wanted to go out for drinks and music, but I declined. I knew the next morning would be too important for me to mess up with it.

A Peruvian couple and their son (in the picture with me) didn't want to go out either, so we stayed at the hotel lounge conversing about religion and spirituality. They were Krishna, but lived a normal life without having to shave their head or dress in orange clothes.


We talked long enough for the party people to meet us again after their night out. They came in and sat with us for about ten minutes. One of the women (pictured here with her daughter), with whom I had not spoken, told me that her mother, who was in the tour as well, was Greek, and that she knew the language well.

"Do you want to know your name in Greek?" She asked.

"Sure," I said curiously.

"It's Yorgo, which means 'Worker of the land'."
I thought it was very interesting that my last name, Larrea, means "pasture" in its original Basque. Together I would be "The worker of the pasture." I saw myself on Mount Parnassus a few hours earlier, feeling at home on that terrain where grass and rock create songs of wind and sun. 

I thanked her for sharing that fact with me, and a short time later we all retired to our rooms.
Needles to say, on the next day, the spoken name Yorgo would be part of my oracle, which I wouldn't have known if not for a random encounter just some hours earlier. She just came out of the blue and said it to me from across the lounge, moved by an impulse.