Standing under the columns of the Field Museum I felt the Acropolis stir. The sleeping stones awoke and stood upright; whole, massive and cool to the touch though a brilliant sun illuminated the searing blue sky. Was it this easy to time travel? I closed my eyes and felt the fluted ridges, the seam of the drum, the sturdy base. Looked up to the soaring ceiling sheltered within. Across the acres of green Lake Michigan glimmered – or was is the Mediterranean Sea? How commanding was the architecture of the ancient world – to continue to inspire, to enthral, to demand that it be built, in a land so foreign to its origins but so appropriate to its builders? Powerful enough to refuse to be conquered, to be outdone.