Funny What You Come Across Sometimes...

 Thursday November 3rd. It's 9.15am and I'm enjoying a lone frappe at the "On the Road" bar in Kalathos. My wife is otherwise occupied for the morning and I shall be walking from here to Lindos to meet her later on. Nicolas, who runs the bar, is a nice, slow-paced gentle kind of guy and he's the brother of my friend Mihalis, who offers me agricultural advice at every opportunity, and who crops up quite often in the books. Notably in Tzatziki For You to Say, Chapter 4, "Hares and Hosepipes". Nicolas has a seriously huge number of olive trees and last year sold us some of his oil, since we didn't get to work harvesting olives ourselves. Buying from a friend of a friend (or in this case, the brother of a friend) is seriously cheaper than buying any other way, including from the mill. I ask if he'd be willing to sell us some more oil this year. 

"How much will you want?  Will you want 'new'?" The new oil is not considered quite as good as oil that's been kept a while. But we don't mind. I reply: "Yes, new would be fine. We'd want about 30 kilo."

"No problem," he replies. "But if this drought continues, there will be no olives!" He's right about that. So far this autumn, there has been a tiny amount of rain compared to the average. In fact in many olive groves the leaves are curling on the trees and the fruit isn't swelling or ripening. We ought to have had several good storms by now, but we've only had one to speak of and it wasn't a very big one at that. He walks off tutting to carry on with his chores and I leave him some cash for the coffee and rise to begin my walk.

There now follows a series of photographs taken on the walk.

Looks like the taxi is being refuelled. This is on the road down to Vlicha from the road to Lindos from Kalathos.

The two main beaches at Lindos are stunning when the sunbeds have all gone. Also, as you can see, the light on days like these is wonderful.

Ditto about the light. Doesn't Lindos look simply scrumptious?

The beach at the far end of St. Paul's Bay. Impossibly inviting now the sun beds are all packed away. As it happened, I'd popped a towel in my shoulder bag. So I whipped off me togs and went for a wonderful solo swim. Out in the bay there was one small fishing boat. On the beach at the far end, under the shadow of the Acropolis, there was a clutch of people at the water's edge, some taking a dip. But here, there was just one woman at the other end of the beach reading a book while she warmed her back in the morning sunlight. She didn't turn around even once while I was there. I could have skinny-dipped. Must admit it was tempting.

A lot of people who I talk to during the season express concern about the welfare of the donkeys which carry the weary tourists to and from the Acropolis and down to Pallas Beach and back. I usually reply that these animals love their owners and know their home. They won't do what they don't want to do, so if they decided that they didn't want to trot up through that village, they would stand still and would be very difficult to budge. Plus they spend 6 months every year grazing, many of them in green pastures further away. It's fair to say that they don't have bad lives, honestly. They are often sent home from work during the season without anyone to tend them, they'll just trot quite safely and happily, two or three at a time, back to their paddock on the periphery of the village. In fact, they can frequently be seen trotting off to work in this way too. Plus, they don't work incessantly during the season either, they do manageable shifts.

This next three were taken with my phone, hence the inferior image quality...

It seems you need to be really sick to rent these rooms.

 

Honestly, trying to find a parking space for the flash, Italian motor is a nightmare in this village. You'll have noticed it's a cabriolet too.

If I were only a little taller, I could reach the door handle and get in.

So, anyway girls, I can't stand around here all day talking. Must get on with my chores. See you when you're next round. (This one's once again taken with the camera)

(All the photos will open in a larger view of you click on them)

Paved With Gold

I love this time of year. In the UK the month in which I came into this world was always so grey, wet and often bone-chillingly cold that I seem to always conjure up a mental picture of leaden skies and murders of crows circling and cawing over trees with few leaves remaining after the Autumn fall; of weeks passing with scarcely a glimpse of the sun and very little chance of going about my daily grind under a blue sky. No doubt it's the month when the light-boxes required by those with S.A.D. syndrome sell like hot tiropittas.

Here, it's one of the months that really reminds me of the huge climatic difference between the South-Eastern Aegean and the British isles. In November on Rhodes it can rain and it can rain really hard, face-hurtingly hard if you happen to be out in it. But it doesn't stay around for long. In November the sunny days, which usually number around 20 anyway, are just perfect for the outdoor life, whereas during the high summer it's just so tiringly, sweat-inducingly hot that all one wants to do if one doesn't have to work is sit in the house with the shutters closed and drink copious quantities of Adam's ale (that's water if you're not from the UK!).

The daytime temperatures for the past ten days or so have been in the mid twenties. That means that you can actually sit out on the terrace, or in a cafe, and not worry too much about being in the sun for a while. Not for too long mind you, because then you will begin to burn and regret it when you apply the after-sun cream while contemplating your rosy face and arms in the bathroom mirror during the succeeding evening. But it's so lovely during November to go for a twenty minute walk or so first thing in the morning, perhaps down to the beach, where you can take a dip in the still pleasantly warm blue sea. The sea temperature is comfortable for swimming right up until Christmas here. In fact, as regular readers of these ramblings will know from older posts, my wife and I have now swum at least once in every month of the year. In fact my friend Petros (Ch. 10 of Tzatziki For You to Say), who lives in Kalathos, swims every day of the year without fail. When I've ventured into the ocean during January or February and later explained to him that I almost froze solid and certain bits of me almost shrank to the point of verging on the invisible during the first 30 seconds of my immersion, his reply was that I ought to go swimming every day, then I wouldn't even notice the change in the water's temperature during the winter months. I believe he has a good point, but I probably won't embark on the experiment to see if I agree. It's too much like hard work.

So anyway, since it's November, and every day the light is wonderful and the sky a deeper blue than we often see during August, we're tempted outside more often. We've done some serious gardening during the past week or so, giving the secateurs a good hammering, I can tell you. We've also been rash enough to go out for a few walks, dropping in a some neighbours to cadge a drink or a bikkie, or the local Cafe, the "Gre Cafe", just fifteen minutes from the house on foot and fast becoming a pleasurable "heart" to the otherwise fairly deserted Kiotari during the off season. The two Georges and their wives, sister or mother are usually in attendance and we share thoughts on how the summer went for everyone, plus the inevitable comments on the latest bad news on the TV about what's happening in the big world of European finance and politics. usually hearing the comment to the effect that the politicians continue to live it up in luxury whilst the populace slowly sink into destitution. Plus ça change, eh?

So, a couple of days ago there we were, enjoying a frappe in the shade out front of the cafe, while various locals in cars screeched to a halt in their quest to get somewhere, but not to get there before having dashed into the cafe for a take-away frappe, when a smart couple sat down at the table next to us. Not wishing to be nosey, well, anyway… we overheard them talking and became inquisitive enough to greet them with a "Beautiful day, isn't it." The fella took a call on his mobile and we heard him talking in American English, but when speaking to his companion, a nice lady called Suzanna, whom we later learned was from Germany and has now lived in Lardos for about 18 months, he spoke in Greek. It was quite difficult to work him out, so hence the need to become acquainted, eh?

It's easy to draw the wrong conclusions about people. First impressions had us thinking that they were probably some annoyingly well-off people with roots (well, him anyway) here in Rhodes, but now living in the States or perhaps on some cabin cruiser with smoked-glass windows. probably a Merc parked round the back of the cafe or some such motor. Just back here to visit the poor unfortunate relatives.

Wrong. Turned out that they were just friends meeting for a coffee and that he was from Asklipio and had lived in the States for a short while, hence the accent when he spoke his very good English. Inevitably the conversation came around to the economic woes of the country and we heard the man's [I'll leave out his name] opinion about a number of issues. I may not have agreed with all his views, but I have to say that I could see where he was coming from and could sympathize. He was probably somewhere around fifty years old, tall, fairly good looking and in good physical shape. He told us that he was struggling to make ends meet and couldn't get a job for love nor money, as we say. I asked him what kind of job he was looking for; you know, did he have any skills and such. He replied that he would be happy with some bar work or in a hotel or something. It seems that for him the problem is that employers don't want a guy his age, with the salary which would be commensurate with that, when they can get some immigrant 20-something Polish girl for half the amount. So what if she can't make a very good frappe, she's cheap.

His anger led him to express the view that many of the immigrant workers from places such as Albania, Romania, Bulgaria and the like often don't have papers, hence are here illegally and are taking jobs from the locals. The fact that he was talking to a couple of Brits who also work here didn't stop him making his point of view quite clear. Mind you, at least we are legal. But his hurt was apparent and I felt for him, even though I know many immigrant workers personally, many Albanian, who are here legally, are very industrious and willing to do jobs which many Greeks still are not willing to take on. The situation is never that cut and dried is it.

I mentioned the fact that Rhodes as an island has had a series of bumper years tourist-wise, yet the local councils still couldn't afford to put diesel in their vehicles or pay their employees on time. His reply was unequivocal:

"They bleed us dry. It all goes to Athens. Rhodes would be better off independent, like Cyprus."

"You think so?" I asked. "Mind you, it does make some kind of sense. Do you really think that Rhodes would be that much better off running its own finances then?"

"Of course," he replied, "The streets here would be paved with gold. But the Government's bleeding us dry and we get precious little in exchange."

Now this was his opinion, but as I mentioned earlier, I could see why he feels the way he does. When he got up to leave, along with his friend Suzanna, who was very sweet and amicable, he apologized to us for having sounded off. We told him that there was no need and wished him well in his quest for work next season. As he walked away he turned back one more time and repeated, "paved with gold" in a meaningful manner.

We sipped our frappes through their straws as the two of them drove off in a modest little hatch that had seen better days and reflected on the fact that our first impressions had been way off the mark.

The Tourist Trail

It's a funny old world really. I mean, here we are living in Rhodes and, following a fairly breathless season in which we've been busier than ever and having made the decision to work a little less next year as a consequence, we decided to look for a little hotel break in Rhodes town. Many of the hotels in town do very good deals at this time of the year and so we trawled the net for something a couple of weeks ago. Of course, I came up with nothing. Having specified on several "booking" web sites that we wanted Rhodes town, I was less than delighted to be offered a few nights in a hotel not beyond five minutes from home!

There was nothing for it but to call in Brenda, our good friend from Pilona, who had found us a short break deal this time last year and always seems to be able to come up with something. It must be me I suppose. I like to think I know my way around the internet, but every time I look for something like this I draw a blank. Well, not a blank exactly, but something that's not quite what we're looking for. Either the package isn't right (we try and find half-board for a break like this and I'll end up with B&B for example) or the price isn't very good. Then we go and ask Brenda and she e-mails back within a few hours with a fab deal at a hotel (run by Mitsis, a pretty well established Hotel company in this part of the world). This one was a corker and we had to go for it. What's weird is that here we are living in Kiotari, in the South of Rhodes Island, and we book a short hotel break in Rhodes Town through a web-site in the UK in £ Sterling.

What we're paying for three nights half-board is less than one would expect to pay for a meal in the restaurant in the hotel where we're now domiciled as I'm writing this post (though I'll probably be back at home before I finish it). So today we ambled all over the town and ended up having a frappe at Mandraki at the "Court House" Cafe. I dunno if that's actually what it's called, but you'll know the one I mean if you're a Rhodo-file. Sitting there under that huge and stately tree this morning, on October 22nd in something like 25ºC was perfect, just perfect. The boats, their sterns all lined up along the harbour, bobbed in the manner in which we'd expect and the world went about its business around us. because there's a charity walk in town tomorrow to raise money for some hi-tech equipment for the hospital, there was a band set up just to our right, at the bottom of the pedestrian street which runs down from Cyprus Square and right on the corner of the National Bank building, playing primarily Greek tunes which my wife could sing along to. She almost got up, but thought better of it. But it wouldn't have surprised me if she had.

I was put in mind of a particularly annoying comment I'd read just the other day on a forum on the BBC's Travel (Lonely Planet) web site. It was in response to someone's question as to where in Greece to go for a first visit as a "Greco-novice." Advice was being sought regarding what islands would be good to visit. There were, of course, many suggestions, a lot of which I agreed with, but one comment irritated me immensely. It said something to the effect of: "Don't go to Rhodes, avoid it like the plague. It's totally spoilt by tourism and quite hideous." ...or words to that effect. I'm not exaggerating, it was in that kind of language, those terms. Needless to say I posted a reply!

Yes, Rhodes has its tourist traps, its manic and less than scenic bits where it's "built up" as it were. But this can be said of Crete, Corfu and several other islands. But does that put it in the "Spoilt" bracket? I beg to differ and for several reasons. Firstly, because a place is busy doesn't necessarily mean that it's "spoilt by tourism," as our wonderful half an hour in Mandraki this morning more than adequately showed. Yes there were tourists around, but there's nothing wrong with that. Every single one of us who gets on a plane and goes somewhere could be classed as a "tourist," even if we're among a select few on a remote island without an airport. But there are quiet places which are "essentially Greece", and busy places which are just as "essentially Greece". All around us in the cafe there were locals, their conversations wafting over us with a mixture of subject matter, but primarily the words we heard most were "strike," "money," "Papandreou," "pensions," "prices" and the like. Well, what else would you expect, given the current dominant subject in the news?

Anyone who says that Rhodes is spoilt has no idea what they're talking about. This is a large island with a lot of places to explore. There are so many wonderfully "essentially Greek" villages, like Lahania, Mesanagros, Istrios, Laerma, Vati, Asklipio, Arhipoli, (I could go on for a very long time) all with their outdoor stone bread ovens still in the street and still in regular use, all with their old men sittting outside their favourite cafeneion playing dominoes, or setting the world to rights over their "Elleniko". Little ya yas all in black can be seen all over this island as they trudge carefully on their bird-thin legs along their village's main street to or from the olive grove, the vegetable patch or the village's single store - assuming the village even has one that is. Or maybe they've just been out gathering "horta". Donkeys can still be seen in many places, apart from the Acropolis in Lindos, doing what donkeys have done in this part of the world for centuries. 

In fact, even the village of Lindos itself - where, granted, it's fairly frenetic during the high season as coachloads of under-dressed grockles file through the narrow streets absorbing the character of the place (they wish) while hunting for that little set of coasters or a wall plate to take home for some lucky member of the family or other - reverts during winter time to what it really still is, a small Greek village. It's in the winter when you really see the character of Lindos, but, well, with tourism nowadays being one of the few growth industries, who can blame the villagers for jumping on the bandwagon and making their living this way for six months of the year. To be truthful, it's rather good having the bustle during the season when you know you can have the place all to yourself from November through March. More people should come in winter if you ask me, the weather's like a British summer and the island is green and pleasant. The people reward you with broad smiles and when the sun's out you can still find an open taverna or cafe. The difference is that the proprietors have time to sit and talk to you, instead of being run off their feet.

Take another scenic drive

In fact, here's another suggestion for a scenic drive which ably demonstrates that 90% of this island is unspoilt. Get yourself to Kolymbia and take the road towards Epta Piges (Seven Springs). By all means stop at Seven Springs if you want to. Like the Butterfly Valley, it puts me in mind of the UK with its broadleaved trees and cool atmosphere beneath them when the sun's out, which it usually is. On my excursions this past summer I've regularly taken my guests along this road [in the other direction] on the way back from Kamiros Skala where we'd disembarked from the Halki boat. My way of describing this route, which takes you through the delightful villages of Arhipoli, Eleousa and Dimylia, is to explain that it shows the traveller every kind of landscape in Europe in miniature. During the high summer there are rolls of hay in meadows that put me in mind of the sweeping hills beside the A38 between Exeter and Plymouth, there are breathtakingly steep pine-clad mountainsides that have me singing like Julie Andrews in "The Sound of Music" they are that reminiscent of the alps. The only thing you won't see is the snow-capped peaks above them. Every type of scenery between the two can be glimpsed along this road, which eventually brings you out at Fanes on the west coast.

From there take the left and follow the road down the coast. As you travel this route be sure to take the right turn as you enter Kalavarda, signposted Kameiros (among other places) and soon you'll be put in mind of some of the route down California's West Coast in Hemingway country, south of San Francisco. To your left steep hills leading up to craggy mountains, in which perch tiny white villages, while to the right you have the wild shore of the west coast, with its slightly rougher seas and occasional sighting of  a dolphin if you're really lucky. Even in the high season, traffic here is sparse...

Pretty soon you arrive at Ancient Kameiros, where the road leading up to this fascinating ancient village is almost opposite the site of a small bay, which is served by two or three tavernas, our favourite of which is the Porto Antico, where we took lunch yesterday, as it happens, on our fairly meandering route home from the short break we'd taken in town. Needless to say, I'd broke off writing this post at the hotel and started again when we got home. In fact, I wrote a little whilst sitting at Taverna Porto Antico (see below photo), because I showed the blog to Mihalis, the very nice man who showed us to our table and took our order for what turned out to be a delicious lunch of fried sliced aubergines, skordalia, lettuce salad, chips (yea, well, alright - but they were home-made) and Haloumi (I know, it's from Cyprus, but it's fast becoming adopted by the Greeks, great eh!). We helped it on its way with some chilled Retsina and fresh plain yellow bread - none of that commercial garlic-bread rubbish!! 

When we'd finished they brought us a plate with a slice of chocolate pudding and two slices of moist walnut cake and a dollop of vanilla ice cream - on the house. So I ordered an Elleniko to accompany it. "Teleio! [perfect!]" 

To imagine a better location for a taverna would be difficult and we resolved to make the effort next year to come here for the sunset, since it's on the right side of the island and they make a thing about their wonderful sunsets. They'll be closing next week, but will re-open in March. Considering it's the last week of the season we couldn't believe how busy it was on a Monday afternoon.

Just before I close what's turned into a bit of a rambling epic (sorry 'bout that folks), which all started because I'd seen red at that irresponsible comment on the Lonely Planet Forum;  I want to return to the Old Town, since we'd set about wandering through it over the weekend in search of a picturesque little square where we'd once driven our car on a dark winter's night not long after we'd first moved here. We'd gone out for a drink with our friends and they'd told us to follow them. We hadn't realized when they'd said that, that it would involve driving into the old town and getting the car round some seriously tight and narrow corners, but we were rewarded when we arrived here...

It could even be France, couldn't it? We walked back here during the evening too, to be rewarded with the sight of these tables being dressed with tea lights in lanterns and looking impossibly inviting.

Just around the corner are the tavernas Odyssey and Romeo, both of which are set in a superb little corner of the town away from the main thoroughfares. See the next two photos.

Conclusion:

If Rhodes is to be avoided because it's ruined by mass tourism, then perhaps we don't want the kind of person who thinks that here anyway. The kind who make judgements based on insufficient research and experience will always draw the wrong conclusions, won't they.

You're Having a Laugh...

On the Greek TV news the other night, they were interviewing people in the street and asking them if they knew any jokes about the current financial crisis and the austerity measures, trying to find out if people are able to see the funny side. Here are a couple of jokes from Joe (or should that be Spiro?) Public...

A Man wakes up in the middle of the night to see a shadowy figure in his room, going through the cupboards and drawers. The man is shocked, turns on the bedside lamp and asks the burglar:

"What are you looking for?"

The intruder replies, "Money!"

To which the householder replies, "Hold on, I'll join you!"

What's the difference between a Pizza and a Greek worker? The pizza can feed a family of four.

Just had an enjoyable evening at the poolside bar at the Summer Memories Apartments in Pefkos with our good friend Bob Potts. Bob lives in Cumbria and was telling us what a wet summer it has been. Now 82 and still most certainly vital, Bob has been visiting Pefkos since 1993 and is well know to a lot of the locals. Whilst here, he usually takes a trip on Gianni's Glass Bottom Boat.  Quite often while aboard he sits right behind Gianni as he drives and carries on a conversation with him. This past week, during one such conversation, Giannis asked Bob why he keeps coming back, to which Bob replied, quick as a flash...

"I like to support the Greek economy!"

Straight away Giannis whipped out a cold beer, handed it to Bob and announced to the other passengers, "That's for his support of the Greek economy!"

The Pegasus

She's getting on a bit. She's around 60 actually, but she's still beautiful and her history is most interesting. Her name's "Pegasus" and she's not a winged horse or even a woman, she's a boat.

Her owners are Kostas, who I have met, and his dad, who I haven't yet had the privilege of meeting. I came across Kostas one Monday whilst spending the day aboard the "Free Spirit", the boat which does the "Bay to Bay" excursion which I'm escorting once a week during this season. Kostas was aboard all day and whilst in conversation he told me that Perry (the owner of "Free Spirit") was his friend and advisor, helping him and his dad get started with their "Pegasus" project. 

Wasn't there a potential conflict of interests here? I thought. The way Kostas described "Pegasus" it seemed that it was a boat of similar age and character to "Free Spirit" and therefore wasn't it likely to take business away from Perry? Apparently not, since Kostas explained that not only would they operate her out of Mandraki, whilst Perry operates "Free Spirit" out of Lindos, but that they would coordinate once "Pegasus" was commissioned, even working in harmony wherever possible.

This was a relief, as the horror stories one sometimes hears about the methods employed by some Greek businessmen to thwart their competitors' efforts would make your hair curl. If your hair's already curly, it would more than likely straighten it! I broached the subject with Kostas, who's a very intelligent and educated man and well aware of his compatriots' darker side. More on that below.
 

Kostas was delighted when I told him that currently I'm doing a "Rhodes by Day" excursion for Zorba's Travel in Pefkos and that I'm in Rhodes town kicking my heels for 5 hours every Tuesday.
"You must come and see "Pegasus", he said. I didn't need much encouragement. "She's moored in Mandraki, up toward the clock tower end. I'll be there as there's still a lot of work to be done, finishing touches and the like. Come right aboard and we'll have a drink and talk some more."

 
So, last Tuesday, after having traipsed from the Top Three Bar (just up from the New Market where the coach drops us off) over to a street in that warren of "working" streets (full of workshops, car parts stores and industrial supply stores with dusty windows) just off Canada, which is the other side of the Old Town from where I started out, to find the Suzuki dealer and order a couple of water hoses for my car, I sweatily walked all the way back to Mandraki and strolled along the quay in search of the "Pegasus." Not before having been told, as I'd expected of course, that the hoses weren't in stock and that they'd have to be ordered from Athens. Ah well, another sweaty stroll next Tuesday too then.

Strolling along Mandraki, despite the August heat, is one of the great pleasures of being on Rhodes. Yes it's a bit noisy, with pedestrians, scooters, coaches vans and cars all competing for a few inches of scorched asphalt, but it's vibrant. One has to dodge the endless procession of tourists from every part of the globe, walking as if they'd lost their vision and their hearing whilst in deep contemplation of a map and demonstrating evident failure to quite understand where exactly they are. As anyone who's read my ramblings will know, my wife and I believe that "people-watching" ought to be an Olympic sport anyway; so, whilst it's a little more comfortable to be seated with your frappe in a pavement cafe to make your observations, it's still hugely entertaining to do the Mandraki stroll as long as you're not in a hurry. It's also wonderful to know that back home in the evening all I'll have for company (apart from the beloved significant other, of course) will be goats, Chukas, various other small songbirds and the occasional Scops Owl during the night.

I didn't know exactly what I was looking for, but what I did know was that "Pegasus" was going to be a nice "curvy" boat with a history, making her easy to spot among the more modern yachts and excursion boats, many of which were absent at this time of the day anyway (which was around 1.00pm by now), off plying the waters along the island's East coast.

Then suddenly, there she was, all seductive in her newly painted white hull and stained wooden superstructure. She's a beauty and no mistake. I walked up the gangway (gangplank, passarel, board-thingie, oh I don't know what you're supposed to call them!) and called out. No reply. She appeared to be devoid of human presence. I peered into the cabin and saw the door to the downstairs deck. "Below" isn't it? Give a landlubber a break here OK guys? There were floorboards up in the central corridor, then I saw that the "forward" door (hey, I'm warming to this now, eh?) was ajar and there was the hint of movement from within, plus the strong smell of wood-stain, no doubt the marine variety.

Once again I called, "Kosta! Is that you?"

 
A familiar face appeared at the door and, as it registered who I was, it burst into an ear-to-ear grin. It belonged to Kostas, fortunately for me, since if it had been anyone else I'd have had to explain why I walked aboard someone's boat without permission. He emerged in his entirety, wearing shorts and a vest top, brush in hand and bade me take a seat on the shady stern deck ("avast behind!" Or something like that, oh I was born to this, don't you think?) while he found something whiffy in a jar where he could place his wet brush. Joining me on the deck he immediately shook my hand with vigour, apologized that there was no food aboard and offered me a cool drink.

"I've only got Coke or chilled water I'm afraid. Should have done some shopping, but you know how it is when you get stuck into a job, you don't tend to stop for little things - like eating." I concurred, understanding completely. Cold water was just what I wanted anyway and he soon placed a condensation-covered glass on the small table between us and kept it filled for the duration of my stay.

"You want to take a look around?" He asked. Silly question. So we did a tour around the main deck, which was all pristine and freshly painted and stained. I expressed appropriate appreciation for the fact that her mast was still the original wooden one. Beautiful though she is, the "Free Spirit"'s masts (she has two) have been replaced with metal ones. The one mast on the "Pegasus" is evidently her original, a fact of which Kostas is quite proud. This mast even has a bit of "rigging"on both sides, which will add to every child's vivid imaginary view that they could be on a "pirate" ship.

Kostas near the bowsprit

"How old is she?" I asked Kosta. "She was built in Kalymnos around 1951," he replied, "and she wasn't used for fishing, she was a sponge boat. At that time the sponge fishing industry was huge, of course. My father and I had the opportunity recently to buy her and so we decided that we could do her up and take guests on excursions. I mean, all these modern boats are OK, no criticism intended, but this boat has history in her deck boards, she has Greek culture stamped all over her (as does "Free Spirit" of course). We felt that people would like to go on a boat like this as it really feels like you're in Greece. It's a truly Greek experience. The other boats are the same of those you can go on anywhere really. Don't you think?"

 
I could only agree again, as these are exactly the sentiments which I share with my guests aboard the "Free Spirit" every Monday as we depart St. Paul's Bay for a seriously laid-back day of swimming and [for the guests anyway] sunbathing. I usually say that when they get home and show their friends and family the photos of this day, they will say: "That's exactly the kind of boat we'd imagine spending the day on when you're on a Greek island!"
 

I ventured the question to Kosta of how other boat owners in Mandraki would react to another boat starting up in the excursion business. Wouldn't they be annoyed? His answer was very pragmatic. There had already been "noises" from some directions regarding those who thought they could make life difficult for Kosta and his dad. Someone knows someone in the office that issues permits, someone may "accidentally" damage "Pegasus" during the night, that sort of thing. He isn't phased. He's Greek after all and says he and his dad are ready for whatever comes. In a free market everyone's entitled to have a go. Let's see how we get on shall we?

I admired his attitude and wished them every success. Continuing my tour I could see that they had some very comfortable-looking cushioned pads, made to exactly fit the side seats along the deck as well as the roof of the "below" cabin, so that guests would be able to stretch out anywhere and everywhere whilst at sea. Plus we climbed up to the "bridge" (I reckon I was Long John Silver in a previous life, what do you think?) where I was invited to examine the traditionally spoked "wheel" and the newly installed electronic gismos that the law requires of every vessel these days. We then went "below" (pieces of eight!) and he showed me the cabins and toilets, all looking spruced up, surprisingly roomy, shipshape and Bristol fashion (splice the main brace and watch that lanyard Jim-lad!) before we ended up back on the "aft" (you're impressed, I can tell) deck, well ready to consume some more chilled water, which Kostas had a plentiful supply of.

We talked some more, the conversation consisting primarily of Kostas giving me a Greek lesson by correcting my mistakes, something which you have to accept and listen to if you're going to make any progress, even though it can irritate sometimes. The fact is though, that if someone's bothered enough to offer to correct you, it's usually because they appreciate your efforts and want to encourage you to continue. They often express this in words too, as did Kostas on this occasion. So I enjoyed sitting there, windmills of the Mandraki Harbour within eye-shot, the sounds of everyday life in Mandraki during the middle of August behind me, while this most likable of men gave me my very own private lesson for free. Can't be bad, can it?

All too soon I had to think about going. I knew that Kostas had work to do, but he had been far too gracious to remind me; so I stood up, bade him goodbye with many thanks for both his kindness and his abilities as a teacher, and promised to keep in touch. I told him that he must let me know as soon as "Pegasus" was ready for business, as I'd be only too pleased to remind anyone and everyone of the opportunity to go aboard and pass what would inevitably be a memorable day along the coast of Rhodes on board this superb old boat. He told me that they hoped to do some business before this season ends, possibly throughout September and most of October. I hope they do too.
 

Ain't she pretty

If you find yourself in Mandraki Harbour any time soon, I'd recommend you stroll along toward the Clock Tower end and see if you can spot the "Pegasus." She's next door to the "Orca", a peculiar looking modern white vessel that has a glass bottom and does thirty-minute cruises out of her berth in Mandraki. If "Pegasus" is up and running, by all means tell Kostas how you heard about his ship and if you take my advice, you'll purchase your ticket then and there.

Update 31st Aug: I've scanned the card which Kostas gave me. You'll notice that this one was when she was still based in Kalymnos, but the e-mail address and phone numbers still apply...

Update Sept 12th: She's replacing Free Spirit doing a "Bay to Bay" from Lindos (St. Paul's Bay) and I've just spent today aboard with Kostas, his dad Spiro and friend Thanassi. Perry was along too as the Free Spirit has some technical problems which is why they're running the Pegasus in place of her. More info and photos from today some time soon. The excursion can be booked by either calling the above number, talking to a TUI rep on Rhodes, or calling Perry direct on (+30)6932-647152. If you do call, please tell them you found out through John's web site, thanks!

Update Oct 13th: She's now tied up again in Mandraki, the season having essentially finished. Roll on next May!!!

(Click on any image above to get a larger view)

Cats and Corners

I was in town on Tuesday with some guests from Lindos & Pefkos and, since I knew I'd have some hours to kill, I took the trusty camera along with me. Wandering into the old town I started turning down any small side street that took my fancy and was amazed to find that, merely feet away from the throngs, there were totally deserted and enchanting back streets that, from the total lack of scantily clad bodies, could easily have deceived me into thinking that it was more likely January, rather than the second week of August - apart from the temperature of course. Even the sounds of tourism disappeared just a few yards down these warren-like walkways, some of which were so narrow that even a moped would have needed to grease its rider's legs with Vaseline to get through - or so it seemed.

Of course I began snapping away and, on reviewing the photos and discarding a few as I went, began to notice that, quite without intention, I was snapping photos with a cat or cats in them. Thus the title of this post. Of course, once I'd realized that the cats were featuring here and there, I sought one out, as you'll see below.

The only thing in some of these photos that reminds one of the fact that we're in the modern day is the ubiquitous motorbike or scooter, which unfortunately are a fact of life in any Greek scene today. Don't suppose you can blame the owners in many cases, since a car would certainly be out of the question, given the narrowness of the residential "streets" in which I was wandering.

So, here, hopefully for your delectation and delight, are some "off the beaten track, but only by a few feet" moods of the Old Town in August (plus an errant one of a fruit and veg seller right next to the taxi park in Mandraki who just took my fancy!)...

As usual, clicking on any of the above will open it in a larger view

Viola's Snapshot

•• Update, Sept 7th: the picture has now changed! so Viola's pic is now below••

The new banner photo at the top was snapped by a fellow rep, Viola, who's a guide from Germany working for TUI over here this summer.

She came to Halki on Saturday as a day out and ended up working all day translating for me for my German-speaking guests. This shot is the moment when we disembark the boat on arriving at Halki, when I hold up my board showing the guests the time at which the boat departs for the return to Rhodes. She caught me unawares!

We had no less than 9 nationalities on my bus on this particular day. We even had a few from the Czech Republic, who, fortunately for me and them, were helped by Rudka (hope I've spelt that right sweetie - if you are reading this!), a young Czech rep who was also with us for the day (phew!!).

When I show the guests this sign whilst on the bus I usually explain that, at great expense to myself, I've prepared something which can be read in all the languages, so they'll be able to understand the departure time. We do this at the butterfly valley too, before going on to Kamiros Skala to meet the Halki boat. Usually gets a laugh. If it doesn't, then I know I'm in for a fraught day.

I'll be preparing a  new post about Kyria Levkosi'a soon, She's the ya-ya who runs a taverna on Halki with her sons and daughters. She's told me some fascinating stories about both herself and the island. See chapter 34, entitled "Moussaka and Maladies" in the book "A Plethora of Posts",  coming up as soon as I can get time to prepare it (if you click these links, you'll find it's now on sale in Kindle format & in book form from the publishers lulu.com. - as of Dec 2011 )