What is the call that we sometimes hear? How can an island know my name?
When I got off of the boat early and carried my computer through the medieval wall of the old town of Rhodes, I heard it. It whispered as I watched the early greetings of friendly passersby as I sat with a filtered coffee and caught up on the internet.
Rhodes will be a place I remember.
When my husband and I wandered the back alleys away from the busy main street full of vendors and restaurants, I was more entranced.
And so I focused on doors.
Later we sat on a bench in the square deciding what to do with our long day. The minute we pulled out the map, an old gentleman next to me got involved in our planning. He looked at me, and for whatever reason, decided that we should converse in Italian. He began explaining how many towns there are on the Rhodes (45). He approved of our plan to take a taxi or a bus and see Lindos, the primary archealogical site. And he pointed us in the direction of the bus station.
And so we saw the countryside from the windows of the bus. The familiarity of countryside all over the world is comforting.
I saw bits of Mexico (the half-finished concrete and rebar square buildings), and Oregon (the hillsides dotted with brush above orchards).
We enjoyed some time on a rooftop restaurant gazing at the Acropolis in Lindos (we got there too late to gain entrance). The Greek waiter was reminiscent of a man who talked to a friend and I on the beach at Tolo on the Peloponese as he pounded his octopus into tenderness. I had to take his photo and send it to her.
In spite of the inauspicious beginning to the Lindos visit, we enjoyed the afternoon before riding back on the bus.
What is it about Rhodes? Perhaps it was being there early enough to see the friendly residents interact before the tourists poured through the gates. Perhaps it is that magic connection of a man on a bench who wanted to make our visit interesting and our day better; a man who, like myself, values connection. Perhaps it was the familiarity of people, of trees, of flowers and of landscape across the world. Perhaps it was the evidence of ancient history within the old town of Rhodes and of Lindos being preserved and respected but being a part of daily life.
Who knows? I just love it!
Goodbye to Greece, for this time…
A bit of humor thrown in:
Walking down the steep road toward Lindos from the highway we had one of those “moments”! Where is a video camera when you need one?
I heard a slight scraping of the gravel behind me and an “oomph” from my husband who had been walking behind me. The next thing I knew I was lying on my back on top of him, my feet (in a skirt, btw) up, my arms alternatively flailing while trying to brace myself, and my head on his chest. I heard gasps and “OMG’s” from people around us. It all seemed to be in slow motion.
As we scrambled to our feet the people around us remained transfixed, too shocked to move.
“Are you okay?” I heard. I vaguely nodded and turned to my husband who was bleeding frim a scrape on his leg.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, as he was examining his wounds.
“Why should I have to apologize,” he grumped, mistakenly thinking I had asked him to apologize to ME!
That’s where it became REALLY funny to me. A couple of old geezers who can’t keep their footing and can’t hear what’s going on, either.
The more we replayed the scene to ourselves, the more we laughed at the shock and chagrin of those around us when my husband took me out from behind.
We don’t have any real record of it other than the scrapes and bruises. Should I have tossed a camera to someone as I lay on my back with my arms and legs flailing?