Living
in the Shadow of Colossus
A journal of my trip to Rhodes,
with my dear friend
Joan as my travel companion.
Days 1 & 2
What do a Mexican festival, a broken-down bus,
and New York City traffic have in common? All things that conspired to delay our
arrival at JFK Airport in NYC sufficiently that we missed our flight. No amount
of cajoling or begging will convince the ticket counter clerk to let us onto the
flight scheduled to leave in 45 minutes. Several dashes to various ticket
counters ensue, culminating in one hour at the Delta counter trying to get our
flight changed to anything sooner than twenty-four hours later. We are
determined not to lose a day but don’t want to spend a fortune to change things
around either. In the end we board a flight to Frankfurt, Germany rather than
Athens and arrive there at about the same time Monday morning that we had
expected to be in Athens. Our hope is that Olympic Airlines (scheduled to take
us from Athens to Rhodes) will be able to get us there from Frankfurt. They can,
but not directly.
Stepping into Frankfurt, I feel the difference
in culture immediately. The airport feels as though it was designed and built by
the Ikea designers – all simple, clean lines. It is quieter than any airport
I’ve ever been in – as though traveling were serious business and one shouldn’t
muck it up with frivolous architecture and mindless noise. We stand in a long
but silent line to get through customs, then retrieve our baggage and head to
the Olympic Airlines desk. Another hour spent there working on options. But here
at the Olympic desk we encounter our first little bit of Greece, in the person
of Uvdovlia, the Greek woman behind the counter (who looks, incidentally,
exactly like Aunt Voula from My Big Fat Greek Wedding, especially in her
travel-industry blazer.)
Uvdovlia and another clerk (this one from NYC!)
help us reroute our trip from Frankfurt, to Thessolonika (or “Sol-a-NIK-e” as
they keep saying) then a plane switch and onto Athens. In contrast with the
stark simplicity and silence of the German airport, the Athens airport seems
alive with the expressive personality of Greece. Information is fairly shouted
through loudspeakers, and the European habit of pushing into whatever part of
the line you choose leaves me hanging back in surprise, with Joan pulling me
forward to hold my place. Another plane switch and finally, our first glimpse of
the Greek islands from high above.
We land on the island of Rhodes around 8 PM and
catch a taxi to the Hilton. It would seem that cab drivers are the same the
world over – all maniacal speeds around hairpin turns, slammed brakes and
mutterings. But to be speeding along the Aegean Sea, passing Greek shops and
restaurants, it truly feels like another world. We are exhausted, but want to
see a little bit of the hotel, and end up at a table beside the pool feasting on
grilled vegetables, cheese, and some type of spicy meatball. Delicious. I type
this now on the balcony of our room, which overlooks both the pool and the
Aegean Sea. It’s been dark since we arrived, so we are anxious to see the sea
from our balcony in the morning but the lit-up cruise ship drifting past along
the horizon gives us a taste of what’s in store.
Tomorrow, into Old Town to walk where Tessa and
Nikos walked!
Day 3
A leisurely beginning to our day, with a
breakfast buffet in the hotel. In addition to my omelet and coffee, I broaden
myself to eat Kalamata olives and smoked cheese for breakfast. Then go back for
more.
In the front of the hotel we catch a taxi. Our
driver George, a native to Rhodes, chats us up on our way to the Old Town, and
drops us in front of the Palace of the Grand Master with a “Listen, girls, I
will explain.” He gives us a brief lay of the land, will not take enough euros
to cover the fare because he does not have exact change, and wishes us a good
holiday. We get his card and plan to call him again tomorrow.
Through the Palace of the Grand Master,
I walk among stones older than any I’ve
touched in my life, though my impatience to push through this medieval section
and into the ancient has me nearly discounting the amazing architecture and
history.
The babble of languages among
tourists is fascinating. We hear very little English spoken, and our driver
George has told us that few Americans visit here. Twice through the day we have
shop vendors ask if we are Australian, I suppose because that is where they most
often hear English spoken.
Drifting out of the medieval fortress I
encounter my first local shopping district and am enchanted.
I have to keep reminding myself that this is not a Disney reproduction, it’s the
real thing! We walk along the city wall and find the water, then follow the
water north, stopping first at the harbor, where several cruise ships are docked
awaiting their guests who are also wandering Rhodes.
We climb a battlement above the water, and look
back at the Palace, the most likely site where the Colossus would have stood, as
it can be seen from both harbors.
I
find a stone wall and sit awhile, drinking in the view and imagining Helios
towering over me there.
I am having
trouble believing I am truly here. After so many months with the setting and
characters, I feel as though I actually know the people who lived here.
We walk down into the Mandraki harbor, and find
the statues of the deer, such a famous image of Rhodes.
Again, reality is difficult to believe. I have looked at pictures of these deer
for many months. To stand beneath them, to touch the pillars, seems a dream. We
walk along the dock and see the broken pieces below us of the former dock, now
in disrepair because the water line has risen.
Again, I tell myself that this is the dock where Nikos loaded grain onto a
barge, and then remind myself that Nikos is a fictional character. Fiction and
reality, memory and imagination, it is all blurring now.
Across the harbor, the line of houses and shops
juts into the Aegean, and I pan with the video to catch the harbor district that
is the setting for Servia’s training house.
From this distance I can imagine the street in its ancient form. It is only when
we circle the harbor and walk the dock that the shops and banks become modern
again.
We trek through a small part of the New City
but it is the Old City that calls us and we quickly cross back. Here, the
streets are lined with houses of unknown antiquity, now converted into shops to
service the booming tourist trade.
We criss-cross street after street of vendors selling pottery, glassware,
tapestries, jewelry, and artwork. I am trying not to spend money yet, to first
get an idea of what’s available, and yet my fascination with so many items draws
the shop owners to my side to extol the virtues of each item I pause to examine.
It is hard to say ‘no’ but we keep moving.
My adventurous travel partner Joan won’t let us
stay in the main thoroughfares long. Each time she sees an empty alley, we duck
in and find ourselves making delightful discoveries along the way.
We wind through streets, and here in the less tourist-driven
parts of town we encounter the real life in Rhodes.
Open doors allow us to peek quickly in as we walk, glimpsing
tiny homes, cluttered and cramped, many with TVs delivering entertainment to
elderly Greek folk.
We discover ourselves in the Jewish district
eventually, and pass by several synagogues,
but life here seems much the same as in the rest of the Old Town. We are just
beginning to get hungry when we round a corner and discover a little café that
had been recommended in one of our travel books. We immediately claim a
street-side table and sigh heavily as we get off our feet.
The cobbled streets have left us both
foot-sore. I am craving a Coke, and the waitress brings one quickly in a glass
bottle with Greek lettering. We point to dishes on the menu, ask her “what is
this?” and she looks at us blankly. No English. So we simply point and nod, and
she nods, and we have ordered. The meal is delicious. My favorite part is the
grape-leaf wrapped rice and meat, called dolmades.
We people-watch, try to guess nationalities of those who walk
past, and enjoy the respite.
Unlike
American restaurants, they are in no hurry here to get rid of us. It’s difficult
to get the check, and takes quite awhile to pay it. When a waiter finally brings
back the credit card, he also brings two glasses of ouzo “on the house.” Along
with the ouzo is a pitcher of water, and we soon learn why.
This anise-flavored liqueur is a fixture
in Greece, but tastes absolutely awful, in my opinion. Joan grabs for the water
and I grab for the bread, both desperate to erase the taste.
We rouse ourselves from dinner, discover more
side streets and wander.
The sun is
going down, the lights of the town are coming on and the restaurants are coming
alive. Music plays on every corner, and outdoor seating begins to fill up. The
restaurants have employees standing on the cobbled streets, trying to entice
people in, and we have to say “no thank you” many times. Earlier in the day one
of these restaurateurs had called to Joan with a “Hello, kitten…” After seeing
several dozen cats through the streets all day, we are no longer certain it was
complimentary!
We make our way back toward the Palace of the
Grand Master,
back to the street corner
where we began our day, and find a taxi waiting, just for us it seems.
It is fully dark now and after a quick
ride back to the hotel, we walk out the beach to soak our tired feet in the dark
Aegean. The beach is narrow and pebbled, but the cool water feels wonderful. We
do a little shopping in a local market there on the street then head back to sit
beside the pool in the dark and simply relax and reflect on the day.
To be in Rhodes, to have walked the streets and
met the people, seems a bit more real to me tonight, but still I finish the day
on our balcony overlooking the night sea and am amazed that I am here. I could
repeat the whole wonderful day tomorrow but I know that nothing will ever quite
match my first day in a European town. Though the medieval influence is strong
here, it is not difficult to imagine the ancient Greeks hurrying along narrow
alleys, mending their nets on the beaches, and living their lives in the shadow
of the Colossus. I have lived one day in its long-fallen shadow and found it one
of the most fascinating days of my life.
Day 4
Again today we are in no hurry to rush out of
the hotel. We eat breakfast here, then head out to try our luck at catching a
bus. The schedule is posted, but seems to be only a general idea. We wait close
to thirty minutes, and enjoy a conversation with a British couple also waiting.
The bus takes us down into the new city where we exchange some money and then
begin the walk to the Acropolis.
It takes about thirty minutes to make the walk,
through slightly more upscale neighborhoods and generally uphill. We pass a
house that is a replica of the type of house Glaucus would have lived in.
I can see that from any point on this
walk the statue and possibly even the sea on the southeast side of the island
would have been visible. The houses thin and suddenly we are at the edge of a
dirt clearing. We look up and see the three columns of the Temple of Apollo
looming on the hill in the distance above us. This is it! It is just as I
imagined, and yet different.
We walk through a grove of trees, and pass the
remains of the gymnasium on our left, now only a rough outline of stones. But
then there is the stadium!
It cannot
look much different than it did 2000 years ago, so well preserved is it. A
running track lines the perimeter at the base of the seats.
I get a sense of how long one stadia was as the whole complex is longer than I
had imagined. As we stand at the entrance to the stadium we are also at the base
of a small theater, this one holding about 800 spectators.
It has been partially restored and is
beautiful. Joan sends me the top, then stands in the center of the odeion and
speaks softly so I can get the amphitheater effect. She calls for a vote on
Glaucus’ murder, which makes me smile.
Upward then to the Temple of Apollo above us.
We turn around to look over the theater, gymnasium and stadium, and I see that
from this hill, the sea is visible beyond, and the Colossus would have been as
well.
This temple complex is more
far-flung than it appears from below, where one can only see the three stately
columns rising from the hill.
In
reality, there are numerous walls delineating courtyards and other rooms all
around the temple. The size of the structure awes me. How did the ancients
possibly build these monuments without machinery?
The fragment of the angled roofline hints at the decorative
touches they took the time to include.
An airpline flies by, and I’m able to catch a picture of it passing beyond the
temple’s pillars.
We circle the temple
taking pictures from all angles then descend down into the ruins to explore a
bit.
Beside the theater, we spot some niches in the
wall, and I wonder if these are the entrances to back-stage rooms. One of them
has been blocked by large stones but another seems open.
I peer in, unwilling to step into the
darkness, and Joan urges me in. I’ve been trying to confront my utter terror of
small, enclosed spaces in anticipation of my trip to the pyramids in a few
months, and Joan says this is a good time to practice. The space leads inward,
under the temple foundations, and I must crouch to move forward. I take a deep
breath, crawl four feet in, and stop. Behind me, in the wide, fresh air, Joan
says “keep going!” I take a few more steps and see that the passageway ends with
a turn to the right. Fighting panic, I try to turn to get back out and nearly
wedge myself between the walls. I escape back out to the sunshine, and find Joan
has been taking video of my backside as I crawl. I swipe the camera from her,
turn on the light, and venture back in, this time using the light to see around
the corner. The passageway takes another bend, and there is no way I’m going
farther. I’m already quite proud of myself for getting this far!
When we have exhausted this area, it is time to
go looking for the Temple of Athena. We know that it is not well-preserved and
may be difficult to find, but we have a general sense of the direction. Walking
that way, we first encounter the caves of the Nymphaeum.
On a plateau overlooking the island, numerous narrow stone
paths and steps lead deep underground. All the entrances that we immediately
encounter have gates barring entrance, but we can get a good sense of what they
might hold. We range all over this rocky field, discovering more caves as we
walk, but no sign of the Temple. It is not until we venture a little farther
west to the cliff above the sea and begin to walk south along the cliff that we
sense we are getting warmer. We stumble over a small plaque telling us that we
are standing on the foundations of the stoa which bordered the temple on the
east side. We keep going, and then we are there. Only a few feet from the
highway, and right beside a field of satellite towers, one broken column lies on
its side, a telltale marker for the Temple of Athena Polias, the Athena of the
City.
I climb on the pillar so Joan can snap a
picture, and take a moment to reflect on the ancient hands that carved the piece
beneath me.
We continue on along the
cliff’s edge, thinking about Nikos and Spiro fighting here.
The view is gorgeous and the blue water,
spectacular. Back down through the
Temple of Apollo, past the theater and the stadium, and down to the entrance to
the area, where we are hoping our cab driver, George, whom we called earlier,
will find us.
We wait only a few minutes, and then he is
there, and whisks us back to the hotel. He insists again that we see Lindos, but
it seems too far. We overpay him this time, to make up for yesterday. He tries
to refuse but we say thank you, efadasto, and promise to call him again
tomorrow if we need a taxi. It is mid-afternoon and Joan goes to keep her
massage appointment. After two days of walking it seems only right!
We spend the afternoon snoozing, eating paninis
by the pool, relaxing down at the beach. I take a quick dip in the Aegean. The
sea floor is pebbly and uneven here, but the water is blue and warm. After my
massage (!) we grab a taxi and head down into Old Town again.
It’s getting dark, and again the city is coming
alive. We eat Greek gyros at an outdoor café then do some shopping.
I am collecting souvenirs to bring back
for readers, and it’s fun shopping for people I haven’t yet encountered. After
nine, we find an outdoor Greek folk- dancing show and watch for an hour or so.
About twelve men and women dance in
various costumes, to music played live by a guitar, percussion, and something
that looks like a mandolin but is being played with a bow like a violin. I
record the music live, to use later as the background music for this travel
journal. The gyros and the dancing have me feeling quite Greek, and we spend
some more time traversing the narrow back streets, so enchanting in the
lamplight.
More shopping, but it is
getting so late the shopkeepers are beginning to pull their wares off the
streets and into their shops.
It is nearly midnight and we stop for pastry,
sit on the stone steps in the town square, and plan tomorrow. Was it only this
morning that we climbed to the Acropolis? Today feels as though we have lived
three days in Greece. A cab ride back to the hotel, a quick email check, some
time to record the day, and I close another chapter. I will fall asleep
wondering what discoveries tomorrow will bring.
Day 5
Between our taxi driver, George, and the
concierge at the hotel, we have been convinced that Lindos is “a must see.”
Though the town is twenty-five miles south of Rhodes and not part of the book’s
setting at all, everyone seems to think we are crazy to come to Rhodes and not
see Lindos. The cost of the taxi seems prohibitive but the hotel concierge
assures us that the bus is cheap and comfortable. We decide to do Lindos today.
We take a taxi down into the Old Town, then
switch to the bus to Lindos. The trip takes a little over an hour, and it’s a
great chance to see more of Rhodes. Much of the drive is along the coast, with
more beaches, rocky mountains, and blue sea. The Acropolis of Lindos is the big
attraction, and we are still quite far away when it becomes clear why. Perched
high above the sea, the walls around the temple complex make it look like a
medieval fortress.
When the bus drops us in the parking lot below
the Acropolis, we get a better sense of just how high this amazing structure is.
And the climb it’s going to take to get there! We start out, bracing ourselves
for many steps upward. We haven’t gotten far, however, when we pass through a
narrow street of shops and find several donkeys, with drivers eager to take five
Euro each for a trip up the mountain. After all the walking we’ve done this
week, it sounds like a bargain. The donkey driver practically shoves each of us
onto a donkey and we start out. I try to turn, to snap a picture of Joan on her
mount but the man walking beside her scolds me. “Pictures, later,” he says. “Now
– you hold on.” We meander at a donkey’s pace up the cobbled streets, past
quaint houses and shops. Behind me, the donkey man moans and groans, somehow
communicating to the donkey to go faster, perhaps. He scolds Joan as well,
instructing her to “move to the right! No, too far. To the middle!” and so on.
Later Joan tells me that he felt as free to slap her from behind as he felt to
slap the donkey. I’m glad I was in front! As it turns out, there is no time for
pictures here, either, since the driver shoves us off the donkey as soon as we
reach the top.
We eavesdrop on an English-speaking Greek tour
guide, explaining this Acropolis to his group. Three cultures can be seen in
this complex of ruins, and we will see them in reverse chronology as we move
through. First, Byzantine medieval walls that surround the area and the steps
lead up to the entrance. We climb this high flight of steps, and are again very
glad for the donkey ride that got us to this point without climbing.
Inside, we walk through the medieval
administration building, and see the Byzantine church built on the site. But
beyond that, we get a glimpse of the Roman ruins as well. But it is the ancient
ruins that really dominate the site.
The Temple of Athena here has been partially restored, and the stoa along its
side is in the restoration process.
Massive steps lead to the temple area, and when we descend
them and turn, we get a glimpse of the rooms under the stoa.
I snap a picture of one classroom,
and plan to caption it “Philosophy 101 in Classroom A.”
It was in rooms such as this stoa that the principles known
at Stoicism began.
Back up to the temple, to walk among the
pillars, and get a feel for the ancients’ worship up here at this massive
height. I can’t stop taking pictures of the beautiful scenery in every
direction.
Below us lies a cove in
the water. History (or perhaps legend) tells us that the Apostle Paul hid here
while trying to escape from the Romans.
One can see from this angle how it would be a great hiding
spot, as the entrance is not even visible. We take lots of pictures, and make
our way back down what would have been a stairway, we believe, but is now broken
rocks. Joan encourages me to slow down, run my fingers over the letters carved
into a pillar, and think about the person who placed them there.
The walk down the hill is not so bad, and soon
we’re back on the bus for Rhodes town. It was a great addition to our trip, and
I’m glad we took the time. George the taxi driver was right. A must see!
It’s our last evening in Rhodes, and time to
figure out a way to get Joan home through Frankfurt. This takes some time and is
frustrating. When we’re done, we relax by the pool a bit, go back to the room
and pack and then go back down for a “circus show” at the hotel, which leaves us
laughing much too hard and is a great way to end our time in Rhodes.
Tomorrow we journey to Patmos and then on to
Samos where we’ll spend the rest of our time, including a day trip to Ephesus on
the coast of Turkey, to do research for a future book.
Only three days living in the shadow of the
Colossus, and I’m already sad to be leaving. Every minute has been a fantastic
experience, a combination of seeing the scenes of the book in new ways,
gathering mementos and pictures, and simply broadening my view of the world with
my first European travel. I came to this place hoping to have the novel come
alive. And somehow, in the streets of Rhodes, I feel as though I have come alive
as well.
