Rhodes - Day Five
The Guffields opted for a day of rest on Sunday, whilst the rest of us had a moderately early start for our bus trip to Rhodes. We felt that after 45 minutes worth of winding, country Rhodes roads we were making good progress - until the Lindos acropolis loomed back into view and we realised that we had instead completed one great circle. However, the bus finally turned northwards, taking us in the general direction of Rhodes Old Town.
After an abortive attempt to schedule a return journey by boat, we abandoned the midday sun of the harbour and took ourselves inside the medieval city walls through some particularly imposing gateways. We found ourselves in the Jewish Quarter, forcing Laura to raise here Jewish arms in celebration. Although the archaeology museum looked to be an impressive building, the guide books suggested the contents would disappoint and so we toddled off for some refreshment.
This was to steel ourselves for the Palace of the Grand Masters of the Knights of St John, which sounded like an altogether more educational prospect. And since, when the Turks evicted the Knights from Rhodes, they had eventually settled in Malta, it seemed like a fitting theme for our summer. The grandiose courtyard provided ample photo opportunities and had an air of promise. Sadly, though, it had a lack of doors (the signs to the Ancient Rhodes exhibition have led nowhere) and we ultimately found one unassuming entrance to a suite of upstairs apartments (but not before Ewan Maclean had an embarassing incident with an anatomically correct, flesh-coloured statue).
As the palace has been rebuilt over the years - extensively so during the island's period of Italian rule - the apartments are a curious mix of old and new masonry, with some ancient mosaics from Kos built into the marble floor for good measure. Most of it was unannotated, though, leaving us all to apologise to Laura for the general lack of history. There was, however, an intriguing display of Maria Callas costumes and after much discussion as to (i) how she must be taller than we suspected; (ii) why only some of them were labelled as "actual size" and (iii) the fact that they seemed to be made of shiny crisp packets, it later transpired that they were in fact sculptures in the style of Callas costumes, and made entirely from recycled fizzy juice cans. It was the coke ring pull headdress that gave it away.
A pleasant meander around the walled city ensued, with Laura's history-void being plugged with ice-cream instead, and with trying to find suitable arm-gestures for the "Turkish Quarter". with a weary bout of that peculiar case of achey calves that only comes from aimless, ambling, sightseeing, hometime seemed to approach but not before Charlie and I managed to see the spot where the Colossus of Rhodes wasn't (and never had been - it could not logistically have had one foot either side of Mandraki harbour and appears to have fallen victim to some over-zealous Ancient Greek translations.)
For Jonathan's last night, it was back into Lindos for some top-rated roof-terrace action and our hostelry didn't disappoint. Apparently, if a large enough party dither outside their doors for long enough, the friendly waiters (we encountered no other kind) will entice you with promises of free litre carafes of wine. On this occasion desert was thrown in as well, along with a promise of free shots at the waiter's mate's bar.
The food was, as usual, melt-in-the-mouth, and the conversation soft-in-the-head as Steve explained his favourite MIDI controllers to Laura in his sultriest Greeka accent - albeit with his shirt still on.
As we returned to the resort Savas the securité bade us a warm welcome and tried to persuade us to attend the following evening's karaoke by singing at us in Greek. We hurried off in search of wine and passed the remainder of the evening amiably amidst a fury of hastily-applied insect repellent - Charlie's left and right legs championing the case for citronella and deet respectively. Those who hadn't played it quickly familiarised themselves with "Who The Gerry McCann Am I?", although Charlie still to this day has not familiarised herself with Ed Begley Jr.
Amy took herself off for an early night, but got to bed no earlier than the rest of us due to an unfortunate nocturnal emergency fridge-defrosting scenario that was to provide most of the entertainment over the following day's breakfast...
After an abortive attempt to schedule a return journey by boat, we abandoned the midday sun of the harbour and took ourselves inside the medieval city walls through some particularly imposing gateways. We found ourselves in the Jewish Quarter, forcing Laura to raise here Jewish arms in celebration. Although the archaeology museum looked to be an impressive building, the guide books suggested the contents would disappoint and so we toddled off for some refreshment.
This was to steel ourselves for the Palace of the Grand Masters of the Knights of St John, which sounded like an altogether more educational prospect. And since, when the Turks evicted the Knights from Rhodes, they had eventually settled in Malta, it seemed like a fitting theme for our summer. The grandiose courtyard provided ample photo opportunities and had an air of promise. Sadly, though, it had a lack of doors (the signs to the Ancient Rhodes exhibition have led nowhere) and we ultimately found one unassuming entrance to a suite of upstairs apartments (but not before Ewan Maclean had an embarassing incident with an anatomically correct, flesh-coloured statue).
As the palace has been rebuilt over the years - extensively so during the island's period of Italian rule - the apartments are a curious mix of old and new masonry, with some ancient mosaics from Kos built into the marble floor for good measure. Most of it was unannotated, though, leaving us all to apologise to Laura for the general lack of history. There was, however, an intriguing display of Maria Callas costumes and after much discussion as to (i) how she must be taller than we suspected; (ii) why only some of them were labelled as "actual size" and (iii) the fact that they seemed to be made of shiny crisp packets, it later transpired that they were in fact sculptures in the style of Callas costumes, and made entirely from recycled fizzy juice cans. It was the coke ring pull headdress that gave it away.
A pleasant meander around the walled city ensued, with Laura's history-void being plugged with ice-cream instead, and with trying to find suitable arm-gestures for the "Turkish Quarter". with a weary bout of that peculiar case of achey calves that only comes from aimless, ambling, sightseeing, hometime seemed to approach but not before Charlie and I managed to see the spot where the Colossus of Rhodes wasn't (and never had been - it could not logistically have had one foot either side of Mandraki harbour and appears to have fallen victim to some over-zealous Ancient Greek translations.)
For Jonathan's last night, it was back into Lindos for some top-rated roof-terrace action and our hostelry didn't disappoint. Apparently, if a large enough party dither outside their doors for long enough, the friendly waiters (we encountered no other kind) will entice you with promises of free litre carafes of wine. On this occasion desert was thrown in as well, along with a promise of free shots at the waiter's mate's bar.
The food was, as usual, melt-in-the-mouth, and the conversation soft-in-the-head as Steve explained his favourite MIDI controllers to Laura in his sultriest Greeka accent - albeit with his shirt still on.
As we returned to the resort Savas the securité bade us a warm welcome and tried to persuade us to attend the following evening's karaoke by singing at us in Greek. We hurried off in search of wine and passed the remainder of the evening amiably amidst a fury of hastily-applied insect repellent - Charlie's left and right legs championing the case for citronella and deet respectively. Those who hadn't played it quickly familiarised themselves with "Who The Gerry McCann Am I?", although Charlie still to this day has not familiarised herself with Ed Begley Jr.
Amy took herself off for an early night, but got to bed no earlier than the rest of us due to an unfortunate nocturnal emergency fridge-defrosting scenario that was to provide most of the entertainment over the following day's breakfast...