9. Chapter 9
Chapter nine
M y first night in Rhodes ends up being my best sleep yet. After a few days in Greece, I finally seem to be over my jetlag and I wake up just after 7:30 am feeling refreshed and ready to explore. Since I learned in Santorini that early mornings are the best time to sight-see without the crowds, I waste no time getting ready. I quickly tie my hair up in a ponytail and throw on a breezy sundress in a leafy green print before grabbing my bag and heading out the door.
“Kalimera, Canada.”
The voice startles me as I walk through the lobby. A quick glance over at the reception desk reveals the young man from yesterday, lounging comfortably in the leather chair behind the desk. His rumpled dark hair and black sweatsuit ensemble indicate it wasn’t quite as easy for him to get out of bed this morning as it was for me.
“Kalimera!” I smile as I walk by, headed for the exit and out into the sunny but empty street beyond.
“What’s your plan today?”
I halt in my steps. Despite the apparent sleep deprivation, my host seems quite chatty this morning.
Turning away from the exit, I walk over to the desk. I figure if he wants to talk this early in the morning, it would be good to ask for some local recommendations.
“I was just going to walk around and see what I get up to. But if you have any suggestions I’d be glad to hear them.”
Stretching his arms above his head he sits up from his reclining position, dark eyes meeting mine as his lips rise in a slow smirk. “Oh, I have plenty I think you might like.”
Before I have a chance to think through whether or not that was an innuendo, he grabs a piece of paper and pen and starts writing things down for me.
“Restaurants, stay away from the main square. Expensive. Not so good food. These are the best places.”
His pen scribbles quickly across the white paper, creating a list of bulleted names.
His eyes dart up to meet mine. “You like seafood?”
I nod.
“Good. You must go to this one.” The pen makes a sharp scraping noise as he underlines a name twice.
“For bakery, this one. Go for breakfast. Spinach and feta pie, bougatsa, everything is good here.”
The paper fills up quickly as he tells me about a nearby beach club, where to go for the best sunset views, and gives me his take on the most picturesque places in the Old Town. He also instructs me to use his name (Christopher) when booking any day trips with his recommended tour providers around the island. When the sheet of paper is full, he slides it over to me.
“Enjoy, Canada. I will see you later.”
I debate telling him my name is Calla, but since he helped check me in and his father runs the hotel, I’m pretty sure he already knows. Telling him won’t do anything to change my new nickname.
Christopher’s list in hand, I finally step out into the early morning Greek sunshine. The streets are quiet at this hour except for the cats. I spot two napping in the shadows while a particularly friendly ginger comes right up to me, mewling for attention. Bending down, I scratch the friendly feline behind her ears, earning a contented purr as she twines herself around my legs.
Her affection, while welcome, is not long-lived and soon my ginger cat friend tires of my attention, slinking away in search of someone, or something, new. Leaving me to continue my own quest.
Glancing down at the list, I decide that my first stop should probably be breakfast. The bakery Christopher recommended is just a couple of streets away so I head in that direction, pausing frequently to take photos as I go.
A white taverna with dark wood shutters and blooming flower boxes on every window. An old, gnarled tree with silvery green leaves in the centre of a courtyard. A black and white cat perched on the top of a dusty red motorbike leaning against the old city walls. Everything is cute. Everything is beautiful. And while it looks nothing like the white-washed buildings and blue roofs I had always pictured when I thought of Greece, I’m quickly falling in love with this version of it.
Ducking down a small alleyway, I spot the sign for the bakery on my list. While all other businesses are closed at this time of the morning, the bakery doors are wide open, beckoning any early risers inside. To the right is a small courtyard, flowering trees sprout from ceramic pots and wooden chairs and tables wait for hungry patrons.
Upon entering, I notice a massive oven and three people behind the counter. A middle-aged man waits in front of the oven door, ready to pull out whatever is baking inside. An elderly woman is busy stocking the front display while a young woman chats away animatedly to them in Greek.
My entrance quickly garners everyone’s attention.
“Kalimera!” the young woman beams at me. Her long hair, twisted back into two braids, swings over her shoulders as she dusts her hands on the apron in front of her.
I smile and repeat the greeting back before taking in my surroundings. The bakery is full of breads, pastries, and other sweet treats. The display case by the cash register is stocked full of what look to be different types of Greek pies with flaky pastry and loaves of homemade bread. The wall holds shelves of biscuits, cookies, and breadsticks, and there is a separate display case in the middle of the room featuring slices of traditional cakes and pieces of baklava dripping in honey.
I have no idea what most of it is, but between the look and the smell, I know I want to try it all.
“Can I help you?” the young woman asks me in a surprisingly thick Scottish accent.
I take in the array of baked goods in front of her before asking for a recommendation.
“Well, all of it’s good” she laughs, her bright eyes crinkling at the corners “I know that’s not what you want to hear when picking one thing but I promise it’s all super yummy! Are you thinking savoury or sweet?”
“I like both,” I admit, “maybe savoury today?”
She points at a flaky pie to the left. The golden-brown pastry looks perfectly crisp and the inside is stuffed with a green and white mixture.
“What about cheese and feta pie? It’s a typical Greek breakfast if you haven’t tried it yet?”
I nod and she pulls out a pair of tongs to grab a thick slice and slips it into a white paper bag.
“Coffee?”
“Oh, yes, the cold one if you have it, what’s it called?”
“Freddo cappuccino?”
“Yes, please! Medium sweet?”
“The best way.” I’m rewarded with another warm smile as she says something in Greek to the elderly woman now stationed at the cash register.
“Did you want to sit outside? I can bring your coffee to you when it’s ready?”
I take her up on the offer and after paying for my breakfast, grab a seat in the courtyard. A couple of minutes later, she comes out, my freddo cappuccino in hand.
I thank her and take a sip, sighing in appreciation. I’m not typically a cold or iced coffee girl but there’s something about these Greek freddo cappuccinos that has me craving them daily.
“So good, right?” The bakery girl pulls out the chair across from me before plonking down. Her apron gaping at the neck as she leans forward to rest her forearms on the table in front of her.
“Can I ask where you’re from? Are you American?”
I open my mouth to respond before she jumps back in. “Oh god, I’m sorry. I just sat down without even asking. Is this ok? I can leave you alone if you like.”
She moves to get up but I motion for her to stay seated.
“Please!” I laugh, “It’s nice to have some company. And no, I’m actually Canadian.”
She moans and covers her face with her hands dramatically. “So sorry! I swear one day I’ll learn the difference between the two. I just got excited. I don’t normally hear Canadian or American accents here. It’s usually British, especially this time of year. Oh, and I’m Sophia, by the way. Sorry. I should have introduced myself earlier.”
“Calla. And don’t worry about it, Canadians and Americans sound very similar. I’m not offended.”
Sophia sighs in relief, “Ok, good. What brings you to Greece?”
I take another sip of my freddo cappuccino debating whether to tell her the truth. I don’t know her but she seems sweet and it would be nice to have a friend here, even if only for a couple of days.
“The guy I was seeing dumped me. I got tired of waiting for someone to travel with so I decided to come to Greece by myself.”
Sophia’s eyes go wide and her mouth forms a small ‘o’ shape as she stares at me. My cheeks start to warm up as I realize how crazy I sound.
“That’s brilliant! Not the being dumped part. But the rest! Wow, good for you! Aren’t you scared? Do you like it here? Where are you going next?”
I’m flooded with a sense of relief at her excited response and quickly share that the beginning was a little rough, but I met another fellow solo female traveller in Santorini who inspired me to come to Rhodes and Symi.
“Symi is adorable!” Sophia promises, “And I think you’ll like Rhodes too. It’s beautiful here and very safe. You just need to watch out for the local Greek boys. I’m sure you already have them chasing after you.”
She rolls her eyes dramatically, prompting me to ask what she means.
“The boys on the islands love summer and tourist season. They say whatever they can to get with the female tourists. It’s bloody embarrassing to watch,” she huffs. “Watch out for the ones in the restaurants, especially. They are the worst.”
Her eyes narrow a little as she warns me, making me wonder if Sophia has her own story of these Greek boys. While curious, I choose not to press her and instead turn the conversation to safer ground. Although I’m grateful for Christopher’s list, a second opinion never hurt.
Sophia’s warm smile is back as I ask for her recommendations but before she can share anything, a young family with two pre-teen boys saunter up to the bakery, looking eager to order their own breakfast.
“I have to go back to work now, but if you like, I can show you around a bit later? Only if you like though?”
I tell her I’d love that and I agree to meet her back here at 5pm. She gives me a quick wave as she darts back inside, just behind her new customers, her bubbly voice wishing them a ‘Kalimera’ as she disappears around the corner.
Alone again, I take a bite of my spinach and feta pie. The flaky pastry spills on the table in front of me as I break through the crust into the rich and tangy feta filling. Good food and a new friend who wants to play tour guide? Not a bad way to start my first day in Rhodes.