10. Chapter 10
Chapter ten
I spend my morning exploring the Old Town. For the first couple of hours, I had most of it to myself and enjoyed photographing the main points of interest without the crowds. By 10am, it’s gotten much busier as tourists come out and locals start opening their shops. It’s a different type of atmosphere, but not nearly as chaotic as Santorini was and I find myself enjoying the bustle of Rhodes Old Town.
Having taken dozens of photos of the architecture, my eye is now drawn to the colourful boutiques and shops, now open, that line the streets. There are numerous jewellery stores offering necklaces, bangles, and rings featuring Greek key designs and sparking blue opals. Another shop is filled with ceramics, each dish and platter bright with colour and whirling with intricate floral prints in various shapes and sizes. There are elegant linen shops with matching sets in soft corals, blues, creams, and peaches. In a typical souvenir shop, I side-step a tall, metal bucket filled with play swords and shields, no doubt catering to the young children visiting this ancient city of knights, to take a sneaky photo of the display of penis-shaped bottle openers.
Then, of course, there are the souvenirs depicting the evil eye. The Greeks, I have learned, are incredibly superstitious and the symbol of the evil eye features heavily everywhere. It’s a protection charm against jealousy or those wishing you ill will. While not superstitious myself, I find myself drawn to the symbol and end up scanning a rack of bracelets featuring evil eye beads in front of one of the jewellery shops.
The bracelets are made from simple strings that pull tight against the wrist. Each one has an evil eye bead in a slightly different shape and colour. Most are blue but there are also green, pink, and yellow options. Some are traditional circles while others are hearts or even fish-shaped. A turquoise one in a tear-drop shape catches my eye. The strings are a soft beige and the evil eye is more of a charm than a bead, the bright turquoise highlighted by a thin gold outline.
Carefully, I pull it off the stand and make my way to the register, ready to make my purchase.
The woman behind the counter smiles at me behind her thick-rimmed glasses before gently taking the bracelet from my hand. “Your first time in Greece?” she asks me.
I tell her yes, but that I spent a few days in Santorini first.
“And what do you think of Rhodes after Santorini?” She looks at me down her nose through her glasses as she punches the numbers into the cash register.
“It’s my first day,” I admit, “and it’s different than what I expected of Greece. But I think I like it better? It’s very beautiful and not as crowded. I feel more welcome here, the people are nicer.”
She chuckles at my response. “We Greeks, we feel the same. Santorini is beautiful, yes. A must-see when in Greece. But it’s too busy these days, and the people? Hmm. Not so friendly. Even to us.”
She starts to put my new bracelet into a small brown paper bag, but I stop her, asking if I can wear it instead.
“Ah! Of course, my dear.” She loosens the strings and motions at me to give her my wrist so she can tie it on. Securing the strings, she pats the back of my hand. “Beautiful.”
I hand over the money and thank her but as I turn to leave, she calls me back and hands me a little safety pin. Looped on are two beads; a small blue evil eye and a tiny purple heart.
“For extra luck,” she winks “and for your kind words about the people of Rhodes.”
Still full from my spinach and feta pie, I treat myself to a refreshing lemon gelato for lunch before heading back to the hotel in the early afternoon to take a break from the midday heat. Part of me feels guilty, given that I still have so much to explore, but I’ve also learned that the Greeks like to take afternoon siestas and many things shut down between the hours of 2-5pm, the hottest part of the day. As a Canadian, I’m used to full days so this has taken some getting used to. However, given my early mornings and the fact that I’m not yet used to the heat, I’m actually very into the idea of a forced afternoon rest.
I backtrack my way to the hotel, pleased with myself that I remember the way without having to pull out my phone to check the map. As I enter the lobby, I glance over to the reception desk, but the ‘hello’ at the tip of my tongue fades away as I see Christopher otherwise engaged. He’s swapped his black sweat suit ensemble from this morning for a tight-fitting t-shirt and jeans. Despite knowing he’s probably a couple years younger than I am, I have to admit he looks good, and it’s clear I’m not the only one who thinks so. In front of the desk are two younger women, presumably new guests, eagerly listening to whatever it is that he has to tell them. One of them absentmindedly twirls her dark hair as she leans in his direction. I spot the lazy dimpled smile he flashed me when I checked in, now aimed in her direction and think back to Sophia’s warning about young Greek men in the service industry.
If I were Mel, I’d call out to him with a flirty smile to stir things up. But I’m not Mel, I’m me. And I’m not nearly that forward. So instead, I hold in my smile and duck around the corner to my room, unnoticed, ready to take a break from the sun and freshen up before I meet Sophia.
“I told you so!” Sophia crows.
As planned, I met her back at the bakery for 5pm. She’s since taken me down some cute side streets I’ve missed and filled me in on some of the history of the Old Town and island. In return, I’ve shared the Christopher story.
“Womanizers, the lot of them! Best to stay away from the Greeks!”
The golden glow of the late afternoon light shines softly on the walls around us as we stroll up the picturesque Street of the Knights.
“Here,” Sophia reaches out, “give me your phone, this is a great photo spot and there’s nobody around right now.”
I hesitate for a moment before passing it over and standing awkwardly in the middle of the street.
“Not like that!” she calls to me, “Look cute! Pose!”
“I don’t know how!” I tell her honestly, feeling incredibly awkward and vulnerable standing in the middle of the street with a camera pointed at me.
She sighs dramatically before directing me on how to stand and where to place my arms and even my feet.
“Smile!” she calls out.
I do as I’m told and watch as she moves around me, varying my pose several times before I finally give up, too embarrassed to continue. Taking my phone back, I shove it in my pocket.
“Aren’t you going to check?” she questions.
I shrug, as we continue on our way. Unwilling to admit that I often dislike how I look in photos and never take them of myself. Instead, I tell her that I’m sure they are great and change the subject to ask where we are going.
Since I had already explored much of Old Town Rhodes, Sophia wants to take me to the new town area. While not as picturesque, she claims it has a few cute shops and a great place to watch the sunset.
We exit the old city walls, walking across the bridge where an elderly man in a fedora stands under the shade of the wall playing a guitar. A couple walks by, stopping to listen before tossing some coins in his empty case. He nods in appreciation, his fingers dancing across the strings.
It seems funny, after the medieval section, being back out to main streets and traffic with its stop lights and pedestrian crossings. But I follow Sophia’s lead past the taxi stall and towards the modern, but still beautiful, buildings that make up the new part of the city.
The first place she takes me is a local shoe store specializing in sandals. I learn that it’s a multi-generational family business and they custom make leather sandals based on your foot size and colour preferences. Together, we browse the options ranging from bright pinks and yellows to shimmering gold and silver. Ultimately, I decide on classic brown leather with two simple straps and a toe loop. It’s my lucky day because the owner manages to find exactly what I want already in stock.
Pleased with my purchase, we head to the waterfront to watch the sunset. There’s no sunset bar or beach club. Instead, Sophia’s sunset spot is a fishing pier with a few old benches. We manage to grab one for ourselves and sit in amicable silence as the sun slowly sinks into the sea. Only a few other tourists have joined us for the view but mostly we are surrounded by local fishermen, casting their lines in the hope of a final catch for the day. While perhaps not as iconic as the Santorini sunsets, I find that I prefer this one. The quiet. The calm. The lack of crowds.
When the sky fades from vibrant pinks and oranges to deep silky blues, we head to a taverna that Sophia loves. Sophia excitedly greets the server who finds us a seat out front.
Trusting Sophia to order for us, I glance around at the restaurant. Boho-chic lamps hang overhead and the walls are covered in greenery. The décor is much different than the traditional tavernas I spotted in Old Town but I fully trust Sophia’s claim that this is one of the best places for Greek food in town. The promise of delicious cocktails also helps.
Within a few minutes, Sophia’s server friend is back at our table, arms laden with an assortment of typical Greek dishes Sophia told me I HAD to try. We’re embracing the typical family-style way of eating, meaning we share so we get to try more. Sophia speaks rapidly in Greek to the server who rewards her with a warm smile, placing his hand on her shoulder before being called away by another table.
“So,” I ask her over a spread of pita, tzatziki, tomato fritters, a block of feta drizzled in olive oil, and grilled calamari. “What’s the deal with this waiter and how come you don’t seem so wary with him?”
Sophia rips a piece of her warm pita bread, using it as a makeshift spoon to scoop up the creamy tzatziki before popping it into her mouth. She chews slowly as she glances over at her friend who is currently bringing a table a fresh pitcher of white wine.
“No. Alexander is fine. But we’re just friends anyways.” She shrugs, eyes downcast as she reaches for a tomato ball, or tomatokeftedes as I am learning.
I suspect there is more to the story but I don’t want to be rude and push. Instead, I stab a piece of feta and do my best not to groan out loud as the salty cheese hits my tongue. I thought I loved feta at home but wow, Greek feta is a whole other level.
With a quick glance to make sure that Alexander isn’t within hearing distance, Sophia leans in. “I was into his friend,” she tells me quietly. “I came here two years ago, after studying. My Dad is from here. He met my mother, who is from Scotland, and they raised me there. I wanted a change of scenery though, so when I finished school I came to Greece. My grandparents own the bakery, that’s why I work there.”
She pauses for a moment as Alexander brings the cheque to the table behind us, waiting for him to finish up with them before she continues.
“I was twenty-two, excited for a new life. Excited to get away from home. Excited about the idea of hot Greek boys. Soon after I arrived, I met Nicholas and we hit it off. I liked him, I thought he liked me. We dated for a couple of months so I stupidly assumed we were actually a couple. That is, until I went to work early one morning and caught him leaving one of the old town hotels. His hair was a mess, he was wearing the same clothes as the day before. He’d obviously spent the night with someone else.”
She stabs absent-mindedly at a piece of calamari on her plate.
“Of course, as soon as I saw, I confronted him. But you know what he did? He laughed. Like it didn’t matter. Like it was normal and I should have expected it.” She scoffs, taking a sip of her drink. “Turns out she wasn’t the first.”
I sit back in my chair thinking of what to say. My abysmal dating history had the advantage of meaning I have no experience with cheating. But I can sympathize with the feeling of not being enough for someone. As I try to gather my words, I notice Alexander eyeing our table. Or, more accurately, eyeing Sophia. And not in the ‘does she need another drink’ sense either.
He catches me watching him and turns away quickly, a red blush flushing his cheeks at being caught staring. I feel the smile pull at my lips as I lean across the table.
“I’m no expert and I know that some guys suck,” I tell her. “But I still think there are some good ones who are worth a shot.” I dart my eyes over in Alexander’s direction and she turns her head to follow, her eyes softening a little as she sees him.
Alexander notices her gaze and takes it as an invitation to come over. He asks how our meal was and clears our plates before bringing over ice cream and tiny glasses of clear liquor, his eyes on Sophia the entire time.
“Did you order this?” I ask, staring at the new spread in front of me.
“No,” Sophia laughs. “Welcome to an authentic Greek restaurant. The good ones always give you a little dessert or drink at the end of your meal. This is on the house.”
Sophia pushes one of the glasses towards me before raising her own. “In Greece, we say “yamas!” for cheers. Of course, you need to look each other in the eyes.
Knowing how superstitious Greeks are, I ask why.
“Bad sex otherwise,” she warns and I try to bite back a grin. Turns out that superstition stretches across the ocean.
Unwilling to risk it, I meet her gaze as we clink our glasses together, our combined voices shouting “yamas!” as we throw back our shots under the starry Greek sky.