What Colossus?

When I arrived into Rhodes, the heat of the sun was beating down and the few early tourists were walking along the waterfront. Rhodes is an idyllic place, spoiled only by the people who drive its economy: the tourists who come religiously every summer to bask in the sun and frequent the beach-side bars and clubs. Fortunately, by late April and early May the worst of the holiday season hasn't begun, but you can still benefit from fantastic weather. Everywhere has opened by now too, but you won't be hit by the prices that get hiked into June and beyond. I slowly made my way along the waterfront the makes the northern border of the town, stopping at a cafe and eventually completing the 2km walk that brought me to my hotel.

I say 'hotel' because the place I was staying was rather different to the establishments I have become accustomed to. Clean, modern and well located, it was nonetheless completely soul-less and characterless, the sort of place that people come to to stay by the pool all day and only to venture out at night. It, along with most of the accommodation, is in the modern part of the town: equally uninspiring, but close enough to both the old town and the beach. However, it was nice to have my own space, to have a real shower and even to get access to a television to fuel my hypochondria about swine flu. It acted as a good base and enabled me to have my first lie-in for weeks.

The next day I had planned to have a catchup, doing the things that build up when you neglect them for too long: doing my laundry, getting a hair cut, planning the next part of my journey and catching up on sleep. Stupidly, I had not foreseen that it was May Day, a national holiday in Greece. Everywhere was closed; literally everywhere. And what made matters worse was that the sun - an essential element if you are to enjoy a day on a Greek island when all businesses are shut - was on holiday too, hiding for the better part of the day behind heavy clouds. Even the sun-worshippers who are normally shamelessly baring all in their multitudes along the beaches had retired into their hotel rooms. I tried to make the most of the day by using the cool temperature to explore the town, but I couldn't help feeling a little defeated.

Saturday, however, was much more productive. The sun returned, as did the businesses and with them the tourists. I dumped my laundry and headed off to explore the old part of the city. Rhodes Town, which is apparently the biggest medieval walled city in Europe, is beautiful if a little crowded. It is a great place for walking, the walls acting as a your points of orientation, and in the centre and at the water there are enough cafes, restaurants and shops to keep most tourists amused for days. The prices, however, reflect the level of tourism, and it is probably a good thing that the next day I had planned to move on.

The people who come here seem to be a mix of northern Europeans, more diverse in some ways than the Marmaris crowd, but nonetheless fairly limited in their variety. Displaying unwarrented levels of delighted exoticism at the smallest cultural differences, it can be quite difficult to take them seriously. Go down to the beach in the day, however, and even at this time of year you will be visually assaulted by hundreds of square meters of sweaty pale flesh. Needless to say, I avoided the beaches during the day for this very reason. In the evening they cleared, however, and found a sun lounger to read for the final minutes of the day.

Rodos, Greece