Rhodes, Greece to Marmaris, Turkey, Tuesday April 1st

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We left the little village of Maritsa on the 7.10 bus, along with the secondary students. Our aim was to contact Frey, post some parcels, find somewhere to leave the backpacks for the morning, purchase ferry tickets and visit the archaeological museum and palace – all before 1 p.m. when we had to be at the port. Nothing was open when we arrived so our plans were somewhat thwarted. Eventually we headed off to the old town after 10, with our first priority being to find an internet café. Pleasurable when you want to wander around casually, it is the maze from hell when you are looking for a particular place in a hurry. Eventually we gave up the search and found the museum.

The archaeological museum was in the Hospital of the St John’s Knights. The order was formed to minister to the sick and wounded on the crusades and in Rhodes they were assigned a defensive role by the Genoese. The central courtyard was surrounded on all sides by archways and porticoes where some stone items from various eras were displayed. Going up the grand stairway from the courtyard we came to a second storey with rooms opening up on three sides and an enormous chamber opening up on the fourth side above the entry arch. The rooms housed ceramics, glass and metal items found at various sites around Rhodes and were remarkable for providing almost no information apart from dates. The most interesting ones contained statues, including the very beautiful and delicate Aphrodite of Rhodes, sculpted in the first century AD.

When we entered the great hall there was a kind of hushed atmosphere befitting the many gravestones and carvings relating to the knights. The sarcophagus belonging to the grand master, Pierre de Corneillan, who died in 1355, had a plaster cast of the original carving of him resting in a dignified and peaceful way, on the top. The real carving is now in France. It was so frustrating because there was so little information anywhere and we felt that we didn’t know anything about the knights. I wanted biographical details and how they spent their days and if you could ever retire and are they related to St John’s Ambulance etc, etc. On the way out I asked the guard whether there was a display somewhere in Rhodes devoted to the story of the knights and he indicated that the only way to find out more was to buy a book. He said that the whole city is a museum, and seemed to imply that there was something wrong with me if even a whole city could not satisfy me.

Far more interesting and graspable for me was the Decorative Arts Museum, which set out folk art from the last five or so centuries from the Dodecanese Islands. It had a lot in common with Bavarian folk art. Carved chests had painted scenes inside the lids and other carved pieces, such as bed ends, were complex and featured plants, animals, birds and patterns. There were beautiful displays of plates and, in one corner, the room of a weaver’s cottage had been set up. Everything spelt out care, craftsmanship and pride in what can be made and cherished, and it all really spoke to us of the people and their lives.

We gave a quick glance to the ruins of the ancient temple of Aphrodite and headed off to the port, where we had to pay port tax an hour before the ferry left. All in all, being in the city of Rhodes was an experience not to be missed, and I will have to fill in some knowledge gaps from the internet later.

The ferry pulled in, fairly small and flying the Turkish flag. People disembarking had to go through customs and I saw that every bag was checked very thoroughly. We knew we had to pay the port tax at a locked wooden canteen-like building, so when a man on a motorbike appeared, unlocked for two minutes and then hopped on his motorbike, I rushed over to see him. We engaged in a strange game of twenty questions in which I asked ‘Do we pay the port tax to you?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Can I pay it now?’ ‘No.’ ‘When do I pay it?’ ‘One hour before departure.’ ‘It is less than one hour before departure now.’ ‘Pay at three o’clock.’ ‘Won’t the boat have left by then?’ ‘No.’ ‘The boat to Marmaris will not leave at 2 o’clock?’ ‘No.’ ‘When will it leave?’ ‘Later.’ ‘What time will it leave?’ ‘4 o’clock.’ Aaarrrggghhh! Exhausted by this exchange and our early rising, also encumbered by our big packs, we blobbed out, chatted with other relaxing travellers and read about Turkey.

Eventually we could board the ferry and it was just how I had imagined the ferries around the islands would have been. We sat in a small enclosed but windowed top lounge room, seating about 20, with very friendly people in what can only be described as a party atmosphere. Two of the men were British and lived on boats, mooring at different Greek Islands over the summer. One home schooled the two children and then worked as a helicopter pilot in Cairo for three months of the year. Two young Australian women from Yass told of scraping their hire car on a stone wall on Santarini. They had been sleeping in it to save money and that one move cost them 180 Euros, undoing all their economies. A mother and son from England were holidaying in Marmaris and had gone to Rhodes for a day. She was so patient when he continually put her down and treated her like an idiot. Travellers from Melbourne had been to Lindos on Rhodes, a place I would have liked to go, and they told about their experiences. A Brisbane couple had lived in England for a year. It was like being on a live Michael Parkinson show, with just a hint of Oprah thrown in.

Every now and then we braved the freezing winds to walk around the deck, holding on to the rails to ensure that we did make it safely to Marmaris. Eventually the misty mountains grew clearer and the gap into Marmaris Harbour came into focus. At last houses and hundreds of yachts and other boats were clear and finally we arrived.

Finding ourselves in the customs queue in front of the Brisbane couple, Nigel and Sue, we chatted some more and eventually shared a taxi to a pension recommended in the Lonely Planet Guide. Nigel went in and negotiated a very good price – off season, two double rooms etc. Best of all we had access to a kitchen and the internet. We had food so I cooked for the four of us while Nigel and Sue set up some tables on the terrace and provided some starters and a bottle of The Knights of St John of Rhodes wine. We enjoyed each other’s company and the food was delicious.

The stonework in Rhodes is deteriorating and seems to be getting eaten away.

Approaching the entrance to Marmaris Harbour, where Nelson and many other naval leaders have gathered their fleets in preparation for battle or invasion.