Rocky Rhodos
Rhodes—the biggest tourist trap since Cinque Terre with half the charm. Sure, there are ancient edifices. The old town looks pretty cool with its narrow streets and small squares, all within the old city walls. The place is rammed with shops. The ones selling stylish chess sets or carpets or pillows add to the flavour of the place, while the racks and racks of leather ball caps with BMW or Audi logos or Pokemon beach towels don’t. Every third store is identical to the one before. I guess business is good.. At least the towns-people had the good sense to locate the McDonalds, the Casino and the tourist condos in the new town.
Faliraki, a beach town on the island of Rhodes, is worse. A bus from the town of Rhodes deposits you by the side of the highway among a sea of plastic store-front signs. The road to the beach is lined with restaurants. Many of them exhibit an obsession for English breakfasts. There are postcards for sale that show the sites of the island or big titted women. The cards also have messages that expresses the sender’s earnest wishes, like “Greece is great” or the Pink Floydian desire “Wish you were here.” The bars are called Mambo Bar, Vibe Music Bar, Pozen, KGB and Jimmy’s Pub. One bar has a painting of a topless woman with a caption that read, “We’ve got the biggest jugs.”
The beach itself is paved with umbrellas. The population consists mostly of vacationing Greeks and sunburned Germans. The Brits are in the bars or at the mini-put course. All around the bathing area are boats: boats for para-sailors, boats for inflatable doughnuts and these giant air-mattress thingys that would flop around like poorly flown kites. For the meek, there are long inflatable tubes that twenty can straddle at a time. To the south are water-front condos and to the north is a small amusement park.
When I have to pee, I pee in the sea. I’m sure everyone else is doing it.