We made it to Turkey!
Jason and I arrived in Rhodes yesterday via airplane to discover what I had already guess by my research beforehand - it's surprisingly difficult to get from Greece to Turkey!
We eventually booked a passage via a hydrofoil for the next day (today), and then hunted down a place to stay in Rhodes. We ended up at the Hotel Afica, which was pretty nice for 36 euros. Since the hotel was right next to the beach, we headed straight there for a few hours to swim and relax. The water is so very, very blue! It probably helps that it was a pebble beach, so there's no sand to kick up. The current was strong enough that it took constant swimming to ke ep from drifting away from our umbrella spot, but it was delightful and the waves weren't nearly as violent as the ones on Crete. Windy still, though, so I got awesome hair again.
We dropped off our laundry at a place around the corner afterwards and headed into Old Town Rhodes, which was amazing. It was blown up several times, but then Mussolini reconstructed it to use as a summer home. It felt medieval - a castle fortress, grand stone walls, narrow labrynth cobblestone streets. We wandered the town for a while and settled in for dinner at a place called Romio's. The waitress was hilarious! She brooded over us with all kinds of attitude. The waiter, when I asked him for a recommendation, said, "You get the chef's veal." I hesitated, wanting something lighter. "No, you get the veal!" he said, then he took away my menu and turned to Jason for his order. No choices!
The veal was pretty good, but heavy - it came in a clay pot with potatoes, onions, mushrooms, cream, and cheese. I ate about a third of it and was full. The waitress had been lingering by our table, and came over. She looked in my clay pot, and tsk-tsked me for the amount left. "You eat more!" she said.
"I'm full!" I replied, patting my stomach.
"No, you left too much meat." She then scopped out the rest of the meat and loaded my plate up again. Pointing to it, "You eat all of that." Jason sat, chuckling as he worked on his chicken.
I took a few more bites, then she came back to check on my progress. When I said I was finsihed, too full, she said, "Three more bites."
I protested, laughing, and she stood there with her arms folded, looking at me sternly. She was not going to budge until I had eaten more. I speared a mushroom, and she groaned. "Those bites!" she said, pointing to the meat. I took one more bite of veal and ate it, smiling at her like a good girl. She looked me over appraisingly, then grabbed the fork, speared a piece of meat, and pushed it into my mouth. "There!" she exclaimed, "Now you can be done!"
After clearing our plates away, one of her minions came over bearing a large plate with a lovely chocolate mousse with cherries on it. "Dessert on the house!" she declared as they placed it in front of us, winking.
It was delicious, and she chastised Jason for not eating enough of the mousse.
After dinner, we went hunting for a shop that the gentleman in the hotel said had the best baklava. We found it and got a piece to go, then got rather lost trying to get back to the hotel via the windy old streets.
This morning we rode the hydrofoil to Turkey (which I survived thanks to a level 3 on my wristband, half a Dramamine tablet, and sleeping most of the time), and then took a few busses to Selcuk. We're at the hotel now, going to Ephesus tomorrow and then onwards.
As I typed this, Jason was escorted by a little boy to a barber to be "pummeled to relaxation". No such luxuries for women, but I looking forward to a hammam....
Off to more adventures! Tah!
That story about the waitress is hilarious to me reading it here, but I feel that if I were in your shoes - I would be consumed with rage.ReplyDelete
Luckily - There's no way I would have not finished my veal... ;-)
Is that sentence okay?