Ixia

 Welcome to our first full day  back in Rhodes.  We're in Ixia, slightly south of Rhodes Town (not that you care, I imagine).

The beach here in Ixia is across a fairly busy main road and there's an underpass to allow for a safe passage. Disappointingly, this morning, the underpass was somewhat soiled:

The beach itself is pebbly - like Chesil Beach, but much smaller. And not as good. And in Greece....

As mentioned yesterday, the hotel is quite nice, although this hasn't prevented a fairly large section of the residents becoming incandescent in their rage against hapless rep, Michael. (Almost certainly not his real, Greek name)

Possibly against his better judgement, he convened a meeting this afternoon with the sole purpose of flogging his island trip on Friday.

This quickly descended into a shouting match with hotel residents  yelling increasingly bizarre complaints. 

Nevertheless, by means of shouting loudly and disparagingly over any hint of grievance, he managed to avoid actual physical harm.

However, as Scarlett O'Hara said, 'Tomorrow is another day'....

Farewell to Turkey

 Following our customary 4am call to prayer from the mosque opposite the hotel ( it really works. We were moved to exclaim 'Oh God! each time we heard it), we headed back out to join the coach for our return journey to Rhodes.

Somewhat foolishly, Doner Trump had provided us all with feedback forms regarding the quality of hotel rooms, meals, the excursions and, crucially what we thought of our guide......

Initially, there was much excitement as people began mapping out the best phrases to describe the less than stellar Doner.

 And then.....

Someone pointed out that our names were also written at the top of the form . Most then backed away from outright criticism, fearing another trip to the carpet factory. 

As I'm sure you're aware by now blogmates, I'm made of sterner stuff. I had considered just putting the link to this blog by way of feedback but settled in the end for a few choice words.

I won't deny, it made for a slightly frosty five hour coach trip to the ferry port.  It was apparent that Doner had read the forms.

Once in Marmaris we boarded the catamaran for our 'scenic cruise ' back to Rhodes.  In fact, you're seated so low and the windows are so salt-encrusted that visibility is nil. But still, I suppose it was a catamaran and we were cruising along, so two out of three......

At last, we docked in Rhodes and after a mere one and a half hours of queueing (outside. And it was very windy) we were stamped back into Greece.

We're now settled into our hotel which at first glance seems very nice.

Stay tuned though.........

Kusadasi

 Here we are then, on the outskirts of the seaside town of Kusadasi.

Remarkably, today was a free day. No coach trip, and thus we're all on a knife-edge wondering if Doner's daughter ( very very intelligent) will get her scholarship in the USA (very very good college)

Actually, there was a trip, to Doner's home town of Izmir, but as it was optional, only eight people were sufficiently broken to sign up. (Obviously, we feel for them, but ultimately it's  a far better thing etc..)

As for the rest of us, I confess we're all a bit stir crazy. The hotel is lovely and right next to the beach. (Although you are greeted by some fairly dubious statuary as you enter...)

Apparently they're not boobies strapped to         her front, but are, in fact, bull's testicles.            (Turkish stonemasons eh? What will                             they think of next?.....)

Refusing to be put off  by the filthy figurine, JB and I decided that a stroll along the promenade would be just the ticket.

And, guess what? It was!............

Its back to the grind tomorrow as we embark on the 5 hour journey to Marmaris and the ferry back to Rhodes. 

The Empire Strikes Back

 Following yesterday's quasi-mutiny, there was a palpable air of nervousness around the coach this morning as we waited for Doner Trump to make her appearance. 

Dispensing with her usual morning monologue about what her great grandparents received as wedding gifts, she instead went straight into an anecdote about some Norwegians on a previous tour who, despite the fact that that it was raining in on them while they were seated on the bus, merely raised their umbrellas and had a jolly good Nordic chuckle.

And the moral of this convoluted tale was this:

If you complain about things, you'll never enjoy your holiday. Stop complaining. 

Clearly this thinly veiled rebuke was intended to quell any further ideas of mutiny.

Of course, by now, most of us have given up listening to her (either as a means of self preservation or simply due to misplaced hearing aids). She could announce her intention to purchase Greenland and the majority of the coach would be none the wiser.....

But coming so early in the day and combined with the undercurrent of fear following yesterday's rebellion, it hit home.

And worse was to come. In an act of the purest malice, we were taken first to the Jewellery Makers Centre and then straight on to the Leather Showroom, where we endured a 'fashion show' .

By now, several members of our group were openly weeping. ( JB and I, having discovered the complimentary raki table remained relatively unscathed.)

After a very subdued lunch, we drove around the outside of the Treasures of Ephesus and not one voice was raised in dissent.

Carpet bagged

Today's tour began at the ungodly hour of 6am, with an alarm call thoughtfully booked (without our knowledge) by our increasingly deranged tour guide, Doner Trump.

Oh how we laughed.........

Especially as the coach wasn't leaving until 7.30.....

After a brief 10 minute stop to look at some hot air balloons ('Most popular ones in Turkey'), we were off to our first stop of the day.

THE CARPET WORKSHOP

Universally feared by all right-minded people, the Carpet Workshop, along with its equally evil siblings, The Leather Showroom and The Jewellery Makers Centre form an unholy trinity of places you're forced into during one of these tours.

Once inside, and with the doors securely fastened, you're asked to:

Marvel at the skill of the wizened old peasant crone seated on a platform, weaving a carpet!

Exclaim at the natural dyes used!

Gasp at the silkworm cocoons!

Then it's on to the saleroom where, after a softening up glass of raki, carpets of all shapes and sizes are unfurled before your delighted gaze.

And a bargain at only £2000 each.

Once the carpet-flinging has died down, the real business begins. Hapless tour members are paired off with a salesman and woe betide you should your gaze wander from your shoes for a millisecond.

Old hands at this game however, JB and I drank the raki and, once the saleroom door opened, headed straight to the coffee shop, rounding up less experienced tour members as we went.

I regret to say that three of our party succumbed to the hard sell, but we managed to save over 25 fellow travellers.

 Back on the coach, Doner proudly reminded us that these carpets are the best in the world, as indeed are the peasants girls who weave them  and in fact anything remotely Turkish in origin.

Then it was time for lunch.

We were herded into a restaurant  where a set menu had been prepared (scrambled egg as a starter was a new experince for me, but given that it was still only 11.30, I suppose the confusion was understandable) .

Throughout the meal, we were entertained/tormented by Bouzouki Bill (not his real name).  Bill's optimism clearly knew no bounds as fastened to his bouzoki was a small basket labelled 'Tips'...

Once back on board the coach, Doner broke the news that tomorrow's widely anticipated tour of  'The treasures of  Ephesus ' would not as imagined take place within the city. Instead, we're going to drive round the outside and look at some photos she has of the actual treasures behind the walls.

Considering how the day had gone so far, this news was not well received. The atmosphere was as tense as I imagine  it was on HMS Bounty shortly before they lowered the rowing boat.

And then it started to rain.........

Ruinous Friday

 This morning marked our full proper tour day in Turkey.

Giddy with anticipation (and possibly the lingering after effects of tonic wine) we boarded the coach.

Our Turkish guide, the improbably named Rosie (clearly an assumed name ) was chirpy.

So chirpy in fact, that several of our party reached for their Horlicks and/or Mogadon.......

Her speaking style appears to be heavily influenced by the inflated orange buffoon Donald Trump. 

Happily, I remained unconcerned by her Trumpian torrent engrossed as I was by a rather fine audio version of Wuthering Heights..........

(AHEM) Anyway...............

Our first stop of the day was to an 'artisansal market place' which turned out to be a petrol station with a fast food cafe attached. 

After an admittedly tasty portion of pide (essentially cheese on toast)  it was back on the coach .

Following what seemed an interminable drive later, we arrived at the remains of the ancient city of Afrodisias.

Dedicated to the goddess Aphrodite, it was once a thriving and cosmopolitan city. 

Ruined now, it stands as a sobering reminder to the inhabitants of Congleton, Blackburn, Swansea and the like.

 (You know who you are. Yes. You!!!,)

Anyway here's some pics of the way things could go........

Then it was back on the coach to Pamukkale, a UNESCO World heritage site.                      (Of course it is)

A scientist  (JB) explains:

'The water at Pamukkale is heavy on the calcium carbonate content . Water is heated by the geothermic process. ( apparently this is responsible for earthquakes and the like) As the water cools, the calcium carbonate is deposited in solid form.'

In other words, you get solid walls of white crystals forming, resembling, variously, snow, icing sugar, petrified waterfalls or as one member of our group suggested, premium cocaine.......

Judge for yourselves....

We're now in our hotel for the night (ficticiously described as 5 star - the shower exploded when I tried to use it)

There's a thermal pool within the hotel (geothermal thingy at work again) which is heavily advertised as being a certain cure for whatever ails you.

However, this being Day 4 of our tour, I've had plenty of time to observe at first hand the dermatological horrors present amongst some of our group, and in the interests of self preservation, declined the offer to bathe.

Until tomorrow then......

Rhodes forward....

 Today, we bid a temporary farewell to Rhodes, (despite the fact that the sun had finally deigned to show itself), but not before a lightning tour of the UNESCO world heritage site, the medieval City of Rhodes.

One time haunt of the Knights of St John of Malta, the medieval city is surrounded by at least three walls, an assortment of (dry) moats and is criss-crossed by all manner of winding side streets, with impressive vaulted ceilings seeming to be ten a penny (or €0.00001211 )

We fully intend to subject the place to a deeper scrutiny* next week, but for now, here's a few snapshots.....

*Especially worth the extra scrutiny is the plainly ridiculous claim that these "original" cannonballs were fired from this "original cannon.......

The scent of a swizz lies heavy in the air.....

For now though, our attention turns to Turkey. Following a textbook transfer from coach to catamaran involving a mere two and a half hours of standing aimlessly on the quayside ( several members of our party required emergency administration of Sanatogen), we've finally arrived in Marmaris where we are to spend only one night before pressing on tomorrow....

I pray the Sanatogen supply holds out.....