Part 4 : Wasps and Jetskis

The next day was one for recovery and chill after having been out all of the previous one. The beach was calling after another delicious and satisfying hotel breakfast. The respite of relaxation and the need to recharge was definitely felt. It went similarly to our first day but with one main triumph and a recommendation to the reader.

We’d seen other beach goers wearing what looked like hard-soled rubber plimsoles on the beach, and I’d seen them in one of the little beach side shops on the road. I reckoned that depending on the price it would be worth the investment to avoid the crab dance and to give T the chance to finally enter the sea herself. It was only about 10 euro for a pair and I can safely say, the most useful investment of a purchase on the entire trip.

The shoes made entering the ocean a smooth, pain-free pleasure and I was so happy T finally got to experience it too. Our only regret was not getting them sooner. The rest of our afternoon consisted of snacks and cheap wine that we sat sipping contentedly from mugs on our little balcony. Discussing our lives and taking turns picking music as we enjoyed the sun dipping lower. We ventured again to the Italian of the night before but the sun and wine combined with those heavy carbs took its toll. I found myself almost falling asleep at the table.

Upon our return to the hotel, this was the one night so far that promised live music at the bar. We thought we’d just take a quick cheeky nap to refresh ourselves. Of course we only woke up again in the middle of the night, very dehydrated to a dead silent building.

The Jet Ski

I was up in the air about what to do on the final day. Having spoken to some holiday makers just arriving, we were told that it was in fact possible to reach old town with a 20-minute bus. Whilst T fancied another day of relaxing, I was curious to see if I could make the trip. However, there was no bus stop clearly in sight and we saw no buses passing by. I didn’t want to waste time waiting for a bus that might not arrive or getting lost on my final day as I didn’t have signal outside of the hotel, so resigned myself to having a chill one as well.

By this point the beach had become so comfortable and familiar to us. I lay there in contemplation of this beautiful place. It hadn’t really rained or clouded over since the thunderstorm. Clear skies and sunshine had reigned supreme. I closed my eyes and blue waves and shapes squiggled across my sight mimicking the ocean and blending with the sky.

I sensed some movement to my left and saw T getting up. It was her turn to grab us one of our last beach beers. I lay lazily awaiting her return. Drowsy with the heat, I was slow to realise when she’d come back looking terrified. Traumatised. She’d been accosted by cats, who she’d warmed to, dogs for whom her fears were reinforced, peacocks and goats who mostly did their own thing at a safe distance and now something that was in fact deadly for her.

T is allergic to bee and wasp stings. She could go into anaphylactic shock. Whilst she was getting the beers, the barman had told her to freeze, she did but with panic rising moved away. Only to find out, as the barman casually quipped, that she’d narrowly avoided a hornet. The seriousness of such an event evidently went over his head.

Following her narrow escape from danger, I thought we could do something to take her mind off it. We’d seen from afar that there were a number of water sports available on the beach. It was T who had been keen to jet ski. Neither of us had ever done it before and I’ll admit I was curious.

“Why don’t we do it? Now,” I said suddenly.

It was our last day. It was now or never. With T’s consent I ran down the beach to check the price. A seemingly reasonable 50 euro for an hour. This was the moment for the waterproof fanny packs I’d got us to shine. In there we stashed valuables like our phones, credit cards, room key and any cash. We left the rest of our belongings on the sun loungers folded over and a British couple nearby, who’d overheard our dilemma as to whether or not this was a good idea, kindly offered to watch our things. As we trudged the sand in our new rubber shoes, I suggested we share a jetski for an hour. It would workout cheaper and might be fun to share the experience.

We were greeted by a very jolly Greek man with a shock of grey/white hair. He was baked deep brown by the sun and sported a pronounced belly that danced joyfully with his laughter. He told us to sit and wait at the breeze beaten and salt eroded wooden table and benches that sat in the shade. Dance music boomed from the speakers and our guide did a little dance of his own here and there to accompany it. The bass beat along with our slightly nervous hearts.

The moment arrived, we waded into the water, strapped firmly into our life jackets and our rubber shoes saving us again. T nervously climbed on and as I climbed on behind her, the jetski rocked drunkenly. The controls seemed pretty simple and we were in a cordoned-off, straight band of ocean so it seemed a good set up for complete beginners. As we set off, we kept veering heavily to one side and struggled to make a straight line. I think T was right in that my extra weight on the back made it difficult to steer. The wobbling and veering freaked her out and she insisted on getting off again. It was suggested we take turns but T had had her fill for the day and decided to observe instead. So that left me on my own.

I was nervous to drive. Hadn’t driven anything really since I crashed my car many years before besides an electric scooter. But I suppose this wasn’t that different to a scooter and I did have a life jacket on. I had dismounted so that T could get off and now hoisted myself back on with a deep breath. Our guide reminded me of the controls and went back to the shore. It was up to me now. I gave some small presses to the clutch and whooped as I shot forward jumpily in short spurts, trying to keep myself in as straight a line as possible.

As I gained confidence I started to gain speed. The feeling was exhilarating, like flying. I was queen of the ocean, the spray growing around me like frothy wings, the salty breeze whipping my face. I felt the adrenaline as I released the handle so I would slow down heading towards the barrier, using short bursts again as I turned round. I steadily improved, moving forward for longer spurts. It started to feel like the most natural and liberating thing in the world. Before I knew it the hour was up and I was more than satisfied. Truly a worthwhile experience and one I assured T she’d have to try herself, without me as a ballast, when we next had the opportunity.

For our final dinner we decided to follow the signs to a restaurant that promised authentic cuisine. We couldn’t find it. But as the paths we were taking seemed to be heading towards the beach we thought we’d investigate there. There was indeed a hotel restaurant with chairs on the front lawn opposite the beach so we could still watch the sun dip into the ocean. The Greek food here was more flavourful and in much larger portions than what we’d had the entire trip. The chicken gyros was juicy and well-seasoned, as was the well-cooked rice with a side of rich garlic sauce and a generous portion of salad. We kicked ourselves for not finding the place earlier. Clearly not all hotel restaurants are created equal.

We sipped on our cocktails, contemplating the lulling sounds of the ocean for the last time, and soon had company. A stout black cat did his rounds of the tables with a sense of propriety and entitlement. I fed him a few scraps of my chicken though he definitely didn’t need them. His strut made us giggle. When we returned, we saw signs for the Greek themed evening of food and live music that would be held the following day. Once again, we kicked ourselves for the timing of our booking.

As we were picked up in the coach the next morning, we passed what was supposedly the bus stop we’d missed. A shoddy, hard to spot sign, and no traffic in sight. I felt better for not having been able to find it. As we saw some more funny signs, we reviewed the most hilarious ones from our trip as we bid our Greek adventure adieu in a comical fashion. “Sweet Pain Physiotherapy”, “Casual Shop” and “Extreme Motors”.

So there you have it. The conclusion to my Greek adventure. I hope in reading about my trip you might have been inspired to visit Rhodes yourself! Please let me know if you do.

Things we would have done differently:

I hope you've enjoyed following my journey. Stay tuned for my review of Cancun and Tulum in the more far flung Mexico!

All hearts appreciated if you've enjoyed reading about my experience of Rhodes. Please don't hesitate to let me know your thoughts in the comments as well as anything else you might like to see written about!

Here's Parts 1 to 3 if you missed them: