16.09.2006 19:21 - All Roads Lead to Rhodes
After several bottles of Her Maj's dad's wine, I, not exactly in the state for decision-making, chose Rhodes for our holiday.
The reason? The Colossus! The Colossus of Rhodes! A Big Fuck-off statue! Surely such an island would rival Crete (last year's destination) for archaeological splendour!
Well, no, actually.
There are some Minoan ruins, and some ancient Greek, but most of the seeable ruins are actually from the Knights Hospitaller, St. John. And they wouldn't let us in free, despite my insistence on my mother being a former member of St. John's Ambulance. Bastards.
Not only that, but the whole Colossus thing is a bit of a swizz. All the pictures, statues etc you can buy are actually based on picture drawn by an over-imaginative Italian, who put the statue straddling the harbour entrance. More sober theories place it in the site now occupied by the Master's Palace, if it existed at all, as there is little more than anecdotal evidence of its existence.
The rest of Rhodes proved to be a bit of a disappointment to us.
It was like Blackpool only with more olive oil.
I imagine it's probably quite nice if your idea of a nice time is fried english breakfasts and all-night clubbing.
The wildlife, however, was spectacular, when you could find it.
The first tuesday I came out to find a large (presumably female) praying mantis standing outside our door, with its mashed head glued to the ground where one of the cleaning staff had presumably swatted it with a sledgehammer or something. It was BIG. Forget the Waldhornet from a couple of months ago, this wasn't as big as my thumb, it was as big as my whole hand. The thing was flexing its claws in a rather irritated manner, even though the contents of its skull had been splattered across the marble slabs.
I think I'm turning into Gerald Durrell .
