On my second day on Rhodes, I went to Lindos.
I had booked a ferry trip a week ahead, but hadn’t paid; when I tried to find the shop where I was supposed to pay and pick up the tickets, I was found instead by a woman in a red shirt who directed me onwards to the harbour, where I found a man in a red shirt who told me the boat was broken and tried to sell me an expensive minibus ride instead. I agreed, and waited around for a bit for the minibus driver (who tried to tell me what I would see at Lindos and, when I said I’d been there before, said, “Why?” in a tone that implied no one needs to visit Lindos more than once in their lifetime), but when his back was turned I wandered down the harbour and discovered another ferry running on exactly the same route at exactly the same times, so I caught that one instead. This was not the last time someone tried to sell me a mode of transport I didn’t really want while carefully not pointing out a more suitable alternative just around the corner. Serves them right for not getting my money upfront.
The boat trip was a much better idea, anyway, and Lindos was Lindos. This time I took the donkey route up to the acropolis and it was terrifying. I do remember finding the steps alarming last time too.
All the archaeology in these parts (Rhodes Old Town/Lindos/Kos) has signs wearily decrying the hard work of the Italian Mission in the early twentieth century, which went in for aggressive reconstruction, often using inappropriate materials that haven’t lasted very well. On Rhodes alone they almost completely rebuilt the Grand Master’s Palace. (As with the acropolis in Athens, the Turks used the Grand Master’s Palace to store gunpowder, which then blew up one very stormy night in 1856.) I feel there is a joke here along the lines of “Why do the Greeks have such magnificent ruins? Because the Italians rebuilt them all”, but I concede it also needs work.
Obviously I got burnt. I blame the wind.