In the dusky darkness, we can barely make out the human and feline figures picking their way across the ancient stones towards us. It’s Marion, and in close pursuit, the cat, chattering loudly – either cheering Marion on, or scolding her for making off with the relic she’s clutching in her hand.
Mike, Marion and Barb exiting Kamiros by way of the not so secure fencing.
Under his breath, Mike mutters, “Oh god, here she goes. Marion, what have you got now?”
“It’s fantastic,” Marion answers, holding out a piece of Roman pottery for us to inspect.
“Uh, Marion,” I half-whisper, trading looks with Jon, my husband and travel partner. “I don’t think we’re supposed to take stuff from the site – it’s illegal.”
Marion dismisses the concern, answering in her husky voice, “Naw, it’s fine. I found this in the neutral zone.”
Neutral zone? I look at Jon again – this is getting weird. Weirder. We’ve only known Mike and Marion for a couple of days, and with every passing hour, we seem to tumble further and further down the rabbit hole.
Bougainveilla frame Old Town Rhodes in the distance.
Jon and I are in Rhodes, on the last leg of a month-long journey through Greece. A day earlier, we’d been sitting in the courtyard of a local Gyro stand, soaking in the sun and dining on chicken kabobs and cold beer, when a couple at the table across from us, hearing us speaking English, started up the usual traveler’s conversation (“Is this your first time here? How long are you staying for?”). In no time, we’d pushed our two tables together, ordered another round of Mythos and I found myself on the edge of that proverbial rabbit hole.
Mike and Marion have been on the road for over a month. They drove from their England home, through France and on into Italy, finally making it to Greece, chasing stormy weather the entire way. Their final destination is Cyprus, but it’s proving to be an elusive goal. The paperwork alone took months to process, and after taking a milk-run ferry from Piraeus to Cyprus, officials rejected their documentation. They’ve come back to Greece – to Rhodes – by way of an overnight ferry, to cool their jets until next week, when they can go back to Cyprus and reapply for entry.
The vast excavation at Kamiros.
They’ve been planning this trip for years. Marion inherited property in Turkish Cyprus and the plan is to open up a holiday house. If they can ever get there.
There are people in this world that just don’t like to colour inside the lines. That’s Mike and Marion.
Marion is self-confident and fearless (In a conversation about the perils of hiking, she says offhandedly. “That reminds of the time I was hiking in Turkey and suddenly this wild boar comes at me from out of nowhere. God, he smelled awful.”) She wears her straight blond hair naturally and shoots from the hip. Over another round of Mythos, we learn that she has a 24-year old daughter who was christened as a teenager in Marion’s favourite lake; that her ex husband is doing time in an English jail; and, that she once had a six-foot long pet python. Since Cyprus frowns on foreign serpents, the python is now in a reptile sanctuary back in England.
Jon tries to make friends with Kamiros’ security guard.
Mike doesn’t score any lower on the eccentric scale. Like Marion, he has a story for every situation. He takes his Fender acoustic with him wherever he goes – which means it’s a well-traveled guitar. As a young man, Mike left England to join the Merchant Navy, traveling from Australia to the distant ports of South America, the U.S. and Canada. He eventually settled down, got married and had two kids. After his wife died from leukemia, he was left to raise their two little girls (aged 2 and 3) on his own. A second marriage came to a similar sad end, when wife #2 died from a brain tumor.
Mike was living on Cyprus, running jet skis for tourists and the NATO rank and file, when he met up with Marion. That was eight years ago, and they’ve never looked back.
But I have. I keep looking back, and all around. Thoughts of being locked up in a dingy Greek jail keep running through my mind. Marion’s neutral pottery find aside, we’ve actually gained entry to this archaeological dig at Kamiros, on the west coast of Rhodes, by way of climbing over the chain link fence. We arrived here well after closing time, but Marion was not put off by this technicality. Without missing a beat, she tossed me her bag and climbed over the fence.
Jon, Mike and Marion juggle oranges.
And so here we are, in the looming darkness, with the oversized tabby cat, who seems to be the night manager, circling us and yes, I’m pretty sure, telling us to get the hell out.
My partners in crime move on to another part of the excavation. I lag behind. In the eerie murky silence, I look around and picture what life was like here in 600 B.C., before time and nature entombed it. The spirits of Kamiros’ centuries old citizens call up to me, echos of whispered political intrigue, children’s laughter and merchants hawking olive oil and wine. Suddenly I’m jolted out of my reverie. It’s not voices from the grave I can hear, it’s the cat. He’s run back to me, clearly distressed that I’ve broken away from the herd. And probably anxious that I might be tempted to abscond with more pottery.
One by one, we climb over the chain link fence and make our way back to Big, for the drive back to town.
Marion hugging Big.
Big is the name of Mike and Marion’s van. It’s not exactly a van. Mike has retrofitted this 13-seater into a cozy home on wheels. Big would never be legal anywhere in North America – maybe anywhere, period. But Mike and Marion seem oblivious to this detail. Hanging plants adorn the interior, a porta potty negates the need for pit stops, lounge chairs double as passenger seats, and a fridge, convertible bed, clothes line and table complete the mobile mansion.
Mike drops us off outside the walls of Rhodes Old Town. We say our goodbyes and wave as Mike slips Big into gear and drives in the direction of their camp site. They’ll stay the night in the van, then get to the docks early in the morning to board the ferry for Turkey.
More traditional activities include exploring Old Town’s charming courtyards.
Jon and I walk under the stone arch leading into Old Town, and along the meandering cobblestone streets towards St. Nikolis Hotel, retracing the steps of legendary Knights of St. John. Our lodging couldn’t be more different from Mike and Marion’s. The 14th century hotel smacks of charm and authenticity, with exposed stone walls, wood floors, wrought iron bed frames and ottoman furniture. We’re immersed in medieval ambience. I gratefully sink into my 20th century bed and fall asleep trying to remember how Alice in Wonderland ends.
The harbour at Old Town Rhodes
We spend the next day enjoying Rhodes like regular tourists. That evening, we’re sitting on the roof top garden, sipping Metaxa and breathing in the warm night air as it drifts across Rhodes and on into the Aegean. “I guess Mike and Marion made their ferry,” says Jon. He thinks for a minute, then says, “I think they’ll be good for Cyprus. That country needs some levity.”
“I don’t know, I reply. It depends on how well they guard their ancient ruins.”