Where the sun rises: bow to the east! Report of A trip from the Sporades, Greece, to Turkey

 

September 5, 2008-Athens-Skiathos

Meetings Gino, my faithful companion of sailing, the airport of Athens. Cruise Gattadapelare has finally begun. After a delay of over two months about our programs, we can now say that the first step is done. The crew is bunched up, this year lacked the 'girls', but always motivated by enthusiasm for the promise of discovering new islands. Turning to the north of 'will touch Scanzura deserted Evia, Skyros the double image, sporadic and Cycladic Psara still locked in her bereavement, home to large shipping Chios, Fourni, then again, our beloved Marathi, magic, and then following Lipsi Kos healing. Will leave the cat in Turkey, probably Mamaris for her to do some work on the deck and the keel.
Gino is a waiting list, and only at the last moment we both place on the plane to Skiathos.


September 6 Skiatos
We're going to find our boat. We left virtually abandoned in the end of the runway, near the sea, to the dubious care of father and son, owners of a dilapidated factory and a precarious sort of carnage. The father is gone. He 's gone to work in the UAE. The son Nikos, a thin young man, barefoot and dusty, welcomed us warmly clearly under ether. The cat is there, balanced on barrels of oil, submerged by centimeters of dust, but apparently in good condition. Discover, however, that evil was supported on the keel and heel of the drift is to deform and let it drip water from the bilge. Lose all hope of putting to sea today. Nikos is unable to act consistently and you must close the waterway and strengthen the keel with a fiberglass jacket. So, now you work the boat and is expected to reappear Nikos, meanwhile disappeared in the country.
The morning spent tidying up the interior and in the sails,
We do things on the launch. The cart on which rests the boat is virtually obsolete. The wheels are deflated, the pillars which should support the weight of the boat is badly soldered and resolder all'affusto and their function is ensured by auxiliary blocks of wood. Moreover, the small tractor, rusty and shabby, too, does not seem able to hold the set of trolley and boat once launched on the slide into the sea. Even the slide to the next Gattadapelare has since relented and we will use another, more distant and uncertain depth. In short, all reasons to keep us worrying about the next few hours.
Later we lose all hope for a return of Nikos and we're going to wait on the beaches turisticizzate island.
Tonight we sleep in the boat, but without the soft lapping of waves along the sides and we dreamed restful swing during the long months spent in the city.

Sunday, September 7th-Skiatos.
Nikos unexpectedly back to the boat, sober and earnest, he began the awakening of his crumbling media. Inflate the wheels, hard-restart the engine of the tractor rolls up the water in the radiator punctured, do some welding here and there, and the day passes like that, without the certainty that tomorrow will likely drop to the sea.
Grossly repair the damage to the keel. For years this problem of the water in the heel of the drift we were faced. We are in appropriate locations to define 'Achilles heel' of Gattadapelare. All repairs made so far by adding layers of fiberglass and layers of fiberglass have not led to satisfactory results. We should be doing work on site in optimal conditions and in complete absence of traces of water, something made very 'now impossible because of the constant presence of water in the bilge.
The ballast of the boat, consisting of lead shot in the bottom compartment bilge water, long retain the rain water which passes through certain points of the cover pierced by the screws used at the time to fix the teak. Gattadapelare has, therefore, an urgent need for a deep unplanned maintenance after many years of generous use.

September 8 Skiathos-Skopelos -6 miles.
Begin work on the truck to support the boat is launched. We're all apprehensive, including Nikos concealing his doubts under layers of dust that covered by (conservative estimate) a few weeks. Barefoot, sometimes lying in filth of the 'carnage' or crouched under the boat, he stirs, beats, raises, joints and, finally, with great general 'suspense' removes the supports which until now have claimed the cat. We fear that it lowers the three-four centimeters, which is the distance between the road surface and bottom drift and instead the first test is passed brilliantly. Now our anxiety is represented by the 'trip' of a hundred meters up to slide overboard. The owner of a nearby garage is open to pull with his tractor newest and powerful. Slowly, inch by inch, teetering dangerously on its uncertain invaded, Gattadapelare approaches the ramp, down to bathe the 'belly' and stops. The owner of the tractor will not go into the water with his half. The anxiety that had gradually loosened with the progress of the operation returned positive bully. We believe that the means of Nikos, more like a wreck than a tractor, is not able to hold the weight of the boat and the truck. Also do not know if there will be enough to end down deep to allow the cat to float. There is no alternative: we must proceed with this suffered launch. Hurray! Finally, after fifteen months of starvation, Gattadapelare is again free from the constraints of gravity 'earthy'. The pleasure of being under the feet moving softly to the gentle rhythm of the sea, together with the cancellation of these hours of anxiety fills us with joy unspeakable. Toast with all the architects of this launch, until recently doubted by all credible, agreed and paid the price ... way to the first leg of this cruise. Is short, only six miles because the afternoon is forwarded.

Again another time in the lovely cove of Panormos along with few other boats. September is a season of great frequenting these waters and enjoy the full benefits. With the tender (this too, along with his outboard motor, is now ripe for retirement) we reached the shore and tavernas nearby. The bay that opens before us, sit back and relax at a table on the pebble beach, inspires a sense of peace and freedom of conquest of new docks.

September 9. Skopelos-Scanzoura - 20 miles.
The weather continues to be beautiful. Let Skopelos with comfortable directing Skanzoura on an island in four hours of navigation. We know that the island is uninhabited and houses the ruins of a monastery. For a time he hosted a hidden extra of various origins, but today there is no trace, do not know why. When caliamo anchor at the bottom of a large inlet there is only one boat sailing away, where there is another, slightly later.
Within the water with the intention to catch some fish for dinner, but the sea is empty. Even in the desert islands is, therefore, more life?!
I find, however, a few meters in depth numerous fragments of ancient amphorae now welded together and with the rocks, so as not to be more mobile without breaking. Shipwreck or the simple loss of a load? Only the surrounding rocks, the eternal witnesses of the events that have occurred in this bay, could tell how dark history took place here over the centuries. Today we and our cat to enter in the memories of the rocks, insignificant memories, but our presence here, our present, it is extraordinary for us, as everywhere in this sea of gods among these islands.
The night is quiet.

September 10. Scanzoura-Skiros-25 miles.
We go sailing, taking advantage of the weak winds in the morning, to take ownership of maneuvers
After many months of inactivity.
After the exit from the bay we see our new goal delineated before the more nuanced profile of Euboea. The wind has gone quickly and proceed to motor the whole way.
When we get to Skyros is the lunch hour. This island is half and half sporadic Cyclades. The western half, in which we find ourselves, is the leafy trees, while the other is barren and stony.
The marina where we found mooring is equipped with a short bench and we had to moor the boat to another berth in England. Including our own, we are four, a few meters beyond the road, two taverns contend for the few customers. We choose our based on the color of the chairs and tablecloths, and after lunch we carry, in motion, the namesake country.
It 'a typical Cycladic village made of small white clotted around the ruins of the Venetian castle (or Genoa?) Dominating from the very top above the countryside and the surrounding sea.
It 'a very genuine country with many people close to the heart and deserted streets in the periphery, where we meet old disappeared gathered in groups of three or four to share the rarefied talk. Imagine these streets and these squares, shaded by the ubiquitous mulberry, when the Meltemi blows strong from the sea below. We walk silent and curious to see the usual sights around every corner, and yet always new, of alleys, doors pints of blue, cats and vagrants fig trees from which we collect sweet fruit. We feel the autumn by the sweetness of figs, dall'ineluttabile shortening of the days, from the rays of the sun still low on the horizon, the increasing melancholy light that every day lost 's enthusiasm with which he told us the colors summer.
We have dinner at the port. This time we choose the most popular tavern. We are the only tourists. There is the ever-present Pope, plump guzzler, and a varied representation of premises.
We apologize to our neighbors to the boat for our steps and thereby close the third day of our cruise. Far we have done very little sailing.

11. Skyros-Psara. 40 miles.
Today we start early, followed soon after by the British boat that gave us support. With some misgivings between an island and the eastern tip of the bay. We are not sure of the depth of the strait and Gino, the pulpit, reports to manage the direction and speed that I maintain. The other boat, which was also directed to Psara, prefers to go out, losing a bit 'of water over us. Immediately after rounding Skyros unexpectedly find a sea many forms, in beam, near the garden, and a strong wind pushing us toward fast Psara. It 'the first experience of rough seas after fifteen months of life, earthy, and we are seized with some discomfort that prevents us from staying longer than a few seconds under the blanket. By Gino at the helm, He lay long in the cockpit, but my half-sleep is frequently interrupted by heavy, cold, spray of waves breaking on the side of Gatta. The other boat has been left behind and the distance between us is constantly increasing with the passing of the hours.
Psara soon appear on the horizon and its profile is growing quickly distinguished. It 'an island of which we had no knowledge until recently. But his story is full of interesting and dramatic events. Birthplace of shipowners, had a population of thirty thousand, but the fault of being home to a proud leader, national hero Canaris, fierce opponent of Turkish domination. For this and the brave resistance of the villagers to the domain, the population was destroyed in 1822 and all the houses were razed. Since then he has repeatedly. Today it has just 400 inhabitants, a couple of ruins, the foundations of the birthplace of Admiral Canaris, some corroded cannons scattered here and there and a pair of bronze busts of heroic, lonely sentinels overlooking the sea, are guarding the modesty of the country. Arrive in late afternoon and repair in the wide bay at the bottom of which a quay and a floating dock invite us dockside.
No other boat. The sense of having arrived in a unique position is strengthened by observing the country. A narrow road runs along the land to which they are a couple of boats moored pesca.Tre or four simple kafeion also play the role of taverns for unlikely tourists. Depart from the road a few streets that you forward to the inside. The houses are anonymous, without any particular feature, other than white cubiformi, 'spontaneous', construction Cycladic or unless ordered neoclassicheggianti and tenderly colored houses in the Dodecanese. Dominating the modesty of this scenario a massive shrine stands at the bottom of the village at the base of a rugged hill. Another church, smaller, but also 'excessive' in this context is necessary between the houses.
The feeling that one has to wander through the narrow streets of a community is unable to react to the story, there is a part of the country that can be considered the center. A square in front of the platform stands the statue of Canaris and is the only point of reference, apart from the two churches, an 'unlikely social gathering. Remain the three kafeion, where few people sit. Turning and twisting find a bakery near the end of living and a grocery store with the ostentatious sign of Supermarket.
Meanwhile, the boat arrived, and English is the latest company makes us a third ship.
In contrast to such an atmosphere to discourage expectations nearby crane barges taken from some of the landmass of cement to create a robust reef breakwater and create a larger port.
Dinner on board

September 12-Psara-Chios (Kardamyla). 19 miles
Let Psara in the late morning and walk past heading east. Kios appears close and sea, wind and sun lead to smooth sailing and lazy. The stretch of sea that separates the two islands is a clear motorway of the sea. Cut our course several freighters and a couple of occasions I fear a collision course, despite the reassurances of Gino. In late afternoon we enter the bay Kardamyla. On the bottom is deployed to the country, from afar, there appears attractive. We are the only boat moored on the long molo.Leggiamo portolano German that the valley behind the village is romantic and charming. We do not share this view. Perhaps the beginning of our wanderings among the islands of this mythical sea, still ignorant of the scenarios that we were then offered, we would have accepted, but now this country is devoid of the poetic rhythm which we are accustomed.
Receive the visit of the officer of the Master who invites us to report to his office with the documents of the boat. In all these years is the third or fourth time that this happens. We do not know if the feared price of parking, which we have heard long ago, has entered into force and, therefore, we are not in good standing. We agree with Gino to tell an unlikely source, such as not having had time to fulfill the payment. The Italian coast is too far, then, we could say that our last port was in Turkey.
Instead we are asked in the office, in addition to photocopies of documents, only the certificate of 'insurance, which in the hurry, I can not find. I am sure I have it and when I come back by boat to look for our 'referee' (he admitted that his real passion is to make the football referee, so we expect a particular hardship to us) saying that calms Gino unless we find it does nothing, but we should not attend the largest ports in order to circumvent any controls by colleagues more stringent.
Confirms that Kardamyla is home to several major shipowners. Virtually every house has an owner. In fact, witnessed the arrival of an elegant two trees in the bay since the entrance, the siren sounds repeatedly board to which another responds to a house, really not impressive, but well lit and provided with a private jetty, located in end of the country. Even the Gattadapelare draws the line with our poor means.
Let's walk through the country which confirms our first impression. E 'consists of a pair of long rows of houses parallel to the sea, with some local and almost a little town. We're going to snoop around the house dell''armatore 'which is more like a small hotel with its sea-terrace full of sun loungers and wicker chairs, and we return to our small sailboat.
We call Pino, Gino, who took over the day after tomorrow back to work. E 'arrived in Chios town and will join us tomorrow.

September 13-Chios
The taxi stops in front of Pine Gatta, conveniently moored to English. The two fours, the veteran and the newcomer Gino Pino, they come to know and the first exhibition to another, 'particularity' of the boat. The assessment of pine and positive Gattadapelare finds "fascinating" flying elegantly on its state of repair. It has already earned his role on board.
However, today is a day of earth. We go to visit the island. Rent a car and reach Pyrgis, a country in the region of mastic gum of the ancients, fortune and misfortune of the island of Chios. Pyrgis is also unique for its houses so that the graffito facades with geometric designs are blacks and whites.
But we definitely seafarers. It takes just a few hours to feel the loss and go in search of a beach. Along a road that becomes a path descends along a small valley to the blue that shines among the olive trees. The place is steeped in pagan presence, the source was home a little before we meet certainly a nymph and rare stones of what was once a small temple of Apollo, although exorcised by a small Christian church built on them, we speak of the sun god here, in front of the marina, enjoyed the light reflected from it.
We dipped in a sweet and crystal clear sea and we dozed off on the shore gravel.
We know of another site that we really should visit. And 'the country of Anavatos or rather its ruins perched on a cliff from which the entire population in 1822 jumped to escape the Turks. A painting by Delacroix, now in the Louvre it depicts the killing.
The remains of the town, a confused mass of gray and ruined houses, are now being restored. Not meet anyone and after a brief tour of the ruins on the cliffs el'affaccio, there we start with an anguished sense of remote and tragic past.
Neither helps with Gray meal in an empty restaurant at the root of the pier Kardamyla
You go to bed early. Gino will depart tomorrow morning for the airport of Chios-city and we have to do is a long way to the Islands Fourni.

September 14. Kios-Fourni islands. 62 miles
Gino leaves us with what is still, but we do not feel to give up immediately its moorings without a minimum of reassuring glow. We have breakfast and when darkness thin out leaving the dock. There is a fair wind from the land that makes us leave reefed the mainsail, and that could strengthen the fear leads us to investigate alternative destinations. Pino does not know the boat and face the rough sea with a crew unprepared makes me thinking. Instead just arrived abeam Chios-town wind abandon us entirely. Therefore, motor! Visibility is low and higher the humidity, so that all on board seems wet. Pine remains at the helm for as long as ten hours at sea without history and without a fish to bite on the two lines we carry towed behind. In late afternoon we pass between Ikaria and Samos in the mist and we see the main island of the small archipelago. When we arrive it is now dark. At the same pier where I hoped to moor as before the ban because there is reserved for a ferry. The other piers also seem intended to services. Some sailboats are the front wheel to the country and us as we walk between them to spend the night resigned to not dine on the ground. Our tender is in disuse and was too much trouble inflated. Long messing with the anchor windlass and the engine of that inexplicably freezes. While the other boats watching us with skepticism we decide to leave the place and risk, since there is calm, to put us out of the pier. Our decision then proves lucky because while all the other boats are forced, for the arrival of a large ferry, for allontanasi of the area they had occupied our anchor on the only English jetty available indicatoci from afar by a polite boy.
Happy for the lucky position (see the other boats trying unsuccessfully a solution) cross the road rage we sit at the table nearest tavern. We are tired, but satisfied.
September 15. Fourni-Marathi. 22 miles
We hurry to reach Marathi. After a brief tour of the country (it deserves to reach the small square at the end of the main street where a beautiful tomb of the Hellenistic period is modestly placed in the shade of a tree) there we leave. I bring with me a different impression from that received the first time I came here three years ago. Then this village, devoted to fishing, I had appeared very simple, outside of time of at least three decades, a flash on a Greek island by now disappeared. But after the experience of Psara Fourni seems now projected in this tour. I realize I have become more demanding after visiting the islands and harbors more appropriate to a sense of romance that I would call "Twilight", but this is annoying tourist advanced warning puts me in a hurry to discover and enjoy other places not yet polluted by alien presence Conscious that we ourselves are the pollutants.
The hurry to reach Marathi is due to this.
We walk in the narrow channel to exit dall'arcipelago a group of dolphins come to play on the bow and stay long to perform in front of the camera. Appearances are that there are never denied to any cruise Gattadapelare and every time excite us. At the call of the observer on duty run to the bow with cameras and camcorders, we cling to protrude to the pulpit and take up with enthusiasm the evolution of these friendly companions. It 'a shame that they took to get tired and move away, indifferent to our. But their presence always interrupts the monotony of many days of calm seas which are those in which they normally appear.
The weather is beautiful, the wind low, and the haze of yesterday is gone. Shortly after we spot the small archipelago of Arki, Marathi which is a part.
In front of the tavern Mikalis are the wheel at least ten sailboats. Every time we revisit quest'isolotto, we find more and more visitors to confirm the above.
The first time I discovered, Marcia and I, there were only four houses, a tavern of that eccentric character who is Mikalis, thin, minute, with a bushy beard, pirate bandana and black, and a few rooms at the inn ' opposite end of the long and narrow sandy beach, decorated with tamarisk trees, overlooking a crystal sea well protected one from the Meltemi.
Now there are three taverns and houses have doubled. Mikalis is even thinner and its jetty where we have the honor (but only us) to dock waving the flag of the Brothers of the Coast: a skull and crossbones.
We indulge the sweet-far-nothing. Pino is fascinated by the serenity of the place and claims not to want to move more. We decided to stop for a few days.

September 16. Marathi
Music, ouzo, swim, nap under the tamarisk trees.

September 17. Marathi.
Today replicates. Boats in the bay have been in three. Every so often there comes a boat with a few dozen tourists who descend to the ground, lying in the sun and after a while 'leaving restarts again (and happily) alone. Another sign of pollution with forced resignation and nostalgia for 'good old days' we must suffer. But evening Marathi returns to the selected few.



September 18. Marathi-Leipzig. 6 miles
Mikalis a little 'pirate it has truly become. Its prices are no longer those which we are accustomed. Our last 'Thule' begins to resemble one of the many beautiful places in this sea is rich.
We greet the characters in this port while Gattadapelare toward Arki, immediately in front of us for a short visit, but the wind is strengthening and we prefer to reach the port of Lipsi.
Outside, the sea is well formed but the journey is short and soon we enter in the large bay of the island.
Lips is another harbor dreams in gray days of daily life. The island was home to Ulysses setteanni slave of love for the beautiful Calypso, deserves its reputation as a magical island.


September 19. Lipsi.
Done a good deed. Prune, watering and fertilize an almond tree which is the only thing still current among the ruins purchased from Ginafranco and March. The House of the Almond, as translated from the greek, it's their dream arcade version Aegean We think restructured, under the dazzling Mediterranean sun, towards the sea waiting to see who sails stretched Gattadapelare enters the bay in Leipzig.
We met Astrid, a Swedish friend of March with which we spend the day at sea. The Meltemi blows from the vigorous and modest promontory Monodendri sweep to the turkey flying over a sea white with foam after passing the island of Aspronisi, the so-called white island because of its clear waters and marble.
Dinner on a boat with spaghetti with tuna greedily accepted by both pine by Astrid.

September 20. Lips Kos 36 miles
Let's go to the applause of the other crews freed after struggling again run aground, probably in the chain of the boat next.
Today the wind is scarce and we mainly motor. Leros us on the right and slips a little later, almost to it jointly, here Kalymnos famous for its sponge, and then Pserimos.
When we reach Kos and enter the port we place on the anchor, only the entrance, opposite the fortress of the Knights. The harbor is very crowded, as crowded with tourists is the town.
Kos is archaeologically and historically very interesting, but we feel that we now only behind the islands most genuine love. However we do our duty as tourists going to visit alleys, squares, cafes, shops and taverns el'ultracentenario plane tree of Hippocrates that you will, has seen the precursor of medicine to teach his pupils under his crown,
When, in the evening, we return by boat are dancing close to the boat close under the influence of a strong undertow.
All settled back fenders supplied and we go on a bunk, but during the night I get up often to monitor the situation because there is temporaleggia wave that enters.

21 settembre.Kos.
Another day in the city hanging out waiting time more beautiful.

September 22. -Kos-Bodrum (Halicarnassus). 10 miles
Sea conditions are optimal for crossing the strait that separates Turkey from Kos. It sails watching the massacre in the concreting of the Turkish coast to the north of Bodrum. We try to detect even the yard where we decided to leave the boat without going to Marmaris for the work that we intend to do. When we find we pause to make arrangements for tomorrow and will then continue to the port of Bodrum three miles away. When we go we find that it was built a beautiful marina for yachts, It comes to us as the boat service that takes us to the dock of the boats passing by.
Everyone is very courteous and helpful. The marina is equipped with modern facilities and excellent services. The only drawback is that it is on the opposite side of the harbor to the center of town and walk to the waterfront and leg muscles committed by so many lazy days in the cockpit.
After some years of absence return to Turkey this is exciting. We look for a restaurant to eat local dishes and turn the streets turned into a big bazaar protected by large tents that covered by a row of houses to another,
Gattadapelare greets us in the bottom of the sea real estate in water without ripples.

September 23 Bodrum little bay. 8 miles
We do many laps to take the famous transit-log, the customs certificate authorizing the presence of the boat in the sea turkish. In the end, received by officials surly-looking and vaguely threatening, we get this piece of paper at cost, rather than $ 250 as we had been proposed by an agency. Ta:
We visit the few remains of the funerary monument of the King Mausoleum. Some fragments of columns, a couple of capitals, a hole is all that remains of one of the seven wonders of antiquity: the Mausoleum.
But we still have some 'sea before putting the boat in the disarmament and, therefore, left the Navy to go there to look for a little bay to spend the last night rocked by the waves.
We go down south, but not too much for fear that the wind tonight and reinforcements hinder us return to the yard tomorrow. Pino finally has the satisfaction of fish three beautiful fish, including an iridescent dolphinfish,

We come across along the coast to choose a cove that seems suitable. There is only one caique which will make us friends. Or at least that's what we think. We have seven-eight meters of the bottom and filiamo whole chain because we constantly flashing on the horizon we see a broad front. Taken enthusiasm for the miraculous fishing (I had not pulled the boat any fish) caliamo even a pot that has always been stowed in the forepeak. Inside we put all the remains of unused galley.
The sea is calm and lying down in the cockpit for the last night watch the stars and, with some apprehension, the storm clouds. Try to understand their direction without result. The whole horizon to the south is illuminated.
Then the music begins. Not that of nature, but that of a nightclub hidden behind the trees, which gives us a vast repertoire of Italian singers, thereby nullifying any overnight sensation east.

September 24. Bodrum
The night passed quietly. The storms have dissolved and the sky is cloudless
The cove is animated canoes running everywhere. Thus we know from them that the corner there is a village Valtour. Trying to restore hope in a rich prize pot, but the top of which was tied back free and vain are the searches done with the mask. Mystery.
We read that the pilot's book on the island opposite the site there is a source of hot water that flows directly into the sea. When we arrive at a wharf for berthing and a kiosk selling drinks and tickets for access to the source. To fulfill both duties like good tourists, and we bathe in the stream of the source. In the late afternoon we reach the site where Gattadapelare is finally winged with appropriate modern means after years of similar operations precarious, sometimes rough as in the case of Skiathos.
The shipyard is well equipped and relatively cheap. We were shown two years ago by an Italian skipper met at Skiathos and we are satisfied with the decision not to leave the boat in Marmaris, as we had planned at first.
Do we do a quote for the work that we would like to run and reach the center of Bodrum that is to be here six-seven kilometers.
Now we do not feel more of the crawl. Sull'invaso the boat, sails furled, the galley empty, we're back terragni sleep last night and although still in the womb Gattadapelare will not be the same.
Dinner, this time in a restaurant (a forced choice from our new state 'civil') and returns in the yard. Kos to get up early tomorrow morning with the ferry after completing all the paperwork.


September 25. Bodrum-Kos-Rhodes
Here ends the diary. The rest does not concern the adventures of Gattadapelare, but for the sake of commentary summarize the events of this day.
We reached Kos early in the morning and waiting for the ferry to Rhodes we did a sightseeing tour by bus to the island. As I imagined this island, apart from the capital and its archaeological sites, is not very interesting.
The ferry of the 16 leads to Rhodes, where it rains and there are taxis available. We find a decent hotel and visit the city that I already know, but always fascinating. Greece A completely different, indeed, a non-Greece, with its deep imprint central Europe.
We must move away from Rhodes-town to find the colors and atmosphere of the Aegean.

September 26. Rhodes
We continue to run the city. Attended the restored turkish bath of Suleiman the Magnificent, we do our small purchases to be donated to friends and relatives and close the day watching a good show of jesters unexpected professionals organized for the alleys and squares of the medieval city



,
September 27 Return to Rome.
I'm leaving for Rome, via Athens, while Pino is another day. The last minutes to Rhodes and Greece are characterized by the futile attempts to recover forgotten my wallet in the bus.
Return home the night at 18.




P.S.
The bag was recovered intact (!) Two days later and now we are back in possession.