Rhodes

(September 27-30) We are staying in a hotel whose building dates back 800 years. It begins to tell you the story of this epically historic site which has seen the likes of the Lycians, Romans, Ottoman Turks, English crusaders, and, in more recent times, the Germans, Italians, and Greeks. It lies at the metaphysical and literal crossroads of history and geography as, over the centuries, marauding powers, traders, and crusaders criss-crossed the eastern Mediterranean in pursuit of religious purity, riches, power, or some other greater glory.

One can begin to envision what all this might have looked like way back when, but for the impossibly numerous shops carved into these ancient buildings: jewelry, fine clothing, artwork, leather goods, souvenir emporiums, and t-shirt shops. And, this is to say nothing of the seemingly endless array of rooftop and sidewalk cafes that vie for the tourist dollar at every opportunity. You’ve got your souvlaki, grilled octopus, yogurt, stuffed grape leaves, prawns, all with tomatoes, onion, and parsley and the ever-present and tasty olive. Factor in the waves of folks arriving by cruise ships which dock from time to time, and you have all the ingredients for a shopping and eating frenzy that may have no peers. At some level, this commercial onslaught is insulting given the very serious history of this place. At a lighter level, however, the sensory overload presented by these shops and eateries seems engaging, entertaining, and even comical if you’re in a more relaxed and whimsical mood. Which we were.

We have a safe haven from all this at our hotel, the Sotiris Nikolas, nestled near the western walls of the Old City beyond the rabble. We reach it by a narrow alley whose cobblestones, like those everywhere here, are still impossibly rounded despite centuries of traffic. The Nikolas exudes charm no less than Cary Grant once did with rooms having arched doorways that lead to a protected wooden patio overlooking a rear garden that has enough green to balance out the stone walls that rise above it. The proprietor, Marianne, is of Danish descent, and she is exactly what you want in a hotelier: charming, helpful, funny, obliging at every turn. Breakfasts are up on the roof, and there amid the bountiful offerings of eggs, fruit, pastries, bread, coffee, cheeses (and, yes, olives) lies the city and harbor beyond.

Perfect.