As someone who lives on a small island, every now and then I have to take the ferry to a bigger island, Rhodes, to get some chores done. The list of things I need (or want) gets longer and longer until I have to wrench myself away from the beach and get on the boat. But because there's so much you can't get in Tilos, it’s a great excuse to shop – it’s like Christmas with more sunshine and less stress.
And so this week I dash down to the port with a giant suitcase. The quayside is crowded with people and inevitably friends ask, ‘Are you leaving?’ I grin and lift up the suitcase – empty. I’m going to run around Rhodes, filling it up, even though the only thing I really need is one piece of paper, a certified copy of my passport from the British Vice Consulate.
As always, I’m going to have a wonderful few days running around town, chatting to people in shops. People in Rhodes are really friendly. Before I lived in Tilos, when I was just passing through Rhodes to get to Tilos on holiday, I had no time for the bustling town, but now I appreciate it more and more. My friend Anna tells me that she sees me moving there one day, but I’m not sure I’d have as much fun if I lived there.
When people ask me where I’m from, telling them I’m English but live in Tilos is the conversation-starter. One day I glance in the window of a sports shop next to the hotel, and end up in conversation with the owner who tells me his father, who was from Kalymnos, was sent to teach in Tilos at the school, which was then in Mikro Horio (the now-abandoned village), during the Italian occupation before World War II. Apparently the Italians gradually learned to send the smart people to the little islands where they couldn’t cause as much trouble, so his father found himself in Lipsi and Tilos.
I’m in Mandraki, the area of Rhodes where the small boats like the Tilos Sea Star come in. Walking up the hill from the domed New Market (Nea Agora) and bus station with the Old Town on my left, I spot a new gift shop. It’s immediately clear that this isn’t your average tourist shop, but real arts and crafts. I’m a sucker for beautiful things and am drawn inside, where I get talking to Haritomeni.
She confirms she just opened the shop, To Doron (meaning ‘The Gift’), in late April. Her parents live in Rhodes but until recently she lived in Athens. I infer that this is another ‘Crisis Story’ – it’s nearly impossible for young people to make any kind of living in the capital at the moment, so she’s come to Rhodes and set up this business. And it deserves to do well, as the shop is filled with tasteful, original hand-made work from artists all over Greece, especially Crete.
Haritomeni (I like the name – it means ‘lovely, graceful, blessed’) tells me she had a wonderful holiday in Tilos a few years ago. She stayed by the sea in Livadia but went all over the island visiting the monastery, Eristos, Megalo Horio. ‘It’s a disgrace that the museum isn’t known all over Greece, all over the world,’ she says, referring to the bones of the dwarf elephants, the last elephants in Europe. ‘I was embarrassed I didn’t know about it!’
After leaving the shop, I continue up the hill to Avgoustinos where I sit in the lively open-air restaurant and have a massive, tasty gyros pita, big salad and a beer (for 9 euros).
OK, not many people have a story about buying printer ink cartridges. But I do.
I like to buy from Cartridge World, partly because it’s an easy way to recycle the cartridges, but also because they’re so much cheaper. But when I call to check what time they close, I find out the shop’s moved a little further out of town – too far for me to walk. When I ask about buses, the man on the other end of the phone asks where I am, and I say Mandraki. ‘No, where exactly?’ Er, the Hermes Hotel. ‘OK, I’ll be there in ten minutes.’
A charming (OK, say it, good-looking) young man in black comes to collect the cartridges, and brings me what I need later in the day. If that ain’t service, I don’t know what is.
The young woman who helps me find good underwear in Intimissimi has a cool haircut, so I ask her where she has it done, as I need a trim. (I’ve still not found someone who cuts hair in a way I like – would the next person to visit please bring me a Toni and Guy hairdresser?). Before I leave my favourite underwear shop, she asks if there’s a branch of Intimissimi in Tilos. I grin, imagining scantily clad mannequins in the square in Livadia. ‘I’m guessing you’ve never been to Tilos?’ But actually she has, several years ago; all she remembers of Livadia is that the place was deserted until noon. I tell her we actually do have a really good clothes shop (To Sokaki - see the Tilos Life page on this blog), but no international chains, thank goodness.
The man I talk to in the health food shop, where I buy maca root and find a town-centre source for wine from the village of Embona, says someone in his family has a house in Tilos but they find the people unwelcoming; even after living there for two years, they've never been invited to anyone’s house. I explain that it’s certainly not that people are unwelcoming or unfriendly. It’s just that people keep themselves to themselves more on a small island, I think, as you need to keep some kind of privacy.
I go to the hairdresser for a trim and we spend the first half hour of the appointment talking about what I do, and e-books and copyright, and how I can perhaps help out another client of his who has written something. It’s more of a social visit than a haircut.
For dinner, I try the Symi Kafeneion in the New Market, near Indigo (and the deli or pantopoleio where I sometimes buy cheddar or prosecco). It’s been there for sixty years – the beautiful, raven-haired woman who runs it informs me that it was first her grandfather’s, then her father's – but has recently been spruced up with a lick of paint and a meze menu. I order an Alfa beer and a delicious plate of roasted vegetables drenched in garlic vinaigrette, mopped up with half a loaf of moist, springy bread. Yum.
On Thursday morning, I go for a swim before breakfast. It’s of course nothing like as nice as swimming in lovely Tilos, but I like the fact that locals go for their regular morning swim in Rhodes, especially the older folks who tend to chat to one another in the water – it’s that social thing again.
Mid-morning, having bought a tent, a kettle and some seeds and seedlings, I discover a street market just outside the Old Town on the south side, near the Gate of St John. It’s a slightly smaller version of the Wednesday and Saturday market that takes place near the cemetery. Restraining myself from buying too much, I choose olives and peppers and small local peaches, just in season. I buy a carnation plant and a jasmine plant for a few euros each (I am turning into my mother). I am smiling and receive a marriage proposal and an elopement proposal.
I get back to the hotel, and in the afternoon I go out again to pick up my new set of glasses, and I think I’ll go back to indulge in something nice from the gift shop. But I realise I’ve hit the retail wall. I’m all shopped out. There is no shopping left in me. I have lost the will to shop.
But I’ve got the certified copy of my passport, done my blood tests, bought my brown rice and ticked off a long list of needs and wants, and I’ll be back in a few weeks. And maybe one day when I win the lottery (OK, I don’t play the lottery, but my equivalent – when they make the movie of Falling in Honey) I’ll have a little pied-a-terre in Rhodes. Ah, but then I wouldn't get to chat to lovely Nikos in the Hermes Hotel...
To Doron is at 23 Alexandrou Papagou street (tel. 22410 20144)