Last Friday, I had a main mission that came with a side quest. The mission was to attend an appointment at the dentist in Rhodes, and the side quest was to deliver Harry’s laptop to him before going out for lunch. The ferry was on time, though it left slightly late due to the number of passengers, cars, lorries, bikes, teams, school outings, everyone’s outings… But it delivered us to a sunny Rhodes in good time.
I was in no hurry, so I hung about on deck watching the quay until people started disembarking, as that’s much more interesting than standing inside in a crowd for ten minutes or more. As I do, I checked where I’d been sitting, made sure I had my bag, jacket and the laptop in its box, and off we toddled.
Akandia, through the Old Town, up the hill, out at D’Amboise Gate (top of Mandraki), down the hill, all very leisurely as I had plenty of time, and a stop at the Plaza Hotel for a cup of coffee while I waited, and 30 minutes later (check: bag, jacket, laptop) I’m in plenty of time for my appointment.
That done, mission accomplished, and with only the fun side quest to go, I was off towards the far end of Kanadas Street to deliver the laptop. Again, plenty of time, so it was back up the hill to D’Amboise Gate, and across the moat to the section of road/path between that gate and St Antonio’s Gate where the shops begin once you’re through the arch. There, I sat for a moment to dry off. It must be a male menopause thing, this inability to walk for more than ten paces without breaking into a sweat. The other night, while watching a film, I suddenly found myself overheating for no reason and had to temporarily shed a couple of layers. I’ve always been a bit like it when walking, but this year it’s become beyond a joke. However, towelled down (mainly around the back of the neck), and off I went with bag, jacket and delivery, pausing by the arch to retie a shoelace I’d overlooked.
The Old Town is completely different in winter than it is in summer. When I’d arrived and walked through and up the hill, I’d more or less had the place to myself. By midday, as it was then, there were still only a few tourists about because a lone cruise ship had unloaded, and a few shops were half open. The doors are often open like this, as the owners wait inside. Some put out all their wares, others hang around darkened doorways like trapdoor spiders, ready to invite in potential customers, and only then put the lights on. I passed just one such shop just inside the arch, and a few more as I made my way down the hill, all the way to the bottom of Socrates Street to the ruined church by Virgin Mary’s Gate, and was crossing the church grounds towards Akandia when I noticed a tourist taking photos and for some reason, that sparked the realisation that I was no longer carrying the laptop.
Expletives came into play as I spun on my heels, suddenly sweating even more than I had been sweating before, and, head down, headed back up the hill at a reasonably fast pace for a man of my age who couldn’t feel half his mouth and was probably drooling into the sweat, all the time imagining the thing gone and me trying to find a policeman to report it to, and then having to explain to the godson why we weren’t going to lunch but were, instead, going to Public to buy a new laptop, and all the time thinking, ‘This is Greece, it will be there,’ and, ‘I bet it’s gone.’ And, breathe.
I knew where I’d left it (the other side of the arch where I’d tied my shoelace), and I knew it wouldn’t be there once I’d sweated up the hill, around the mosque and passed the last/first row of shops before St Antonio’s Gate…
No sign of it. I could see through the arch to the section of the UNESCO world heritage site where I’d placed the thing, and there was no trace of the modern world. ‘I expect one of the groundsmen picked it up,’ I thought, remembering that there had been gardeners at work. ‘Or maybe…’ No. No sign of it. What there was a sign of, however, was activity around the first/last shop by the arch. A man and woman came out and headed towards the arch just ahead of me, and there, in their half-opened shop doorway, was the laptop, out of its box, on a stool and plugged in. ‘You found my computer,’ rejoiced this panting, sweating, drooling creature, red in the face and generally melting. ‘Ah, it’s yours?’
There then followed much thanking and explaining, and ‘You are a very lucky man,’ from the shop keeper, and ‘You are a very kind man,’ from me, an explanation from him, too, that he had turned it on to see if he could find contact details so he could call the owner, or a friend thereof, but the thing had a password, so they were going to keep it for a while to see if anyone came back for it before handing it in… And all was well, and I was, indeed, very lucky. As the man reminded me a couple of minutes later as he passed me on his moped on the way home. There were more thanks and ‘Dóxa to theó!’ and so on, and it was only then that I realised the whole panic situation had been spoken in Greek, including me using words I didn’t know I knew. (At least, I hope they were the right ones.) Maybe being under pressure and not having time to think frees the second language. Subconscious brain: Forget inhibitions and the fear of getting it wrong; your godson’s laptop and online course are in danger, just do what needs doing.
Calm restored, I sweated my way to the Harry house and up the eight flights of stairs to his room. ‘Oh, you brought it,’ he beamed as I trickled into the room. ‘I very nearly didn’t…’ So, the explanation started, and on with the day, which was to yield a much more pleasant incident on the ferry home.
