Everything, it could be argued, is like Country music. Country music spans a swathe of popular culture, from the most honest , heartfelt and unpretentious human expression to dickheads in stetsons wearing radio mics with their stupid thumbs in the loops of their jeans. All other cultural phenomena mimic this spectrum ; the authentic, critically acclaimed side counterbalanced by the disposable , intellectually and spiritually-malnourished apex of pop culture shite side .The same principals can be applied to tourism and by extension, Irish pubs – the niche and the vulgar, the unspolit local gem versus the full -english -serving, photos -of- all- the-food cafs.

This is the first holiday since the auld you- know-what (”Sure isn’t it strange times”;) . If you had told me that I wouldn’t be travelling in 2020 due to a crippling pandemic that would lock down the entire globe and decimate world economies and force people to remain in their homes for months on end , I would have listened to you for a bit before making an excuse to leave and probably have avoided speaking to you again. But here we are.

<p class="has-drop-cap has-text-align-left" value="<amp-fit-text layout="fixed-height" min-font-size="6" max-font-size="72" height="80"><br>It's true that even having the option to travel in all of this means I'm in a fortuitous position. Usually I choose to travel wherever is cheap and cheerful but this year you have to take what you can , so as an obedient citizen diligently following the infallible advice of our beloved ruling Conservative party I see that Greece is grand to visit .On deciding where in Greece to travel you are bombarded by a plethora of options that reflect who you are , as a traveller ( never a tourist ),reflecting your personality and values. But what kind of traveller am I ? Conde Nast says I should find an island that fits with my wishes and aspirations and provides a handy guide :
It’s true that even having the option to travel in all of this means I’m in a fortuitous position. Usually I choose to travel wherever is cheap and cheerful but this year you have to take what you can , so as an obedient citizen diligently following the infallible advice of our beloved ruling Conservative party I see that Greece is grand to visit .On deciding where in Greece to travel you are bombarded by a plethora of options that reflect who you are , as a traveller ( never a tourist ),reflecting your personality and values. But what kind of traveller am I ? Conde Nast says I should find an island that fits with my wishes and aspirations and provides a handy guide :

“Chios-; for the dreamers”/ ”Tilos; for adventurers”/”Kos; for the free spirit”,/ ”Lesbos ; not just for Lesbians” and ”Paxos,” (disappointingly not best for stuffing lovers) but best for “the perfect balance of seclusion and sophistication”.

<p class="has-text-align-left" value="<amp-fit-text layout="fixed-height" min-font-size="6" max-font-size="72" height="80">In the end, in the search for the island that best represents me all roads led to……… Rhodes, rich in pun potential.In the end, in the search for the island that best represents me all roads led to……… Rhodes, rich in pun potential.

Good old Rhodes logically became the best option, having with it all the usual sun and booze you’d expect, but with the added bonus of Europe’s largest medieval walled city !! As I’ve mentioned, I believe the rationale for this choice can no doubt be attributed to my father , who, instead of taking us on normal childhood holidays, took us exclusively on sojourns we euphemistically called “Castles and Graveyard” Holidays. My dad was loathe to go anywhere where England Football fans might potentially be so that ruled out anywhere hot. Invariably we ended up far from the tattooed hordes, taking in a role call of depressed but homely provincial towns : Rhyl, Dumfries, Armagh , Chester …

So I take myself to the Old Town Rhodes. Rhodes town was initially built in 407 BC by the legendary Hippodamus, disappointingly not a hippo that could tell the future , but a noted architect of the time . It grew wealthy , and what do you do when you’re that wealthy but build a massive vanity project, in this case a statue in honor of the Sun God Helios , for the craic.
The collosus of Rhodes was one of the ancient wonders of the world, along with the hanging gardens of Babylonia, the lighthouse of Alexandria, the Naas highway ball and Bray McDonald’s, the most beautiful McDonalds in all of antiquity. The collosus, no one knows exactly what pose he was in, he could have been doing a dab for all we know. Modern History has created a version that has popularised the statue, which I present to you in fridge magnet form.(* not to scale) .

Now, the one thing you have to bear in mind is that there is actually no statue here, if you go to Rhodes you’ve narrowly missed it by 2100 years. This has led to some disappointment for some google reviewers, such as from Louanna , who writes :

Rhodes History is defined by 2 great sieges and they were both pretty great. The first was in 1488 where about 5,000 of the cream of europe’s mercenaries of the Knights Templars , like a Medieval Manchester City , fought off an army of some 70,000 Ottomans. The Ottman General , Mesih Pasha , was put to death for his failure, which seems a bit harsh .Later, in 1522 , the Ottomans were back once again like a Renegade Master, led by the self-agrandising and frankly boastful Suliman the Magnificent himself .Rhodes is only 20 kilometres off the Turkish coast, so it was of strategic importance to controlling the lucrative trade routes.(The more observant readers will no doubt note that this is about the fourth trip where Islamic Influence in Southern Europe is really prominent- Granada, Sicily, Malta, Bosnia etc, showcasing how Islamic interaction with Europe has been an ever present throughout History , as has the migratory movement of peoples.)

Prior to the second siege and by this point a bit sieged out, the Knight’s Grandmaster flashed out a message to all of Christendom for aid.But, according to the annals of the time ,and this is true , only one actual man turned up. Alone. His name was John Rawson , Viscount of Clontarf , Dublin !

Are yis alrie? I hear yissir havin a Siege so I says to meself, John, gerrup dere and help out the bleedin knights for the Lord Jaysus Christ and all de blessed saints, will yis?

John Rawson, circa 1522

Oh what a Knight! I tried to find out a bit how John got on but apparently he wasn’t a Knight to Remember , so no one knows how he did. But by being the first Irishman in Rhodes, surely he deserves a pub in his honour .

So the knights had reached the end of their Rhodes and were booted out, to Malta ( you can read here how they got on) . Now, if I had avoided the touristy sights I would have missed out on a pretty banging medieval palisade; how they built epic fortifications while sweating heavily in big old suits of armour in 30 degree heat, I dont know. The Ottomans dominated for the next 300 years and dotted across the town are remmnants of Mosques, while the food also has a definite Turkish tint.The Greeks and the Turks though still love a good barney , and even now as we arrive Greek warships pull into harbour after a coastal flare up with the less than magnificent Neo- Sultan Reycep Erdogan , pushing them closer to the brink of confrontation.

Rhodes is usually a massively popular tourist destination, but they are suffering this year. Even though this is high season the lonely kebabs pirouette unsullied in the numerous take- away joints and the white plastic chairs adjacent to menus laminated in 6 different languages( German, English, Russian, Italian Norwegian and Finnish) remain unburdened by sunburnt tourist arses . We are fortunate- by accident rather than design, this is a good time to visit. Being a tourist is a paradoxical thing though : we snub our noses at things which are deemed touristy , and search out the unspoilt and authentic. Yet as soon as we find it, by our very nature, it becomes touristy. Its an unattainable ideal so sometimes you just have to settle. We stop off at a traditional local Norwegian bar ( ridiculous concept ) : for some reason there are a plethora of Norwegian pubs on one street, in direct competition with a row of Finnish bars across the road. The proprietor tells us that usually the bar would have queues down the street to get in, but not this year. I ask why he , as a Greek, has opened a Norwegian bar. ” I just thought it would be a good idea” . Illuminating. All these tatty dive pubs and not an Irish one among them . Tragic .

The Dodecanese Islands of which Rhodes is part were then for a brief period in the early 20th century an Italian possession and ridiculous-Trumpian strong man Benito Mussolini had a holiday home here ,so you could imagine him in a vest sweatily drinking a pint with a hanky on his head. (Seminal Warsploitation movie the Guns of the Navarone was also filmed there, hence the presence of Anthony Quinn beach nearby.) Nowhere can the Italian Influence be better seen than a lovely spot called Symi Island, a miniscule rock one hour from Rhodes with one of the most beautiful ports you’ll ever see. Symi grew wealthy through Sponging; it had one of the largest sea sponge collections in the world at a time when apparently you could make money out of them, and was subsequently colonised by the Italians. Now, I’m aware that Facism is all the rage again, and though I am loath to join the love-in, I have to admit they could knock up a lovely building. The entire town is built in an Art Deco pastel style , every single house following the same format. Alas, there is no Irish pub here, and most of the tourists are French, meaning its a bit of a classier affair . There are a number of party boats in the harbour, a kind of Symian Mobile Disco if you will **. High above the port lies the old town where the locals live and numerous houses lie abandoned once the sponge market dried up and people realised sponges are not the basis for long term economic prosperity. We visit a local restaurant ( recommended by Lonely Planet as ”an authentic slice of Symian cuisine”) .The waitress commends us on our choice. ” This is the real food” she says “the port is just for the daytrippers”

Last leg we go to Lindos . Lindos , I am forewarned is uber toursisty to the extent that they have donkey rides around town for lazy, inconsiderate mouth breathing arseholes .I ponder whether to go or not. After hesitating , I’m glad I did; Lindos is a picture postcard perfect whitewashed village dominated by an impressive Acropolis and the bay where St Paul washed up after writing all those letters to the Corinthians after not getting any replies. Walking up the top of this acropolis ,overlooking this metropolis takes the breath from your oesophagus, I found. Its one of the most amazing views , the sheer majesty only momentarily shattered by a Polish boy doing a massive fart , carried along the breeze as if by Zephyrus himself, God of the winds. While tourists abound ,
no one nation dominates ; perhaps a suitable throwback to when the Knights who ruled the island were made up of French , Spanish German, English and Italian contingents.

There’s no Irish pub here either though . There is one in the resort of Faliraki , which I’m reliably informed is like a Grecian Magaluf and which is confirmed by a bus ride through as we pass elaborate plastic fronted Flintstones themed shit shows , including the Kings Castle, a British Pub Google throws up, throwing up being the key word .

I eventually locate one .I had to go out of the way for this one as it lies an €8 taxi ride away from where I’m staying . And it was borderline no go after spending most of my cash the night before in Socrates Cocktail bar frequented, I’m informed, by members of Pink Floyd and Eric Clapton. I wash my hands slowly and thoroughly in case I have accidentally touched anywhere Eric Clapton may have been. The pub in question is Pefki Irish pub , which lives up to its billing by being an Irish pub in Pefki. Pefki was a small unassuming fishing village up until the rise of mass tourism and is now just a unremarkable generic resort town. Pefki Irish pub then is exactly how you’d imagine and Irish pub would be in a generic tourist resort town . So what does it have ? Its got a Feck it Licence plate , a framed picture of Elvis for some reason and the Proclamation on the wall . “ Many people take a photo of that…I don’t know what it is “ the Greek barman says. Punters slowly start to trot in wearing hawaiian shirts and garlands and bored kids drink mocktails and watch the transfer news on Sky Sports News. The owner himself is Irish, from Dublin , so I entertain the idea for a moment that he is the immortal John Rawson sitting in chainmail and sandals, kept in suspended animation by the abundant sunshine , greek salads and pints of Mythos .Yes!

They serve food, but I don’t even entertain the idea. In terms of being a good traveller the only top travel tip I hold as gospel: never go into a restaurant that has a restaurant guy out the front enticing you in. Stay away from these Rhodemen!!This contrast between choosing a place to eat and a place to drink is curious. I choose restaurants with the same meticulous dedication of a middle class North London mother choosing a school for her first born ; the beauty of choosing a pub however is that any old shithole does the job, on occassion the crappier the better. Pubs are the great leveller, and how could you not but get exactly what you expect at Pefki Irish bar. You’re not here to discuss the similarities between Rhodean Art Deco facades and Boho recherche rococco- Provencal stonework patterns you’re here to have a pint and pink in the sun. Which is what I do. As we walk away from Pefki Irish Pub, I note in the distance the unmistakable murmur of Garth Brooks ” Friends in Low places ” as it dribbles out of the soundsystem , mixing seamlessly with the bleating of the wild goats grazing on the periphery of the town

_{N.B. This is my second time in Greece and I have to say, it is the land of holidays. I understand why everyone comes here , this is holidays in the classic 70s/80s sense : local food, beaches, constant sun, little bit of culture but not too taxing , acropolieses , white washed houses, I’ll be honest, after being locked in my room on Zoom for 4 months, I dont want a trek through inhospitable terrain and camp under 2 inverted bin bags to see a remote indigenous flute carving ceremony . They have it all, and Greek hospitality is an actual thing ; staff are genuinely charming and friendly in a way that seems incomparable….despite the morass of tourists they still remain avuncular, of course not in a “ Hi my name is Zak ,I’ll be your server , I recommend the arugula salad” American customer service way , but in a genuine and attentive way that seems to be of a bi gone era}.

** _{Bella Day made this joke so I have so I tried to shoehorn it in here . Thanks Bella} xxx

_{**Tom Hills suggested ‘pirouette’ for describing kebabs, so he gets a shout out too}