“A hidden gem,” the old woman whispered, her eyes twinkling as she pointed towards a weathered stone arch. “St. Georgios, they call it.” Intrigued, we approached the unassuming entrance to St. Georgios, nestled within the western flank of Rhodes’ medieval fortifications. The monastery, dating back to the 15th century, seemed to hold its breath, its secrets tucked away behind the recently restored walls. It wasn’t just a monastery. It was a time capsule. Excavations in the former front yard revealed remnants of ancient rituals, whispers of activity from the 4th to the 13th centuries, long before St. Georgios was even a thought. The main church, with its unique four-apex vaulted structure, stood as the centerpiece. Its name, a nod to both its patron saint and the nearby Gate of Agios Georgios, echoed through the courtyard. This courtyard, along with three aisles of hermit cells and a communal dining hall, formed the heart of the monastic life. The cells themselves told tales of different eras. The ground floor aisles on the north and west sides date back to the Knights’ time. But St. Georgios has worn many hats. During the Ottoman rule, it transformed into the Hurmali Madrasa, a religious school. The church, once a sanctuary for Christian prayer, became a mosque. The 18th century saw further changes, with an additional floor added to the existing two aisles, and a third aisle constructed on the eastern flank. St. Georgios, a place of worship, a school, a testament to changing times. It stands as a silent observer, its stones whispering stories of centuries past.
C.A.I.R. winery
“A toast to Rhodes,” someone whispered, raising an imaginary glass. And here, at the C.A.I.R. winery, the very air hums