“I need some retail therapy,” my sister announced the next morning. “From what I’ve read, Bodrum’s the place for it, and only 30 minutes away by ferry.”
The morning sky held the promise of a sunny day and I told her of my plans to visit the Asklepion. “Have a rest,” she said, “and don’t overdo it.”
After dropping Madeleine off at the quay, I wound my way through the streets of Kos Town, through the Turkish Platani area with its traditional tavernas, complete with blue-and-white check tablecloths and vine-strewn pergolas, to the Asklepion, four kilometres out of town. As I pulled into the car park, my heart sank at the sight of two large tourist buses already there. I bought a ticket and map and followed the signed path that opened suddenly on to a clearing in the hillside.
Standing at i
