Cyprus

What a holiday! This was actually my first winter get away to date (not that I really needed a get away from all the the skiing and hockey) and I had  very enjoyable and relaxing stay with Per and Lill at their flat in Paralimni, Cyprus.

 
First and foremost, I must say you will never meet a pair as hospitable and generous as Per and Lill! Lill is a great cook and well acquainted with Cyprian cuisine while Per is a highly qualified wine connoisseur. He is equally skilled at scouting out the best Cyprus-grown strawberries in the country; we hardly went a day without a fresh juicy portion for dessert.

They are also both excellent tour guides in both English and Norwegian. We took a few walking tours around the area, and along the Cyprian/Turkish border. The Turkish occupation of Northern Cyprus is interesting, despite its implications. The border consists of a deserted “no mans land”, controlled by the UN, with Turkish and Cyprian watch towers on each side. The current circumstances are the subsequent results of the 1974 Turkish invasion, which happened to occur while my mom was staying at a hotel here in Famagusta with the rest of the family. They were eventually flown out of the country on a Hercules aircraft. Fortunately, I did not witness the same riots as my mom did, although I did become involved with one of the Cyprian guards as we walked past their watch tower! Per and I had intended to walk down along the border to see the UN post, as Per has apparently done on numerous occasions. Our promenade was cut short by a guard at the top of the tower who called, “Hello my friend, go back!” Oh well.

During this same walk, shortly before we approached the watch tower, we passed one of many stinking piles of garbage, which seem to conjure themselves up here and there and everywhere in Cyprus. I took a picture of the rotting tomatoes, cardboard boxes, old plastics, and you-name-it, and immediately afterwards discovered a sign banning all photography. It’s possible that the ban is in place for military reasons, but personally, I believe they are simply embarrassed about the garbage.

Apart from this, the Cyprian landscape is quite appealing, with a backdrop of jagged hills behind you, and an endless blue horizon ahead of you. Not to mention unbelievably beautiful weather! The forecast throughout our stay almost consistently called for rain. They were wrong not once, not twice, but every time! The sun beat down on us nearly every day, and we enjoyed summer temperatures of over twenty-five degrees! The locals apparently find this quite cold, as I was the one and only person to dive into the crystal clear waters of the Mediterranean. I had the beaches to myself, though I did have to share one of them with the old rusty wreck of someone’s abandoned scooter.



With the weather as nice as it was, my only excuse to stay inside was the excessive midday heat. Subsequently, I spent numerous hours outside running along the ocean and training toward the Birkebeiner. Per and Lill’s flat is in Paralimni, a smaller district inhabited mainly by locals, but only a few kilometres from Agia Napa, one of the main tourist centres. The authentic local setting made for some interesting jogging. One day, I was doing sprint intervals on a slight hill, and some local guys cheered me on in Greek each time I went by. I ran several times from Per and Lill’s place to the town centre. Each time I went, almost without exception, there was an old man sitting in a truck at the same place along the road, always with the door open a crack, and always reading a paper. It was definitely one of the highlights of my Cyprian running experiences. I also ran through of the neighbouring tourist communities. It wasn’t nearly as interesting, completely abandoned for the “winter” season, except for that every second building was under construction.
 
I also spent a fair amount of time walking the downtown streets of Paralimni. Per, Lill, Grete, and I went and looked around at the Greek Orthodox churches at the centre of town one day. There are three adjacent churches, each larger and a few hundred years newer than the last. The churches lie right across from the town square, where we joined a Greek Cyprian feast on the last night before Lent. Live music, and free roast chicken was more than enough to keep the locals happy. It was a good atmosphere, and no one seemed to take more than a reasonable share of free beer and wine. A school marching band opened the stage for some traditional music. Unfortunately, they neglected to turn off the background music, so we didn’t hear a single blow of a trumpet. In hindsight, I think this may have been the intention. We took in a little culture again a couple days later at a local dance performance. There were many enthusiastic dancers of all ages, each sporting a variety of colourful outfits. The dances, however, did not take on quite as much variation.


They brought the chicken in the back of a pickup and roasted it over coals on about 100 spits. The chicken was a big hit, and the dishes never made it to the table without each chunk of meat being snatched along the way.


During one of my downtown promenades, I spent a solid 3 hours walking around before eventually discovering that all of the shops close at 12:00 for lunch and sometimes open again at 3:00. I was a little confused, because half the shops that were closed still had up their open signs. I guess I timed it just right. By the time the shops had opened up again, I was tired of walking and ready to go home.

The view from Per and Lill’s place. Notice the water tanks on every roof. Each residence has a large cold water tank and a small hot water tank (solar heated). In the summer, the water is rationed and when they shut off the water each residence only has the water that’s in the tank.

Grete appears to be the official chauffeur in Cypress, or was at least during my stay. But the car was getting up in years, so we all went out to kick a few tires one day. If you’ve ever been sick of lousy salesmen in North America, you should probably re-evaluate your standards. It is quite a unique experience to purchase a car from someone with difficulty speaking English. But that’s not the least of it. Per explained to the man what kind of car they looking for in perfect English, but when the message didn’t get across, I stepped in and tried to help, saying that he wanted a used car, an old vehicle. “Vehicle?”
Yes, the man is a car salesman. One particular car we looked at had “4WD” stamped on the hatch, and we asked him if it was the case.
”Yes, this one is 4WD, maybe.”
In any case, we eventually made the purchase, in a small, cramped office, with a big desk right in the middle, behind which sat a very Greek boss smoking a cigar. I couldn’t have pictured the scene better myself.


Aside from a lot of training, I also used my free-time to read my first Norwegian novel, and translate the school website from Norwegian to English. The reading went well, and although there were many words I didn’t know, I understood the context and enjoyed the book. This combined with the translating helped me further the development of my Norwegian throughout the holiday.

One of the most interesting experiences in Cyprus was our trip to the capital, Nicosia, which also happens to lie on the border, making it “the last divided capital” in Europe. I read that on a sign along the border, and I was disturbed by the notion that they seemed to be commercialising the occupation, using it to attract tourists. The differences after crossing through customs were surprisingly distinguishable. There were far more street vendors selling knock-off Adidas and Nike, etc. on the Turkish side. That’s actually about all there was to buy.
The other thing you noticed right away was the Muslim culture. There are countless Greek Orthodox churches spread over the entire island, only those in the occupied territory have all been converted into to Mosques.
En route to Nicosia, we drove passed what I image were a couple of thousand cement trucks taking up  one line of the highway. It made for a slow trip, but it was interesting nonetheless. They were clearly on strike, and they were making a pretty effective protest.
I made a couple of purchases in Nicosia. The first was a locally crafted bamboo “dilly duduk” (or flute). The second was a T-shirt picturing the island, marked important historical sites and cities. But most interestingly, were the historical dates listed on the shirt:
Byzantine                396-1184
Richard Coer de Lion     1191-1192
Lusignans                1192-1489
Venetians                1489-1571
Otoman Empire            1571-1878
British Occupation       1878-1960
Republic of Cyprus       1960-1963
Turkish Rep of N Cyprus  1983-
I guess even Turkey recognizes that they’re just yet another invader.


My time in Cyprus was very enjoyable. Before I knew it, I was back on a plane bound for Norway. The flight was alright, I sat with a German music scout working with Euro-Vision (a European international music contest). We had a few good conversations, and I became quite aware that I was in Europe when he lowered his voice every time he mentioned communism.


All in all, a great trip!