CYPRUS 2016 (Matthew-8, Kate-19, Sue-48 (just), Nigel-51, Jane-51, Pete-51)
CYPRUS 2016
(gallery)TUESDAY
Jane and Pete make way to Stansted.Make reasonable effort to find adjacent, secret National Trust entity (Hatfield Forest and tearoom) for tasty lunch. Alas, in vain. Clearly flown away. Withdraw.
Take luncheon within confines of aerodrome, amid fevered excitment of departing holiday makers.
Wait patiently for flight, and then pass effortlessly through skies to fabled island of Cyprus, twinkling invitingly in azure surf beneath broiling sun.
Meanwhile, in Paramali, finishing touches made to already unequaled domestic arrangements. Provisions topped up. Gold taps polished.
Later, towards midnight, Ryanair deposits charges safely in Paphos airport.
Despite advanced hour, Sue and Nigel kindly put aside own requirements for rest and meet weary travellers, and whisk them to the comforting heart of their own Cyprus adventure.
Much chatter. Great happiness. Many stories.
Time and tide waiting for no-one, and eagar for rest before the next day's excitement, all to bed. Tired teddies.
WEDNESDAY
Long comfy lie-in for visitors, while hosts rise early and get selves ready and off for various days at work and school.Enveloping warmth of Cyprus already bringing joy to hearts. Sunshine flooding in.
Wash and scrub up, then down for hearty breakfast. Fresh fruit, strong coffee, local bread/toast. Yum yum.
Excitedly Sue, Jane and Pete bundle selves into Sue's fun-mobile and set off.
First stop: base security office.
Security official with many badges and epaulettes, and assistant with long legs and micro skirt, take full on photograph with dash-cam and produce excellent base passes. (See later for amusing story of single time of needing same, and forgetting them at home.)
Fill up with petrol at local station. Fully manned service - clean windscreen, fill up petrol, tidy boot, fit new tyres, polish metalwork. (Not all of these happened.)
Meanwhile, Pete has wandered into shop area, inspected fine array of cycles and equipment, and conversed in excellent Greek with cool shop manager. Who was from North London. Or Norf Landann, as he put it.
Then ace trip to Limassol, taking in imposing Cypriot scenery on way. See hills, and cliffs, and houses, and trees, and paths, and occasional other traces of humanity. Wonder, as always, what on earth these rural people do, so far from civilisation.
Pass over Akrotiri peninsula.
Work way into somewhat sprawling, bright, sunny, hot Limassol.
Park by posh new Marina.
Commence walking tour by admiring super-yachts in marina. Very nice. Choose not to go into Yachts-R-Us on waterfront, as main wallet left at home.
Notice all yachts Mediterranean moored. Obviously. Duh!
Pass through pedestrian area to Ayia Napa Cathedral. Beautifully kept and comfortable. Cool (temperature). Lots of icons.
No organ!
Continue past local mosque. Shut.
Beautiful sunshine now bringing forth urgent desires for ice creams. Find appropriate vendor. Pete orders in Greek, from local girl who speaks english like she comes from Islington or Maida Vale. Girls treat selves to two massive boules of different flavours. Pete, ever the gentleman, politely copies, to avoid embarrassment.
Pete supports local economy, helping wheels of commerce to turn, by purchasing much needed, new leather belts. Nice.
On and into fantastic Limassol crusader castle. Ace!
See original stonework, masons' marks, flagstones, etc. See progressing centuries of earthquake, weathering, and invader damage. And progressing centuries of botched or trial-and-error repairs. (For all its deep, deep roots stretching into history, the population of this island port, smack in the middle of competing empires, must always have been highly transient. Little wonder if some dodgy sub-contracting went on in the castle-mending business.)
Down into underground areas. Up to lots of rooms and exhibits. Sixth century paintings, various inscriptions, rifles, cannons, armour, headless skeletons, coins, pots, oil lamps.
One cannon clearly blown to pieces on active service. Headless and skeleton-less skeletons in that case.
Up onto castle roof for fine views over Limassol port, Limassol town, Greater Limassol, and surrounding area.
Top visit.
No resting. Straight on with pleasant stroll along sea front.
See many ships at anchor in bay.
Glistening sea, blue sky, bright sun, light breeze. Nice.
Have go on council exercise equipment.
Visit St Catherine's Catholic Church. Tasteful, recently built/refurbished. Peaceful.
Substantial electric organ installed at forward end.
Reverse stroll along sea front.
Throughout visit, notice occasional vacant, delapidated buildings. Sometimes alone, sometimes in clusters. These are properties of now absent Turkish Cypriots, unable, unwilling, or un-alive to retake posession.
Back to car.
Make detour to Limassol port area.
Catch fleeting glimpses of french aircraft carrier Charles de Gaule, in town for a few days. Sun glistens on shiny bits. See fighter bombers (Rafales?) arrayed impressively on flight deck. Don't mess avec moi!
Westward to one of many favourite beaches. Install selves in Chris's Blue Beach restaurant. Order delicious greek salads, chips and local red wine for lunch. Yummy.
Then, hooray! Matthew and Nigel arrive, having finished their long days of work and school.
All take position on beach. Deck chairs erected. Towels laid out.
Overlooked from the shallow cliffs by ruins of ancient Mycean (check) town of Kurion.
Chosen position on beach surrounded on all sides by vicious, sharp, nasty rocks and pebbles. Pete and Matt lead by example, bravely running through painful, danger areas into crashing waves, showing others how to have fun. Others gingerly and rubbishly tip-toe way into water.
Nice time had by all. Splashing about.
Back home.
Sue and Nigel, now in full holiday mode, cleverly prepare sumptuous barbecue: marinated chicken, fresh sea bass, barbecue sausages, greek salad, cypriot potatoes. Local wines, juices, and ice cold, fresh water.
All enjoy fine evening on garden patio terrace. Happy teddies.
And so to bed.
THURSDAY
Up bright and early.Matt off to school. (And later off to Ben the friend's house for night.)
Mums and dads enjoy leisurely breakfast on garden terrace, and then pack affairs into car for exciting trip along length of island bound for Famagusta.
Pass by/through other main British Sovereign Area, Dekhelia. Continue up towards checkpoint, along bizarre road (British), seeing Turkish Cypriot farms to port and starboard, but British sovereign territory fore and aft. See large number of rustic watchtowers; occasionally manned. Hear tales of mined areas.
See whole abandoned villages.
Arrive at checkpoint in/near Ayios Nikolaos (Ayia Nic to old Cyprus hands). Leave UK. Enter Northern Cyprus.
Short drive into Famagusta.
Wow! Nice place.
Definite change of feeling. More middle-easty. People sitting around in the sun. Slower walking speeds. Different clothes.
Exciting.
Many old crusader ruins.
Whole proper cathedral turned into main mosque. Lots of ruins of lots of churches. In fact more churches than fit on tourist map.
First stop: main mosque. Originally the crusader Cathedral of St. Nicholas, where Kings of Cyprus were crowned also as Kings of Jerusalem. (Jerusalem being a little off limits at the time, as it was in the hands of the Saracens.) Now transformed into rather splendid Lala Mustafa Paşa Mosque.
All statues gone, all images, all stained glass long gone. But beautifully kept inside and out.
Welcomed in by man. Nice photos.
See town dungeon. Old Venetian palace.
Visit interesting twin churches. Two side-by-side, tiny 14th-century crusader churches, owned repectively by the Knights Templar and the Knights Hositaller, whose sworn enmity towards the infidel hordes defiling the Holy Land was matched only by their hatred of each other. And yet, here are their churches four inches apart.
Bravely enter church one, to find charming local couple preparing the single room for a music concert/practice. Have nice conversation, in Turkish probably.
Continue walking tour.
Boiling hot, so settle down in baking sun at cafe.
Everybody cleverly orders lovely appropriate drinks. Pete generously gives his drink to others, as "iced chocolate" turns out to be much more milk based than anticipated. In fact, 100% milkshake. (Milk and Petes do not seem to mix well.)
Enjoy watching troupes of mainly german tourists being herded around like so many local goats.
Happen across terrific cake shop. Shelf after shelf, and counter after counter of delicious pastries, and cakes, and biscuits, and baklavas, and turkish delights of all colours and flavours. Sue persuades girl to hand out samples. Yum. Not a trace of gopping Fry's turkish delight anywhere.
Continue walking tour by scaling impressive Othello's Tower on city walls. All recall Ottomans besieging Venetians in 1570-1571. See how mega chunky walls kept them out for full ten months. But not for ever.
Observe substantial reconstruction projects. Good.
Return to ace cake shop, and take table in extensive, semi-open upstairs restaurant. All partake in delicious repast overlooking cathedral/mosque and inner town.
After lunch, all leave mediaeval Famagusta and drive 400 yards back to the future, past various Turkish army barracks, and to the luxurious Palm Beach Hotel.
Thanks to Sue's persistance and well honed negotiating skills, both parties upgraded to fabulous luxury suites, complete with sea views, double terraces, 5,000-gallon bathtubs, hot and cold running water, TV, WC, air conditioning, sink, complimentary one-shot shampoo portions, wardrobe, and everything.
Install selves.
Girls choose doing nothing on sun loungers over further exploring, so boys leave alone for additional adventures in history.
Mediaeval walking tour of Famagusta continues, with visits to Information Office, numerous churches, back streets, and residential areas.
Nearly crushed by falling masonry from ruinous Church of St. George of the Greeks. (Not really. But one day soon masonry will fall from ruins. Very precarious.)
Tour complete. Back along front, past dull barracks and awe-inspiring former governor's residence, to meet girls.
Hot foot (literally) to beach, and enjoy coktails, overlooking sea.
Shadows lengthening, waves lapping, cocktails slurping.
Walk along beach to see more closely deserted world of Varosha on other side of barricade. Bizarre.
Whole modern seaside resort completely devoid of people, left to crumble and decay for forty years and more. Gaping holes in place of windows, falling concrete, collapsing floors.
Visible Turkish army watchtower preventing any photography, for some reason.
All the while life continuing pleasantly either side of deserted area. More than an elephant in the room, more a gigantic decaying city abandoned a pebble's throw from civilisation. Cyprus has its own particular charm.
Wash and brush up, then down for pre-dinner drinks on the hotel veranda. This is the life
Delicious and copious are best words to describe dinner, seated overlooking moonlit eastern Mediterranean. Fine, fine selection of local soups and starters and salads and fish and fun vegetables and sauces and meats and cheeses and olives and pastries and breads and meats and sausages and fruits. Yummy.
Stuffed teddies.
And so to bed.
FRIDAY
Up, raring to go, and down for breakfast.Another buffet bonanza. Delicious.
See Cyprus-sized man consume fifteen breakfasts from one plate, just as he had consumed fifteen dinners the previous evening.
Do not allow such distractions to deter own participation.
Girls decide again that sitting doing nothing all morning is preferable to enjoying oneself visiting local attractions. So, boys leave them to it and set off for ancient Roman town of Salamis.
Such a cool place! Salamis was the Las Vegas/Monaco of the ancient world. Little wonder that successive generations of attackers wanted to come and steal its riches. Little wonder also that a tremendous city grew up with baths, amphitheatres, and temples. Then later, churches/cathedrals.
Like Ostia Antica next to Rome, Salamis also has street after street of ordinary houses, shops and warehouses.
See the fish market, complete with marble counters for displaying that day's catch.
See the high street, with its worn paving slabs.
Just a tiny bit of imagination sees the ruins grow to mighty structures, and thousands of folk busy about their business.
Thoroughly good visit.
Then drive back through downtown Famagusta, noticing universal Cypriot driving technique of reversing directly into main flow of traffic. No cultural divide in that department.
Pass by Famagusta University. See UN base.
Then back to Palm Beach Hotel to enjoy more time with lovely wives, still arrayed glamorously next to swimming pool.
Fight off crowds of admirers, fashion house agents, and rich oil moguls.
At appropriate time pack up things and make return journey to Paramali.
Collect Matthew. Big hugs. Quick snack. Wash and brush up.
It is a feature universal throughout the empire that military establishments are adept at throwing a good party.
Today, by serendipitous good fortune, it is the anniversary of the Battle of Trafalgar. All around the world, in ships, shore establishments, and clubs and associations, officers of the Royal Navy past and present will be cranking up the festivities and celebrating Trafalgar Night: a thouroughly good-natured affair, in which the doors are closed to the outside world, and good food and drink are mixed with fun, games, and tradition. All of which serves to reinforce the sense of unity within the Service. Trafalgar Night is possibly the single most material date in the Naval calendar.
As our Nation sees fit to station a small contingent of Naval officers in Cyprus (sshhh!!!), the opportunity presents itself to include all members of the combined mess at Episkopi in this fine Naval tradition, together with visiting dignitaries from Cheltenham. (Jane and Pete were very pleased to accept the invitation.)
Dressed in stylish evening gowns and dinner jackets our party sets out for the Officers' Mess.
Carefully leaving behind security passes obtained earlier in week. Manage to blag way in.
Start with cocktails on terrace.
Good music provided by Band of the Prince of Wales' Division, in evening mode, playing classic Jeeves and Wooster jazz standards from the 20's and 30's. Nightingale in Berkeley Square, All of Me, Moonlight Serenade, etc. To everyone's relief bass and trombone players are excellent, so no ad hoc assistance required from audience.
Beating Retreat sets different tone from usual massed drums of Royal Marines. More initimate. Quieter.
And then to table.
Much light-hearted banter with kind hosts and kind hosts' colleagues.
Good balance struck between merry-making and over-boozing. Charm exudes.
Full marks to organisers. Place decorated with bunting, knick-knacks, and signal flags. Very jolly.
Have fun telling and hearing stories.
Enjoy nice food, chocolate sailing ships, delicious port.
Immerse selves in splendid, agreeable atmosphere.
And then, suddenly, time to retire.
All catch bus home. Fun characters on bus.
Top evening. No-one drunk. No-one ill. All limbs and eyes intact. VG.
And so to bed.
SATURDAY
Tiny lie-in.Downstairs for fun lego session with Matt. Matt is obviously best, closely followed by Pete. Jane is worst.
All have delicious breakfast in glorious sunshine on garden terrace.
Enjoy hearing of Kate's many adventures.
Soon time to load selves in car and drive to Nicosia.
Enjoy growing sense of familiarity with Limassol as we whizz past, and then enjoy new sights and sounds on road up to capital.
Gradually at first, then with accelerating pace, notice transition from rural Cyprus into bustling, modern city.
Be aware that we approach Nicosia from the Greek side. Be excited at imminent prospect of crossing line again into Turkish side. Especially at sight of enormous, mountain-sized Turkish flag carved into mountains opposite. Take that, you Greekies.
Before long find selves truly in metropolitan Nicosia. Traffic, advertising, good buildings, hotels, coffee shops, car showrooms, schools, etc. Look down adjacent roads at junctions to discover urban environment stretching to all quarters.
Glad to be in hands of kind hosts, fully knowledgable in all matters.
Park car. Admire precision and consideration of other drivers in car park.
Commence walking tour.
Cities always give accurate expression to spirit of inhabitants. London: big, expressive, diverse, welcoming. Paris: independant, proud, cultured, vibrant. Hannover: clean, ordered, conformist. Vienna: elegant, reserved, private.
Seek to understand Greek Nicosia - exuberant, loud, confident, bad parking.
Wander through shopping area. Enjoy mix of ultra modern, Western shops and fashions with other Eastern-flavoured influences.
Make coffee break in city centre, on Onasagorou Street. Enjoy reading free newspapers and adjacent shop signs. Learn more Greek.
On departure from coffee shop discover tiny gem of Agios Eleftherios Church immediately adjacent. Visit.
Icons everywhere, competing for attention amongst many tons of gold leaf.
Continue walking tour through city centre, finding way onto main drag of Ledra Street. Pedestrianised. Busy. Exciting.
Soon find selves at checkpoint.
Under glorious burning sun, in full holiday mode, difficult to imagine horrors of civil war playing out on this very road. Street fights. Beatings. Ambushes. Snipers. Corpses.
Checkpoint is relaxed affair. Almost melted into surrounding coffee shops and ice cream bars.
Walk through green zone for fifty yards. See empty appartments and offices filling void. Big steel gates blocking access.
Arrive on Turkish side.
Marginally more officious in appearance, with more border staff, but equally relaxed. Requirement actually to queue at hut to present passports.
Nobody is remotely interested in checking passports. When is lunch anyway?
Definite change in feel on Turkish side. Signs, posters, shop names are all now in Turkish. Obviously.
Good smattering of Turkish and Turkish Cypriot flags everywhere. Never one without the other.
Loads to see and do.
First stop is Selimiye Mosque. Another splendid gothic cathedral, taken over by the Ottomans to be stripped of imagery, whitewashed, and redesignated. Couple of minarets stuck on front - Mehmet's your uncle.
Shoes off. In we go. Ace. Rather good at this, the Ottomans.
Then nice walk round the outside. Beautifully clean. The town council obviously gives high importance to cleanliness. Feels like walking round outside of Gloucester Cathedral, only four million degrees hotter. And cleaner.
Then further round corner to main Nicosia indoor covered market, Bandabulya. Good. Lots of shops selling fruit, veg, knick-knacks, souvenirs, etc.
Still further round another corner is old coaching inn complex Büyük Han.
Terrific late medieaval Ottoman motel structure consisting of numerous rooms on two floors around a courtyard, complete with mini mosque and washing fountain. Rooms now converted into craft outlets and souvenir shops, but close your eyes, and you can almost smell the sweaty travellers and stinky camels. (That could just be Pete's feet, of course.)
Time for tasty lunch. So, back towards checkpoint to find Umbrella Street.
Breakfast on terrace. Drive to Nicosia. Big city -ish. Park car. Admire accurate and considerate parking of locals. Walk round. Stop for coffee. Read paper. Visit tiny, hidden Agios Eleftherios Church. Walk up Ledras Street. Go through checkpoint. Visit Turkish side. Big mosque. Covered market. Coaching house/motel/craft centre. Tasty lunch in Umbrella Street. Underfloor waxworks vignette of people hiding. Rooftop terrace. Continue walking tour. Venetian column. Keralia gate. Walls. Find Ledra Palace. UN checkpoint/station. Dervish Paşa mansion. Other fine houses in disrepair. Cats everywhere. Good walk round. Back to checkpoint, and through. Slap up ice cream. Stroll to car. Getting dark. Drive home. Comfy evening in. Bed.