Embrace your inner granny and other Cyprus stories...

view from my seat on Turkish Airlines before arriving in Cyprus

I arrive at Ercan Airport via Istanbul on Turkish Airlines in an area which has, since 1974, been unofficially known as the Turkish Republic of North Cyprus. My destination is Nicosia in the “recognized” Republic of Cyprus in the south. Andrea is there to meet me. He was a close friend of my brother Paul and has since become a family friend. It was Andrea who helped to bring Paul’s body back from Africa when he was killed there and I have always felt grateful to him for this gift. I had intended to go to Zanzibar this year (My last contact with Paul was a phone call planning a visit to see him and he told me that he would take me to Zanzibar because it was a bit “bohemian” so it would appeal to me) but I decide to visit Andrea instead. When I hear Andrea’s stories of his time in Africa, it is as if I have a lens into Paul’s life before he died and those stories fill in the gaps, give richness and depth to my memories of my brother’s life and help me to remember and feel Paul’s energy and spirit and that makes me happy.

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view from tallest building in Nicosia old city across to the "other" side

Pafos

qigong at sunset Pafos

Aphrodite's birthplace

In his Theogony (178-206), Hesiod provides the following dramatic account of the birth of Aphrodite, goddess of love and fertility.

"Chronos took the great long jagged sickle; eagerly he harvested his father's (Zeus') genitals and threw them all off behind.... The genitals...were carried for a long time on the waves. White foam surrounded the immortal flesh, and in it grew a girl... her name is Aphrodite among men and gods, because she grew up in the foam (aphrizo).

Well that’s one story….and it sounds pretty grim to me, but then I have no illusion that the past was any easier than the present!

Located along the main road from Pafos to Limassol in Cyprus, Petra tou Romiou, is an unimpressive rock just off the shore of a very pebbly beach but it still attracts busloads of tourists because it is supposedly the site of Aphrodite’s birthplace.  

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Andrea and his bike

My first sunset in Cyprus from Bellapais

Oven baked bread and wine with new and old friend's 

sex used to sell, now it's tranquillity!

Sunset in Limassol

Pafos 

new beginnings against an ancient backdrop in Pafos

new marina on north side

The most Eastern tip of Cyprus is on a two and a half hour drive away across the border on the Turkish “side”. I am travelling with some Italians I met at a beach barbecue a few nights ago and they are antsy because they haven’t had their coffee yet! We buy insurance and hand over our passports and cross easily across the UN buffer zone into the north. Our destination is Zafer Burnu (Cape Saint Andrew Apostle) a sanctuary for wild donkeys and supposedly a beautiful swimming beach.

After an unsuccessful attempt trying to find a typical Italian breakfast, (kind of like the girls from Hong Kong I met in Rome looking for congee!) the crew settle for Turkish coffee and pastries instead and we are soon singing Italian songs at the top of our lungs and laughing as we make our way towards the cape. After stopping to take photos of some doe-eyed curious donkeys, we eventually arrive at Seabird, a rustic restaurant right on the point, with stunning views and fresh fish and we give our orders before heading down the cliff to have a swim in the stunning bay below. When our meal is ready, our waiter summons us by waving his arms and we are soon sitting down to a delicious meal while looking out to the small islands across the water.

Tip. If you have some time stay overnight in basic but stunningly located accommodation that Seabird offers. For the sandgropers among you it’s kind of Cyprus’ version of Rottnest without the quokkas! And pretty good value at 60 euro per night for 2 people which includes breakfast and dinner.

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my flawed but beautiful stone

It is on a pebbly beach (Pissouri) near Pafos, that I find my stone, but not straight away. Initially another perfect smooth pebble catches my attention. I hold it in my hand for a moment and appreciate its beauty and uniqueness. It reminds me of the perfect life I thought I had a couple of years ago. As I turn it over in my hand feeling its smooth cool surface I am filled with gratitude and know instinctively that I must let it go. My eyes follow its path as I throw it into the sea and watch it disappear from view.

Later I find another one. It is flawed but no less beautiful. I like the feel of the grooves that run across its surface. Like an interesting scar it is surprisingly attractive. As I rub my fingers across its surface, it feels familiar and warm and I know that it is mine, at least for now.

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can't get to Syria so enjoyed a wonderful meal here instead

I was already feeling seedy, but when the waves got bigger I was  very  "green"

Andrea is an avid sailor and invites me along for a leisurely Sunday cruise on a Russian friend’s yacht. Cyprus is known for its micro climates and I experience them first hand. When we set off (just like Gilligan) it is to a beautiful blue sky and calm seas. Without warning some hours later, the sky gets angry and the wind increases to 25 knots and I am soon struggling not to throw up. “Are we there yet?” is my silent question for the next 4 hours as we slowly surf the waves back to Larnaca Marina to find out that its been sunny there are pleasant all day!

my very expensive, sensible granny sandals

I am walking to Andrea’s office to meet him for lunch when my all-

purpose but pretty cool sandals fall apart without warning. I consider turning up barefooted for lunch, but the cut glass on the footpath deters me. As if on cue, a shoe shop appears in amongst all the light industrial businesses. I can’t believe my luck, but my hopes are dashed when the shop keeper informs me that all their summer stock was sent back yesterday to make way for the winter collection. My desperate pleas “I just need a plain, black pair of sandals, surely you must have just one pair in my size out the back somewhere” are rewarded when the shop assistant reluctantly goes out the back to look. Be careful what you wish for! I have no choice but to hand over the 85 euro (big ouch!) and smile gratefully when the "boring as bat s..t", granny sandals appear, and fit me!

The next day I am struggling back to Andrea’s house in the heat after having done a very big grocery shop. My small back pack is full and heavy and I have a few plastic bags in each hand. A car stops behind me and a young woman starts talking to me in Greek. I don’t need to understand the language to know that she is asking me if I need help! “No Thanks, I’m just around the corner, but Efaristo”, I say, a bit embarrassed.

“Must be the damn granny sandals”, I mumble to myself, and then I laugh. Oh well. Maybe I should just forget hugging my inner child and just embrace my inner granny instead.  

Larnaca Marina...so good to be back on solid ground

Some years ago while reading Gourmet Traveller, a magazine for food and travel junkies, a photograph of a delicious looking salad catches my eye and makes my mouth water. Although I don’t recognize the main ingredient (halloumi) I assume it is a white fish fillet and I make a note to look for it at the Sydney fish markets.

Judging by his leathery tanned skin, the fisherman has been at it for a while. He shakes his head and tells me he doesn’t know this fish.  “Maybe it’s got a different name, I venture helpfully... It must be real!  It’s in Australian Gourmet Traveller,” I gently insist.

“Look lady”, he says exasperated. “I’ve been fishing for over 30 years, and I’ve never heard of this halloumi fish!”

It is a few weeks later, and I am in a gourmet deli in Maroubra buying Turkish bread when I see the name halloumi again. I am so excited and only slightly embarrassed when I realise that Halloumi is a type of cheese! I buy some, and some white fillets of fish and create the first “halloumi fish salad”. mmm Absolutely delicious!

As I take a bite of the still warm delicious grilled cheese in Cyprus the home of halloumi, and I look out across a calm sea on a balmy night in good company after an enjoyable day, I silently celebrate the fact that my appetite for life has finally returned.

The first Cypriot I ever met was called Paris Aristotle (really! What an amazing name) He was charismatic and clever and politically astute and headed a Parliamentary committee I was part of when I worked with refugees. I met another bunch of equally interesting Cypriots at an art exhibition last night in the old town of Nicosia. Andrea and his girlfriend Anjelica and I wandered the streets for a while after getting lost and ending up and being turned back at the UN buffer zone again (somehow we keep bumping into it on our travels) but eventually found the tiny gallery where two young talented artists from Belarus were holding their first exhibition. Lots of arty types spilled out onto the footpath and I was soon chatting to George (also an artist) and Cristina (a film director) about life and love and loss and politics. Trying to stand up, or is it down wind? of the huge cloud of cigarette smoke that engulfs us (people here are still seriously addicted to smoking) I really enjoy the unsuperficial (not sure that’s even a word) conversation and marvel at the   contradictions, complexities and chaos that combine to make us humans the sometimes Quixotic creatures that we are! 

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In a few hours I will head off to Larnaca, one of the two airports on the “Greek” side of Cyprus and take a Royal Jordanian flight to Amman. My destination is Petra, another ancient site about 3 hours from Amman by car. I have yet to pack but as I look around the room which has been my home for the last 10 days or so I am very grateful.

Here I have felt “at home”. Entering into the simple routine of someone else’s life I have been able to relax, reflect, recharge and refocus. I have made some new plans, listened to a teleseminar on trauma and booked into a couple of workshops in York and in Venice. Ironically this has only been possible because I was not able to be “in control”. Here I have been a passenger in every sense of the word and those of you who know me know that my comfort zone is the driver’s seat!  

I chose to surrender to the initial discomfort I felt and am glad that I did. Looking back on my time I Cyprus a few moments stand out:

The exhilaration of a night time motorbike ride, the physical sensation of riding the waves on a yacht in an angry sea, the joy of listening to the soothing sounds of the “Gypsy Kings” live, Eating delicious Syrian and Cypriot food, emails and phone calls with far away friends and embracing my inner granny!

Who knows what’s in store from now on?

but bring it on, I think I'm ready 

A presto

Mon x