Thursday, February 26/2009

Very strange late winter here. Warm enough but for some time now - feels like weeks but maybe only a couple of weeks - we've lived under a cloud much of the time, blue on the BBC weather map but white-grey in the sky. There's often a shower, but never sustained rain. Rather Londony actually, though much warmer. At least the water crisis here is over with reservoirs doing nicely. We do get a large clap of thunder with the evening rain today, but clearly worse elsewhere. North of us a field worker is hit by lightning and killed.

Wednesday, February 25/2009

News on Cairo bombing long gone as the crash of a Turkish Airlines plane in Amsterdam takes the headlines. We flew with Turkish Airlines last year and it's supposed to have a fairly good reputation, although they did pay relatively little attention to people piling their bags in front of the emergency exit instead of stowing them - no problem at all unless there is an emergency.

Tuesday, February 24/2009

Maggi drops by in the evening to hear about the trip and share reminiscences of their visit to Egypt last year.

Monday, February 23/2009

We've planned to take a ppicture of the pyramids from our hotel room window - the best view we've ever had - but we wake to a thick dust haze, the sun a faint red dot and the pyramids invisible. Fortunately, it disappears later in the morning and J gets a clear shot.

Being out in Giza, we can't really go too far before eing picked up at noon for the ride to the airport on the other side of Cairo. Not a great deal more on the news about yesterday's bombing. No terrorist group has taken responsibility. Speculation is, as the bombs (there were two ut one failed to detonate) seem to have been homemade that this may have been a protest by a small group, possibly against Egyptian government co-operation with Israel over Gaza, which angered many Egyptians.

Abdoul and driver collect us. The long drive to the airport gives us chat time and some of the chat becomes philosophical, Abdoul telling us his feelings about culture, religion and a Czech girl - a tourist guide - whom he had considered marrying.

The airport has been renovated and is quite modern, apart from marginally acceptable washrooms. It's equuipped with the obvious duty free shops as well as Starbucks, McDonalds's and similar, and - more interestingly - Italian, British and American lounges. So called, at least, though they all look like standard cafes. Prices about the same as a Canadian airport.

The flight is full and the meal the same as Friday's but with mango juice in place of orange. Enough chicken breast that I make a doggy bag. One passenger has to be asked to put away his mobile during take off, and the man next to me has his out during landing. Never sure how seriously phones interfere. If it's serious, airlines should be more emphatic, maybe replacing the no smoking signs with no mobile signs. No one tries to smoke any more and if they did they'd be pretty quickly spotted. Nor would smoking cause a crash. Airlines lose credibility by inconsistencies about what is important. For example, serious restrictions on bringing iquids aboard are universal in Europe and North America but Egypt and Israel - the gold standard in security (Israel, not Egypt) - both ignore water bottles but x-ray all luggage, checked as well as unchecked, which rather makes sense if one is to fear terrorists prepared to go down with the plane. Apparently it's not done in North America because it would be too expensive!

Walk back in from the airport. There's been a storm through but it's dry as we leave, though small bits of rain on the way. And home to the Kition.

Sunday, February 22/2009

Breakfast at somewhat lower standard today. Aubergine not on but replaced by fried courgette cakes - ok but not warm, a match for the cold scrambled eggs and today's foule. A waiter seems annoyed when we choose a table with a clean cloth. At another table I spot a different waiter assiduously scraping a bit of encrusted food with a table knife. Mission accomplished, he leaves the knife at its place setting for the next hotel guest to use.

We have a free day today, so some negotiating for a ride to the city centre, made slightlymore difficult by the fact that nobody ever seems to hae change and there is little point in agreeing on a price and then not having the exact fare. We twice meet people who ask, oddly, if we speak Hungarian, and I'm tempted to say, not quite accurately, that nobody speaks Hungarian. Everyone who asks our nationality has the same response - oh yes, Canada Dry (quite a popular drink in the Middle East). In the end we're offered one way down town for 40 Egyptian pounds - about $9 Canadian or five British pounds. We see it's not a taxi but the tourist policeman by the hotel door gives his blessing. Seems the driver drives for the hotel. "Limousine," he says, though that would be overstating it considerably for the green station wagon with decomposing upholstery.

We get out at Tahir Square in the centre, beside a metro station. Our original plan had been to take the metro from Giza, but the hotel staff really only speak hotel English - they can deal with the questions that hotel guests normally ask but can't really cope beyond that, as in where is the nearest metro station. We check out the station, which looks modern and reasonably clean. At the top of the stairs outside the exit a woman sells small packets of tissues, although there don't seem to be any buyers, and feeds a very little child who is seated on her knee. J says, though, that there is much less begging than there was 20 years ago. We're near a bridge over the Nile and Cairo here is in its modern city mode; five star hotels, river islands, the rose coloured Egyptian Museum.

We head off with the general intent of picking up a tourist map from the information office shown in the little map in our aged Let's Go. It's not as easy as it might seem, because not all the streets in our little map are named, whereas on the ground all the streets have names in Arabic but only in the centre or on motorways are the streets also labelled in western letters. To add to the difficulty, streets in Cairo, like those in most ancient cities, head off at all angles, so that those that seem parallel as one sets off spin out to opposite corners of the map, so it's important to find the right road.

On Ramses St. we come across a crew of riot police, perhaps fifty of them. There is no visible trouble, but there are large political posters and perhaps a demo is expected. We detour and head east. At one point we pass an Armenian church and the priest invites us in. He doesn't speak English, but his French is excellent, clear and not too fast, and he's quite pleased to show us ihis tranquil church and its full-sized replica of the shroud of Turin. As we go farther from the city centre there are fewer tourists, more street life, bits of markets under bridges, fewer English signs. (Although English on the sign of a shop is by no means an indication that anyone inside the shop speaks English). Dust and rubble increase at street corners. In Egypt it's easy to see how whole civilizations disappear under dust. Here it's made worse by the fact that there seem to be few people who refrain from tossing sweet wrappers and such on the ground as they go.

We had had thoughts of tea at yesterday's cafe but our progress tacking across the city is a bit slow, though interesting, and J still wants to take photos of the Nile, so we head back. Stop for something to eat at KFC - not our first choice in Egypt, both because it's a waste not taking advantage of middle east food and because we're not keen on the high fat fast food route. However the culture in general is not particularly hygienic (witness the waiters drying cups at our hotel, thumb in cup, towel draped over shoulder) and the thought of the food appearing in cardboard box and sterile can is rather encouraging. This morning outside the hotel, we passed a van with a huge tray of loaves of bread balanced on the roof. Two or three of the loaves fell onto the roof of the van and the driver returned them to the tray. It's simply a different view of cleanliness. KFC is better than average, although it's possible to find the washroom without seeing the sign or asking directions.

Stop at five star hotel and buy a newspaper as well as taking advantage of very clean loo. Then a policeman actually escorts us across two streets - more hazardous than it sounds, and referred to by the guide book as a real life game of frogger. We negotiate with the driver of a local black and white taxi, with the help of a by-passer, for a ride back, having brought with us an envelope from the hotel with the address in Arabic. Some discussion amongst driver, bystander and policeman and then agreement at 40 pounds Egyptian again - although this time we have the disadantage of persuading a cabby to go from the centre to Giza at rush hour.

The trip is about an hour and a half, some of it in gridlock. It's made a little longer probably by some adjustments at the Giza end as the driver asks locals for directions and expresses surprise. An interesting drive though. We pass two informal sports bars - cafes with a small television outside and perhaps 75 men on the pavement, some on wooden chairs and some standing, watching the football match in the dusk. Probably the same match to which we are listening at high volume in the taxi. Back at the hotel we head down the street to buy a large bottle of water and two tins of 7-up from a small shop. The purchase comes to 10 Egyptian pounds (about two dollars Canadian) and someone is sent to find change for our 20 pound note. How on earth do the operate?

Back to our room, and it's almost the same place we left. We're down one towel, though someone brought two extra yesterday, but have, mysteriously, acquired an extra armchair, squeezed in with some difficulty as we already had two.

Time to pour a drink (whiskey we brought with us) and watch the news. Then we hear on BBC World the breaking news from Cairo. There has been a bombing at the cafe we visited yesterday and had planned to visit today. Tourists were clearly the target: one young French woman is dead and seventeen people have been injured. Little extra information as the area has been sealed and television shots show mainly police milling in the gathering dark.

Saturday, February 21/2009

Wake to our daylight view of the pyramids, now majestic in the sun, and we can see buses already arriving in front of them. Downstairs for breakfast. It's a bit depressing. Nothing's really all that clean and we know better thaqn to eat salads in Egypt. There's a reasonable variety of white buns and sweet buns, most looking a bit dry. We take cups (choosing the cleanest) of fairly warm coffee and consider the options. J says he doesn't think he's up to the middle east breakfast at this hour of the morning but I want something to start the day's sightseeing with and decide that an advantage to the cooked dishes is that probably nobody has plynged a grubby hand into them. So back to take rice, foule (a standard mideast cooked bean dish) and a garlicky aubergine and onion mixture which has actually been kept fairly hot, as well as being delicious. J tries and is similarly impressed. And we switch to tea, which is hot.

Ayet, our guide for the day, arrives, a friendly young lady in a jean jacket, and we head for the pyramids, a short drive away. The only remaining wonder of the original 7 wonders of the world, so simple and yet so incredibly impressive. Ayet refers to limestone as the best of building materials, but only in such a dry climate would it have survived, and indeed over time the largest pyramid has gone from 146 metres to 137 in height over the past 4500 or so years.

We see the Sphinx, but decline the perfume factory tour, although Ayet points out it's included in our package. Ditto the papyrus making demo, which we agree is very interesting but something we have seen before. This buys us more time at the museum, and J persuades Ayet to forgo the explanations of other exhibits so that we can spend all our time with King Tut's treasures. It's all interesting, from amulets to a hinged, folding camp bed used by the boy king on hunting trips.

The best of it is astonishing. There's the well known death mask, with its eleven kilos of gold and the classic symmetrical face, and the coffins, which fit together like a Russian doll. Two of the three, made of solid gold, are on display, as are the gold inlaid nesting containers they fit inside, each bigger than the last, and the largest one enormous. The most moving of the King Tut exhibits, though, is the throne. It's a gold chair of moderate size, but its back panel has a coloured bas relief of a teenaged King Tut and his young wife, unique in its intimate and informal portrayal of affection. The two have eyes only for each other. He is seated comfortably and she is standing, rubbing his arm with oil. Each wears only one sandal of a pair, a unit only when they are together.

Ayet meets us outside King Tut's rooms by some mummies, calling our attention to one which includes a lock of hair, "given to him by a grandmother as a hair-loom," she tells us seriously. We head off across the city for the Islamic area. Driving in Cairo is not for the faint-hearted. Some streets are impossibly narrow but many are multi-lane, the lanes not always marked as cars four or five abreast fight for space, hands on horns and fenders showing signs of past wars. Most of the traffic is vehicular, but there is the odd cart pulled by a donkey and once we pass a wagon pulled by a donkey yoked with a horse. One would expect more accidents and there are many battle scars but we don't witness any prangs, though we once see a smashed car being carried on a small flatbed.

Ayet, who has sadly given up on us a source of extra tailor-made tours tomorrow, takes us to an outside cafe in a square beside the Sayyidina el-Hussein Mosque (apparently, according to the old Let's Go, the resting place of the skull of the grandson of Mohammed). It's a lovely sunlit spot where locals and tourists mix. As we arrive, a large man wearing shorts and a Hawaiian style shirt climbs into the front of a tourist bus and shouts to his wife "wrong bus!" Most tourists are less cliched looking though, and mix with locals. Ayet has guava juice while J and I drink tea with large sprigs of fresh mint immersed - very refreshing. There are sales attempts every few seconds - watches, jewellery, caps - but nothing too pressing. And we get a chance to chat with Ayet. She doesn't wear the hijab, but agrees most women do, though she says there's no pressure. She's learning Russian because there are increasing numbers of Russian tourists. The cafe is a lovely, cosmopolitan spot. Women walk past carrying large suitcase-sized bundles on their heads, the traditional load now wrapped in bright green plastic. Arabic and English are not the only languages in the air. As we leave, we see a tiny kitten curled under a table.

Back at the hotel we can still hear the traffic from our 10th floor room with the window closed.

Friday, February 20, 2009

Afternoon bus to the airport as we begin our Cairo jaunt. Dougie, the regular bus driver, is about to take a holiday himself. After years, he claims, of never winning anything, he has won two separate holidays, and is about to take the first of them in Athens. For the second he has some choice and is thinking of going to Rome. The airport has been undergoing renovations and has, accordingly, acquired much less general seating space and more things to buy at not especially attractive prices. The duty free shop in generous mode, though, so we sample single malts and chocolates, marking the former down for later purchase.

The flight itself is on Egyptair - about an hour and a quarter to Cairo. Minimalist safety instructions, not including any info on the life jackets, although this is one of the few flights on which a life jacket might be of some use if the plane went down - mostly over water and that water with temperatures above the mid-teens. We do get a fairly nice lunch though, and the best landing cards we've ever seen. They're bright little booklets with the immigration info on a tear-out page, the rest being a souvenir with basic information like useful Arabic phrases (all right, some of them not all that useful, like Merry Christmas) and even a map of the Cairo subway.

We're met on arrival and after visa purchase we're handed to Abdoul, who finds our driver and comes with us to the hotel, the Delta Pyramids. We have room 1001 - shades of Arabian nights. The room isn't large, but it does have a fridge and satellite tv (BBC World, Nile TV, a movie chanel, TV Monde plus Arabic chanels). Bathroom with tub and shower, bidet and middle east water hose as option to toilet paper if desired, as well as a large sink with soap dish artfully tilted to drip onto the floor not the sink. The drama comes, though, when we open the bedroom drapes for a stunning view of the pyramids dramatically backlit for evening.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Canada once again makes it onto BBC World television - live coverage at that - courtesy of Obama's 7 hour visit to Ottawa. So we'll see what adjustments will be made in Harper's efforts to please the Americans as the culture of the new administration takes effect.

Wednesday, February 19/2009

Walk out to M&M's for lunch. Bacalao - a Portuguese casserole with layers of potato, dried fish and tomato - and much nicer than that might sound. Second helpings all round. We get most of the way home before the rain starts, and it's not cold rain.

Tuesday, February 17/2009

Our tickets for Cairo arrive and we hand over the second half of the payment.

Over to the church to meet Liza, the girl who is heading off to Canada as a nanny. She's joining a family in Toronto (Markham) who have 3 year old twins and is nervous, but excited. A lovely girl and we hope, as she does, that it's a nice family. So many Philippine domestic workers here are badly treated - not paid or asked to do work that is beyond their contracts. Sometimes actually abused and often not respected.

Liza has a friend with her and they make tea in the rectory. Liza has made a carrot cake and Fr. Wilhelm and his dog, a German shepherd, join us. We exchange addresses and phone numbers and try to supply information. Most things in Canada are cheaper (but not wine). Her friend in BC lives a very long way away - you could take the train but not in one day. The temperature goes below zero in the winter, but not a lot. And then - will the euro go up or down? Ah, if we knew the answer to that we could be rich. She laughs. Her flight leaves in the early hours of Thursday morning, so this is almost the last minute. Hugs and we say goodbye.

Fr. Wilhelm has always had such a nice, relaxed, familial style, especially with the Philippino girls, whom he encourages to use the rectory to socialize on their day off - "you can cook anything except dried fish" - so we ask if he had sisters. Yes, one older and one younger. He beams: "Blessed among women."

Monday, February 16/2009

M&M to our place for fish chowder, something we haven't had in a long time. The late evening provides a choice of films with Mansfield Park, unfortunately, playing against The Winslow Boy. The latter wins out, so it's Arabic subtitles (from Dubai) rather than Greek ones.

Sunday, February 15/2009

One of the young Philippino girls is leaving for Canada this week and a new future. We don't know her but we do change $40 CAD for her courtesy of Fr. Wilhelm and give him Susan's info on exchanging euros in Canada. Fr. Wilhelm says he tried to persuade the girl to come today to meet us but - he smiles and shrugs - she leaves on Thursday and she's saying goodbye to her boyfriend.

Saturday, February 14/2009

Meet with Leo Leontios in reception to make arrangements for a long weekend ini Cairo. Next weekend if there is availability. He brings with him two small boys, a son and a nephew, who have been promised a treat if they're good, which they certainly are.

Lovely sunny morning for market. They now know our "usual" - two black Cyprus coffees - at the cafe. Two elderly men sit next to us in their usual full sun spot. Well equipped electronically with mobiles and, (one of them) a watch that reads the time aloud.

Six eggs. It's rare in this part of the world to buy a dozen as some would probably not be used while they were at their freshest. As the woman puts our eggs in a small bag, a tiny white feather floats off. A good sign. Then tomatoes (still with garden earth clinging), a cauliflower, a bag of oranges and some broccoli. Also a stop at the little deli for two litres of Spanish wine and a bottle of Cypriot.

Come across a short story of John Updike's saved for a rainy day from a UK Sunday supplement. Saved before Updike's death, but we read it now. His descriptions as spot on as Alice Munro's but with a nice masculine imagery.

Friday, February 13/2009

Drive up to Nicosia with M&M. We've never been since the Ledra Street crossing was opened. One only has to walk up the pedestrian mall that stretches from north to south across the old city (the only divided city left in the world) and show passports on the Turkish side to get a 90 day visa, kindly supplied on separate pieces of paper so as not to render the passports useless in Cyprus and Greece. A two minute procedure and no more razor wire in evidence.

Maggi and Magne are spending the weekend (their anniversary being on Vaentine's Day not Friday the 13th). After they leave the car in a carpark building, inconveniently furnished with a machine that books 10 hours maximum and is incapable of argument - with the encouragement of a regular customer who says they dono't check on weekends - we separate, they to lunch at a restaurant that features sheep's heads and we to cross to the north.

The formalities are quick and the north is waiting for tourists. the shops are less upscale, but goods are on display outside and the proprietors as happy to take euros as Turkish lira, most using an exchange rate of one euro to two lira. North Nicosia, or the part within the old Venetian city wals, is all charm, and thanks to the EU many of the Ottoman buildings are being preserved and restored. There are empty windows without glass, but also pointed stone arches, ainted wooden shutters and traditional Turkish balconies. It's warm and it's alive. Behind the main mosque (once a church) little girls play hopscotch on the pavement. Mothers with long skirts and hijabs (though this is not a strictly observant country) carry babies. A beautifully marbled cat curls up on a fabric display in the sun just past the antique shop. A man getting into his car stops to point out the one time church turned hamman (or Turkish bath house, so old that its arched door is more than half sunk below street level.

We stop to eat lunch, doner pitas stuffed with lamb from the spit at a little tabe outside the friendly but too hot cafe where we have eaten before. It's in a pedestrian way, a good people watching spot. As we leave, the cook tells us his son is studying in Minnesota. Then J buys Turkish red pepper at a stall in the covered market.

Back in the south we wait for the bus and read the notices fixed to the bus shelter walls. One begins "Good news" - but proves to be an advertisement for young students rather than a religious message:

"This is first time in Cyprus only 4 Asian children's. Are you worried about your children's to study English and maths? Am British qualified childcare and kindergarten teacher. I will teach English and maths only for Asian children's. The tuition fee is affordable."

One would suppose that EU countries do not allow limiting teaching to one particular ethnic group, but in this case it would clearly be preferable if fewer rather than more "children's" enroll.

Signs on buildings as we leave Nicosia: "Ecclesiastical Insurance" - protecting bell towers or parishioners? "Twenty-four hour self video" - the ultimate in narcissism?

Thursday, february 12/2009

A mushroom artichoke sauce for the spaghetti - amazingly good. Would try it in Canada except we remember what passes for artichokes in our part of the country.

Wednesday, February 11/2009

Two pretty good and two pretty bad computers at the student internet. The two good ones have been out of order for a week, the only advantage being that most users are too discouraged to show up so that sometimes, between crashes, it's retty quiet, almost contemplative. The good have been "fixed" - or at least lost their out of order signs - and are almost instantly virus ridden.

Tuesday, February 10/2009

Banks as thick on the ground as travel agencies here, frequently more than one to the block. The ground floor of our hotel has one, and there are two in the building immediately across the road (the Lebanese and Gulf Bank and an investment bank) and one in the building kitty corner to us - and this isn't unusual density. They seem to be surviving the crisis reasonably well, in part probably, because loans come out of investments rather than from borrowed funds.

Monday, February 9/2009

Yesterday's weird end of world hazy light explained in a way athat sounds exotic to our western ears but probably isn't to the locals. The explanation is a dust haze, the dust moving in from the Sahara, which happens periodically here.

Sunday, February 8/2009

A kind of strange end of world look when we open the morning curtains. Morning light but high cloud cover and not a speck of sun. It's not cold though. Stop at the bakery after Mass. We're still buying the rye loaves studded with sesame seeds, and this time they're still warm. Regrettably probably the last time for the koulouri. They've got smaller and more expensive (45 euro cents each) and this time they're not even fresh. No longer a pleasure unfortunately.

Saturday, February 7/2009

Lovely day for market. It's not ony vegetables and fruit. We thread our way past a blue plastic crate half filled with snails. There are some grubby lettuce leaves on top which I first take for rubbish but decide must be snail food. Some time we'll try the fungoid shaped Jerusalem artichokes, but not this week.

After market place coffee we go back to have lunch with M&M. Salt herring, and nicely done, with strawberries and kiwis for dessert, on the balcony overlooking the sea. As lovely as winter gets. Shirtsleeve weather in the sun, sea breeze, a drink in hand and good friends.

Friday, February 6/2009

The BBC struggles with the problem of political correctness with uneven results. So when Carol Thatcher, daughter of former prime minister Margaret Thatcher, says, during a conversation in the green room after a show, that a French tennis player looks like a gollywog she is sacked. Whereas Jeremy Clarkson, the motorsport presenter, who is of far more value to the BBC, refers to Prime Minister Gordon Brown as a "one-eyed Scottish idiot" he is not. But then Thatcher initially refused to apologise, whereas Clarkson says that he was wrong to call Gordon Brown one-eyed and Scottish - but maintains that he is an idiot.

Thursday, February 5/2009

Maggi's planned a night out, so we meet at Napoli Pizza, M armed with a full page review of the place in her handbag. The pizza is indeed as filling as promised in the review and it's a friendly informal place.

Then back to our own hotel. The Kition's entertainment claim to fame is Thursday evening when "Ian sings the golden oldies." And he does, with a wide repertoire of songs from the 50's and 60's. Two fifty a drink but no cover charge and a small dance floor, and there's clearly a small regular contingent of (mostly) Swedes and Brits. I tease J about being the best looking guy there and he says he thinks just the yougest. It's a mellow crowd all right, but quite pleasant.

Wednesday, February 4/2008

The rest of the year is sliding into place as we book two 2 week stints with the Welby in London. That should be enough to make the pound rebound sharply.

February 3/2009

Sunny with high close to 20. Walk out to Orphanides supermarket, nting flats to let. Seems any clean and modern flat is described as "luxury" in Cyprus. According to the Sunday paper the tourist trade will shortly be in major difficulty (last Sunday's headline: Hoteliers told drop rates or face disaster). this is linked to the world financial problems, particularly the drop in value of sterling (half the tourist business is UK). It's also linked to price increases in Cyprus that seem well beyond those reflecting the strength of the euro and, ironically, to deliberate government policy to lower the number of low cost tourist beds in the hope that they wil be replaced with higher cost places attracting a better class of tourist. Instead of the more desirable tourist appearing in large numbers, they have been shocked to find that companies have been considering Turkey and Egypt better value for money. It's a year or two back now that we read a letter to the Cyprus Weekly saying how much more tourists paid to visit Monaca - and wondered if the writer had ever been to Monaco and nted things like the modern plumbing (most Cypriot and Greek plumbing won't take toilet paper due to ridiculously narrow pipe diameter) and sidewalks free of broken paving stones and misparked cars.

And when we reach Orphanides I notice that the price of salad greens, admittedly not an expensive item in Cyprus, has risen from 15 Cypriot cents a bunch (24 euro cents) to 35 euro cents since last year, a 46% increase.

February 2/2009

The two good computers at the student internet are still down (still that is since Saturday) leaving some rather despondent queuing for the two badly performing ones remaining.

J and I stop at Top Kinesis travel agency and inquire about holiday packages, a necessity as well as a pleasure as we can only stay in Cyprus 90 consecutive days, which won't take us to our return flight to London. The only thing on offer is a week at Sharm El Sheik, but a beach holiday playing hotel is not really our scene. Could they arrange something in Crete? The girl will check. Give her a few hours and she will telephone. We wonder, not for the first time, how all the travel agencies in Cyprus manage to survive. Given a secure computer, I could probably set up the same package in less time and more cheaply, so who is using all the travel agents? There are seldom clients inside as we walk past and most of the package holidays in the windows have disappeared. But there are a great many travel agencies, unlike in London where most of them seem to have been replaced by mobile phone shops.

London - now under a foot of snow. Canadian weather but without Canadian equipment from snowplows and snow tires to aluminum shovels and warm tall boots. To say nothing of winter driving skills. But it will melt with uncanadian dispatch.

Sunday, February 1/2009

Sunday afternoon walk. Stop at the crowded second hand shop to find some reading material. There are plenty of books but they're hard to access, piled two layers deep and hard to see in the dark shop. I move whole stacks at a time to peer behind at other stacks, carefully replacing not only books but ornaments and kitsch piled on top whenever a book sticks out far enough to make this possible. A clothes hanger with 3 colourful neckties dangles in front of one shelf. For the bottom shelf I sit on the floor and inspect one handful at a time. There is an amazing variety from Barry Goldwater to play scripts to manuals on breastfeeding. In the end I emerge with four read aloud candidates - Pride and Prejudice (which neither of us has read recently), Dickens' Hard Times, John Mortimer's Titmuss Regained and Edith Sitwell's The Queens and the Hive, history of Elizabeth I and Mary Queen of Scots. I bargain a little to get them for three euro instead of four, and would have bargained harder had I noticed how ruthlessly annotated the Austen and Dickens are, scarcely a page of either untouched by childishly handwritten explanations and lipstck coloured highlighting - a far more thorough job than most undertaken by my own former students. No petering out here after the opening chapters. As they are Penguin editions, I have not even checked inside until after paying my money.

A walk along the waterfront and we sit on a bench watching the endless Sunday parade of walkers, local and tourist. Sundays are always semi-carnival mode along here. Family groups, tourist couples, foreign workers and stalls with ice cream and helium filled animal shaped balloons. From the other side of the street we can smell the sugar of the candy floss. Sunny and warm and the scent of flower beds under the palm trees. Hotels and cafes on one side of the road and lttle stalls along the beach on the other. Benches on both sides for people watching. And the one way street a constant stream of traffic crawling past, much of it people out to see and be seen. The same cars circle by several times.

The tv schedule promises the film Keeping Mum with Rowan Atkinson in the evening, but for the second time in a month it doesn't appear, a not unusual occurrence in Cyprus. In this case it's replaced with Zorro - fifty some years after the time when J and I would have considered the sword play a great treat.

Saturday, January 31/2009

Coffee at our market cafe in the morning. Plastic tables and chairs crowded together but we manoeuver ours into the sun.

We finish reading Anita Brookner's The Next Big Thing, not exactly as penance but certainly as discipline, because it's Brookner and because we've begun it and because we're rapidly running out of reading material. We're left tempted to check online for reviews other than those on the jacket

Friday, January 30/2009

Brief afternoon rain with bits of hail. Not exactly tropical pattern but we've been getting days that begin cloudless, become sullen around noon and provide brief rain. Warm enough though. If we miss the weather in English we can always pick it up in Greek. A weather map is easy to read. The word for tomorrow in Greek is avrio. For tonight it is something written in Greek letters but pronounced a-popsy. Quite humerous to Anglo ears.

M&M come to dinner and J makes goulash.