Sunday, January 27/2013

From the Cyprus Mail on Sunday: 30 protected wild birds were found by Larnaca police and game officials in two restaurants. Apparently restaurants frequently offer songbirds as delicacies in spite of their being protected. Either more upscale restaurants than we frequent or offered discreetly to local afficionados. Fortunately for us. Though in China there seemed to be no bird too small or delicate to appear on the plate, and in Vietnam one restaurant we visited in Hanoi had a menu that looked like a list of endangered species.

Saturday, January 26/2013

Coffee at the little café next to the place where we both get our hair cut. Maggi has a frappé and J and I Cyprus coffees. Beer, as usual, little more than Nescafé. M has cycled over to her new flat by way of delivering her bike there, preparatory to her move next week,and then walked in to join us. She says twenty minutes, so not at all bad and actually fractionally shorter than our walk to St Lazarus.

We finish reading aloud The Provincial Lady Visits the USSR. I discovered Diary of a Provincial Lady, by E M Delafield, last winter and loved it Circa 1930, it's the lightly fictionalised diary of a middle class woman living iin rural Devonshire and balancing domestic difficulties, family life, friends and unpaid bills with wit and disarming honesty. Apparently it's never been out of print, and was followed by a number of sequels, including the Soviet Union visit we've been reading. This one particularly interesting for its view of the Soviet Union in Stalinist times, only twety years after the revolution - and, incidentally, describing visits to places that we went to ourselves in 1991, in the last weeks of the Soviet Union. Delafield died much too young, in 1943 at the age of 53, which, in a sadly ironic way, has been our good fortune, as books in ost countries are no longer under copyright 70 years after the author's death, so as of 2013 it has become easy, free and legal to download her books onto the book reader. Actually, the Provincial Lady books set in England are equally interesting, in their reflection of a world in which domestic circumstances have changed so much and human nature and relationships so little.

Friday, January 25/2013

Drinking coffee on the waterfront and watching the palm trees blowing in the breeze and the intensely blue Mediterranean. Thinking about the deep freeze at home, feel guilty about even mentioning it. Palm trees here are often planted right in the middle of the sidewalk, which provides nice shade but most be an incredible nuisance to people with prams or wheelchairs.

Thursday, January 24/2013

Mr Andreas has invited the long-stay residents to a small barbecue at one. Maggi and I have taken, unkindly perhaps, to calling him Uriah Heep (after Dickens' overly 'umble character), as even in issuing the invitation he is almost wringing his hands in apology for interrupting my low key web surfing. It's kind, though, and before one we can smell the pork souvla cooking - knuckles of pork with meat of varying tenderness attached, finger food for all but the most fastidious. there are also chips and village bread and a large bowl of salad, as well as wine and beer (Coke too, but I don't see anyone drinking it). It's  held in the courtyard by the swimming pool. (Have never seen anyone swimming in the pool, but it's shirtsleeve weather and one could). The long-stayers are mostly Norwegian, and M, of course, speaks Norwegian, having lived in Norway since the 80's. but many of the Norwegians speak quite good English, and we visit with Knut and Rigmar (sp?), the couple from the studio next door, both of them artists. Amateur? Don't know , but they've spent time working at a studio in Florence and are interesting to talk to. Knut, his wife says, learned English at school, but she lived in the country where it was't offered and had to teach herself - making an excellent job of it.Really, the occasion would have been a pleasure with the drink and chat even if there were no food. As J pours my first glass of wine into the light plastic cup, Phitos backs into me, spilling wine on my hand and the paving stones. Wouldn't mind except for looking tipsy before having a drink but no one pays any heed at all, least of all Phitos who seems quite unaware of having done it.

Wednesday, January 23/2013

We wake in the night in the middle of a rather good segment that BBC5 provides as part of the Up All Night program. A scientist gives bits of newish or obscure information and answers questions on a wide variety of scientific topics that are phoned or texted or emailed in. Tonight the scientist is explaining the success of faecal transplants in cases of C Difficile. It sounds, of course, both disgusting and improbable, but I happen to have seen an article on same today in The Atlantic, and there seem to have been some brilliant results.

This is followed by a man phoning in who sounds highly educated and who is explaining in some technical detail about nanobacteria, and going into further detail about medical implications. It begins by sounding interesting and I take him quite seriously even on the curative possibilities of couch grass, until he says that his mother was on antibiotics for two and a half years before he was born (OK, plausible) for reasons he can't say over the radio (what, distinctly odd). Then he finishes with the information that he listens to the radio at night to keep his mind off the abductors. A nutter!

Tuesday, January 22/2013

J for a haircut today - finally no queue. Interestingly (well, minorly so) all haircutting establishments are closed on Thursdays - tradition or law? After Christmas sales used to be regulated by law - couldn't begin until a particular date - but that seems to have disappeared. Thanks to the EU? And still in the only in Cyprus category, there is local parking. Locals park in "no parking" zones and, chronically on (and blocking) sidewalks, the general understanding being that the police are reluctant to upset things by handing out fines to important people or even friends of friends. this morning J hears an agitated policeman addressing a Cypriot sitting at an outdoor café. Eventually the man rises and walks slowly back to his misparked car nearly a block away and moves it to comply. No ticket and a hard job persuading the coffee drinker to take it seriously. And did the policeman know not only whose car it was but where he was to be found?

Israelis vote today, with the almost certain result being a Netanyahu coalition that moves even further to the right.

Monday, January 21/2013

Reading Tony Benn's memoirs on the ebook reader. A nice antidote to Tony Blair's memoirs, which we're still reading aloud, and covering the same period. Amazingly, Benn, who will be 88 in April, is still on the lecture circuit in a low key sort of way. Two talks currently scheduled for this year. The one in April is in Nottingham, not impossible, but not easy either.

Sunday, January 20/2013

Who says that we don't get any Canadian news in the winter? Well, actually in the electronic age, we do. When we began travelling in the winter we made use of internet cafés, sharing the facilities with teenage boys addicted to online games and often using strange keyboards that distorted Anglo touch typing bizarrely. Now, though, with netbook, tablet and wifi in the lobby we have, really, as much Canadian news as we have time for, despite the fact that increasing amounts of it hides behind paywalls. However, this morning`s Canadian news is on the front page of the Cyprus Sunday Mail and in large print: Canada put 'wrong' maple leaf on new C$20 bill.

Saturday, January 19/2013

Down to Lidl's in the morning, lured by Australian Shiraz at €2 a bottle. Nearly sold out, but we settle for two bottles, cautious about probable quality (dinner later proves that it's very nice and we should have bought more - one day sale).

Go with M to Aradippou to pick up a second lamp for her flat, and continue in search of a coffee spot in Aradippou, which still has a village centre, though it's sprawled into Larnaca suburb. but the centre seems relatively dead, though there's an attractive church. Where are the old men playing backgammon outside the village café? We do eventually find a coffee shop but it's Nescafé only - in fact mostly young people with cokes. Is there a café around? Yes, straight ahead. We continue, and ask again. Yes, says a young woman, right in here. There's a door just past the hairdresser's and inside a couple of tables, although the interior is shared with the hairdresser's. We order Cypriot coffee and it comes with a plate of biscuits which the woman says she has made herself. Very nice. But when we go to pay they refuse. No, no says the man. Genuine village hospitality. But was it a café at all? (No sign, no menus, no board with prices, only two tables) or just the hairdresser and her family being very kind?

Friday, January 18/2013

Maggi brings home small Turkish pizzas made by a young woman in her Greek language class and kindly shares them with us, along with a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.

Thursday, January 17/2013

Presidential election campaigns continue against a backdrop of Cyprus's wait for EU bailout, with fiscal requirement anything up to €17.5 billion. Much debate as to accuracy of final figures, apportioning of blame, need for privatisation, etc.

Wednesday, January 16/2013

Theory is that J will go for overdue haircut (length only somewhat disguised by curls) and then meet me at 10 at the tourist information building for the walking tour of Larnaca. Haircut doesn't materialize due to surprising length of queue. So we meet at the tourist information and debate whether we actually want to go - settled by my saying yes to a woman who demands to know whether we're there for the walk.

It's not bad, overall. Led by a woman with copper coloured nailpolish and an engaging style, though a tendency to rhetorical questions, of the sort one feels silly either answering or looking like one doesn't know the answers to, and a habit of exaggerated repetition. Probably occupational hazards. It's a pretty international group - a Russian couple, a Finn, a Mexican man, a Peruvian girl, and a tall American from LA who has been travelling the world for a year and a half and has just landed here yesterday. Not horrifically political, although we do hear that the Turkish Cypriot North has left the city of Famagusta totally empty as a bargaining chip - imagine, she repeats it twice, the whole city. There is a vacant area of no access, but scarcely the whole city. We've been to Famagusta more than once, and indeed some of the others may have gone as well, as it's easy to book tours from the south, which makes the whole rhetoric somewhat ridiculous.

The tour heads along the waterfront and then up into the workshop area. On the street where carpentry and metalwork shops are side by side we see two enormous stills, one of them copper. Stills are used for distilling zivania, the local version of schnapps, and, more surprisingly, rose water, a standard ingredient in Cypriot baking. round the corner is a shop where the wool-like stuffing from flax is used to fill pillows and mattresses, made by the last artisan of his kind locally.

 And another veteran craftsman across the road makes very specialized wax images, to be used as votive offerings. In the shape of various organs and limbs, or even babies, they are made to present at church as an accompaniment to prayers for recovery from illness or for the birth of a child - and seem to have a history that goes well back into pagan times.  Apparently a woman praying to have a child will, if successful, name the infant after the patron saint of the church where the prayers were made. which would make one wish to choose the church with care, avoiding, for example, St Lazarus (which is on our route) and looking for a St Michael or St John in its place. The old man who makes the  images is 94 and looks much younger. He's asked for the secret of his successful aging and says that he eats sparingly, mostly fruit and vegetables with very little meat, hardly drinks alcohol, and is never jealous or angry. Even at 94, he's good-looking and on the wall is a large poster showing the son who has inherited the family talent for music (father is a violinist) and is a professional singer in Greece with a remarkable resemblance to Elvis.

Tuesday, January 15/2013

New sign at Carrefour stating that VAT increase is now in effect, and that in the case of a difference between the posted price and the checkout price the checkout price will prevail. Seems that VAT increases don't apply to food (or wine!) though, so our milk and olive paste are as marked.

Monday, January 13/2013

M and I join J down on the waterfront at McDonald's for coffee. Then J and I to the travel agency near St Lazarus Church re short break advertised in window - to Bucharest. Break necessary as well as desirable as we can only stay ninety days at a time on a Canadian passport. Can scarcely imagine how the agency is likely to continue in business. The girl (from whom we have had good service in the past) is clearly eager to leave (an appointment?) and the older man (manager?) sadly photocopies the Bucharest info, agrees that it is a good deal, but shakes his head over the suggestion of other possibilities. Not now, not without a long weekend, it would be possible but expensive. His worries about the expense precede our own and make it hard to work up much enthusiasm. Eventually he volunteers that Ryanair does fly to Chania, in Cretec from Paphos, but Ryanair itself doesn't engender much enthusiasm.

In the afternoon with Maggi to recommended store re carpet for her new flat. Carpets prove mostly garish (and has shag really come in again?) or too expensive. However, amazingly good price on glass and metal patio table with two chairs (€25, £20.70, $32.75CAD), which we shoehorn into the car. Then stop at a lighting store where M acquires a new bronzish floor lamp for reading. also fitted in to car, and all to flat.

J has cut his thumb on cracked bayonet style lightbulb, so persuade him to use small amount of vodka as disinfectant.

Sunday, January 13/2013

Sunday papers not the long read they would be in London, but still nice with brunch. Today's "only in Cyprus" offering: apartments with a common area must by law have an advisory committee of residents to administer it, which must be registered with the land office BUT the land office is refusing to accept such registrations. Hence poor maintenance, non-payment of communal fees, and other predictable problems with no apparent solution.

Saturday, January 12/2013

Maggi and Kiki and I have booked an excursion, a freebie put on by the Larnaca regional tourist bureau, taking us, we're told, to the villages of Lefkara and Tochni. We're not alone. The young Lithuanian men and some Russian women from our hotel go, and there are other pick up stops until the big touring coach is full - the last joiners a large contingent of Poles from the Flamingo hotel along Makenzy Beach.

Eleni, the guide, Maggi remembers from years back. She's quite good - informative, if a bit relentless, and not too badly distorting on the issue of Cypriot history. In Lefkara we're greeted outside the town hall with a happily brief speech and plastic glasses of wine, billed ominously as medium sweet but actually a bit like Dubonnet, slightly lemony and rather nice in an aperitif sort of way. It's accompanied by almonds - the freshest I've ever tasted, sweet and crunchy. Eleni takes us on a walk through the steep little streets and lanes, cobbled and so narrow that in places a little bridge, mini version of Venice's bridge of sighs, links two houses across a lane. Many of the houses have been beautifully restored but the weather is chilly enough that the women who make the lace for which the village is famed are mostly indoors and not working in their doorways. Maggi, Kiki and I have coffee a corner café with an attractive but relatively ineffectual fireplace, and Kiki produces from her handbag a bag of lovely biscuits her sister has baked.

Then off by coach to a restaurant where we see a demonstration of Cypriot breadmaking. Quite interesting: there's a sourdough style starter and a mixing bowl that is actually a rectangular trough, about two feet long, and the woman adds alternately warm water and flour. Traditionally, the guide says, mothers gave the starter to their daughters at marriage. Then the five loaves are put in the round indentations in a long board and left to rise before being baked on a pizza style paddle in a beehive-shaped outdoor oven. There's time for lunch, and M, K and a have moussaka, salad and a glass of red wine, and I tease Kiki about her "magic" handbag, from which she produces little sesame and nut confections at the end of our meal. Then return trip. My seatmate, Danuka, is from Krakow, here on a two week holiday with her husband.

Treats not over for the day, as we join M in her flat for g&t and meze - lovely little snacks including her excellent tzatziki and a very nice pickled herring.

Friday, January 11/2013

The Norwegians are arriving, a couple at a time, and we find ourselves smiling and greeting like old friends. Arvid and Eva next door are the first. After the dinner that Mr Andreas, the manager, treated us to last year we all feel that we know one another (well, the Norwegians already did). Many of them speak very good English and were we next-door-down-the-hall neighbours with any of them in, say, China, with no other westerners about we would socialize, but here they understandably have a better time speaking Norwegian.

Thursday, January 10/2013

J and I for a walk over to the warehouse - a discount store where almost everything is simply piled in boxes, many of them labelled €1.99. The warehouse itself is enormous and the variety of goods is huge as well - cheap Christmas ornaments, detergents, radios, shoes, cushions, flyswatters, plastic toys, scent, office furniture, umbrellas, clothing, bags of sugar, tools, pressure washers, carpets, cases of beer and soft drinks, clocks, instant coffee, crockery, bottles of wine, reading glasses, and many etceteras. The list could go on endlessly. Much of it is cheaply made and not everything is a bargain. The flyswatters at €1.99 are no better than Carrefour's at 80 cents. Some things, like the pressure washers, are justifiably expensive. Others, like the bottles of wine at €1.29, are probably worth no more than they cost. And there's the old trick of selling things in unnecessary quantities: does anyone really want three mousetraps - better built or not? Still, and interesting place - and vast.

Kiki, in reception, says that there has been snow not only in the Troodos Mountains but in Paphos, where schools and the airport have closed. Of course it doesn't take a lot of snow to shut things down when people don't have snow tyres, equipment, or driving skills to deal with it.

Wednesday, January 9/2013

Unseasonably cold weather for Cyprus, though not wet. Three degrees when we get up - virtually unheard of here. And windy. Struggles up into the double digits though. And should be in the teens by the weekend. Off to get an overdue haircut, having avoided the queue at our regular spot over the holiday season. No queue at all on this chilly midweek morning in ordinary time. I've taken the bookreader but it's not needed. And the hairdresser gets to take his time. I've never had a bad haircut here, and the prices have crept up over the years, but not very far (haircut €10, £8.15, $12.90 CAD). Men`s less, I think.

Stop at the farther Smart discount shop on the way home. There`s a sign by the door where people leave shopping baskets, etc - though not enjoined to do so - telling customers that management is not responsible for "missing private things." Sounds both scary and slightly indecent.

At Metro someone behind me says "Excuse me" and I obligingly move to the side of the aisle, expecting a shopping cart squeezing through. But no, it's Zoe, the relief receptionist from the Athene Hotel where we used to stay six years - and further - back. Our favourite of the many places here, with a southern exposure and stunning sea views, closed in order to make luxury apartments. Though surely they must have lost money in the process, as they are only just reaching the point of selling their new flats now. Zoe isn't working any longer, which may be a comment on the economy, but she is bus, babysitting the third and soon the fourth grandchild.

Tuesday, January 8/2010

Looking at the rest of the season - and at my passport, which expires in September. Many, if not most, countries require one to have a passport with six months left on it, so our choices are now limited. Particularly annoying for Canadians as we still have (or I do anyway - has it changed yet?) five year passports, unlike Brits, Americans, etc, whose passports last ten years. Furthermore Canadian passport offices are quite pompous about refusing to renew a passport with more than a year left on it. Had I wished to renew it before we left, and waited until it was four years old, I would have had a bare five weeks to hope for the new one to come through. To say nothing of paying for a new passport every four, not five, years. Rant over.

Monday, January 7/2013

Winter is catch up on reading time, and as always we're reading multiple books. As well as the ones aloud (and Tony Blair, while interesting, is a disorganised and repetitive writer, as well as self-congratulatory), I'm reading Elizabeth Jane Howard`s autobiography, Slipstream, and Stieg Larsson's The Girl Who Played with Fire. Slipstream is interesting in part for the literary and public figures that people it, but the early part, first quarter or so, is particularly interesting because it shows how very highly autobiographical the four volume Cazalet Chronicles are. Most of the main characters in Howard's life are very familiar to a reader of her quartet. Stieg Larsson is also on the bookreader, but this time courtesy of the Ontario Public Library system which allows electronic borrowing as easily from Cyprus or Morocco as from Sioux Lookout. Well, not quite as easily, as it's only possible to log in to the Ontario Public Library system when the SL library is open, and there's an eight hour time difference here. Easy to borrow a book at midnight though.

Sunday, January 6/2013

Epiphany. Somewhat less obvious for being on a Sunday. If it fell on a weekday that day would become a holiday. There will be a procession from St Lazarus Church - supposed second burial place of the Biblical Lazarus - down to the waterfront, involving both Orthodox clergy in full regalia and the military, always an odd looking combination to non-Cypriot eyes. We usually go as it's holiday spirit down at the beach - balloons, candy floss, etc. But it's cool and overcast and windy, so we don't bother. Must be a chilly time for the young men who always dive for the honour of retrieving the cross thrown in the sea by the archbishop - never lost as it remains tied to the end of a cord.

Saturday, January 5/2013

Petrol station strike in effect - or ending? - across the island. The issue is the demand by station owners that the government stop issuing licences to new stations as there isn't enough revenue to go around.  An interesting objection from a private sector that complains about Christofias' communist government, although in fact the government hasn't been all that communist and the real objection is to the government's having gone bankrupt under Christofias' watch. And that would probably have happened regardless of who had won the last election. As with Greece the transition to democracy was somewhat incomplete, with nepotism and corruption at the top a permanent feature. And not only at the top - right down to who does or does not get parking tickets as the policeman on the beat visibly struggles to identify the owner of the offending vehicle. And there is no sign of life from behind the closed doors of the beautiful (colonial architecture) police station as young hoods speed past on motorbikes or in cars with illegal Hollywood mufflers.

Friday, January 4/2013

Make lemon curd for the first time this year. Amazingly intensely lemony, with fresh lemons (from Kiki's tree this time but the greengrocer's ones are almost as fresh), sugar, butter, and eggs. About ten minutes in the microwave. J arrives back with fresh bread from our favourite bakery - whole wheat and rye, studded with sesame seeds.

Thursday, January 3/2013

Accompany M as she goes for what (she hopes) will be her final interview for a yellow paper, proof of permission for permanent residency. J and I stroll out on the fishing piers where the little boats are moored. And many are genuinely little - about sixteen feet. There's a reel on the front for winding up the nets and most boats have several tubs full of fishing nets. J counts twenty-five on one The reel gives the boats a dragon style silhouette from a distance, so when we lived at the Athene, looking out over the sea, we used to talk of the dragon boats coming home in the morning. M back all smiles with yellow paper in hand. Now free to register for the health system.Accompany M as she goes for what (she hopes) will be her final interview for a yellow paper, proof of permission for permanent residency. J and I stroll out on the fishing piers where the little boats are moored. And many are genuinely little - about sixteen feet. There's a reel on the front for winding up the nets and most boats have several tubs full of fishing nets. J counts twenty-five on one The reel gives the boats a dragon style silhouette from a distance, so when we lived at the Athene, looking out over the sea, we used to talk of the dragon boats coming home in the morning. M back all smiles with yellow paper in hand. Now free to register for the health system.

Wednesday, January 2/2013

A statutory holiday in Cyprus, like New Year's Day, so shops shut as well as offices. Only cafés open, so J, M and I down to the beach for coffee - well, J down to walk on the sand but M and I join him for coffee. Ironically the best non-Greek coffee is McDonald`s. Actually (as in Canada) quite good. But here it sells for €1 (£.81, $1.29 CAD), while Nescafé, the normal alternative to Greek coffee throughout the island, is almost universally €2. Good spot along the beach for watching the waves and the world go by.

Tuesday, January 1/2013

New Year`s Day. And a lovely, lazy day it is. We`re reading Tony Blair`s memoirs aloud (borrowed from Jenny`s father) as well as Staying On on the Kobo (Booker Prize winner by Paul Scott of Raj Quartet fame). Invited to New Year`s dinner by Maggi and very nice it is too - beef stroganoff which has been simmering happily for the afternoon, followed by creme brulée (with cake for J who is underappreciative of creme brulée). Watch a Pierce Brosnan comedy while drinking brandy. A lovely start to the year.

Monday, December 31/2012

New Year's Eve. Starts out with the town extremely busy as everyone buys last minute groceries and runs last minute errands. Sadly, the old New Year`s Eve tradition of small businesses barbecuing outside the premises and inviting passersby to join them in eating - and usually freeflowing drinking - seems almost to have disappeared. We run into Aylsa at Carrefour. J inquires about the rescued dogs they give home to - seven at the moment, to say nothing of cats and birds. Alsa herself has been plagued with bronchitis, though, and is not completely recovered. Home with another huge bags of oranges (€1.70, £1.38, $2.23 CAD for 22 large oranges).

New Year's Eve celebrations have apparently been cancelled in Nicosia and Paphos - the money going to go to hungry children instead. Larnaca, it seems, has compromised. There is to be a scaled back event, (J has seen a concert staged being erected) and some fireworks are planned. Originally we think of going, but as the evening passes we're reluctant to leave the cosiness of the flat and end up pouring ourselves a dram of whisky and watching the fireworks from the sliding doors to the balcony. And scaled back they are, unspectacular and lasting about three and a half minutes - not really worth the walk down, though it's always exciting to be in a crowd as the year turns. But we can hear the blast from the ships' horns in the harbour as 2013 hits.

Sunday, December 30/2012

Visit Margaret, who is now resident in the rest home run by the Franciscan sisters. She broke hip and shoulder and dentures in a fall, and after two weeks in hospital moved to the rest home, adjacent (and in fact attached) to the Catholic church. It's clean and attractive with pretty, serene gardens on either side. But probably too quiet and serene. Most of the other residents don't speak English and some are beyond intelligent conversation in any case. The sisters seem kind, but the worst part is that everyone has meals brought to their rooms on trays - and therefore each person eats alone. it seems a sad arrangement. The rooms themselves seem nice enough, though; Margaret has one door opening onto the corridor and one opening on an outside garden. Inside, besides the bed, there are two chairs, a fridge covered with magnets (souvenirs of her past travels), a dresser well covered with Christmas cards and photographs and a television. Comfortable, but lonely.

Saturday, December 29/2012

Overcast, but warm. We meet Maggi at the café down beside St Lazarus Church. Hordes of pigeons landing and taking off in the courtyard, the takeoff being precipitated by little boys delightedly running into the flock, watched by mothers as amused as the boys at frightening the birds. The Venetian tower of the church is stunning against an increasingly blue sky and we think how difficult - and expensive - it would be to have coffee in a setting like this in Venice - or Rome, or Paris.

Friday, December 28/2012

Long stroll through town, now open for business again. Definitely shirt sleeve weather. Stop at the little charity shop behind the Kition, where a slim woman accompanied by a young boy buys an intensely purple, slinky sequinned dress. New Year's is coming. Carrefour featuring liquor sales again - as they won't on the same scale until next Christmas (bottle of brand name Scotch whisky for €7 - £5.60, $9.35 CAD). Also generous mode with the samples; we`re greeted with tiny cups made of dark chocolate and sitting in gold foil wrappers - drink the Bailey`s they contain and then eat the cup. Christmas carols no longer playing.

Cypriots don`t know how to queue. They frequently work on the Taiwanese principle of pushing in where there`s a space only half a person deep, but it`s not all self-serving. At the post office today I`m trying to establish who is ahead of me. A man is lounging half-way across the room. As he must be there for some purpose, I look inquiringly and he indicates his pile of letters and then points to the wicket. Fortunately the language barrier prevents me from telling him to move up and look like he`s part of a queue.

Thursday, December 27/2012

Losing touch with Canadian politics - not entirely because it's impossible to keep up in the electronic age but in part because it's depressing and, in large part, because we're more in touch with world politics. Particularly, of course, Cypriot, but also UK - as we listen to BBC4 in the morning and BBC5 at night on the radio, broadcast by the British Forces from the nearby base. That is also the source of BBC World radio, with a wider perspective. In fact BBC radio is probably what we would miss most if we relocated to Paphos for the winter,Paphos being too far from the nearest base. We did have Euronews on TV until a week ago. In fact we still do have it but now it's broadcast in Greek instead of English, though the captions (news, headings - there are no subtitles) remain in English. It wasn't wonderful news to begin with, but it was always there. Have found a good streaming source for BBC World TV, but wifi only extends to the lobby.