Tuesday, February 4/2014
The walk down to the waterfront is in itself an interesting commentary on the state of Cyprus. Pass eight shops in a row that are empty, vacant. The ninth is a place offering to pay cash for gold. Best prices, they claim, but it seems unlikely. Opposite the big parking lot where buses as well as cars park a young woman accosts me. Presumably she's asking for money, but as she isn't speaking a language I understand we get no further.
Yesterday I was stopped here by an older woman. I'd just noticed some of the little hard white plastic pipes which we've found here in the past. They're about five inches long, light and hollow but strong. Perfect for putting through the handles of plastic grocery bags to prevent them from digging into your hands. And easy to slip into a pocket in case they're wanted. We'd used bits of dowling before, but these are smaller and lighter but just as efficient. I'd picked up two of these little white cylinders, examined them and slid them into my handbag. The woman, who'd been some distance away, came up to me and began speaking in Greek. I shrugged my incomprehension and she mimed someone smoking. Thinking she wanted a cigarette, I shook my head sorry and we parted. Seemed odd, though. Seventy year old women don't often try to scrounge cigarettes from strangers. In retrospect, I can only assume that she had taken the bits of white plastic to be cigarettes. And then what? Was I really being told not to smoke what I found on the ground?
In the evening with Jane and Bill to the cinema to see Twelve Years a Slave. Extremely comfortable seats but film far too riveting to fall asleep. First time in ages (decades?) we'll have seen an Oscar nominee on the big screen. Only a dozen or so people in a cinema that seats 200. Then back to our place for coffee.
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