J returns after his beach walk and says it's sunny and warm. And so it is - until we head out to Lidl, at which point the sky turns black and it occurs to us, belatedly, that we do have umbrellas, but back at the flat. Luck is with us though. Huge drops of rain begin just as we reach the store and by the time we're finished shopping the thunder and rain are all finished.
Forming a quiet friendship, despite language difficulties, with Mr Walid, a refugee living in the building. Actually he's a double refugee, first from Palestine, most probably expelled during Israeli expansions, and then from Iraq, source of so many refugees. He lives in a small room at the back of the ground floor. Kiki tells us there is no heater, and in a concrete structure this means not only no heat on chilly winter nights but also no cooling in the terribly hot and humid summers. Our age, perhaps - it's hard to tell - he lives a quiet, humble life, centred around his attendance at the mosque. It's just past the end of the beach, about two kilometres away, and he goes three times a day, the first time before dawn. This means that he is there for four of the five prayer times, as he returns after the first two but stays after third prayers to wait for the fourth. At first he made the trip on an old bicycle, but he's been having some medical problems and has been told not to ride, leaving quite a bit of walking. In theory medical treatment is free in Cyprus, but in practice those who don't go to private doctors can wait an unconscionably long time for surgery or specialist treatment. He also attends Greek classes, presumably designed for refugees. A gentle and cheerful soul. If we express hopes for the next day, such as saying the weather should be good, his answer is always a smiling inshallah - God willing. So I look up the Arabic for peace be with you - salaam alaikum (very similar to the Hebrew)
We're forming a quiet friendship, despite language difficulties, with Mr Walid, a refugee living in the building. Actually he's a double refugee, first from Palestine, most probably expelled during Israeli expansion, and then from Iraq, source of so many refugees. He lives in a small room at the back of the ground floor. Kiki tells us there is no heater, and in a room of concrete walls this means not only no heat on chilly winter nights but also no cooling in the terribly hot and humid summers. Our age, perhaps - it's hard to tell - he lives a quiet, humble life, centred around his attendance at the mosque. It's just past the end of the beach, about two kilometres away, and he goes three times a day, the first time before dawn. This means that he is there for four of the five prayer times, as he returns after the first two but stays after third prayers to wait for the fourth. At first he made the trip on an old bicycle, but he's been having some medical problems and has been told not to ride, leaving quite a bit of walking. In theory medical treatment is free in Cyprus, but in practice those who don't go to private doctors can wait an unconscionably long time for surgery or specialist treatment. He also attends Greek classes, presumably designed for refugees. A gentle and cheerful soul. If we express hopes for the next day, such as saying the weather should be good, his answer is always a smiling inshallah - God willing. So I look up the Arabic for peace be with you - salaam alaikum (very similar to the Hebrew) - to greet him and am rewarded with a wreath of smiles and the response wa alaikum salaam, meaning and also unto you.
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