Tuesday, December 29/2015

M

J and I take the 8:20 bus to Bill and Jane's to help transfer Jane to the hospital for doctor's appointment, removal of staples. Chief problem being that it's necessary for Bill to unload Jane and wheelchair and then find parking spot.

Appointment theoretically at ten, by which time parking lot, disabled parking, no parking areas always full, sometimes by cars double parked in no parking zones. Today no exception, so Bill heads off for distant on street parking while the three of us begin the bizarrely inefficient outpatient process. There's a longish queue to register, but this we actually get to skip, as a man mid-queue kindly indicates that wheelchairs are allowed to go to the head of the line. (Actually seems to make limited sense, as those in wheelchairs are seated whereas some in the queue may find standing painful or tiring, but we don't protest). The woman at the wicket says that Jane's files will be sent over to the consulting room and that she is to buy a 50 cent stamp (the standard method of co-payment for services or medication. System beginning to remind both J and me of making purchases in Soviet Russian shops. No queue at all at the stamp window. 

 However there's a mass of people outside the three consulting rooms (two orthopaedic and one gynaecological). It appears Jane's ten o'clock advice was less an appointment time than a suggestion that it fell within consulting time parameters, with similar info having been given to everyone else, some of the others no doubt being experienced enough in the process to arrive early - and possibly score a parking spot as a bonus. There is not enough seating to go round, even given that the few in wheelchairs have brought their own. No one seems to have any idea where in the list they come, leading to shouted inquiries each time one of the consulting room door opens and a nurse (well, woman in white anyway - who knows) emerges to call a name. Can't help thinking that even a non-electronic version of the butcher's take-a-number system would be better. As it is there's a fair bit of palpable hostility in the herd, as people feel frustrated and clearly suspect that they're being treated unfairly. We wait about an hour, eying the others and trying to assess how many are actually patients and how many friends, relatives, drivers, etc. Can't identify anyone clearly pregnant for the other side. Crutches and plaster much in evidence, as well, of course, as many people with no obvious malady. At one point a woman knocks against the little Christmas tree and is unable ti right it, forced in the end to lay it on the floor, with the little nativity scene ending up on top of one of it's unhappy animals.   Jane's turn is quite quick - doctor happy, staples removed. 

Bill off for the car, and we stop for lunch at an outside table at the little café by Smart.

Monday, December 28/2015

I Take bus out to visit Jane. Take her out for a walk in the wheelchair, which is heavier than it looks like to tilt when going down a step. On the way back meet up with the Bulgarian woman next door, who is out with her little dog. The dog is delighted to see Jane, who usually takes it for walks. Hugs (for Jane, not me) from Bulgarian neighbour, and, as always, streams of cheerful but utterly incomprehensible Bulgarian. It's a southern Slav language, apparently similar to Macedonian - which nobody I know speaks - but none of it sounds much like Polish. The only two words I identify are może - Polish for maybe - and da, same as the Russian for yes. Have had similar experience with girl at the East European shop. Thank you, for example, transliterates as blagodaryu (Cyrillic letters used by Bulgarians), resembling neither Polish or Russian at all. 

Sunday, December 27/2015

Sunday. Feels like the third Sunday in a row, as it follows Christmas and Boxing Day. Ordinary time struggling back to life. Go to the shop round the corner for our usual Cypriot Sunday Mail and find there isn't one. It's taking a holiday, probably announced in Saturday's paper, which we never buy, and no doubt accompanied by the weekly tv guide (not all that useful) and the puzzle page (quite a good one).

 Lidl open. Mother and two children singing Christmas songs outside the entrance, not especially well, and collecting money for same. Probably East European of some description, as they're all fair haired. It's a fairly common occurrence here, not really talented enough to qualify as busking but a very slight cut above simple begging. Rather shamefully cubs and cadets also engage in this form of Christmas fund raising, so it's not unusual to see groups of five or six of them engaged in half-hearted off-key carol singing, collecting tin in the face of each exiting shopper, rather than providing an actual service like car washing or selling cookies.

Saturday, December 26/2015

Boxing Day. Officially a holiday here, and most places other than restaurants and bars are closed. Lots of people down at the waterfront - kids with Christmas presents, tourists, foreign students, lots of locals. There's a little train that takes people along the waterfront and up past St Lazarus. Booths along the beach selling balloons, popcorn, ice cream, nuts, inexpensive jewellery. Actually, though, not as much as on other years, or maybe just not as much as at Epiphany. At Europa Square, though, there is a set of trampolines for harnessed kids to bounce on. J and I over to Harry's by St Lazarus for coffee. Almost too hot in the sun, but at noon there's not much in the way of shade. Cyprus coffee at Harry's always accompanied not only by the obligatory glass of water but also by a treat of some kind. Today it's melomakarona, the little soft, honey soaked spice biscuits that are traditional at this time of year. Not that we're running short of calories.

Friday, December 25/2015

Christmas Day, and stunning weather again. Was to have been in Kyrenia, but with Jane's accident we settle for a local restaurant, Cambanella's on Dekhelia Road. We've been before, for Sunday roast, and the food is good and family that run it very friendly and helpful. Take Jane in the wheelchair and meet up with B and J's friends, Hazel and Bob. Bob sporting tie that lights up and plays Christmas music. Christmas crackers on table, contents of which Hazel takes "for the refugees." Rather sad to think that these very cheap trifles and paper hats (unworn by us) are desirable acquisitions anywhere. Meal good as ever - turkey, lamb, beef and pork at the carvery as well as roast potatoes and Yorkshire pudding. Quite sure none of us did take all four kinds of meat, though we certainly could have done, and when J, having been asked whether he wanted ice cream or custard on his Christmas puddind, asked if he could have both, he was told, laughingly, that he certainly could. By the time Bill runs us home after leisurely meal it's sunset, not long after the solstice.

Take Cyprus brandy and Bailey's bottles down to reception and have a drink and a chat with Kiki and Mr Andreas' cousin, who is watching tv with her. Kiki doesn't get much in the way of time off, working afternoon/evening shift six days a week, holidays included.

Thursday, December 24/2015

Christmas Eve. Lovely weather. This will be our sixteenth Christmas in Cyprus. The first one in two thousand almost accidental, but we've been back every year since, and for longer than the first year's four weeks. Perfect winter climate, and better this year than most, possibly (one hates to think) down to global warning. Walk along the beach, where there are additional tourists for the holiday. Quite decent swimming weather. Average sea temperature in December in Larnaca is about 13, though this year may be more than average. Today's high is about 20, but that's in the shade of course. In the sun on the beach it would be much hotter.

Before coffee at Harry's go through the market. There's always a Christmas Eve market here. More necessary, maybe, because Saturday, the usual day, is Boxing Day, but in any case all Cypriots would want fresh produce for Christmas.

Sent from my iPad

Wednesday, December 23/2015

Jane being released from hospital and Bill has been told to to be there between 8:00 and 8:30 AM. Picks us up to help. Parking lot largely full when we arrive at 8, but B, who has brought the wheelchair with him parks in disabled parking, pointing out that sticker or not Jane qualifies. Staff on ward say that Jane will simply have to wait her turn. Can't leave until the doctor has seen her, which will be some time after 9, which naturally annoys B, given the earlier info they gave him. Actually all care after surgery itself has seemed rather lacking in Standing Operating Procedure. Eventually doctors make rounds in a small gaggle, only previously experienced by me in films rather than during actual hospital stays. One four bed ward at a time. By this time Jane is in the corridor in the wheelchair, possibly regretting her decision to turn down the breakfast - slice of bread, hard boiled egg, triangle of processed cheese and tea. There is actually no final examination, discussion, instructions, but she is presented with a paper to sign, B pointing out that we don't actually know what the Greek says, though by this time he probably doesn't wish to pursue it. So by ten o'clock we're away. Regrettably passenger door not removable as with jaws of life in last night's accident. Jane manoeuvred into car (like royalty - sit first and then move your legs round, graceful even with miniskirts). Wheelchair in back and walking frame between Joe and me in back seat. 

At home Jane delighted to see B has decorated - fairy lights, gold tinsel, small tree with baubles. Even the ceiling fans sporting Christmas trim. Lunch outside and a friend, Katherine, from Jane's art group, drops by with treats from their Christmas meeting. Wine for those of us not driving, and K kindly drops us off near Lidl, walking distance from home.

Tuesday, December 22/215

We're reading in the evening when there's a metallic crash sound, not entirely unlike the emptying of a skip full of tins and glass or perhaps a skip being tipped over. We go back to our book. About ten minutes later We hear sirens, growing louder and then stopping outside our building. Out to the balcony, where we can see a car in the middle of Makarios Avenue flipped over on its roof. Fire engine, ambulance, several police, traffic diverted, fair sized crowd of onlookers. It takes about half an hour to extricate the single occupant. No sign of other cars involved, except that one of the three cars parked outside the Chinese restaurant opposite us has its back end pretty far out from the curb. Once the driver is on the stretcher it must be another twenty minutes before they put him in the ambulance and drive off, leaving the police to proceed with notes and measurements on the upside down car and the badly parked black one. Discuss with Kiki from reception who has gone outside to observe. It seems that the driver - possibly drunk and almost certainly speeding - has sideswiped a number of cars, beginning with the black one (which may have had its rear end far enough into traffic to be an obstruction and part of the cause of the accident. After the sideswipes he lost control and the car flipped. Rumour has it that the man worked at a service station down the road, but the car had rental plates, which is unusual for a local. Kiki also says that he was moving his arms after being placed on the stretcher, so obviously alive.

Monday, December 21/2015

J and I by bus to the new hospital to see Jane. A young Sikh man (student?) is also looking for the hospital. Fortunately for him we can point the way from the bus stop, because the hospital, though several storeys tall, is not visible behind the overgrown greenery, some of which J acquires for Christmas decoration. Genuinely in need of trimming anyway, and only bordering the muddy, overcrowded hospital parking lot. Jane up as far as a chair, but rather down re lack of progress. Meet Catherine, also visiting. She's well versed in the ways of the hospital, having spent time here with a broken back, and brings bottles of water and wipes. Home on a bus that hurtles through a red light, the woman driving continuing to talk non-stop in a high pitched rapid fire staccato. Bill over later, after his visit with Jane, to have spaghetti with us.

Sunday, December 20/2015

Buy the Cyprus Mail on Sunday. It's never quite sure  whether it is a national or parochial paper. Hence the headline - "Big Strides in Cutting NPLs [non performing loans]: Bank of Cyprus reaches deal with three of its largest debtors" - just above the other front page story, "Document shows Hitler only had one testicle."

Saturday, December 19/2015

Skies clear and I walk down to join J at the waterfront. Coffee, then to the bakery. For the first time they're out of our favourite large loves of sesame studded rye bread. And we have a translation problem. They will undoubtedly be resupplied, but when? Avrio, I ask. Tomorrow. No, it seems maybe in one hour. Too long. So we rethink. There's another loaf that I think is whole grain. Mavros? Means black, but also dark. Suspect no one cares about 100%. Yes, yes. Pick it up to put into a paper bag and discover the bonus - it's still warm! Reach Smart Store, four short blocks from home, as it begins to rain. Only need tomato paste, but also acquire tinned mackerel and peas - and emerge into downpour. The sort where each time one thinks it couldn't rain harder it does. Drainless roads fill up almost instantly but not far to go, and inside cosy. Bread even warm still.

Friday, December 18/2015

Thunder storms in the night and still rainy and windy in the morning. Clears close to noon though winds are still high. Even the trunk of the palm tree outside the window is bending in the wind. I take bus 427 from round the corner to the hospital after lunch. Ask the driver if he goes to the new hospital. Eventually. This proves to be the case. Definitely the grand tour, in a large figure 8, including hurtling through back streets in the old Turkish area behind the Makenzy waterfront, at which point the driver mutters that he has to drive fast because he's late. It's not from picking up passengers, as much of the time I'm getting solitary limo service, but the traffic is verging on gridlock at times. Arrive at the hospital after a three-quarters of an hour ride just as theoretical visiting hour finishes. The ward door is locked, but they let me in. Overlap with Harry and Ailsa who are about to leave. Mindful of the limited diet I've brought grapes, though we do speculate on whether wine would be allowed and guess it probably would. Catch same bus and driver on subsequent circuit for return trip.

Wednesday, December 16/2015

J and I off by bus to visit Jane in hospital. Know that one of the bus routes goes past the General Hospital (known locally and also on bus timetables as the new hospital - though it opened in 1984 - as opposed to the old hospital which functions as a clinic) as well as the port, which is near us. Stop at the tourist office where girl supplies schedules for what she says are the only two buses that go to the new hospital. Neither goes to the port. Know for a fact that several buses go to new hospital and one of them also goes to the port, but can see that I am dangerously close to being asked what I am doing inquiring if I know so much about it, and can also see that she has a life - and a friend on the other end of the telephone line - so meekly accept the two printed schedules. 

Take number 423 from opposite St Helena's. Not the shortest route, but the most ride for the fare, with us the only passengers for much of the time. At one point the driver calls loudly out the window to three black people, a woman and two children: Chocolat! [French pronunciation]. We're stunned. He sounds cheerful, even friendly. Could there be an innocent explanation? It sounded like one of the group had yelled something first. Maybe they know each other and there's a running joke, where they exchange epithets every time they meet. Vanilla! Chocolat! Maybe. 

The "new" hospital looking distinctly down at heel. Not bad at a distance, but showing grubby signs of wear on closer acquaintance, possibly made worse by our entering through the outpatients door, since the only other obvious entry is emergency. Nothing resembling a main desk that we can see. Most signs are in Greek and most people seem to understand the routine, which includes small co-payments for services for which the procedure is to buy a stamp and hand it in at point of delivery. Which goes some way to explain a small sign reading "Here are sold only stamps For Blood Tests Behind The Elevator." The initial image coming to mind being of a seedy trench coated figure with a syringe plying his trade in a corner back of the lift. 

Jane in good spirits and looking amazing for someone who has spent the last forty hours lying in one position with a broken hip. They're waiting for the warfarin to be largely out of the blood and are tentatively planning to operate tomorrow. Both Jane and Bill have been pleased with the treatment, though the hospital does seem to be short of funds. The food is adequate but just. Meat and potatoes but J now craving salad. Bottled water, towels, and even soap are supplied by the patient's family or friends. Joe jokes that it sounds like a Mexican jail. 

Take bus 427 back to the centre and find that it goes via the Cineplex. File for future reference.

Thursday, December 17/2015

Rainy day, though J finds a clearish period to nip down to Lidl for provisions. Jane calls later in the morning to say she's had the op, but we get cut off so I text to wish her well. Late afternoon Bill calls from the hospital. He's rethinking coming out to dinner with us. So he comes over and fills us in. Three titanium pins and seems to be doing well. 

Out to Vlachos where we meet up with Ailsa and Harry for dinner. We're early enough that there are still portions of lamb and chicken in the oven, so that's what we opt for, preceded by a village salad and vegetable meze and followed by fruit and small Greek pastries and coffee. Drink to Jane's health and recovery. One of the nicest things about Cypriot - and possibly all Mediterranean - restaurants is the lack of hurry. No one is in a hurry to hand us the bill after two hours. We'd have been welcome to sit there till midnight.

Tuesday, December 15/2015

J off for his morning walk. I opt not to meet him as mobile charging - not that we're overwhelmed by phone calls. Leaving me home when reception calls to say, with surprising protectiveness, that there is a gentleman who wants to see me, and is it all right to send him up. Turns out to be Bill, with bad news. Jane has fallen and broken her hip, badly it seems. Happened last night and she's in hospital, of course. He's unsure what course they're going to take, but impossible to operate until she's stabilised and blood pressure lowered. Also, she takes warfarin (blood thinner) so she needs to get that out of her system before surgery. The doctor B saw wants a consultation with his preferred cardiologist today. B mentions our Christmas plans being in abeyance - the four of us having booked a week at a hotel in Kyrenia - but that, of course, is the least important worry. 

J takes the chicken bits of fat with him when we go to Carrefour, as we pass a skip on the way where feral cats congregate. They're very nervous, especially about sudden movements, but come running when they realise what's on offer. 

Call Bill after dinner. Jane somewhat better and surgery now expected Thursday. In the evening J plays Polish Christmas carols on the Playbook.

Monday, December 14/2015

BBC continues. Permanent? Fingers crossed. Fairly repetitive news on weekdays but quite good weekend programming. Sunday dinner on Monday, sort of, as J simmers a whole chicken in the big pot, leaving tons of leftovers as well as stock for soup.

Sunday, December 13/2015

Sun back. Cancer society having a Christmas fair in the parking lot where the weekly  market is held so we wander down. Ailsa there with a neighbour, Georgina, so we stop at a café round the corner for coffee. Georgina, J and I have Cyprus (Greek, Turkish - the particular designation is political not epicurean) coffee. Ailsa orders what  most North Americans would simply regard as regular coffee. It comes in its own small cafetière, ready to let her press it down when brewed.

 BBC appears on a hitherto unused channel slot on the tv. Will it last? And at what stage in the broadcast process was it acquired?

Saturday, December 12/2015

First rain day since we arrived three and a half weeks ago. No doubt rain needed. J goes down to walk lengths of the beach as usual but takes an umbrella. We actually have FOUR. Two mini ones we travel with and two larger ones acquired en route - last year not this - one in London and one in Rome. J finds them abandoned, sometimes in the middle of the road, wherever the original owner has given up as one blew inside out. He's very good at repairing them, which is convenient because we do have a history of leaving them on buses or in the tube. Jane messages that she has driven on flooded roads to the British base at Dhekelia to get a newspaper: "drains unheard of in Cyprus". In the evening the rain gets serious, with thunder and lightning, but cosy inside, where we're reading aloud from Events, Dear Boy, Events - a collection of excerpts from (mostly political) British diaries spanning the twentieth century.

Friday, December 11/2015

Stop at the animal charity shop and, while we're there, ask about John, whom we haven't seen since our return but who used to be the mainstay of the shop. The Thai woman, who often works Fridays, tells us that he died fairly suddenly in June. Rather upsetting, especially as there is a suggestion that the local hospital was a little short on effort in diagnosing the problem. We didn't know him well but used to chat quite regularly, if briefly. Actually, have just read an article about micro-interactions: A  2014 study...found that our daily interactions with “weak ties” (people we don’t know very well) have a positive correlation with our happiness and feelings of belonging. In other words, the more micro-interactions we have, the better we feel. The researchers also found this impact wasn’t limited to extroverts. On the contrary, they concluded it might be “especially beneficial” for introverts...." John was a part of our world.

In the evening with Jane and Bill to Kazani, a little traditional restaurant in Aradippou, greater Larnaca. Accessed by a tangle of dimly lit roads, many too narrow to allow two cars to pass. It's seven o'clock but has been dark since before 5. The restaurant name comes from the Greek for cauldron and refers to the distilling of zivania on the premises for many years. It's a family enterprise, and much of the food is from the family farm. Warm, very traditional, and friendly.

Thursday, December 10/2015

Email from M asking if it would be convenient if she stopped for an hour about 7 pm between Greek class and an overnight visit with a friend. Reply of course she can. Acquire shortbread as a suitable accompaniment to coffee and/or brandy and then eat somewhat earlier than usual in order to avoid awkwardness of meal conflicting with visit. M arrives cheerfully on time and we offer coffee or tea or brandy. Oh no, says M - I shouldn't drink as I haven't eaten. At which point we begin to realise that we've been a bit slow on the uptake. Emailing in the morning was expected to trigger a supper invitation, rather than our eating early. Confirmed when M says innocently that she had thought we usually ate about seven. Redeem ourselves somewhat by reheating a bowl of yesterday's pea soup to precede the shortbread. After which the Cypriot brandy appears to be an acceptable complement to the coffee. M herself amused, though mildly embarrassed: "And don't laugh at me after I've gone."

Wednesday, December 9/2015

English language daily Cyprus Mail concentrates on the insular - well, the word does come from insula, Latin for island. So pride of place to anything connected to the talks on reunification of the Turkish north and Greek south of the island. Seems to be more serious than in most previous years, and it's possible that President Anastasiades is not in the mold of previous leaders who won elections by telling southerners that no possible solution was as good as they deserved. Still there is a pathological attachment to past grievances and a great deal of denial of any conceivable responsibility. The whole issue even has a familial nickname - Cyprob. So despite posturing, talks, press releases, it's all too easy to believe Anastasiades when he says the thought of a solution by March is "overly optimistic" - or by March of the following year either. There is apparently no agreement yet on the questions of territory, property and guarantees. Which does leave one wondering what has been agreed. The committee's lunch menus?

Tuesday, December 8/2015

Tuesday. Haircut day. Have been waiting for a day when there was hot shower water in the morning, as opposed to late afternoon. Give up and wash hair under tepid water. J and I conveniently go to the same place, and the same man has been cutting our hair for over ten years, and doing a pretty good job of it for the most part. No appointments so it's luck of the draw on wait times, but not bad today. 

Monday, December 7/2015

Meet with Maggi and friend Jean for coffee at Harry's-by-St-Lazarus, as opposed to Harry's Bar, where M went last week when we had arranged to meet only at Harry's. Always nice and sunny, especially as global warming (for which, obviously, one should not be grateful) has been providing temperatures almost consistently in the 20's. Contrasting a little with the Christmas tree between us and St Lazarus.

Sunday, December 6/2015

Jane and I to Kristingle service at St Helena's. Baking, second hand books and clothes for sale in the courtyard first, along with mince pies and mulled wine. Jane wins a bottle of olive oil with herbs inside. Bit coals to Newcastle that. Kristingles at the end of service - oranges with red ribbon around their equators, a candle and foil imbedded in the top, and 4 toothpicks with sweets. These are symbolically the earth, Christ's blood, the light of the world, the four seasons, and the fruits of the seasons. 

Saturday, December 5/2015

Bakeries and supermarkets here still reminiscent of the village market square. Few Cypriot women can resist squeezing every loaf on the shelf, despite signs decrying the practice in English (and presumably same in Greek) before leaving with one, or perhaps none. Lidl, with Germanic cleanliness and order, supplies disposable gloves as well as metal tongs but no polizisten, so normal Cypriot practice prevails. At the Discount grocery, where there are no concessions to hygiene on the bread racks but scoops in the fruit and nut bins, J expresses his displeasure to a middle-aged woman who is taking handfuls of dried cranberries, ramming fist into mouth, and returning for more. Not only unabashed, she seems to have no idea what is distressing him. A problem no doubt compounded by lack of a common language.

Friday, December 4/2015

To Xylotymvou in the evening with Jane and Bill. It's a village east of Pyla, where they live, and noted for a friendly restaurant which holds a buffet on Thursdays and Fridays. Very busy, and Jane has wisely chosen a table near the (not burning at the moment) fireplace. It's far from the buffet tables and from the wildly noisy Cypriot family gatherings, so conversation is possible. Excellent salad buffet and the second plate of hot foods uneven but not at all bad. Company, as always, super.

Thursday, December 3/2015

Vote in British House last night, predictably, in favour of bombing ISIS in Syria. So by the time we wake this morning two Tornadoes have returned to the British base at Akrotiri, 84 km southwest of us, mission accomplished. No time wasted there. Announcement says what they bombed is an oil field. 

Sun loungers and umbrellas still up and last week there were quite a few sunbathers and still a number of people in the sea. Today in the high teens - higher in the sun - but the wind makes it too chilly for sunning.

Stop at a little second hand shop where we previously looked at the portable stereos (sounds a bit prim but less un pc than ghetto blaster - go with boombox?). This time we're equipped with a cd and a tape to test with. Unnecessary, as the owner announces that he has had an electronics friend test the one we were interested in. The cd doesn't work. Mysteriously though, the price has risen from €10 when we thought it might be working to €20 (£14, $28.60 CAD) now that we know it isn't. €50 if we want the friend to fix it. No sale.

Wednesday, December 2/2015

Drop in to the charity shop run by volunteers at St Joseph's Convent three mornings a week. Not much of interest but very crowded. An elderly nun and two other ladies sit on hard backed chairs opposite the used book shelves, almost certainly oblivious to the presence on the top shelf of three copies of Fifty Shades of Gray.

Stop at the food store which we still know by its previous name as the Elephant store. The best pears we've ever tasted and pink grapefruit at 38 euro cents a kilo ($0.54 CAD, £0.27). Huge and fresh and juicy. 

 

Tuesday, December 1/2015

Follow debate in British parliament on whether to bomb ISIS/Daesh in Syria. Struck by the (mostly) informed, articulate, and civil nature of the debate, despite the passionate opinions held. Have seen no (was going to say few but that would be inaccurate) debates in the Canadian House of equal caliber. Particularly good to see that speeches were largely without benefit of notes, the theory but not the practice in Canada where head down muttering into a sheaf of script prevails. Genuine debate. Able to watch streamed on ipad until wifi proves unequal to the effort.

Monday, November 30/2015

Back to Harry's Café near St Lazarus Church for coffee in the sun. Prefer McDonald's filter coffee, but Harry's Cypriot (=Greek, =Turkish) good, and the nice lady always provides a free - and in our case totally unneeded - bite of something sweet, in this case a small slice of cake. Much nicer atmosphere with outside tables and chairs, but the immediate impetus was the noise, reminiscent of giant dentist's drill, near McD's from the renovations taking place on an old building next door. 

Cyprus Mail reports 80 year old woman killed while walking along the street in the town of Protaras in the morning. She has a fractured skull and police are investigating, which is more than they are doing for a 77 year old friend of Bill and Jane, killed while he was cycling in a village. Driving standards here are shocking, with tailgating especially prevalent.