Thursday, December 29/2016

Starts with spotty bits of rain but clears so Bill suggests we go up to Bellapais (a shortened corruption of Abbaye de la Paix) while it's still nice. And it remains sunny with the panoramic views of Kyrenia far below as we remember them. It's two years almost to the day since we were here last and little has changed, although Durrell's Tree of Idleness appears less healthy, possibly down to its imprisonment in a sort of cage, protecting it from vandals and admirers alike. Lawrence would, no doubt, be appalled by the large tacky poster next to the tree advertising Tree of Idleness Take Away Doner - no ploy too cheap for the unidle restaurant and shop owners wringing every last lira out of the visitor. But it's hard to really feel for Durrell as the tree made its appearance in Bitter Lemons of Cyprus, with bitter being an appropriate reader response to the shamefully biased version of political events in Cyprus. Lunch at the restaurant and then a very pleasant coffee in the sunshine above the abbey with stray dogs at a respectful but hopeful distance and sparrows competing for our biscuit crumbs and broken peanuts. History of the abbey has not, of course, changed in the past two years, so the following comes from this blog for December 30/2014:

We go to Bellapais, site of spectacular abbey ruins and former home of Lawrence Durrell, whose book, Bitter Lemons of Cyprus, is a fair disappointment to anyone enchanted by his Alexandria Quartet. The abbey was founded in the thirteenth century for the Augustinian monks who had left Jerusalem following its fall to the Saracens in 1187. Soon after (and almost certainly before the abbey had been finished in those far off days of hammer and chisel) the Augustinians were replaced by the Norbertine order (1206).

The story from that point is a variation on the familiar tale of wealth and power - noble and royal patronage ( Hugh III gave the abbots of Bellapais the privilege of wearing a mitre, bearing a gilded sword and wearing golden spurs) and disputes with the archbishop of Nicosia necessitating papal intervention - followed by a sad, and indeed scandalous, decay. Genoese marauders robbed the abbey of any riches that could be removed, and by the middle of the 16th century the rule had been pretty well abandoned and monks were not only marrying but accepting only their own children as novices.

The abbey was given to the Orthodox after the Turks took over the island in 1570, but deteriorated, continuing to be used as a village church, with many of its stones liberated for use in building local houses - for the descendants of the monks? A further incarnation in the late nineteenth century saw its use as a military hospital. Now, slightly restored, it remains a romantic ruin with impressive views, and a summer home to concerts.

Wednesday, December 28/2016

Jane and Bill's 40th anniversary. Not bad going, considering Bill's boys were in their late teens when they married. Jane sporting lovely ruby earrings this morning. Cloudy but no rain, yet at least, so we drive in to town equipped with both sunglasses and umbrellas to cover all eventualities. Coffee at the Six Brothers Restaurant. Jane inquires, and indeed five of the six brothers are still in residence. Pick up a city map from the tourist office in the old city wall and stroll along the harbour. Boats on one side and restaurants on the other, most with owners working very hard at attracting the few tourists in sight. One of several stray dogs accompanies us on our walk. Jane and I eventually successfully wooed by Habib, who not only describes his fish dishes enticingly but says they will all be deboned and the coffee and brandy will be free. So we sit on his verandah and enjoy a meal of grouper, caught off the coast of Cyprus. A bottle of bubbly in J&B's room before dinner and to the inn for dinner and a sit by the fireplace.

Tuesday, December 27/2016

Our original plan is to go to Bellapais today, but early bits of sunshine are unable to survive against the dark threatening rain clouds moving in from the east. So Bill suggests we go west instead and visit Morphou (Guzelyurt in Turkish) instead. Morphou is in the North but claimed by the South and possession of its territory is one of the stubborn outstanding issues in reunification talks. We do well staying ahead of the rain and travel most of the length of the island before turning north past a reservoir deep in the valley below us and on past orange groves to Morphou. 

The old part of the city is a labyrinth of narrow roads but Bill finds a car park and we stop at a small café a couple of blocks away. Attractive even before we spot - and smell - the flowering basil hedge in front. Only a couple of customers and a handwritten menu on the wall in smallish Turkish script but the place is clean and the owner friendly so we stop and order sandwiches. Toasted pita with shredded chicken and cheese? Sounds good. Fresh squeezed orange juice? Yes, please. They come with four little dishes of lovely pickles. Everything delicious and extremely cheap. A lovely find. 

Stroll down the street after lunch. Its narrow lanes and shops are reminiscent of old city centres throughout the Middle East, goods on display on the pavement as well as in the windows and proprietors standing in front, catching the sun as well as keeping an eye on the stock and chatting up potential customers. Interestingly, the political situation doesn't seem to be a taboo subject. Two brothers have differing opinions on whether Cypriot reunification would be a good thing. Another man favours keeping the present border but as an open border with free crossing - let us live in peace but not together. He has good reason to be wary of his southern neighbours. As a teenage boy in Limassol he was held hostage for ninety-six days during the hostilities in 1974. Calm now and smiling, but not naïve. No knowing the future, but on the way home we're followed by a rainbow.

Monday, December 26/2016

Delighted to discover that it's not raining, although still pretty damp. On the way to breakfast we pass the tennis courts where two men are actually playing amidst the puddles. Must make for some nasty splats. 

Back to yesterday's museum, named, in Orwellian fashion, the Peace and Freedom Museum. It's not large and consists mostly of names and photographs of Turkish and Turkish Cypriot soldiers killed during the invasion, as well as weapons and some maps and paintings of the invasion itself. Like James Wolfe's historic attack on Quebec, the invasion succeeded in part because it took place at a landing location more difficult and therefore less likely, than would have been expected. The paintings prove more poignant than photographs would have been and we're struck with the difficulty of beginning the advance in the dark, soaked to the waist and carrying weapons. There are also quotations from the British press, including both Guardian and Telegraph, from the time, suggesting that support for the Turkish position covered a broad political spectrum. Then over to the cemetery, and the graves of those who died in the first few days. We meet the young soldier that we ran into yesterday. He's here doing his national service and is counting the days - 24 now - until he's finished and can join his wife in Istanbul where he will be teaching English. He gives us a brief explanation of what happened, points out the actual landing spots, and answers our questions. Interestingly, he uses the term martyrs for those soldiers who died, as did the written material at the museum. It's a word that has pretty well disappeared from modern secular discourse, in the west at least. Is this a question of translation or is the view of military conflict different in this part of the world? It certainly has a counterpart in the Greek rhetoric. 

Stop for lunch and shortly after we get back encounter Harry and Elsa, who have come for a brief visit. Actually very brief, because with diversions and some unhelpful directions they arrive late enough that they only actually have about an hour to visit before they have to leave to go back. Drinks in Jane and Bill's room and then dinner and a chat by the fire.

Sunday, December 25/2016

Christmas Day. Still very wet on the walkways round the pool and over to the inn. And not dry in the inn, either. At 8:30 there are five Asian employees moving furniture and busy with brooms and mops clearing water off the floor in reception. But how did it get there? No signs of leaking ceilings. Under the doors? Breakfast buffet and a waiter taking orders for omelettes and bacon.

Our outing for the day is meant to be a visit to the museum commemorating the landing of Turkish troops in 1974. A landing known to Greek Cypriots as the invasion and to Turkish Cypriots as the intervention, as it occurred in reaction to Enosis, the plan to overthrow the Cypriot government and make Cyprus a part of Greece. The museum turns out to be closed, which is not entirely surprising, but as the country is primarily Moslem it was hard to predict whether Christmas would be a holiday. So we have coffee at a little place on the grounds and then check out the surrounding tanks and trucks, Russian made military vehicles captured in battle.

In to Kyrenia for lunch and a walk through the old city. Park next to an old bush covered with dozens of snails. Must have delicious leaves. Walk down past the round tower. Some parts of the old city walls remain intact, and there are also buildings with very old hand crafted wooden doors and stone work. As we return to the car park, we notice a wall with a variety of shoes and handbags attached to it. Also, bizarrely, two wooden arms reach out. Did the stone work once include a head? Clearly there is some sort of symbolic meaning, and not only historic - the shoes and handbags are hardly ancient.

Christmas dinner in the evening. The floor is dryer, though not yet completely dry. Four choices for dinner, and quite nice starters. We choose the smoked salmon and shrimp. And dinner followed by music and dancing. We're struck by a couple jiving - must be in their eighties and they're very good! And followed by the belly dancer. She's not bad herself, though suspect there aren't really enough of us here to make it worth her while. Nice evening.

Saturday, December 24/2016

Christmas Eve. Bill and Jane collect us and we head north across the border into North Cyprus for a week. Spotty bits of rain but we're cheerful. Drive through fields of artichokes and head east to the coast where we stop at Bogaz for a fish lunch. Light rain now, and a large golden lab looks sadly through the restaurant's glass doors at us as we eat - but is not, of course, invited in. Back inland and through a pass near the eastern end of the mountain range. Super quality new road. Then we follow the coast heading west for Kyrenia - Girne in Turkish. The sea is grey and the sky above the mountain range on our left becoming dark and threatening. 

Shortly after we arrive at Ship Inn the rain begins - a torrential downpour. We're warm inside but outside there's wind and heavy rain and at times hail hitting our balcony. A cosy drink with Jane and Bill in the ground floor room below ours and then over to the inn for dinner. It's still raining, with torrents of water coming down the road. Much of the area around the pool between our garden cottages and the main building is marble tiled, slippery at the best of times and hazardous in the dark rain. We expect the wet marble steps at the entry but are surprised to find the floors awash, not only in the lobby but through much of the dining room. Fortunately we're wearing pretty sturdy footwear, although rubber boots wouldn't have come amiss, and we find a table in a pretty dry spot. A mystery as to where all the water is coming from, though. The ceilings are dry but the bulding is flooded. Doesn't appear to be seeping up through the floor. Can it really all have come under the doors. Staff certainly busy sweeping it back out. But nice warm seafood casserole and a bottle of wine and a fire in the stone fireplace. Lovely.

Friday, December 23/2016

To cash point this morning and not quick enough to prevent receipt being sucked slowly back into the works. Inquire within and they kindly retrieve it. Have never actually been in this bank before, though it is our most convenient cash point. Now notice table in an alcove by the door, laden with a cocktail assortment of mixed nuts, dried fruit and crisps. Would I like some wine? I hesitate. Not quite 10 AM. Sun not only not over the yard arm but not in evidence at all. It's raining. But I should have a drink to warm up, they say. So I accept a small glass. In addition to wine there is zivania (local spirit) and two kinds of whisky on the table. Much laughter amongst the staff when I tell them that in Canada banks regard coffee and biscuits as a treat, and they repeat this bit of amusing trivia to each other. "Here we do it for the customers on Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve." Indeed.

Thursday, December 22/2016

The week of rain. I take an umbrella (actually we have five, two minis that we travel with and three larger ones - 2 from London and one from Rome - that J has rescued and repaired as people frequently abandon them in the street if they blow inside out). Out along Dhekelia Road to the tailor's where my jacket is ready. Really pleased with it. I opted for long - almost coat length - because it gives me more options re formality and shirts and also because one can always shorten - but not lengthen - it later. Fits perfectly. Mario and I chat for fifteen minutes or so, which leaves me perfectly timed to catch the bus back. 

J and I to Carrefour in the afternoon, again equipped with umbrellas. As we leave Chris asks if we are going for a walk, no doubt thinking that the English are crazy. When we say no, to Carrefour, he looks relieved. Needing food regardless of rain is normal. Actually, we don't need much food, as we'll be gone for Christmas week, but are getting blue cheese (on sale) and milk for tonight's chowder. Then spot Jagermeister on sale for €10.70 (£9.12, $15.11 CAD) and buy it for Christmas. In Cyprus liquor sales, at least at the supermarkets, are real sales, with as much as 50% off. No 2% discount and five free air miles. Annd when we come home there's a rainbow in the sky.

Wednesday, December 21/2016

(Winter solstice pic from our balcony)

Cyprus is a small country (240 km east to west, 100 km north to south) but varied. The Troodos Mountains have weather that is totally different from the coastal areas. So the showers we are getting here translate in the mountains to roads closed to vehicles other than four wheel drives or those with chains. Cloudburst here to celebrate the winter solstice - in the Troodos a different story.

(Troodos photo from Cyprus Mail)

Tuesday, December 20/2016

Haircut day. Not raining, though it's cool, and expect that it will be crazy busy by the end of the week, and Thursdays hair dressers and barbers in Cyprus are closed, by legislation it seems. Am prepared with reading material for a long wait but it's dead. No sign of the owner and his wife and one of the two assistants are conspicuously underoccupied. Which leaves me with a dilemma, as I'm obliged to ask the wife if her husband is about. Seems rude, and there was some difficulty about the initial communication which discourages me from adding half-hearted apologies and explanations. But he appears, presumably from the coffee shop and cuts my hair. By the time I leave there are actually four clients for the four staff members. Not busy? People wait - till Friday and Saturday. No doubt. 

Beautiful day.  Meet J at the beach where it's actually hot in the full sun. Someone in wading. Feels like ice cream weather, but we stop at the watch repair shop and then cross the road for coffee at Harry's. The watch shop is tiny, maybe 15 feet by ten, possibly less, but the owner has told J that he only pays €10 a month in rent - more than that for rubbish collection. Stop on the way back at the deli in the market square, to find that their already ridiculously cheap - and perfectly drinkable - Greek cabernet, syrah and merlot are actually on sale, for €2.18 ($3.03 CAD, £1.83) a bottle. Right, so the only question is how much can we carry. We must be a mile and a half from home.

Monday, December 19/2016

Out to Mario the tailor to have my jacket fitted. Short discussion on the biases of BBC. He has three examples. First there's pro-Clinton on the American election and pro-remain on the referendum. Have to agree, and can see that I have been less incensed than I might have been because my own preferences are anti-Trump, if not exactly pro-Clinton, and in favour of the UK remaining in the EU. Irrelevant to the failings of neutrality. His third example is Syria and the limited, and by no means neutral sources. They keep quoting the Syrian Observatory for Human Rights, he says, and we say, at the same time, and with equal indignation,  "Which is one man in Coventry!" Nuff said. 

Elsa collects me and we go to Mario's coffee shop (unrelated Mario) for coffee and chat. Jane joins us. It's a nice spot. Half a dozen tables, if that, but clearly regular clientele and a small lending library. Very pleasant.

In the evening Kiki comes up with a man that we understand to be not the electrician but his brother, who eventually gets the bedroom heater working. J persuades Kiki to join us for a glass of Bailey's between bits of translation. If we understand it rightly the heater now works (and indeed it does) and the electrician will check things tomorrow. Much expression of management horror that it has been defective, all of which seems a little over the top as we reported it a couple of weeks back with no response.

Sunday, December 18/2016

B

Sunny morning with Danishes, coffee, local paper, and Duke Ellington. Our collection of CDs and cassettes not bad, all charity shop acquisitions. Player not too bad either, though the radio on it is dreadful. It drifts from the British forces station that rebroadcasts quite a bit of BBC radio 4 and 5, so that there's often Greek music playing in the background of a Today show interview. Oddly, the folding drying rack on the balcony seems to serve as an antenna, so that its positioning can be critical. This leads to the question of the need for repairing the bedroom heater/air conditioner conditioner. If it isn't functional, it won't vibrate. Vibrations discourage pigeons from nesting. Nesting pigeons result in pigeon shit beneath the nest, which is the location of the rack where the clean clothes are drying in the sun. And if the dryer is moved, the radio won't work. Wonderful the way everything in life is connected. 

With Jane at six to St Helena's for the Nine Lessons and Carols. Always a bit of pain pleasure mix, as about half of the carols end up being to tunes we are less familiar with, such as Hark the Herald Angels Sing in the non-Mendelssohn version. Still a nice service though. And mulled wine and mince pies with a bit of chat at the end. 🍷

Winding down at 11 when J spots fireworks in the sky. Last about five minutes and we have a perfect clear view. From Ermou Square? Lovely💥

Saturday, December 17/2016

Prinos, the greengrocer, has a wine and cheese event this morning. They're featuring the cheeses, of course, and selling the wine as well for that matter. So there are large plates of brie and other soft cheese, some topped with bits of apricot and fig, and plates of grapes and melon and oranges, as well as dozens of disposable plastic wine glasses of red and white French wines. Impossible to imagine a similar Canadian store doing this for a number of reasons, some of which may be legal. (Raye?) Some provincial liquor stores do offer samples of wine, but usually thimblefuls, whereas these must be three or four ounces, and I suppose that one could go back for a second, although we don't. Actually, I refer to Prinos as a greengrocer, and it calls itself a fruiteria (φρουτιέρα), but in fact it sells a variety of cheeses, a small selection of wines and baked products and quite good sausages, as well as having an excellent butcher. It's just that it specialises in fresh fruit and veg, both local and imported.

Friday, December 15/2016

Not quite feral - don't know how they'd survive in the wild - but there are quite a lot of street cats of no fixed address in Larnaca. Cypriots infamous for treatment of animals in general, and those who feed them or take them in are generally expats. Between us and Prinos greengrocer - a distance of three or four blocks - there is a skip that is a gathering place, if not exactly a home, for several cats. They look reasonably healthy, although the rubbish in the skip probably doesn't provide a balanced diet. We occasionally give them meat trimmings, though our diet is considerably less carnivore than the average Cypriot's. They now recognise J as a benefactor, though they're generally pretty skittish when people approach.

Thursday, December 15/2015

Chilly evening but happily not windy as we wait for the bus. Bus very slightly early, which means we get to Vlachos about half an hour before we're due to meet up with Harry and Elsa and Bill and Jane. We've been entranced by the moon on the way out - nearly full and pale gold, hanging huge and glowing low over the Mediterranean. Obviously designed for pictures rather than words, so when we alight I see what the ipad can do. As expected, not nearly enough. The road has changed direction - or more accurately the coast has - and the moon is no longer above the sea but has has street lighting competing. It's also a little higher and therefore appears smaller and paler. And the golden tinge, which is still there, is missed entirely by the camera and can't be restored by the editing function. Ah well, the best things in life may not only be free but impossible to capture. 

Lovely meal, and Harry has scored us a pretty quiet table. Not only is there a lack of acoustic tile here but one suspects that everyone yelling at once is central to the Cypriot conception of a good time. Unfortunately Bill can't join us, as he's inherited the cold that's been visiting us all and opted for bed. Otherwise happy gathering though.   

Wednesday, December 13/2016

Horrible suspicion that we have another pigeon interested in establishing domicile on our balcony - the previous one having been in Paphos two years ago. This time it's harder to be sure because the bird we've seen seems to have been investigating the air conditioning unit high on the wall outside the bedroom. High enough that we can't see the top. Actually the only reason this may have seemed like a good nesting spot is that the unit isn't working (although fortunately the one for the sitting room is operational). Obviously there's no need for air conditioning in December, but the same units provide heat as air conditioning, and, while it can be hot as the midday sun streams through the glass doors, sunset comes early at this time of year and it cools off rapidly. Had the heating in the bedroom been working, the vibrations on the outside unit would presumably have discouraged any thoughts of nest building. We have, in fact, reported the problem but as the cool temperatures are nice for sleeping we've been lax about following up on management's lack of action. Hence the question of the pigeon.

Tuesday, December 13/2016

Out along Dhekelia Road in search of a tailor recommended by Ailsa. I expect to spot the shop, Elegante, on the left and then get out at the next stop and walk back. In the event, I overshoot, realising when the bus passes the Pyla turn off. Ask to get off, somewhat to the consternation of the driver. Usual translation difficulties ensue. He appears to be asking if I want Jillia. Jillia? In any case, I don't - I just want to get out as soon as possible and not travel any further before I start walking back. Here? Yes, here. Thank you. Can quite see his difficulty, as I've insisted on being let out nowhere near a bus stop at a point in the road with fields on one side and a deserted beach on the other. No buildings. Obviously I'm unlikely to head to the beach for a solitary swim or have a rendez-vous with a lover in the field, but impossible to explain. Pleasant walk back, though, carrying my bag of fabric. Warm breeze and probably no more than half a mile. Mario, the tailor, is marvellous. No translation difficulties here - if English isn't his first language it was learned very early. No trace of an accent other than British. He's thoroughly professional, soft spoken, modest, quick on the uptake, truly lovely. And some hope of a jacket before Christmas.

Monday, December 12/2016

Predictions are for wintry weather, thunderstorms and dropping temperatures, and they're not far off. The thunder storms happen, although it's not all that cold. J produces excellent chicken soup with pesto filled gnocchi courtesy of Lidl. And we both have plenty of reading matter. J has books borrowed from Bill and I a book of Peter May's (Lewis Man) recently acquired from Maggi. It's a mystery but the quality of the writing would stand on its own if it weren't. A pleasure despite having to learn to pronounce the Gaelic names. Then there's a very early Ian Rankin that we're reading aloud when we have daytime light and the third volume of Chris Mullin's diaries electronically in the evening. Mullin has just published memoirs as well, so we may add that as a Christmas treat. Altogether well set up for a bad weather day.

Sunday, December 11/2016

Decorated for Christmas. Bits of coloured tinsel, a bowl full of baubles, the picture part of cards from previous years, and the people - little wooden figures who live most of their lives in sensory deprivation boxes, emerging annually to celebrate Christmas. And there's also our tree - stained glass (well, plastic) blue tacked to the balcony door so the sun can shine through it.

Weather not wintery though. We take the bus out Dhekelia Road to join Jane and Bill for Sunday lunch at Cambanellas. Warm sun, intensely blue Mediterranean dotted with small white sailboats, masses of flowers and all the french windows in the restaurant open. To J&B's after for coffee.

Saturday, December 10/2016

To Lidl's, armed with memory of last night's reading of gin reviews. Interestingly, and probably not surprisingly, as with wine there is no precise correlation between price and quality. Thus Greenall's, available at Smart discount stores, scores as highly as the more expensive - and prettier - Bombay Sapphire - our usual standby. But more highly ranked than either is Lidl's own German made Castelgy, which I would have thought I knew better than to buy. And here it is at only €5.79 ($8.06 CAD, £4.86) for a 70 cl bottle. Happy discovery of the day.

Friday, December 9/2017

Meet J at the tiny charity shop run by St Helena's. Books €0.50 but we're all right at the moment, particularly as real books (as opposed to ebooks) have to be read during daylight hours as the lighting in the flat is not really designed - perhaps wisely - for clear sight. Exceptions are the dressing table and the loo. The loo is also the best place for wifi reception. Just not quite willing to move in there for the evening, drinks in hand. Besides, there's only really room for one chair. Luxuriating in the bath with gin and a good book really does call for more hot water than is usually on offer. Could always make do with one chair and the throne, I suppose.

Thursday, December 8/2016

Wouldn't be chilly if it weren't windy - but it is. So after sundown it's windbreaker weather. Dark by five o'clock and palm trees blowing in the wind. We take the bus out Dhekelia Road to the new Vlachos restaurant, immediately across the road from the old one, which has become a coffee shop. Hard to imagine a coffee shop making a go of it out here, but maybe the visitors at the surrounding hotels like having alternate coffee spots - though it is off season. Vlachos moderately busy - it's bigger so less crowded. We meet up with Jane and Bill and Harry and Ailsa. Moussaka not what it used to be - hopefully a one time lapse. Plenty of free meze though - would really make a meal in itself.

Wednesday, December 7/2016

Sitting next to glass with incredibly beautifully scented yellow flowers which J has not all that daringly acquired from the bushes outside the police station, the police paying as little attention to his flower picking as to passing speeders. Tentatively identified as Cassia artemisioides, or feathery cassia or senna. He often arrives home with flowers from deserted houses or empty lots but these have by far the loveliest scent. Photos below, internet sourced, but correspond to ours above.

Tuesday, December 6/2016

Approaching Christmas for supermarkets, and also, of course the rest of us. Traditionally there are quite good liquor and wine sales in the Christmas/New Year's period. And this in a country where liquor taxes are low to begin with. Carrefour has slightly high prices to begin with, the exception being some sale products and, until this year, Carrefour's own brand, e.g. crisps, yoghurt, evaporated milk, etc. The latter are conspicuous this year by their absence, although we haven't been able to confirm rumours that the Cyprus franchise has been sold. One tradition remains - that of running out almost immediately of highly desirable sale products only to have them cheerfully reappeat at a higher price immediately the sale is over. Impossible to prove they were in the warehouse all along, but....So a week or two left to keep track of sales as we try to estimate our liquor requirements from now until the end of March, as discounts can be as much as 45% or even higher, significant even on originally overpriced bottles.

Monday, December 5/2016

J beach walking, so I meet him at noon for coffee at Harry's café, near St Lazarus Church. Grateful for the enormous umbrella, as it's probably 20 degrees in the shade but much hotter in the sun. Check out the charity shops and watch a young pregnant woman and her partner debating whether to buy red sparkly Christmas candle holders for 50 cents each. Books pretty generic light reads, not that we're short of reading material but sometimes there's a gem. 

Sunday, December 4/2016

Jane and I to St Helena's Christingle service, preceded by a mini-fair in the courtyard. So we have a very nice mulled wine and a minced pie each and chat a bit. Last year I had no luck at all at the tombola, but made up for it this year when my €4 worth of tickets netted me a small bottle of lemon juice, a bottle of something mysteriously referred to as "aroma tonic, energizing  body treatment fragrance", and a large bottle of zivania, a clear Cypriot brandy with a potent 45% alcohol content. Traffic still busy afterward, though not the surprising gridlock we encountered going. Where ARE all those people headed at 4:30 on a Sunday afternoon?

 Collect J and Bill back at the Sunflower and have a massive supper over at Agios Andreas Restaurant, past Carrefour. Or it would have been massive if we'd eaten it all. Pork skewers and Cypriot sheftalia sausages, and we probably brought home more than we ate.

Saturday, December 3/2016

Police announce a coming week's crackdown on speeding drivers, December 5 to 11, amid sarcastic commentary. Why one week a year with advance warning, what about other infractions, too busy drinking coffee, etc. Have to say that motorcycles and cars with Hollywood mufflers regularly roar past the police station, effectively thumbing their noses at the cops. We used to live diagonally across from the station and regularly observed the police reluctance to deal with law breakers. Fair to say too that hire car, i.e. mainly tourist, plates will be targeted, as normal plates will belong primarily to Cypriots.

Friday, December 2/2016

Unhappiness in the North of Cyprus, apparently, over the change to permanent summer time, resulting in protests and strikes, which the newspapers in the South are pleased to report. Of course the daylight saving which provides more light in the evening leads to later dawn as well as later sunset, and we are now very near the winter solstice. Sadly a school bus accident in the seven AM darkness caused three deaths as well as injuries and there seems to be more than enough blame to go round: "The head of the union of Turkish Cypriot high-school teachers Tahir Gokcebel had said on Thursday that the labour minister must resign because the bus driver did not have a work permit, the education minister because the bus driver was driving without insurance, and the transport minister because he is generally responsible for road safety." All this in addition to complaints about the adoption of permanent summer time.

Meanwhile early sunset here (shown looking inland from our balcony) sugests more good weather.

Thursday, December 1/2016

Second day of showers, but in all fairness these are the only rain days since we arrived, and predictions are for sun after this. So a reading day, or so we think, until Maggi answers my text suggesting coffee on the next conveniently sunny day by phoning to say that she's in town and can drop in more or less immediately. So pleasant plan B - with Cyprus brandy and nachos and mini spanakopetas - the ultimate healthy diet - and lots of conversational catch up. While we're talking the rain intensifies, becoming torrential. We can see cars plowing through the flooded street below, leaving a wake behind. M is philosophical - it's warm and she'll wade to the car - but an hour later when she leaves the water has found the inadequate drains and the street is wet but quite passable.

Wednesday, November 30/2016

Last day of November and last of the dental appointments. Showery today, although not raining when we take the bus out to Pyla, which is nice because it's far too windy for an umbrella to be any use, although we do have, in addition to our tiny London stand-bys, two larger umbrellas, one of them an enormous leopard patterned one that J rescued in the streets of Rome during a rainstorm and repaired. The flowers seem to be enjoying the unaccustomed watering, and there are flowers everywhere. Lunch in Famagusta at a little family café - homemade Cyprus sausages, with salad and chips. We visit the excellent tourist information shop, secreted (almost hidden) in the stone walls surrounding the old city.

Tuesday, November 29/2016

Hot water here at the Sunflower, and for that matter in many Cypriot hotels, is iffy. That is it exists, but isn't always hot enough or available at convenient, or even predictable, times. This is a country with limited water supplies - the endless sunny days are, of course, one of its attractions. It's also a country with one of the highest electrical rates in Europe. So one makes allowances. Though it is annoying that on the rare occasions when someone complains they are met with mild surprise, as if this were a new and unlikely development. Recently there has almost reliably been hot water in the late afternoon. Nice, and appropriate for those changing for dinner - which isn't usually us, but no matter. Today a printed notice has appeared in the lift announcing the times when hot water is available as 7 to 11 in the morning and 6 to 11 in the evening. Presumably in response to complaints and a welcome sign of concern, a pleasant change even from educated guesses. Always assuming there's any connection to reality.