Haircut day. Mine, not J’s,as he usually cuts his own. No appointments at the regular place, so going early in the week usually works, although having absolutely nothing to read in English might guarantee a long wait. We’ve been going to the same place for years, me more regularly than J, without ever getting a bad cut, so that’s all you can ask given translation limitations.
Natalia, our Ukrainian Cypriot jeweller friend is standing outside her shop having a smoke. First time we’ve seen the shop open this year. Yes, she’s been away. Visiting her family in Ukraine. No, things aren’t any better there, and of course her parents not getting any younger. To add to all the other difficulties the authorities, as elsewhere, expect people to go online for information and assistance. And elderly people often have no computers, very unsmart phones, and no skills. Also, there’s going to be an election next month. Clearly Natalia has no expectation that that is likely to improve matters.
Stop for a Greek coffee at our usual café along the road. Then a winding way back partly via the waterfront, checking out the shops and cafés new and old, as change is continual. One of the many real estate places has a sign that takes a moment or two to register. “Get EU passport easily! Investment from €2.5 million. Get your money back in 3 years.” The reference is to what amounts to the Cypriot practice of selling citizenship, and therefore passports, to those able to buy expensive properties. A practice deplored but not ruled out by the European Union. And, cynically, the final promise suggests that in three years time said property may be sold but the passport will remain.
In the evening to Cambanella’s for a rare dinner. Jane is sussing out its suitability as a location for her eightieth birthday next week. It passes the test. She’d like a large round table, but failing that she and the owner compromise on a plan to push two rectangular tables together in order to seat ten.
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