Come across blog post from December 2017:
Last day in Famagusta, although we can’t imagine not going back. Of all the places we have travelled it has probably touched our hearts the most. A beautiful combination of history, architecture, and the people. Welcoming people, yes, but so much more - philosophical, engaged, creative, passionate, vulnerable, tolerant. We will be back.
And indeed we are back though under circumstances we would never have predicted. Understand Canadian government’s advice is to come home, but not convinced it is our best course. Assuming the flights existed, our current exit route would probably be via Istanbul, Heathrow or Gatwick, Toronto or Montreal, and Winnipeg. Plus varying bits of public transport and probably hotel booking along the way. Unlikely that no bookings would change in transit. Joining queues of the possibly infected, sitting on planes where one is lucky to be two feet away from the next face. And then a further two weeks self-quarantine. In Winnipeg? Currently no VIA trains to Sioux Lookout. And here - so far - relatively safe and happy.
For the first time in our stay hear knocking on the door. No, not the Turkish Inquisition. The very kind lady across the road with a small gift of pastries. Again, still warm, nutty and mildly sweet in a phyllo pastry. Necessary, of course, to have a small taste immediately in order to tell whether they should be starters or dessert. And no, she technically shouldn’t be within two metres of us, but she doesn’t speak English and we don’t touch her or breathe heavily - or reject the lovely offering.
Last day in Famagusta, although we can’t imagine not going back. Of all the places we have travelled it has probably touched our hearts the most. A beautiful combination of history, architecture, and the people. Welcoming people, yes, but so much more - philosophical, engaged, creative, passionate, vulnerable, tolerant. We will be back.
And indeed we are back though under circumstances we would never have predicted. Understand Canadian government’s advice is to come home, but not convinced it is our best course. Assuming the flights existed, our current exit route would probably be via Istanbul, Heathrow or Gatwick, Toronto or Montreal, and Winnipeg. Plus varying bits of public transport and probably hotel booking along the way. Unlikely that no bookings would change in transit. Joining queues of the possibly infected, sitting on planes where one is lucky to be two feet away from the next face. And then a further two weeks self-quarantine. In Winnipeg? Currently no VIA trains to Sioux Lookout. And here - so far - relatively safe and happy.
For the first time in our stay hear knocking on the door. No, not the Turkish Inquisition. The very kind lady across the road with a small gift of pastries. Again, still warm, nutty and mildly sweet in a phyllo pastry. Necessary, of course, to have a small taste immediately in order to tell whether they should be starters or dessert. And no, she technically shouldn’t be within two metres of us, but she doesn’t speak English and we don’t touch her or breathe heavily - or reject the lovely offering.
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