Friday, December 19/2014

Last year the fourth floor wifi worked reasonably well until after New Year's when the Norwegians returned and, presumably, the demand on the system was higher. Some gentle prodding involved, but we did manage to stream It's a Wonderful Life at Christmas. No such luck this year. Reception in the flat only possible from the top of the microwave, and then so slowly that it's best to leave the tablet there while doing some other minor task in order to load a page. Slightly better standing outside the door in the drafty hallway. On the other wifi pretty good down in reception where we never seem to lose a connection. Convenience undreamt of by us fifteen years ago, when we congratulated ourselves for having retired in the internet age, meaning that we were able to go to internet cafés and pay by the hour for grubby computers with uneven speed.

Thursday, December 18/2014

The legislature, having duly accepted the December disbursement of the EU bailout, promptly votes today to suspend the required legislation facilitating foreclosure on assets associated with non-performing loans. This will, of course, put January's payment in jeopardy, and the (minority) government, which appears to have been outvoted, is embarrassed, but the sullen resentment of the recipient prevails.

Wednesday, December 17/2014

Cyprus changing over the fifteen years we have been coming. The Cyprus pound has given way to the euro and the early closing Wednesday and Saturday (together with the non opening on Sunday) more or less disappearing. Sometimes less. So when we stop at 1:15 at the little haberdasher's, the sign on the door states clearly that it is open from 9 until 6, but it is in fact closed. 

Tuesday, December 16/2014

Haircut day. J thinks we'll have quite a wait (our unisex place doesn't do appointments) but I have a method. When I take a book, electronic or otherwise, I get taken immediately with no opportunity to read. And so it is this morning. Now good until February. From there to the little cancer charity shop by St Lazarus for a look round.

Then a check on the jewellery shop owned by the Ukrainian girl who is our favourite jewellery maker, source of many granddaughter birthday presents. It's closed, the old arched wooden doors secured with a large padlock. Not easy to inquire either, as the shops on either side are closed as well. It's rather worrying - is she ill, has she gone bankrupt? Her parents farm in Ukraine and were OK last spring, but that was a long time ago....But all is well. As we're looking at the (falling) prices in a nearby real estate agent's window our friendly jeweller appears behind to greet us. Business is slow in the winter, so she was chatting with a friend until she spotted us. Yes, she is well. Her mother was ill in April so she went back to Ukraine then. Fortunately they live near neither Donetsk nor Kiev and can grow some of their own food. The cities are frightening, with military ID checks and press gang style removal of young men. And everything is expensive.

Monday, December 15/2014

Only in Cyprus. The following from today's Cyprus Mail. Note that the Republic of Cyprus only HAS 850,000 citizens.

Portion of property tax uncollected as owners remain unknown

By Marie Kambas

Ten per cent of property, valued at 1.7 billion euros in 1980 prices, is going untaxed because the owners’ identification numbers are not registered with the land registry department’s computerised systems, auditor-general Odysseas Michaelides said adding that the omission affects 305,000 individuals.

Sunday, December 14/2014

Rains over and a damply washed look everywhere. A broken and run over umbrella in the street in front of our hotel. We walk down to the waterfront. No Sunday concert. Used to be weekly - was there supposed to have been one today? The storm drains have eventually done as they should, but a number of houses had to be evacuated. Barring earthquakes, it's good living on the fourth floor.

Saturday, December 13/2014

Rainy day, as promised by Accuweather. Well beyond umbrella weather and definitely into stormy. Just as we think that it can't rain any harder, it does. And being Larnaca the streets are soon rivers with cars plowing through the water and people stepping out into ankle deep puddles. M drops in and stays for Scrabble and soup. After she leaves there are thunderstorms - always good views of lightning from the top floor - torrential rain and (a first for us in Cyprus) a five minute power blackout. We do always have a battery free flashlight with us, so it's not particularly worrying. Kiki is on reception as usual and decides to spend the night as she has heard reports of flooding near her house and her shift ends at eleven, much too late to assess the roads as she drives.

Friday, December 12/2014

Jane and Bill over to catch up. Since we've last seen them Bill's had his eightieth birthday celebrations - though he could pass for 15 years younger - and they've been on a UK coach tour as well as a three week trip to China. Much the same response to China as we had - amazing sights and dubious meals. Although our trip was now an astonishing 24 years ago. Most unfortunately Jane injured her back fairly badly on the Chinese trip and, despite continuing therapy, is still fairly crippled - walking, but pretty short distances and quite rightly not prepared to fly any distance. The smallest, but rather sad, result of this is that it's put paid to their projected visit to us next summer.

We all walk down the road to a small taverna that has a nightly buffet and, on weekends, music. First Larnaca meal out of the season, though not the last. We're scheduled to spend Christmas in the north with J and B.

Thursday, December 11/2013

First day back, so tons of sorting, washing, shopping. Bottled water - not always necessary here but the tap water du jour is pretty chloriny. First food priority is Clementine oranges - so much nicer than Mandarins. Prinos greengrocer has the best produce and there are long tables outside with big bags of oranges and various vegetables for prices ranging from €1 to €2. So we buy a large plastic grocery bag full (count is 61 as I examine them for defects, but down somewhat by the time they pose for a photo). Good buys elsewhere, but who can use a bag of six cauliflowers regardless of price.

Then walk downtown. Note which shops have closed, which have improbably remained open despite lack of visible customer base (our theory is that some exist solely in order to take tax advantage and acquire wholesale goods for the extended family), and which new ones - mainly small cafés - are having a go. Stop for coffee and people and sea watching.

Wednesday, December 10/2014

Moving day. Shared taxi from Paphos to limassol and another from Limassol to Larnaca. Everything from bougainvillea hedges to badlands along the way. Leaving Limassol we get a sad equivalent to the squeegee kid - a man who must be close to retirement age playing the accordion when we're stopped at an intersection. Smile on his face, but he must know that there has to be. We're at the Sunflower by noon. Then out to Carrefour and Prinos, the greengrocer, for the basics. And the day's excitement. We've left five boxes stored here for the winter and there isalways a bit of excitement to opening them. There are the remembered Christmas decorations, including rhe tiny wooden people. And some unremembered surprises as well. A whole bottle of Blue Sapphire gin, needing only tonic and sunshine, and a Matheus bottle that has been relabelled "infamous grouse" and holds, we presume, most of a bottle of Famous Grouse. And, oddly, three jars of peanut butter. Must have overbought at a sale!

Tuesday, December 9/2014

Walk with M and J down the Paphos waterfront. Again nearly deserted, and an almost physical sympathy for restaurateurs coming out to invite us in for lunch or coffee. Business obviously dreadful, but we can't begin to solve the problem with cups of unwanted instant coffee. At the end of the promenade, just before the castle, there is a building exhibiting work by local arts and crafts people. Some of it's intriguing: Maggi is quite taken by colourful accessories made of wool and I fall for stained glass tree ornaments, many of them heart-shaped, that incorporate romantic old-fashioned photographs and fragments of old letters. We both admire a large ornate mirror. We're standing outside discussing our favourites and regretting our total lack of space to accommodate more acquisitions, when we're joined by a couple of the exhibitors, one of them the husband of the woman who made the mirror, happy to tell us how pleased she will be to know how much we liked it. There are heart- breaking stories of lost jobs in the depressed economy and more time spent on the creative side, the refusal to lose hope. The valiant optimism more moving than any anger or bitterness could be.

At the other end of the walk we stop for a pint. Then it's home pack.

Monday, December 8/2014

N

M has plans for a drive up the west side of the island. All distances in Cyprus ridiculously small by Canadian standards but the area is hilly and the roads bendy and some of the other drivers suicidal, if not homicidal. Passing not always easy and some hills have runaway lanes, known as escape lanes, although oddly these may be on the down grade.

It's about 35 km to the town of Polis on the coast. A nice centre with a pedestrian area, seriously underpopulated at this time of year. We'd like coffee but the only café in the sun is next to some heavy - and loud - equipment used for resurfacing an adjacent road.

So on to the tiny village of Androlikou. It's almost a deserted village, down now to a population of 15 living amidst a collection of semi-ruined stone buildings. Androlikou was a Turkish village until 1974 when the UN took the villagers to the north of the then divided country, as Greek Cypriots were leaving the north for the southern Republic of Cyprus. Now, while there are a few human residents, they are vastly outnumbered by the goats. 

M knows a couple here, a Greek Cypriot man married to a Philippino woman, and we drop in. The wife is, ironically, in Paphos for the day, shopping, but her husband is a gracious host, showing us the house, which he has finished beautifully inside, and making camomile tea from the camomile growing in his garden. He's an unemployed builder and the wife has also been hit hard by the financial troubles - working non-stop in the summer tourist season but laid off in the winter. So money is very tight, but the lifestyle idyllic in some ways. A house overlooking the distant sea, a garden with vegetables, herbs and fig trees, a boat for fishing, rabbits to be sold (or perhaps occasionally eaten), hens for eggs and sometimes for the pot, and olive trees and greens growing in the hills. With the wind for company they're very nearly self-sufficient. He drives with us further up into the hills and shows us, miles below, the bay where the turtles come to lay their eggs. Along our hilltop road there is industrious activity. There are EU funds for agriculture and there is new plowed land and recently pnlanted vineyards. No possibility of misusing the grants either, as work can be checked by satellite.

Back from Polis by the western route, supposedly the worse road but seems less hazardous to us.

Sunday, December 7/2014

Maggi drives down after her meeting in Limassol to spend a couple of days in Paphos. She's checked into one of the few hotels that would accept dogs, but the place is a pleasure in other respects. It's a restored 15th century Venetian building. Boasts a restaurant, but we're back to the First and Last Pub for lamb shanks again.

Saturday, December 6/2014

Still unseasonably warm weather (highs just above 20) but we can see on the television weather map the winds and rains of a storm moving eastward down the Mediterranean that is almost certain to hit us early next week. Pool still attracting sun loungers between ten and three.

Friday, December 5/2014

Rereading the blog from two years ago, and can see that we were surprised then by how few tourists there were here, but this is surely worse. Of course this must be close to an annual low point - far from the coldest time of year in the UK, Russia and Western Europe and not yet Christmas holidays. Few people who are not also going to be away for Christmas want to take a holiday in the preparation period immediately before.

Still, we go for a walk along the waterfront in the evening in what should be the tourist centre and there is almost nobody in sight. The occasional British couple and sometimes a small family, probably immigrant workers. Empty sidewalks.

Thursday, December 4/2014

J and I reading aloud - when not sunning ourselves our walking - Howard Zinn's autobiographical writing. Mostly on the importance of civil disobedience. A brave man with an admirable history in the American civil righrs movement for racial equality and the anti-war movement. All courtesy of the Open Library, lending books electronically, free and world wide. Very handy for those of us with no fixed address:

Wednesday, December 3/2014

Wednesday, December 3/2014

Bus up to the inter-city bus station in order to catch the interurban bus to Limassol, near the village of Erimi, where Jenny's dad has invited us fo visit for the day. 

Sam picks us up and takes us back to Erimi. A lovely house and all the flowers still in full bloom as autumn has been unusually warm. Paddy is away visiting her relatives in Northern Ireland, but Sam has invited another couple, Cynthia and Peter, and his neighbour Klaus to lunch as well. Lovely Middle Eastern dish with rice and chicken, and good conversation. Sam always a pleasure to talk to. He was born in Haifa to an English father and Arabic mother and is now retired from a legal career but is fluent in Arabic and maintains a keen interest in the Middle East.

No time at all before it's getting dark - always a faint surprise to northerners finding that it's dark before dinner when the weather is still shirt skeeves - and we're on the bus back to Paphos.

Tuesday, December 2/2014

Housing bubble fueled by expats long since burst and some fairly good prices around now. So, when we pass a small bungalow (2 bedrooms max, largish but unbeautiful yard, solar panels, a little too central, busy road) plastered with for sale signs we idly inquire of the man watering the shrubs what the asking price is. A more than astonishing €900,000. Four times its apparent value, if not more. It is expensive, the man says unapologetically. J makes unfavourable comparisons to prices in California with similar climate. Yes, yes. No mention of superior have-to-be-seen-to-be-appreciated assets and no offer to show. As we leave, we can only conclude that the desire to sell is entirely fraudulent. Perhaps an attempt to convince creditors, the bank maybe, that every effort is being made to raise funds, while preventing actual loss of home. 

Some 45% of Cypriot bank loans, as of July, were non-performong - repayments not being made - accounting for €27.1 billion out of loans of €60 billion, or almost 140% of GDP. Bizarrely, special legislation is needed to streamline repossession procedures so that the process takes months instead of years. Wildly unpopular in Cyprus where almost everyone is, or is related to, a non-payer, the legislation is, understandably, required in order to access continuing EU assistance funds.

Monday, December 1/2014

Sunny, and warm enough that I pick what at 12 noon passes for the shady side of the street walking back from the post office. There's always some breeze at the waterfront, but not inland. Much competition near the seafront for (mostly UK) tourist money. Souvenirs seldom underpriced but some genuine undercutting in restaurants. Thus one offers to take sterling, with £1 equalling €2. Much better than the official exchange rate. In fact worth changing money for if one intended to go for a meal. A €20 dinner would cost £10, which is actually worth only €12.75. 

But then some things Cypriots just look at differently. The same cafés that entice tourists and others by offering full pints of local lager for €1.69 are pleased to advertise cups of Nescafé instant coffee for €1.50, assuming that this is similarly attractive.

 [Some dispute here as J says that people no longer know what a pint is and I say that A) All Brits know what a pint is, and B) in any case everyone knows it's half a quart. Concede that this may be generational, as we do live in the land of litres.] 

Sunday, November 30/2014

Try the Britannia for this week's Sunday pub dinner. We're a bit late in thinking of it. Sunday pub meals are UK style, meaning that they're typically mid-afternoon - think of the Christmas meal. Last week was the First and Last Pub, which fortunately runs later because we had the Formula 1 final to watch first. Today we're not really thinking and arrive five minutes before the 5 PM finish time. Pub almost empty because we've caught them between dinner and the evening's entertaining and drinks. Couldn't have been nicer, though. Yes, they can still get us a meal.,choice of roast beef, pork or chicken - or maybe a little of each. Comes with Yorkshire pudding, roast and mashed potatoes, four veg and gravy. In anticipation of which we have prudently not eaten since breakfast. Lovely meal and nice familial feelnto the place.

Saturday, November 29/2014

Questions about the intercity bus routes: the net brings varied answers. We're going to Erimi on Wednesday. Will the bus stop, most conveniently, at the first roundabout going into Limassol, known to all as the McDonald's stop, as the bus map implies with a little zig there, or will it insist on going to the official stop at the next roundabout? The girl at the tourist office says no to the McDonald's stop, but is likely to be basing this on the partially illegible photocopied schedule rather than personal knowledge as few Cypriots use public transportation - it's perceived as mainly for servants and other foreign workers or tourists too cheap to hire cars. Theory and practice on schedules in Cyprus are often only vaguely related. A bus driver once told us that it wasn't his fault if the company didn't update the schedule to match the current reality. Thus the best course for accurate information would be to ask a driver on the relevant route, but if the stop is an unofficial one it might depend in the event on which driver was on or even what mood the driver was in.

Not only do online schedules purporting to be official vary, but we know from experience that, on the urban lines at least, there are drivers who are quite happy to finish a route early, presumably allowing for an extended coffee break at the end of the line. This doesn't appear to be a mortal sin but a cultural quirk. We consider what threat would be sufficient to change the practice. "If you do that again you will be fired. We will give your job to a Romanian and you will have to go home and tell your wife you are unemployed." Wouldn't happen. Nor is there much chance of the drivers/company putting themselves in the position of the would-be passenger who has arrived at the stop ten minutes early, happily unaware that the bus has passed by five minutes before - and Cypriot buses often cover the route only once every hour or two. But it doesn't matter - only Philippino maids or tourists or students take the bus and they're not in a hurry.

Trouble with us is that we've been in The UK too recently and it's distorted our expectations.

Note on official bus page: "You can register the route you want and we willinform you via email or sms for hours and routechanges" As opposed to posting the changes on the site and telling everyone?

Friday, November 28/2014

Walk up the hill to the hospice charity shop. It has tons of books as well as CDs and clothing and tables outside for coffee. And, as far as we can make out, supports the only hospice in Cyprus, one funded entirely by charitable donations and fiund raising - which has been forced to cut back its scope recently in Cyprus's economic troubles. Pleasant sunny place and definitely a good cause. Simplest solution to limited winter clothes here is to pick up a couple of extra shirts and rredonate them when we leave.

Do a little research on pigeons and can see that their prospects are not good. They normally lay two eggs, which take 18 days to hatch - by which time we'll be long gone. Worse, this is followed - obviously - by a longish period of attention to the nestlings. And the parents, having found a good nesting spot, tend to return to it in future. Seems pretty unlikely that the hotel and various occupants of this flat in the weeks to come are going to want to play host to a pigeon nursery.

Christmas tree now greets you as you enter the hotel lobby, just in time for Advent. Going to the reception/bar/dining area means going outside, past gardens and pool. Works better in Cyprus than it would in Canada, though the walkway does tend to flood briefly in heavy rain.

Thursday, November 27/2014

The luxuriant growth in the flower beds behind our block turn out to be rosemary. Got curious and pinched a little as we passed. Far too much for anyone to miss a little to be saved forvthe soup pot.

Lovely being back where oranges and lemons and tomatoes and cucumber and herbs are all fresh and abundant.

Wednesday, November 26/2014

Rain gone, though it's still pretty cloudy. Second pigeon egg in the nest this morning. Have no idea how long they take to hatch. We seem a bit undereducated for the pseudo grandparental rôle. The pigeons don't seem too bothered by our proximity - better than cats. That's good as our drying rack is on the balcony and it would be inconvenient not to be able to use it.

Tuesday, November 25/2014

Rain day, as predicted by Accuweather. Not bad, though, as we have reading to do - things we're reading separately as well as an Ian Rankin, the only non-electronic book we have with us, that we're enjoying aloud.

Also, we have a quiet drama to follow on our balcony. The balcony is small and pretty sunless, so we haven't sat out on it. Actually, we haven't even unstacked the two plastic chairs next to the little table. Only really used the place for drying clothes. But the quiet space did have its appeal, and two pigeons have taken up residence. We'd spotted them there earlier but weren't sure at first whether the pile of twigs were going to amount to anything. J was first to suspect them of nest building but they seemed lazily casual and half-hearted about it, bringing the occasional addition and then disappearing for a period. But this morning there is an egg in the little nest and the female plumply ensconced on it, though they do take turns. We had actually planned to dismantle the nest before things went this far, thinking that their long term prospects on a hotel balcony weren't too good, but we weren't quick enough about it. We're only here for another two weeks and who knows after that. The birds don't seem distressed by our presence but co-existence may be more difficult with the next guests.

J takes advantage of the little oven, a luxury not present in much of our winter accommodation, to roast a large chicken from Papantoniou. Results are beautiful, though it does seem a bit ironic to be cooking one bird while protecting a nest a few feet away.ru

Monday, November 24/2014

Walk slightly uphill (well, we're so close to the harbour that more or less everything is uphill) to the new Kings Avenue Mall. It's enormous and fairly classy, but also pretty much like any other Western mall, with the same international chains you see everywhere, like Zara, Adidas, Mango, etc. The most interesting store is simply called Public, and has a number of new Ipads at what seem initially to be good prices, and for non-EU residents leaving for non-EU destinations, such as Lebanon, there is a tax rebate which looks to be about eight and a half percent. There's also a fair sized Carrefour, more or less like the one in Larnaca, but not really as good overall as the locally owned Papantoniou across the road from us. And source, happily, of the nicest, most garlicky humus I've ever eaten. 

On the way, we pass Agia Solomoni catacomb caves, quite near the pillar where St Paul is supposed to have been tied and whipped. Remarkable largely for the number of white handkerchiefs and bits of cloth (and, sadly, plastic bags) tied to the trees in front, representing petitions. Will come back some other time to look inside.

In the lobby, after dinner in our flat, look up the municipal Paphos tourism site. Some useful, if incomplete information - for example the weekly guided walks around the historic spots appear to be free and probably quite interesting, but they also seem to cover more territory than could easily be done on foot in a half day, so more info necessary. The best of the site, though, is its entertainment value. Example:

--Intercity taxi service is offered in shared 4-to 8-seater minibuses. This service provides a connection service between all major towns at a fixed rate. As rates are not fixed, negotiating the fare before you get into a taxi is a must; otherwise you run the risk of being ripped off. 

Sunday, November 23/2014

Violent thunder storm during breakfast but quickly replaced, Mediterranean style, with full sun. More people on the street today, though not a lot of them looked like tourists. The nice mobile phone man talked about fifty businesses closed on one road, in one place 20 in a row. Our observations obviously only impressionistic, but many empty shops and business for sale signs. 

Over to the Players Pub across the road for the last Grand Prix of the season. Lewis Hamilton ahead and favoured but teammate Nico Rossberg still in contention. Football game on some screens, but 12 of us watching the race, eight men and four women. Well, three of us women watching and one busy throughout with her mobile. Could have had an F1 app, but if so it must have been much better than mine as she never looked up at the screen. Pint of Guinness each and quite a good race, with Hamilton the winner as predicted.

Booked at 5:30 for Sunday dinner at the First and Last (English) pub. Lovely meal, with the lamb shanks we pre-ordered, Yorkshire pudding, roast and mashed potatoes, and four veg. Whilst on the way to book it yesterday, we stopped to admire a pomegranate tree with dark red fruit on it like Christmas ornaments. This owner kindly gave us a pomegranate but as it was too big for my handbag and we still had errands to do, J secreted it in a hedge round the corner, planning to retrieve it on the way back. I did spot an old lady sweeping her drive nearby and we joked about her taking it. Well, on our return it was gone. Regretted the loss, but worse, began to imagine the man and woman as neighbours conversing. He: Some foreigners admired my pomegranates and I gave them one - they were so pleased. She: That's what you think - they weren't grateful at all and could hardly wait to get round the corner to throw it in my hedge.

Saturday, November 22/2014

Back up the long hill to the mobile shop, where the mobile is indeed waiting and operational. And he has removed the need for an opening code, which, like many home security systems, inconveniences the owner more than it does any half way competent thief. More than that, he has NO charge - just recommend him. We will indeed, but don't really know anyone in Pathos to recommend him to. Do, as a gesture, buy a top up card from him.

Stop on the way back at the greengrocer. We admire the live snails, buy olives, oranges, tiny aubergines and honey. Give a miss to the enormous green cabbages, more than capable of convincing anyone that babies are found under cabbage leaves and not brought by the stork.

Friday, November 21/2014

Task of the day - break in to our own mobile. Long ago - like last February - shortly before leaving Cyprus we switched mobile phone providers and acquired a new SIM card. Good reason for the change: our previous had gone to the nasty North American habit of requiring a top up every month. CYTA, our new provider, required top ups only annually. However, its SIM had a quirk of its own - a PUK (personal unlock key, PIN of sorts) that was required to unlock the phone after it had been shut down. Only inconvenient initially, but nine months later mentally irretrievable. Yes, it was written down with the initial purchase info and, actually, not thrown away. But not something that it occurred to me to bring along this winter. But we're now in Cyprus and Paphos has a CYTA office, so presumably the problem is soluble - and I can't be the first to experience it.

CYTA office is about two miles away, uphill. Well, it isn't uphill both ways. And there's a green grocer half way along that's always worth a stop. At the top of the hill, looking for final directions, we find a mobile sales and repair shop that sells CYTA products. The owner is nice in a low key way. The CYTA shop is closed - early closing on Friday - and not open on Saturday. He can probably phone through, though. But it turns out they won't release the number without more info - like the phone number, easily retrievable if we could open the phone. However our friend has a plan B, which basically consists of leaving it overnight while he hacks in - though this is not presented anything like so crudely. It will be working in the morning, 100% sure. So we leave with no phone and, actually, no receipt. In a one man shop in a country where everything is based on personal relationship it would be too rude to ask a man who has been so helpful over the past fifteen minutes to provide one. And the mobile is neither new nor smart.

Thursday, November 20/2014

Our hotel, the Daphne, is a pleasant surprise. We checked it out a couple of years ago and it seemed a little seedy then, as well as charging exorbitantly for wifi. But the location is excellent - a short block from the waterfront and across the road from the best local supermarket, Papantoniou. So, despite low expectations, we booked for three weeks anyway, since we'd been offered flat plus breakfast for a ridiculously low amount. Worth, we thought, going out for coffee or a pint daily to get a touch of free wifi. First surprise was the hotel itself. No four stars, but they've definitely been making an effort - lots of licks of paint and everything is very clean. Sparkly pool and friendly staff. AND the wifi in the lobby is free, if slow.

Second surprise is that the breakfast buffet is quite nice. Not enormous, but choices of cold cereal, boiled or fried eggs, cold meats and cheeses, tomato and cucumber and olives, sausage and bacon, baked beans, bread and rolls. And the juice is from concentrate but it IS juice and not the sugar water supplied by many classier places. So a very positive beginning. The flat is pretty good too. Bedroom, and small sitting room and kitchen. The standard two burner hot plate top but the unit has a small and extremely clean oven. TV has basic local channels (except for the mysterious lack of the government owned CYBC 2. Also Euronews English, Fox Movies, and - happily - BBC News.

Wednesday, November 19/2014

To King's Cross by tube and then train to Luton Airport. Luton is a warehouse of an airport but the EasyJet staff are friendly enough, no doubt trying to identify themselves as different from Ryan Air. Seats have a tight 29 inch pitch but for a four and a half hour flight it's not too bad. The woman next to us pays £9.40 ($16.90 CAD) for an egg salad and tomato sandwich and two cups of tea, one of which she spills on the tray and herself - but, fortunately for us, not in our direction. We've brought sandwiches and hot cross buns and water, but presumably we do benefit indirectly from the prices charged for food, lottery tickets, seat selection, etc, as we only paid £107 ($192 CAD) for two one way tickets, checked suitcases included. Not at all bad for a flight of close to 2000 miles.

Dark when we land, but warm, and we take the local bus in to Paphos, the Kato Paphos bus station being only a couple of blocks from our hotel.

Tuesday, November 18/2014

Last day in London, this round anyway. Luckily, it is also the day that linguist Lynne Murphy, who blogs under rhe name Lynneguist (fascinating blog on UK/US - and other - variations of the English language) is giving a talk at University College London on "polite" words - please, thank you, sorry - and their varied meanings and uses. Picked this up from Lynne's Twitter feed and, happily, she confirmed that non-university people were welcome.  Deserved a prize for near success in the maze of UCL buildings. Get close, but a room that appears to have the right number is simply labelled "plant room". Boiler? Orchids? Get re-directed to a seminar room where we are indeed the only non-u types. 

Interesting talk, particularly on what is perceived as politeness US style (friendliness, egalitarianism) and UK (non-intrusiveness, preserving right to privacy). Very friendly atmosphere and everyone invited back for a drink and a chat in the linguistics work area. Nice to meet Lynne after years of enjoying her blog.

Monday, November 17/2014

First, apologies to anyone trying to read this with a magnifying glass. Not surprised if no one reads it at all. Seem to have lost, inexplicably, all ability to control font size. Will continue to pursue this; there must be a simple solution.

Changes in Our parts of London since last April:

Inverness Street market has finally lost the remaining fruit and veg stall. After years of being nosed out by competitors selling everything from souvenirs to cheap clothes, it's gone - the cheerful blokes who sold better-than-supermarket veg in all weathers, and for better than supermarket prices and without a self serve till.

Beggars seem now a permanent fixture on Queensway. There was always the odd one but seemed more like temporary financial problem than way of life.

Cheap day of tickets at the National Theatre have gone, over the past couple of years, from £10 to £15. Admittedly still a bargain, but they've been a standby of pensioners as well as the young, and neither student grants nor pensions have increased by 50% over the same period.

Sunday, November 16/2014

To Westminster Cathedral for 10:30 Mass, with full choir including the boy sopranos. Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time and full church as always. The choir is superbbut the PA system doesn't do very well with the spoken word - neither of us catches more than about one word in ten. Unusually, there is no second collection, but we do encounter a second opportunity for charity. In the midst of the construction surrounding Victoria Station an enterprising (or desperate) busker has picked up an orange road pylon and is using it more or less like a kazoo, entoning the notes for "Fly Me to the Moon" and using his baseball cap to collect the contributions. Not the best musician I've passed this season, but the first I've stopped to fund. 

Supper at the Indian Veg in Chapel Market. Lovely fruit salad and curries. Take our own small bottles. Of Tempranillo with us. Last time until April.

Saturday, November 15/2014

We have tickets to Great Britain at Theatre Royal Haymarket. It's a satire not-all-that-loosely based on the recent scandals of the (mostly gutter) press involvement in phone hacking and their incestuous relationship with the police. Unsubtle, but fast paced, hard hitting and witty at times. Thoroughly enjoyable. Not terribly full at the matinée, which works in our favour as our tickets, bought fairly cheaply through the Telegraph website, have been upgraded from galleries to stalls. Ten rows back and in the centre - actually couldn't be any better. And the play is fun, starring Lucy Punch, better known to us as the first receptionist on Doc Martin. Actually written and secretly rehearsed while the Brooks and Coulson trials were taking place and made public immediately after the verdict.

Astonishingly busy when we get out. Dark now, and the pavements just buzzing with activity and excitement. Piccadilly tube station so full it's not easy to see where the Bakerloo line signs are.

Friday, November 14/2014

J off to Southbank and Strutton Grounds and I to West Harrow to see Jean. Can see I'm going to arrive early and it's a nice day so get off at Harrow-on-the-Hill and walk. Tea and chat on everything from family to linguistics.

Thursday, November 13/2014

Roses On Kilburn High Road for the Thursday special - the best lamb kleftiko anywhere, Mediterranean included. The café is interesting as always, and not merely for rhe excellent food. It's foremost a neighbourhood eatery, and most of the patrons are locals, probably regulars. As we walk in the five tables for two along the right hand side are all occupied by lone men, here for a cuppa or their supper. The one nearest us dozes over his empty mug while others eat or read the newspaper. Two women about our age at the next table are taking advantage of a warm corner. The one with the Irish accent talks; her friend listens. They're sharing an order of bread and butter and a small order of chips. One of the women makes a bit of a sandwich with the chips. When we leave we ask to take the remainis of the enormous legs of lamb with us, and the Irish woman gives our table a long, silent look. Devastating, but, amongst adults in a first world country, a problem with no solution.

Wednesday, November 12/2014

Starbucks fully functional this morning. Not so the Saatchi Gallery, one of our regular stops, where the gallery is unexpectedly closed for a private event. So on to the South Bank as the sun and mild air shouldn't be wasted. Stop at Tate Modern to check out the latest installation in the enormous turbine hall. It's an enormous bright fabric and wood piece called "I Don't Know" by Richard Tuttle. Cheerful, but not in the runnung for our all time favourites.

Greenwich for crumble at Goddard's Pie shop - our favourite for 20 years or so, but a Greenwich icon since 1890. We choose apple and black currant, with lashings of custard, and think of new uses for our own currants. Jubilee line delayed by "a person on the line" - an almost daily event somewhere in the system. Must be truly horrible for those who have to deal with it

J mends an umbrella found abandoned on King's Road, Chelsea. We're currently one up so a loss must be on the cards.

Tuesday, November 11/2014

Over for the usual Starbucks office start to the day only to find that their wifi is down. Share this happy news with an American unpacking his laptop. He's quite annoyed. " it was down last night, so this morning I asked THREE times before I got my coffee. British infrastructure is third world." He's wrong about communications infrastructure, which is, overall, better than North American, but the frustration is understandable.

Then to the Imperial War Museum on an appropriate but busy day. It's been renovated recently and looks quite classy, but it takes me a while to find my old favourite, the smallest boat still extant from the Dunkirk evacuation, a brave little craft that looks too small to have crossed the channel. An expedition impressive enough that I was an adult before I realised that Dunkirk was not a victory.

There's an interesting exhibit on espionage and we also watch a some short period films. One shows reconstruction in southern Italy at the end of the war, a moving view of barefoot girls carrying rocks for construction, men repairinge ancient locamotives, olive groves being cultivated again. Another film shows reconstruction in immediate postwar Germany, as people live amidst the rubble, allowed 1000 to 1200 calories a day and tested medically by the occupying Allied forces to see if that was enough!

There's a talk in the evening at the London School of Economics on Kurdish nationalism and the Kurdish liberation struggle in the light of current events. We're interested enough to arrive early and surprised that they haven't chosen a larger room. Then the presentation by Dr. Yaniv Voller of the University of Edinburgh, who is launching a book on Kurdish nationalism. Try to be charitable, but the talk is disappointingly superficial and the question period even more disappointing. Dr Voller must, presumably, know more than we do about the Kurds, but fails to convey it. The questioners, on the other hand, are informed and provocative - and get little in the way of answers. I am so tempted to stand up at the end and say that there is so much depth of knowledge and passion in the room - could we go to the pub and have a real discussion. We share the lift as we're leaving with Kurds who seem to have much the same view, sadly minus the thought about the pub. Ah well.

Monday, November 10/2014

Back by train from Thames Ditton, as far as Wimbledon with Elaine and Phil weho are on their way into London to see the poppies. Not much time left, and not many chances if you live as far north as Yorkshire. Some talk last night on the north south divide and injustices of same. Could have been talking about northern Ontario.

Pick up tthe train tickets for next Wednesday run out to Luton Airport so that's done. St Pancras always feels slightly festive. Sign for the champagne bar? Stop at the little John Lewis there to admire the new ipads. Ipad mini 3 newly released and fingerprint accessible. Will it recognize more than one print? Oh yes, says the bubbly girl. Ten - so no need to amputate the husband's thumb for convenience of portability.

Sunday, November 9/2014

To Thames Ditton and a visit with Jenny and Doug. Watch Remembrance Sunday program, including her majesty ignoring terrorist threats and laying wreath at the cenotaph. Then Jenny's mum and Laura and Cody arrive for lunch,mas well as Elaine and Phil from Yorkshire. Lovely to get together again and J&D, E&P, and J and I go for a walk in a park just past Hampton Court. Lots of dog friends for Brownie, who is delighted at being off the lead. The park runs along the Thames and there are fascinating houseboats and riverside cottages, some on an island an accessible only by motorboat or dinghy. Possibly inconvenient but charming and immensely covetable.

Doug's sister Kathleen and her husband drop in for a visit and we have the first g&t's of the Cyprus season. Well, sort of, anyway. Then dinner - roast beef and pie with custard and cheese plate and talk until midnight. What life is for.

Saturday, November 8/2014

Our day for visiting the poppies at the tower of London. It's a magnificent display - 888,246 ceramic poppies in an installation called Blood Swept Lands and Seas of Red. There is one poppy for each British and Commonwealth military death in the First World War. One therefore for my Scots grandfather's young brother who died in France. At 4:55 pm a bugler plays the Last Post and names from the Roll of Honour are read, but truthfully it's difficult enough to get anywhere near the moat at any time. There are official suggestions re routes other than the obvious, and at Tower Hill tube station the exit gates are left open as the crowds surge through. 

It's a very moving sight, and a quietly respectful throng, from infants to the elderly, all paying tribute as well as seeing the beauty. The poppies fill the moat and reach past Traitors' Gate with a particular poignancy, ablood red reminder of the many brought here to be executed, often for having chosen the wrong side to champion. 

Friday, November 7/2014

Appointment at Apple's "Genius" bar. Nothing much wrong with the mini, but the original charging cord is much taped and the nice long replacement one only works about every tenth try. Very satisfactory though - nothing wrong with the port and we get a freebie new replacement "lightning" connector. Is this because the staff guru next to us recognised J by his poppy as a fellow Canadian and told our guru to treat us well? Pretty decent, though. No longer under warranty from Apple, though John Lewis did sell it to us with an extended warranty.

Actually the ten minute appointment slots had us slightly intimidated. Talk fast and focus? The reality is much more relaxed and we have plenty of time to poke around the Christmassy things at Covent Garden market.

Thursday, November 6/2014

To West Harrow and a visit with Jean. Her eightieth birthday coming up next month, although you'd never think it. On New Year's Eve actually, and as she says there's always a celebration with fireworks along the Thames and parties everywhere. We go over to collect the very nice Chinese food she's ordered and Shanthi arrives to share it, full of stories of her month's holiday in Sri Lanka and India, from temples and five star hotels to the horrors of the Indian railways.

We emerge from Bayswater tube station to the sound of sirens. There's a fire- smoke but no visible flames - next to, or perhaps over, the bureau de change. The currency exchange is a glass fronted box now full of smoke, so we wonder whether the firemen have brought a battering ram in addition to the long hoses and oxygen tanks.  If so, they don't use it and the cash remains secure, if indeed that is where it reposes at night. A few people are led out of the building, one of them an old man with long black coat and black woollen hat, who is eventually found a chair at the Lebanese restaurant, oddly outside rather than inside where it's warm. There are quite a few of us viewing the excitement from the pavement opposite, shop keepers and passers by. Eleven thirty is relatively early for Queensway. After a few minutes the police tape goes up and we're moved along a bit. Time for home anyway.

Wednesday, November 5/2014

Guy Fawkes Day, although we forget about it until evening when we can hear the sound of fireworks - but are not really tempted to go out and follow the sound to the source.

In the daytime we make a foray up Green Lanes Road. It's Turkish territory, with plenty of little restaurants, some the subject of excellent reviews. And there are numerous Turkish food shops as well as a few travel agencies and social service facilities with a Turkish clientele. We're here for Sama, a warehouse like wholesale/retail place that's a wonderful trove of Turkish and Middle Eastern foods. It's pretty unprepossessing from the outside but inside the shelves stretch back laden with dried figs and apricots, sundried tomatoes, bottles of oil, dried peppers, dates, two foot long honeycombs in wooden frames, J's favourite dried red pepper flakes, and a whole aisle full of olives. So we're well supplied with snack food for the duration.

Tuesday, November 4/2014

Meet up with Jenny outside the National Gallery, a good meeting spot because it's central, there's a large portico in front allowing shelter from rain if necessary, and there.'s plenty to enjoy if one arrives early. We are a bit early and watch not only the crowds but also the "statue people" - the mime artists with metallic body paint who perform or permit photos in response to donations. We head over to St Martin in the Fields across the road where there's coffee and lunches in the crypt. Coffee and catch up conversation. And two hours later emerge to dark skies (in part because it's now late afternoon) and rain. Abandon plans for walk in park and separate for our trains.

Opposite Charing Cross Station discover an open umbrella abandoned on the pavement. Does have a small hole, but serves well to take us down to Embankment and then home from the tube. Gains and losses on umbrellas must be about equal, including the one J was given at Sainsbury's in Finchley Road when he asked if his had been turned in and was told no, but he might as well have one of the long term unclaimed ones. On the whole, though, while numbers may be equal, there is probably a bit of a decline in quality. The best of them, found on the tube shortly after we left one on a bus, we ended up leaving subsequently on a bench in Paphos. Tonight's find is carefully dismantled by J, ever the tinkerer, and the structure of its frame duly admired, but it really isn't worth salvaging.

Monday, November 3/2014

Chillier this morning, though not as wintry as Starbucks seems to think it is - with red coffee cups and strains of "dreaming of a white Christmas" in the air. Our regular Starbucks has pretty impressive staff though. Not only do they juggle orders with four or five behind the counter and no mistakes, but Antonio immediately produced our regular  when we appeared for the first time in over six months.

To the National Portrait Gallery in the afternoon, the most intimate of London's major galleries, probably because the subjects are as interesting as the quality of the art or the artists.  A section on the Romantic period has a portrait of Keats in the Hampstead room we have visited next to a very young Coleridge and round the corner from an elderly Wordsworth. On the other side of the room, beneath a portrait of Blake, a remarkably shifty Turner looks as if he might be scalping tickets. 

Nearby there is a huge parliamentary scene of the trial of Queen Caroline, wife of George IV, longtime prince regent. The scandal, involving her affair with an Italian and his subsequent attempt to divorce her, seems remarkably modern, down to the character on the left handing a newspaper with the latest juicy details into the chamber to the hands of an eager MP. And there's both a bust and a portrait of William Hogarth, of Gin Lane fame, looking much less like an aesthete than a builder come to do repairs. So much for physical stereotypes.

Then supper at the Indian Veg near Angel tube station. Price has increased again, after a little more than a year, but only to £5.95, and the buffet has actually gone slightly upscale. Still entirely vegetarian and mostly vegan. And delicious.

Sunday, November 2/2014

Up before dawn to walk down to Hyde Park for the start of the 2014 London to Brighton veteran car run. Before we even reach the park we hear the putter of a car behind us on the Bayswater Road - one of the antique entrants (the youngest cars are 110 years old) on its way to the beginning of the rally. A scary prospect here, before they're all gathered together, as a few tiny vehicles, the smallest barely larger than a pram, make their way through the (admittedly light) pre-dawn London traffic. Several pass us, someof them not even equipped with lights, their little horns sounding as they bravely change lanes in front of the buses.

There are plenty of RAC volunteers out organising the start, which is good because there are over 400 cars. The first - the oldest - are scheduled to leave at dawn, which is just before seven this morning, with the last leaving about eight. There is a light drizzle, which dissipates, but it's not cold. The breeze is a mild one as we walk along the Serpentine, the swans gliding beside us. Most cars have several passengers, sometimes including a small child or a dog, and the participants are busy with last minute adjustments, goodbyes and coffees. Many of the people are in period costume, and the occasional leathers and goggles look particularly useful. Cars with roofs or windscreens are in the minority.

They're off, some with more difficulty than others. There's the odd steam engine - do they carry extra water? Some have tires with tubes while others are hard as an old wheelbarrow's. There's not a lot of room for spares but we spot extras looped on the side of one car. They're all beautifully mainained, some in the original colours but others presumably not - ivory, mint, fire engine red and cobalt blue liven up the ranks. Who knows how many will make it all the way to Brighton, but all but two do get away. Hartbreaking to bring a car this far - all of them trailered and some from as far away as America or Australia - and then be unable to join the rally. A third has had difficulties, but as we're leaving it sputters to life and heads off after its mates to cheers and applause. And we hear someone say "It's not a race- it's a run".

Saturday, November 1/2014

Regent Street closed for the country's biggest free car show, attracting some 400,000 people. We've come for the cars from tomorrow's London to Brighton car run - all of them pre-1905. They're not all that's on display though. Thereare some pretty impressive new cars, luxury and concept, ranging from a bright red Porsche sports model to a sleek new black Tesla.

It's the vintage cars that take our hearts, though. Dating from the late 19th abd very early 20th centuries and no two alike. Many of them tiny and brightly coloured. Some familiar names like Oldsmobile amongst them and others long vanished into ancient automotive history. Most with unbelievably small engines - five horsepower, for instance, and two (or even ONE) cylinders. Wicker trunks attached, and squeeze bulb horns. Most roofless, though a prize winner has a fringed top. Many of the owners are in period costume, to the delight of the photographers amongst the throng.

Friday, October 31/2014

Hallowe'en, and a number of people on the street in costume, although Guy Fawkes Day is bigger here. To Kilburn High Road to renew acquaintance. Stunning afternoon. Temperature reaches 23, a record, and it's sunny. Take a break on Kilburn Grange and watch the children with dogs, the young boys with footballs, a young couple stripped down for sunbathing.

Supper at Roses. More or less as always, though the checkered tablecloths are new, and the young East European waitresses seem part of an endless sequence. J fails to identify the language as they chatter to each other, so not Polish, Russian or Ukrainian. Romanian? Not as busy as usual. Prices pretty much the same as usual, though the roast dinners have disappeared from the two course specials and found their way back into the menu proper.

Thursday, October 30/2014

Plane arrives at Heathrow at dawn. As we're in no hurry at all to get to central London any earlier than we can get in to our accommodation, everything conspires to speed us. Short immigration queue, suitcases on the carousel before J is out the loo, train on the platform immediately, no waiting for the transfer. All of which leaves plenty of time for coffee and internet at Starbucks before we can decently present ourselves to check in. 

Lovely weather. Nineteen degrees and sunshine, the best reset mechanism for jet lag. Surprisingly, the sim in the mobile works. Wouldn't work in Canada and should have expired after six months non-use, but it's been six  months and a week and all's well. Which is nice as there's still £7.90 left on it.