Attempt to get boarding pass online at internet cafe to avoid repeat penalty tomorrow. Repeated inapplicable explanations of why we are being refused. The nice young man running the cafe is so indignant on our behalf that he insists on phoning ryanair. No joy and no contact.
So cut our losses and take an order of chips from the fish and chip shop down to the benches on Bachelor's Walk on the north side of the Liffe to enjoy. Good thing we split an order as it's huge.
Crossing streets is unnerving in Dublin. There are walk lights but with sound effects. Various Morse code beeps which may help the blind but disorient us foreigners. Then the brief walk light - run would be more appropriate - announced by a shriek like a canary being swallowed followed by a tatoo like a heart attack. And we run for the other side.
A visit to the museum at the old army barracks. A very interesting exhibit on the Easter 1916 uprising and Irish independence. Then back across the river via the James Joyce Bridge and through the oldest section of the city, past christ Church Cathedral and Dublin Castle. Stop for a Guinness at the Bleeding Horse, now on the southern end of our city centre map but probably at its genesis in 1649 in country fields. It's quiet and a pleasant Romanian girl serves us. Only a few customers, several of whom appear to be Romanian as well. By the time we finish we decide against evensong at christ church and go back to Trinity for dinner.
JAWORSKI TRAVELS
We live our lives forever taking leave - Rilke
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Thursday, 9 April 2009
Saturday, 4 April 2009
Wednesday, April 1/2009
Look round the lovely inner courtyard of Trinity College - all old grey stone and green lawns. More exploring. Check out Merrion Square, former home to Yeats, Oscar Wilde and others, and a charming park in its own right. Nearby is the National Gallery and we spend longer than we expect there, especially in the Portrait Gallery. It's a mini Irish history course with full sized illustrations. We also have the advantage of a longish chat with Antony, a cheerful docent who is full of information and anecdote. For example, George Bernard Shaw, a thin vegetarian, once met Lord Beaverbrook Beaverbrook looked at Shaw and said that when he saw Shaw he could believe the stories of the starving masses, to which Shaw replied that when he looked at the portly Beaverbrook he could belioeve the Beaver was responsible for them starving. And Shaw is responsible for the free admission to the National Gallery. He willed it a third of his estate, including continuing royalties from Pygmalion and My Fair Lady.
Through Temple Bar - pretty touristy. Back to Trinity College for an excellent stirfry at the Buttery. Youu choose your vegetables and the cook adds chicken or tofu and a sauce and stir fries as you watch. A big plateful with rice, and very good. Over O'Connell Bridge and a walk along the north side of the Liffey and back to Lynam's.
Through Temple Bar - pretty touristy. Back to Trinity College for an excellent stirfry at the Buttery. Youu choose your vegetables and the cook adds chicken or tofu and a sauce and stir fries as you watch. A big plateful with rice, and very good. Over O'Connell Bridge and a walk along the north side of the Liffey and back to Lynam's.
Tuesday, March 31/2009
Leave at 6 a.m. and take the train from London Bridge to Gatwick, so we're early enough - but then the shock effect. The penalty for not having checked in online - which I've somehow missed - is twenty quid each. And the same coming back? Yes, if you don't find a computer to check in on. Actually it's not quite as bad - or even worse - than that sounds. The cost of checking in is either £10 each online or £20 each at the airport. The cheap fare is getting less so. Especially as there was already a "handling fee" of £10 each, plus taxes, plus fees.
Pleasant enough flight - absolutely no frills, and relatively inoffensive speaker-announced advertisements - and we arrive early. Ryanair is proud to announce that they're #1 for no lost luggage. Quite probably - they sharply discourage anyone from checking in anything with extra fees. Rumours re charging for loo on board as yet unfounded. They have more effective mans than that of squeezing cash out of you.
The bus in stops at the O'Connell St. bus station - two doors from our hotel, Lynam's, a Georgian buildikng with small rooms but with a kettle, tea and coffee and a hairdryer, as well as a very clean loo. The area is historic as well as central. We're a block north of the post office building, seized and defended by the rebels in the Easter 1916 uprising. There are still bullet marks on the building.
A happy day wandering the streets. Central Dublin is really quite small. We sit in St. Stephen's Green watching the ducks, and chat with a man who shows us his Sony electronic bookreader. It's really quite impressive, both in terms of the numberf of books it holds and for its anti-glare screen and compact size.
Finish at St. Patrick's Cathedral, where Jonathan Swift was dean, for evensong - a lovely combination of vespers and compline in the ancient cathedral.
Dublin is showing signs of the recession - quite a lot of office space vacant and a surprpising number of people begging. It's a very expensive city as well, especially food prpices and the cost of newspapers, both noticeably higher than in London. We've done well enough on weekday accommodation though.
Pleasant enough flight - absolutely no frills, and relatively inoffensive speaker-announced advertisements - and we arrive early. Ryanair is proud to announce that they're #1 for no lost luggage. Quite probably - they sharply discourage anyone from checking in anything with extra fees. Rumours re charging for loo on board as yet unfounded. They have more effective mans than that of squeezing cash out of you.
The bus in stops at the O'Connell St. bus station - two doors from our hotel, Lynam's, a Georgian buildikng with small rooms but with a kettle, tea and coffee and a hairdryer, as well as a very clean loo. The area is historic as well as central. We're a block north of the post office building, seized and defended by the rebels in the Easter 1916 uprising. There are still bullet marks on the building.
A happy day wandering the streets. Central Dublin is really quite small. We sit in St. Stephen's Green watching the ducks, and chat with a man who shows us his Sony electronic bookreader. It's really quite impressive, both in terms of the numberf of books it holds and for its anti-glare screen and compact size.
Finish at St. Patrick's Cathedral, where Jonathan Swift was dean, for evensong - a lovely combination of vespers and compline in the ancient cathedral.
Dublin is showing signs of the recession - quite a lot of office space vacant and a surprpising number of people begging. It's a very expensive city as well, especially food prpices and the cost of newspapers, both noticeably higher than in London. We've done well enough on weekday accommodation though.
Sunday, March 29/2009
Wake for the Australian Grand Prix, though not early enough. By the time my watch says 6:15 it's actually 7:15 as the time change occured in the night. Get to see most of the race though.
Go to the sung Latin Mass at the Jesuit church on Farm Street - of various literary references. A lovely church. The choice of music - Hassler, Purcell - is as good as Westminster Cathedral's, and the choir is quite good, though small and without the boy sopranos.
After brunch we abandon the Sunday Times and head off to a meeting of the Socialist Party, having been given a paper yesterday at Hyde Park advertising a talk today on Global Capitalism. It's at an address on Red ion Square which proves to be a little north of Bond St. tube station. One side of the square boasts a house where Dante Gabriel Rossetti once lived.
We're on the other side, across a tiny park, at Conway Hall - the Bertrand kRussell Room. It's a curious gathering. Thirteen of us in all, nine men and four women, including a male chairman and a female speaker. We're about the average age but most of the others seem to know each other, sometimes prefacing a first name with "Comrade." They are an uncompromisingly Marxist lot and seem to feel that other organisations rejoicing in the name of socialist have made unforgiveable compromises. Hence Tony Benn, for example, is dismissed as a Labour Party member when the Labour Party has sanctioned war - not only in Afghanistan, but also World War II.
In some ways they are a curiously innocent group. Hence the high level of idealism that sees capitalists as the evil and workers as the should-be inheritors of the earth, despite a sad recognition that neither war nor plague nor environmental disaster seems likely to cause any withering away of the state.
Actually, they resemble nothing so much as a religious gathering of courteous and decent folk, from polite welcome to a collection toward the end to cover expenses as they have had to pay for the hall. The £84.80 is reasonably impressive, as ity means the other 11 people present contributed £83.80. After the presentation there are questions and then "discussion." Harry, who handed us the original invitation yesterday, is particularly eager to move to the discussion, everyone having their say. He's been making notes during the speech and has a number of things to say, mostly not directly related to the presentation. For example, he doesn't believe in global warming and insists that capitalist countries with arctic coasts are deliberately melting ice to aid in the search for oil. Interestingly, though, these contributions do not, in fact, lead to discussion at all. Rather, somewhat like religious testimonials, they are accepted politely at fact value rather than as spurs to debate, and there is some feeling that points of disagreement should be ignored as distractions from shared ideology. It is as if at a Church meeting someone were to say that beautiful sunsets proved the existence of God and the others were too polite or too aware of the damage attendant on dissent to debate the quality of the suggested proof. There is a deliberate avoidance of how a world would actually function after the workers had acquired the mans of production. It would work somehow and the workers would be the ones to decide. It seems God is not the only one to work in mysterious ways beyond our undersetanding.
It's been interesting and a little sad. As the only true, uncompromised socialists they seem a little like the Christians willing to die over the issue of using three rather than two fingers to cross themselves - and their cause quite hopeless. Communism, they say has not failed; it has never been tried. The same point has been made about Christianity.
Go to the sung Latin Mass at the Jesuit church on Farm Street - of various literary references. A lovely church. The choice of music - Hassler, Purcell - is as good as Westminster Cathedral's, and the choir is quite good, though small and without the boy sopranos.
After brunch we abandon the Sunday Times and head off to a meeting of the Socialist Party, having been given a paper yesterday at Hyde Park advertising a talk today on Global Capitalism. It's at an address on Red ion Square which proves to be a little north of Bond St. tube station. One side of the square boasts a house where Dante Gabriel Rossetti once lived.
We're on the other side, across a tiny park, at Conway Hall - the Bertrand kRussell Room. It's a curious gathering. Thirteen of us in all, nine men and four women, including a male chairman and a female speaker. We're about the average age but most of the others seem to know each other, sometimes prefacing a first name with "Comrade." They are an uncompromisingly Marxist lot and seem to feel that other organisations rejoicing in the name of socialist have made unforgiveable compromises. Hence Tony Benn, for example, is dismissed as a Labour Party member when the Labour Party has sanctioned war - not only in Afghanistan, but also World War II.
In some ways they are a curiously innocent group. Hence the high level of idealism that sees capitalists as the evil and workers as the should-be inheritors of the earth, despite a sad recognition that neither war nor plague nor environmental disaster seems likely to cause any withering away of the state.
Actually, they resemble nothing so much as a religious gathering of courteous and decent folk, from polite welcome to a collection toward the end to cover expenses as they have had to pay for the hall. The £84.80 is reasonably impressive, as ity means the other 11 people present contributed £83.80. After the presentation there are questions and then "discussion." Harry, who handed us the original invitation yesterday, is particularly eager to move to the discussion, everyone having their say. He's been making notes during the speech and has a number of things to say, mostly not directly related to the presentation. For example, he doesn't believe in global warming and insists that capitalist countries with arctic coasts are deliberately melting ice to aid in the search for oil. Interestingly, though, these contributions do not, in fact, lead to discussion at all. Rather, somewhat like religious testimonials, they are accepted politely at fact value rather than as spurs to debate, and there is some feeling that points of disagreement should be ignored as distractions from shared ideology. It is as if at a Church meeting someone were to say that beautiful sunsets proved the existence of God and the others were too polite or too aware of the damage attendant on dissent to debate the quality of the suggested proof. There is a deliberate avoidance of how a world would actually function after the workers had acquired the mans of production. It would work somehow and the workers would be the ones to decide. It seems God is not the only one to work in mysterious ways beyond our undersetanding.
It's been interesting and a little sad. As the only true, uncompromised socialists they seem a little like the Christians willing to die over the issue of using three rather than two fingers to cross themselves - and their cause quite hopeless. Communism, they say has not failed; it has never been tried. The same point has been made about Christianity.
Saturday, March 25/2009
Wake at 5 to watch qualifying for the Australian Grand Prix, F1 season opener. Well, semi wake, anyway, but enough to enjoy seeing the formula 1 world turned on its head as the season shapes up with no certainties at all.
Join the Put People First demo in central London, a broad and loose coalition of Churches, trades unions, Greens, anti-war movements and, more darkly, anarchists, all of whom want G20 leaders to focus less on business and banks and more on common people and underdeveloped countries. There's an amazingly broad range of sponsors, from Quakers to journalists, and an equally eclectic looking group of marchers of all ages, long white beards to babies in pushchairs. Even a few dogs along. We walk from Parliament Square to Hyde Park, led by a small band. Quite a lot of police at the beginning but we're a pretty tame lot. As we leave Hyde Park we see them paying closer attention to some anarchists gathering with red and black flags by the Marble Arch end. A construction area with bits of rubble suitable for projectiles has been prudently fenced off.
Join the Put People First demo in central London, a broad and loose coalition of Churches, trades unions, Greens, anti-war movements and, more darkly, anarchists, all of whom want G20 leaders to focus less on business and banks and more on common people and underdeveloped countries. There's an amazingly broad range of sponsors, from Quakers to journalists, and an equally eclectic looking group of marchers of all ages, long white beards to babies in pushchairs. Even a few dogs along. We walk from Parliament Square to Hyde Park, led by a small band. Quite a lot of police at the beginning but we're a pretty tame lot. As we leave Hyde Park we see them paying closer attention to some anarchists gathering with red and black flags by the Marble Arch end. A construction area with bits of rubble suitable for projectiles has been prudently fenced off.
Fridach 27/2009
Threats of rain so we take umbrellas and head for a museum day. Start at the Science Museum, which is alive with small children. A disproportionate number of the exhibits are child-oriented as well, some of them with unnecessarily low lighting and explanatory material posted about knee level. Interesting early steam engine that beat out its early 19th century competitors to set a record of 29 mph, reminding us of James saying that the steam engine was the first thing to go faster than a Roman chariot.
Happy time at the Victoria and Albert across the road, poking about the gallery covering Britain from 1500 to the mid 18th century. Interesting fact: marriages did not require either Church or witnesses to be valid until well into the 18th century, which must make life more difficult for genealogists.
Then by tube to Bethnal Green where we check out pie shop #2 in our search for a replacement for Goddard's. Kelly's is a small and local shop. We don't actually try its wares because it looks depressingly inadequate compared to Goddard's but mark it for later. Home for spinach salad and pasta with shrimp sauce.
Happy time at the Victoria and Albert across the road, poking about the gallery covering Britain from 1500 to the mid 18th century. Interesting fact: marriages did not require either Church or witnesses to be valid until well into the 18th century, which must make life more difficult for genealogists.
Then by tube to Bethnal Green where we check out pie shop #2 in our search for a replacement for Goddard's. Kelly's is a small and local shop. We don't actually try its wares because it looks depressingly inadequate compared to Goddard's but mark it for later. Home for spinach salad and pasta with shrimp sauce.
Thursday, March 26/2009
Graffiti on HSBC advertisement on the tube: "banker - rhymes with...."
Research for day trips. On average coach is cheaper but train is quicker. Surprisingly prices to Bedford much higher than those to Stratford or Bath, though it's only an hour by train.
Find a shop in Kentish Town opposite the tube station which sells embroidery needs and will order what they don't have in stock - a shop kindly recommended by a woman working at Liberty's, where stock and even floor space seem greatly reduced.
Check out Castle's Eel and Pie Shop on Royal College in Camden Town. We're looking for a successor to Goddard's in Greenwich. It's friendly and the tiny space is serving locals from workmen to old ladies, but the pies look small and pancake flat, so we only sample the puddings - plenty of custard from a large pail of same but the puddings are not homemade and not a meal in themselves. It's not Goddard's.
Research for day trips. On average coach is cheaper but train is quicker. Surprisingly prices to Bedford much higher than those to Stratford or Bath, though it's only an hour by train.
Find a shop in Kentish Town opposite the tube station which sells embroidery needs and will order what they don't have in stock - a shop kindly recommended by a woman working at Liberty's, where stock and even floor space seem greatly reduced.
Check out Castle's Eel and Pie Shop on Royal College in Camden Town. We're looking for a successor to Goddard's in Greenwich. It's friendly and the tiny space is serving locals from workmen to old ladies, but the pies look small and pancake flat, so we only sample the puddings - plenty of custard from a large pail of same but the puddings are not homemade and not a meal in themselves. It's not Goddard's.
Thursday, 26 March 2009
Wednesday, March 25/2009
Concession tickets to Alan Bennet's Enjoy - revival from 1980. It has some excellent moments - the very funny worrying about whether the husband is actually dead as they begin to lay him out as there appears to be "evidence both ways" - and some interesting questions re authenticity, but overall it's not nearly as good as the more recent plays. Encouraging, I suppose, to think someone writes better in his 60's and 70's than in his 40's.
Tuesday, March 24/2009
Repeat of Thursday night's fire alarm - this time at 8 a.m. and fewer tenants on show. The others at work or just too cynically blase to show? No fire.
We've been here a week but the time always goes so fast in London - there's so much to see and do. We stop and arrange with Marty for an extra 3 days from when we get bac from Dublin.
In the afternoon J goes to see Jersey Boys while I head out to West Harrow to see Jean and help play with her new computer. Computer's fun but so is the tea and chat. J says Jersey Boys great - Frankie Valli bio and songs - and a full theatre of grey heads!
We've been here a week but the time always goes so fast in London - there's so much to see and do. We stop and arrange with Marty for an extra 3 days from when we get bac from Dublin.
In the afternoon J goes to see Jersey Boys while I head out to West Harrow to see Jean and help play with her new computer. Computer's fun but so is the tea and chat. J says Jersey Boys great - Frankie Valli bio and songs - and a full theatre of grey heads!
Monday, March 23/2009
Down to the Barbican and a couple of hours with the library internet but no great joy looking for the missing 3 dahys. Back to Camden Town and a minimal shop. There's an eel and pie shop we want to check out but it starts to rain a little so we decide to look another day.
Shrimp and salmon chowder for supper.
Shrimp and salmon chowder for supper.
Sunday, March 22/2009
Mass at Westminster Cathedral with the usual beautiful boys choir. Still sunny though not quit so warm - but the tiny park by Victoria Station has young people sleeping on the grass near the student travel agency. Sunday lunch and a happy read of fat Sunday papers.
Saturday, March 21/2009
Is this the first day of spring? Certainly feels like it. We check out the plays at the National Theatre, then off by train to Thames Ditton. Jenny and her other are there and Doug comes back for lunch. Then Emma joins us with baby Jasmine, born in January. She's bright eyed and absolutely lovely. After lunch a walk in the area minus Doug who has gone back to renovations. Gloriously full camellias, violets, cherry blossoms, and magnolias. It's a beautiful town and day. Jasmine sleeps in her pram.
Use their computer to book 3 days in Dublin - a maddening procedure but done now.
We take the train back to Waterloo, but get halfway there (New Malden) before J says that's as far as he goes without a loo. New Malden has a toilet opening onto the platform - or rather not opening as it's locked in the evening. J disappears down the path and I make no inquiries. Ten minutes later another train to Waterloo.
Use their computer to book 3 days in Dublin - a maddening procedure but done now.
We take the train back to Waterloo, but get halfway there (New Malden) before J says that's as far as he goes without a loo. New Malden has a toilet opening onto the platform - or rather not opening as it's locked in the evening. J disappears down the path and I make no inquiries. Ten minutes later another train to Waterloo.
Friday, March 20/2009
Another stunningly beautiful day. It's been warm and sunny all week - shirtsleeves and daffodils, magnoilias, cherry blossoms everywhere. We walk from Trafalgar Square down the Mall along the park and work our way over to the Thomas Cook near Green Park where we look into possible spots for our 6 day gap. Nothing really clicks though.
Thursday, March 19/2009
Jean's in the afternoon. Lots of talk time and we get to see the new laptop. Beautiful wide screen but a bit intimidating in its complexity. Lovely meal with curry and the beautiful smoky aubergine as well as apple crumble with custard. Thoroughly spoiled we are.
A paralyzingly loud fire alarm sounds in the night for about 20 minutes. No signs of smoke or fire but we do meet a couple of the neighbours - are the rest justwaiting it out? A young man in red sweat pants explains the problem. He has some kind of position (for reduced rent?) with the Welby and could call the fire department but they charge management 7000 pounds if there's no fire and "Ii'd have to find somewhere else to live."
A paralyzingly loud fire alarm sounds in the night for about 20 minutes. No signs of smoke or fire but we do meet a couple of the neighbours - are the rest justwaiting it out? A young man in red sweat pants explains the problem. He has some kind of position (for reduced rent?) with the Welby and could call the fire department but they charge management 7000 pounds if there's no fire and "Ii'd have to find somewhere else to live."
Wednesday, March 18/2009
Stock up day - Sainsbury's as well as the 99p store and Inverness St. market so we've got the basics. Coronation Street in the evening - with characters and plotlines we can't place after 3 months.
March 17/2009
Most packing done yesterday, but still enough for busy morning. Maggi picks us up at noon (boxes and microwave left in room for storage). Lovely sunny lunch on M&M's balcony and last view of the Med, but hopes for all of us next year in cyprus.
Happily there are British newspapers for the plane so we get to sate ourselves with news and crosswords. Very nice lamb stew and creme caramel as well - and we're early in at Heathrow. Tube t Swiss Cottage and J collects the key to number 20 Belsize Park from its spot taped to the oor of the Welby. He's some time about it as it's taped so well that better fingernails are required. The flat is OK - pretty basic but clean and a good location.
Happily there are British newspapers for the plane so we get to sate ourselves with news and crosswords. Very nice lamb stew and creme caramel as well - and we're early in at Heathrow. Tube t Swiss Cottage and J collects the key to number 20 Belsize Park from its spot taped to the oor of the Welby. He's some time about it as it's taped so well that better fingernails are required. The flat is OK - pretty basic but clean and a good location.
Monday, 16 March 2009
Monday, March 16/2009
Appointment to get teeth cleaned, which J fortunately remembers because I wouldn't have. A woman in the wainting room makes two calls on her mobile, one in English and one in Greek. In the Greek conversation she sighs "Kyrie eleison" (lord have mercy) which soulds like a religious chant imported from the Mass rather than a casual interjection as it would in English. Like the Alpha and Omega sporting goods store, which always seems so apocalyptic, and not at all like a regular A to Z.
Sunday, March 15/2009
Say goodbye to Fr. Wilhelm. Huge brunch at home as we look to emptying the fridge. Warm enough, but very windy. Lovely film - Touch of Spice? - on Dubai tv about a Greek family deported from Istanbul to Greece in the 60's.
Saturday, March 14/2009
Find a sunny table at market for our coffee. Two women at the next table ask for Nescafe. Really? asks the proprietor, whose Cypriot coffee is excellent, but he brings it and I shrub my shoulders in agreement with him as he passes.
Friday, March 13/2009
Haircut before leaving, with only minimal trauma - shorter than I want, but a good cut. A solid hour's wait, but I've brought a novel. Minimalist conversation with the girl who washes hair, consisting mainly of each of us repeating what we have to say twice and hoping this will result in understanding - which it doesn't always.
Three a.m. drama. We wake to hear the fire alaarm ringing at length, and decide clothes are required lest the emergency be real. There are voices in the hallway and, when I open the door, a nasty smell of smoke. We join the small cluster of residents outside the door of the flat next door, clearly the source of the smoke. Only one other woman, but men have a clear advantage at impromptu middle of the night gatherings, being free to appear in sweat pants and not much else. The occupant of the flat is a giant mountain of a man, padding about unhappily in underpants, t-shirt and socks. He has something to be unhappy about, as he's clearly the author of the burning, whatever it is, and is being subjected to flat inspection by a man in black whom we take to be the night manager, as well as the singing Swede of lobby fame, recruited in this case for his linguistic skills. Though the man mountain doesn't seem chatty. Night manager and singing Swede emerge, apparently satisfied and commenting that it may have been cooking. Back in bed we reflect that it's no particular comfort to be given an explanation that cannot possibly be accurate. The nasty, acrid smell could have been cigarette and bedding but it was definitely not burned toast and bore no real resemblance to burnt food. But the rest of the night is peaceful.
Three a.m. drama. We wake to hear the fire alaarm ringing at length, and decide clothes are required lest the emergency be real. There are voices in the hallway and, when I open the door, a nasty smell of smoke. We join the small cluster of residents outside the door of the flat next door, clearly the source of the smoke. Only one other woman, but men have a clear advantage at impromptu middle of the night gatherings, being free to appear in sweat pants and not much else. The occupant of the flat is a giant mountain of a man, padding about unhappily in underpants, t-shirt and socks. He has something to be unhappy about, as he's clearly the author of the burning, whatever it is, and is being subjected to flat inspection by a man in black whom we take to be the night manager, as well as the singing Swede of lobby fame, recruited in this case for his linguistic skills. Though the man mountain doesn't seem chatty. Night manager and singing Swede emerge, apparently satisfied and commenting that it may have been cooking. Back in bed we reflect that it's no particular comfort to be given an explanation that cannot possibly be accurate. The nasty, acrid smell could have been cigarette and bedding but it was definitely not burned toast and bore no real resemblance to burnt food. But the rest of the night is peaceful.
Thursday, March 12/2009
This week's Cypriot Financial Mirror says that tourism is expected to drop 10 to 25% next year and predicts the lowering of hotel prices, involving some level of government subsidy. Somehow we doubt that winter long-stayers will be the primary beneficiaries.
Friday, 13 March 2009
Wednesday, March 11/2009
J for a haircut and I to the internet. We come home to a gleaming flat. The cleaning is usually good - sometimes embarrassingly so as when we find that the carefully seasoned frying pan has been scrubbed clean, leading to future hiding of same before cleaners arrive - but today the windows have been washed and the balcony mopped down as well.
I always wonder what the cleaners make of the shower arrangements. We have a small snhower cubicle with a cloth curtain on two sides. When we first came to the flat the curtain was an annoyance, as it tended to be sucked inward and cling to the body once the water was turned on, bringing to mind old convent accounts of nuns piously washing themselves beneath concealing shifts. Our solution has been to fill 3 large (1.5 litre) water bottles and use them to stake the cutain at appropriate spots so it's held in place. What must the cleaners think when they see 3 large bottles of water permanently placed between shower and toilet?
The Today on BBC radio features an interview with mp and political diarist Chris Mullin, who says that the political diarist should adhere to the four I's: make the diary immediate (no late remembering and reframing), intimate, indiscreet, and (in case of accidental loss) indecipherable. The last reminds me of the time I lost my journal. It was quite an unpleasant feeling knowing it was lying exposed somewhere, and this despite the fact that it's not nearly indiscreet enough (Mullin quotes Chips Cannon as saying "there's nothing more dull than a discreet diary: you might as well have a dull or discreet soul") and the knowledge that anyone at all could read it online anyway. I eventually found it in the Larnaca post office lying on a table, presumably unread.
I always wonder what the cleaners make of the shower arrangements. We have a small snhower cubicle with a cloth curtain on two sides. When we first came to the flat the curtain was an annoyance, as it tended to be sucked inward and cling to the body once the water was turned on, bringing to mind old convent accounts of nuns piously washing themselves beneath concealing shifts. Our solution has been to fill 3 large (1.5 litre) water bottles and use them to stake the cutain at appropriate spots so it's held in place. What must the cleaners think when they see 3 large bottles of water permanently placed between shower and toilet?
The Today on BBC radio features an interview with mp and political diarist Chris Mullin, who says that the political diarist should adhere to the four I's: make the diary immediate (no late remembering and reframing), intimate, indiscreet, and (in case of accidental loss) indecipherable. The last reminds me of the time I lost my journal. It was quite an unpleasant feeling knowing it was lying exposed somewhere, and this despite the fact that it's not nearly indiscreet enough (Mullin quotes Chips Cannon as saying "there's nothing more dull than a discreet diary: you might as well have a dull or discreet soul") and the knowledge that anyone at all could read it online anyway. I eventually found it in the Larnaca post office lying on a table, presumably unread.
Wednesday, 11 March 2009
Tuesday, March 10/2009
Sunny and windy - a perfect drying day as we get clothes ready to pack up.
We've invited M&M to dinner - last time this year. Maggi's hired car makes it possible but we do miss the old days when we were in the same building and could pop up or down easily. The Eleonora will be open again next year - is in fact almost ready now - but not at the good old price.
We've invited M&M to dinner - last time this year. Maggi's hired car makes it possible but we do miss the old days when we were in the same building and could pop up or down easily. The Eleonora will be open again next year - is in fact almost ready now - but not at the good old price.
Monday, March 9/2009
A call this morning from Androula. We met her and her husband Andreas in Jordan two years ago and got on quite well. He used to be a headmaster and she a home economics consultant - both retired now and living in Nicosia. I'd texted just to see if thenumber I had was still good. They remember us well and wanted us to come for lunch or dinner. It's pretty late this year but next year we'll have to try.
Email from Liza, the Philippina nanny we met who was moving to Toronto. She says she's fine and the family she's living with are nice, so that's good news. It's half way round the world for her and probably the coldest climate she's known, but she's likely to be both paid and treated better in Canada than in Cyprus.
Email from Liza, the Philippina nanny we met who was moving to Toronto. She says she's fine and the family she's living with are nice, so that's good news. It's half way round the world for her and probably the coldest climate she's known, but she's likely to be both paid and treated better in Canada than in Cyprus.
Monday, 9 March 2009
Sunday, March 8/2009
Really thick dust haze in the air which, ironically, has the effect of making the air warmer, though it's not exactly sunny. One spot on the island hits 25 today. Fr. Wilhelm has ashes available after Mass for those who were unable to come on Ash Wednesday - "some of you work for slave drivers," he shrugs, addressing the Philippino domestics. So we line up with those with worthier excuses.
Saturday, March 7/2009
Warm but overcast - more dust in the atmosphere? Coffee at the marketplace with M&M, and we buy six eggs but nothing else. Nothing more would fit in the little fridge. Feels like we have enough til we leave, though - probably too much of some things and not enough of others.
Film Sylvia on Dubai television - the life of Sylvia Plath. Interesting how someone with such psychological damage can leave the viewer so unmoved. Probably because of the self-centredness verging on narcissism, though that may be true of all mental disturbance. The Dubai chanel is pretty limited but it does provide two films a day, a reasonable proportion of which are watchable.
Film Sylvia on Dubai television - the life of Sylvia Plath. Interesting how someone with such psychological damage can leave the viewer so unmoved. Probably because of the self-centredness verging on narcissism, though that may be true of all mental disturbance. The Dubai chanel is pretty limited but it does provide two films a day, a reasonable proportion of which are watchable.
Friday, March 6/2009
Small group of boys (late teens? - a guess as I don't turn round to look) come in to the internet and crowd round one of the four computers, all of which are, miraculously, working. They're obviously looking for work in the hospitality trade, but they don't have a lot of patience; a ten minute search perhaps and they're ready to leave. I hear them daring each other on the way out. Yeah, do it - ask for condoms. It is a student facility, perhaps with many missions. Seems to work though, and they leave happy if jobless.
Friday, 6 March 2009
Thursday, March 5/2009
Our afternoon read aloud book is now Edith Sitwell's The Queens and the Hive, a history of Elizabeth I and Mary Queen of Scots. We're more than half through, so reasonable hope of finishing before we leave. It's quite highly dependent on primary sources, many of which are fascinating, irony and malice coming down undiminished through the intervening four centuries.
In the evening M&M drop by for their rain cheque drink (unable to stop yesterday).
In the evening M&M drop by for their rain cheque drink (unable to stop yesterday).
Wednesday, March 4/2009
Two early morning stories courtesy of UK BBC5 underline just how different political concerns can be elsewhere. In Tanzania there is a problem with albinos being murdered as their body parts can be sold to witch doctors making spells to create wealth. And in Kenya the president complains bitterly about rumours that he has a second wife - threatening lawsuits.
Ash Wednesday (Eastern Church that is) and a lovely day.
Ash Wednesday (Eastern Church that is) and a lovely day.
Wednesday, 4 March 2009
Tuesday, March 3/2009
Settle our bill for the remaining time. We leave for London in two weeks, and as usual wonder where the time has gone. We'll miss Dave in the UK, which is too bad.
Tuesday, 3 March 2009
Monday, March 2/2009
Traditionally Green Monday is a day for picnics, the locals heading off to the countryside with barbecues and folding tables. So Maggi has planed a picnic for us and collects us at 10 for a drive out toward Kiti Beach, just south of us along the coast. On the way, we pay a short visit to Angeloktisti Church. The church itself is 11th century but built on a much earlier church site. The original apse is still there as well as a lovely 6th century mosaic with the virgin Mary and archangels. We've been there before but not recently.
We then head for Kiti Dam, out of curiosity, and eventually find it - bone dry. Surprising, since we've had more rain recently and the water is supposed to be coming over the dam at a couple of reservoirs. We do find a lovely old church nearby though, a stone building surrounded by ancient looking olive trees, the trunks gnarled and intertwined. The church is locked but looks cared for, despite the large number of spent cartridgeslying about. Cypriots are enthusiastic hunters, typically wearing - unbelievably - camouflage on their hunting expeditions.
We have our picnic lunch at Kiti Beach. Magne had wanted a barbecue but Maggi opted for simplicity so we've brought sandwiches, fruit, olives, pickled herring, cheese, beer and iced doughnuts. Then efforts to fly the kite that Maggi was given at Zorbas Bakery. THis is a traditional kite flying day and several picnickers near us have theirs soaring but we're not very successful in getting ours up. The beach has quite interesting stones and we pick them over while Maggi goes off to investigate a beach hut. Drive back along the coast stopping at Kiti Lighthouse as well as photographing the flamingos at the salt lake. A lovely day.
We then head for Kiti Dam, out of curiosity, and eventually find it - bone dry. Surprising, since we've had more rain recently and the water is supposed to be coming over the dam at a couple of reservoirs. We do find a lovely old church nearby though, a stone building surrounded by ancient looking olive trees, the trunks gnarled and intertwined. The church is locked but looks cared for, despite the large number of spent cartridgeslying about. Cypriots are enthusiastic hunters, typically wearing - unbelievably - camouflage on their hunting expeditions.
We have our picnic lunch at Kiti Beach. Magne had wanted a barbecue but Maggi opted for simplicity so we've brought sandwiches, fruit, olives, pickled herring, cheese, beer and iced doughnuts. Then efforts to fly the kite that Maggi was given at Zorbas Bakery. THis is a traditional kite flying day and several picnickers near us have theirs soaring but we're not very successful in getting ours up. The beach has quite interesting stones and we pick them over while Maggi goes off to investigate a beach hut. Drive back along the coast stopping at Kiti Lighthouse as well as photographing the flamingos at the salt lake. A lovely day.
Sunday, March 1/2009
Text from Jenny as we wake, to say that they are leaving Bahamas and about to sail up the Amazon. They'll be back in London by the time we get there so we'll get to hear all about their trip.
Reverse pattern - clouds disappear in late morning. After Sunday brunch we take a walk along the waterfront, enjoying the sun. As usual on a Sunday it's full of locals and tourists alike along the promenade. It's warm but windy and we watch a little girl's chagrin when the top of her candy floss blows off and skites along the sidewalk. Many of the children are wearing their carnival costumes, enjoying them for as many days as possible - a small female lion walks with her parents, her tail dragging dispiritedly along the pavement. As well as ice cream, cotton candy and hot dogs (one euro each, but none in evidence) there are helium balloons, toys and cheap jewellery on sale. And games of chance: small homemade wooden pinball games stand in front of plush animals and other prizes.
The newsreader on the Dubai chanel, whose English is fluent and almost unaccented, refers to a statement by the "Angelican" (accent on the second syllable, pronounced jell) bishop of Cyprus and the Middle East.
Reverse pattern - clouds disappear in late morning. After Sunday brunch we take a walk along the waterfront, enjoying the sun. As usual on a Sunday it's full of locals and tourists alike along the promenade. It's warm but windy and we watch a little girl's chagrin when the top of her candy floss blows off and skites along the sidewalk. Many of the children are wearing their carnival costumes, enjoying them for as many days as possible - a small female lion walks with her parents, her tail dragging dispiritedly along the pavement. As well as ice cream, cotton candy and hot dogs (one euro each, but none in evidence) there are helium balloons, toys and cheap jewellery on sale. And games of chance: small homemade wooden pinball games stand in front of plush animals and other prizes.
The newsreader on the Dubai chanel, whose English is fluent and almost unaccented, refers to a statement by the "Angelican" (accent on the second syllable, pronounced jell) bishop of Cyprus and the Middle East.
Saturday, February 28/2009
The pattern of weather seems to have been, typically, sunny in the morning, then clouding over and, sometimes, afternoon showers. So this morning begins sunny but J points to the rising bank of cloud in the north. Coffee at the marketplace with M&M but by 11 the dark clouds are rolling in and there's a slight chill in the air. After market J and I walk down to Prinos greengrocers, prudently taking umbrellas. Prinos is insanely busy as its produce is excellent and we're into a long weekend. Not only a long weekend, but a Monday on which the tradition is to have a picnic featuring green vegetables, bread and seafood. As we leave, a thunderstorm hits and, mindful of the recent ligntning strike death, we wait until it's moved east before putting up lightning rod umbrellas. By the time we reach the Polish shop - for pickled herring - the rain, never heavy, has stopped.
Friday, February 27/2009
Headng into a long weekend in Cyprus Monday is clean Monday or green Monday depending on translation - the day preceding kShrove Tuesday and Ash Wednesday. These latter occurred in the western Church a week ago courtesy of the Gregorian calendar. This year Easter is a week apart in the two jurisdictions. Usually it's more; occasionally the same date.
This weekend there will be parades in some places and children in costume everywhere - princesses and spidermen much in evidence. Not only children if the shop window displays are anything to go by. There must be adult costume parties in the offing.
This weekend there will be parades in some places and children in costume everywhere - princesses and spidermen much in evidence. Not only children if the shop window displays are anything to go by. There must be adult costume parties in the offing.
Friday, 27 February 2009
Thursday, February 26/2009
Very strange late winter here. Warm enough but for some time now - feels like weeks but maybe only a couple of weeks - we've lived under a cloud much of the time, blue on the BBC weather map but white-grey in the sky. There's often a shower, but never sustained rain. Rather Londony actually, though much warmer. At least the water crisis here is over with reservoirs doing nicely. We do get a large clap of thunder with the evening rain today, but clearly worse elsewhere. North of us a field worker is hit by lightning and killed.
Wednesday, February 25/2009
News on Cairo bombing long gone as the crash of a Turkish Airlines plane in Amsterdam takes the headlines. We flew with Turkish Airlines last year and it's supposed to have a fairly good reputation, although they did pay relatively little attention to people piling their bags in front of the emergency exit instead of stowing them - no problem at all unless there is an emergency.
Tuesday, February 24/2009
Maggi drops by in the evening to hear about the trip and share reminiscences of their visit to Egypt last year.
Monday, February 23/2009
We've planned to take a ppicture of the pyramids from our hotel room window - the best view we've ever had - but we wake to a thick dust haze, the sun a faint red dot and the pyramids invisible. Fortunately, it disappears later in the morning and J gets a clear shot.
Being out in Giza, we can't really go too far before eing picked up at noon for the ride to the airport on the other side of Cairo. Not a great deal more on the news about yesterday's bombing. No terrorist group has taken responsibility. Speculation is, as the bombs (there were two ut one failed to detonate) seem to have been homemade that this may have been a protest by a small group, possibly against Egyptian government co-operation with Israel over Gaza, which angered many Egyptians.
Abdoul and driver collect us. The long drive to the airport gives us chat time and some of the chat becomes philosophical, Abdoul telling us his feelings about culture, religion and a Czech girl - a tourist guide - whom he had considered marrying.
The airport has been renovated and is quite modern, apart from marginally acceptable washrooms. It's equuipped with the obvious duty free shops as well as Starbucks, McDonalds's and similar, and - more interestingly - Italian, British and American lounges. So called, at least, though they all look like standard cafes. Prices about the same as a Canadian airport.
The flight is full and the meal the same as Friday's but with mango juice in place of orange. Enough chicken breast that I make a doggy bag. One passenger has to be asked to put away his mobile during take off, and the man next to me has his out during landing. Never sure how seriously phones interfere. If it's serious, airlines should be more emphatic, maybe replacing the no smoking signs with no mobile signs. No one tries to smoke any more and if they did they'd be pretty quickly spotted. Nor would smoking cause a crash. Airlines lose credibility by inconsistencies about what is important. For example, serious restrictions on bringing iquids aboard are universal in Europe and North America but Egypt and Israel - the gold standard in security (Israel, not Egypt) - both ignore water bottles but x-ray all luggage, checked as well as unchecked, which rather makes sense if one is to fear terrorists prepared to go down with the plane. Apparently it's not done in North America because it would be too expensive!
Walk back in from the airport. There's been a storm through but it's dry as we leave, though small bits of rain on the way. And home to the Kition.
Being out in Giza, we can't really go too far before eing picked up at noon for the ride to the airport on the other side of Cairo. Not a great deal more on the news about yesterday's bombing. No terrorist group has taken responsibility. Speculation is, as the bombs (there were two ut one failed to detonate) seem to have been homemade that this may have been a protest by a small group, possibly against Egyptian government co-operation with Israel over Gaza, which angered many Egyptians.
Abdoul and driver collect us. The long drive to the airport gives us chat time and some of the chat becomes philosophical, Abdoul telling us his feelings about culture, religion and a Czech girl - a tourist guide - whom he had considered marrying.
The airport has been renovated and is quite modern, apart from marginally acceptable washrooms. It's equuipped with the obvious duty free shops as well as Starbucks, McDonalds's and similar, and - more interestingly - Italian, British and American lounges. So called, at least, though they all look like standard cafes. Prices about the same as a Canadian airport.
The flight is full and the meal the same as Friday's but with mango juice in place of orange. Enough chicken breast that I make a doggy bag. One passenger has to be asked to put away his mobile during take off, and the man next to me has his out during landing. Never sure how seriously phones interfere. If it's serious, airlines should be more emphatic, maybe replacing the no smoking signs with no mobile signs. No one tries to smoke any more and if they did they'd be pretty quickly spotted. Nor would smoking cause a crash. Airlines lose credibility by inconsistencies about what is important. For example, serious restrictions on bringing iquids aboard are universal in Europe and North America but Egypt and Israel - the gold standard in security (Israel, not Egypt) - both ignore water bottles but x-ray all luggage, checked as well as unchecked, which rather makes sense if one is to fear terrorists prepared to go down with the plane. Apparently it's not done in North America because it would be too expensive!
Walk back in from the airport. There's been a storm through but it's dry as we leave, though small bits of rain on the way. And home to the Kition.
Thursday, 26 February 2009
Sunday, February 22/2009
Breakfast at somewhat lower standard today. Aubergine not on but replaced by fried courgette cakes - ok but not warm, a match for the cold scrambled eggs and today's foule. A waiter seems annoyed when we choose a table with a clean cloth. At another table I spot a different waiter assiduously scraping a bit of encrusted food with a table knife. Mission accomplished, he leaves the knife at its place setting for the next hotel guest to use.
We have a free day today, so some negotiating for a ride to the city centre, made slightlymore difficult by the fact that nobody ever seems to hae change and there is little point in agreeing on a price and then not having the exact fare. We twice meet people who ask, oddly, if we speak Hungarian, and I'm tempted to say, not quite accurately, that nobody speaks Hungarian. Everyone who asks our nationality has the same response - oh yes, Canada Dry (quite a popular drink in the Middle East). In the end we're offered one way down town for 40 Egyptian pounds - about $9 Canadian or five British pounds. We see it's not a taxi but the tourist policeman by the hotel door gives his blessing. Seems the driver drives for the hotel. "Limousine," he says, though that would be overstating it considerably for the green station wagon with decomposing upholstery.
We get out at Tahir Square in the centre, beside a metro station. Our original plan had been to take the metro from Giza, but the hotel staff really only speak hotel English - they can deal with the questions that hotel guests normally ask but can't really cope beyond that, as in where is the nearest metro station. We check out the station, which looks modern and reasonably clean. At the top of the stairs outside the exit a woman sells small packets of tissues, although there don't seem to be any buyers, and feeds a very little child who is seated on her knee. J says, though, that there is much less begging than there was 20 years ago. We're near a bridge over the Nile and Cairo here is in its modern city mode; five star hotels, river islands, the rose coloured Egyptian Museum.
We head off with the general intent of picking up a tourist map from the information office shown in the little map in our aged Let's Go. It's not as easy as it might seem, because not all the streets in our little map are named, whereas on the ground all the streets have names in Arabic but only in the centre or on motorways are the streets also labelled in western letters. To add to the difficulty, streets in Cairo, like those in most ancient cities, head off at all angles, so that those that seem parallel as one sets off spin out to opposite corners of the map, so it's important to find the right road.
On Ramses St. we come across a crew of riot police, perhaps fifty of them. There is no visible trouble, but there are large political posters and perhaps a demo is expected. We detour and head east. At one point we pass an Armenian church and the priest invites us in. He doesn't speak English, but his French is excellent, clear and not too fast, and he's quite pleased to show us ihis tranquil church and its full-sized replica of the shroud of Turin. As we go farther from the city centre there are fewer tourists, more street life, bits of markets under bridges, fewer English signs. (Although English on the sign of a shop is by no means an indication that anyone inside the shop speaks English). Dust and rubble increase at street corners. In Egypt it's easy to see how whole civilizations disappear under dust. Here it's made worse by the fact that there seem to be few people who refrain from tossing sweet wrappers and such on the ground as they go.
We had had thoughts of tea at yesterday's cafe but our progress tacking across the city is a bit slow, though interesting, and J still wants to take photos of the Nile, so we head back. Stop for something to eat at KFC - not our first choice in Egypt, both because it's a waste not taking advantage of middle east food and because we're not keen on the high fat fast food route. However the culture in general is not particularly hygienic (witness the waiters drying cups at our hotel, thumb in cup, towel draped over shoulder) and the thought of the food appearing in cardboard box and sterile can is rather encouraging. This morning outside the hotel, we passed a van with a huge tray of loaves of bread balanced on the roof. Two or three of the loaves fell onto the roof of the van and the driver returned them to the tray. It's simply a different view of cleanliness. KFC is better than average, although it's possible to find the washroom without seeing the sign or asking directions.
Stop at five star hotel and buy a newspaper as well as taking advantage of very clean loo. Then a policeman actually escorts us across two streets - more hazardous than it sounds, and referred to by the guide book as a real life game of frogger. We negotiate with the driver of a local black and white taxi, with the help of a by-passer, for a ride back, having brought with us an envelope from the hotel with the address in Arabic. Some discussion amongst driver, bystander and policeman and then agreement at 40 pounds Egyptian again - although this time we have the disadantage of persuading a cabby to go from the centre to Giza at rush hour.
The trip is about an hour and a half, some of it in gridlock. It's made a little longer probably by some adjustments at the Giza end as the driver asks locals for directions and expresses surprise. An interesting drive though. We pass two informal sports bars - cafes with a small television outside and perhaps 75 men on the pavement, some on wooden chairs and some standing, watching the football match in the dusk. Probably the same match to which we are listening at high volume in the taxi. Back at the hotel we head down the street to buy a large bottle of water and two tins of 7-up from a small shop. The purchase comes to 10 Egyptian pounds (about two dollars Canadian) and someone is sent to find change for our 20 pound note. How on earth do the operate?
Back to our room, and it's almost the same place we left. We're down one towel, though someone brought two extra yesterday, but have, mysteriously, acquired an extra armchair, squeezed in with some difficulty as we already had two.
Time to pour a drink (whiskey we brought with us) and watch the news. Then we hear on BBC World the breaking news from Cairo. There has been a bombing at the cafe we visited yesterday and had planned to visit today. Tourists were clearly the target: one young French woman is dead and seventeen people have been injured. Little extra information as the area has been sealed and television shots show mainly police milling in the gathering dark.
We have a free day today, so some negotiating for a ride to the city centre, made slightlymore difficult by the fact that nobody ever seems to hae change and there is little point in agreeing on a price and then not having the exact fare. We twice meet people who ask, oddly, if we speak Hungarian, and I'm tempted to say, not quite accurately, that nobody speaks Hungarian. Everyone who asks our nationality has the same response - oh yes, Canada Dry (quite a popular drink in the Middle East). In the end we're offered one way down town for 40 Egyptian pounds - about $9 Canadian or five British pounds. We see it's not a taxi but the tourist policeman by the hotel door gives his blessing. Seems the driver drives for the hotel. "Limousine," he says, though that would be overstating it considerably for the green station wagon with decomposing upholstery.
We get out at Tahir Square in the centre, beside a metro station. Our original plan had been to take the metro from Giza, but the hotel staff really only speak hotel English - they can deal with the questions that hotel guests normally ask but can't really cope beyond that, as in where is the nearest metro station. We check out the station, which looks modern and reasonably clean. At the top of the stairs outside the exit a woman sells small packets of tissues, although there don't seem to be any buyers, and feeds a very little child who is seated on her knee. J says, though, that there is much less begging than there was 20 years ago. We're near a bridge over the Nile and Cairo here is in its modern city mode; five star hotels, river islands, the rose coloured Egyptian Museum.
We head off with the general intent of picking up a tourist map from the information office shown in the little map in our aged Let's Go. It's not as easy as it might seem, because not all the streets in our little map are named, whereas on the ground all the streets have names in Arabic but only in the centre or on motorways are the streets also labelled in western letters. To add to the difficulty, streets in Cairo, like those in most ancient cities, head off at all angles, so that those that seem parallel as one sets off spin out to opposite corners of the map, so it's important to find the right road.
On Ramses St. we come across a crew of riot police, perhaps fifty of them. There is no visible trouble, but there are large political posters and perhaps a demo is expected. We detour and head east. At one point we pass an Armenian church and the priest invites us in. He doesn't speak English, but his French is excellent, clear and not too fast, and he's quite pleased to show us ihis tranquil church and its full-sized replica of the shroud of Turin. As we go farther from the city centre there are fewer tourists, more street life, bits of markets under bridges, fewer English signs. (Although English on the sign of a shop is by no means an indication that anyone inside the shop speaks English). Dust and rubble increase at street corners. In Egypt it's easy to see how whole civilizations disappear under dust. Here it's made worse by the fact that there seem to be few people who refrain from tossing sweet wrappers and such on the ground as they go.
We had had thoughts of tea at yesterday's cafe but our progress tacking across the city is a bit slow, though interesting, and J still wants to take photos of the Nile, so we head back. Stop for something to eat at KFC - not our first choice in Egypt, both because it's a waste not taking advantage of middle east food and because we're not keen on the high fat fast food route. However the culture in general is not particularly hygienic (witness the waiters drying cups at our hotel, thumb in cup, towel draped over shoulder) and the thought of the food appearing in cardboard box and sterile can is rather encouraging. This morning outside the hotel, we passed a van with a huge tray of loaves of bread balanced on the roof. Two or three of the loaves fell onto the roof of the van and the driver returned them to the tray. It's simply a different view of cleanliness. KFC is better than average, although it's possible to find the washroom without seeing the sign or asking directions.
Stop at five star hotel and buy a newspaper as well as taking advantage of very clean loo. Then a policeman actually escorts us across two streets - more hazardous than it sounds, and referred to by the guide book as a real life game of frogger. We negotiate with the driver of a local black and white taxi, with the help of a by-passer, for a ride back, having brought with us an envelope from the hotel with the address in Arabic. Some discussion amongst driver, bystander and policeman and then agreement at 40 pounds Egyptian again - although this time we have the disadantage of persuading a cabby to go from the centre to Giza at rush hour.
The trip is about an hour and a half, some of it in gridlock. It's made a little longer probably by some adjustments at the Giza end as the driver asks locals for directions and expresses surprise. An interesting drive though. We pass two informal sports bars - cafes with a small television outside and perhaps 75 men on the pavement, some on wooden chairs and some standing, watching the football match in the dusk. Probably the same match to which we are listening at high volume in the taxi. Back at the hotel we head down the street to buy a large bottle of water and two tins of 7-up from a small shop. The purchase comes to 10 Egyptian pounds (about two dollars Canadian) and someone is sent to find change for our 20 pound note. How on earth do the operate?
Back to our room, and it's almost the same place we left. We're down one towel, though someone brought two extra yesterday, but have, mysteriously, acquired an extra armchair, squeezed in with some difficulty as we already had two.
Time to pour a drink (whiskey we brought with us) and watch the news. Then we hear on BBC World the breaking news from Cairo. There has been a bombing at the cafe we visited yesterday and had planned to visit today. Tourists were clearly the target: one young French woman is dead and seventeen people have been injured. Little extra information as the area has been sealed and television shots show mainly police milling in the gathering dark.
Wednesday, 25 February 2009
Saturday, February 21/2009
Wake to our daylight view of the pyramids, now majestic in the sun, and we can see buses already arriving in front of them. Downstairs for breakfast. It's a bit depressing. Nothing's really all that clean and we know better thaqn to eat salads in Egypt. There's a reasonable variety of white buns and sweet buns, most looking a bit dry. We take cups (choosing the cleanest) of fairly warm coffee and consider the options. J says he doesn't think he's up to the middle east breakfast at this hour of the morning but I want something to start the day's sightseeing with and decide that an advantage to the cooked dishes is that probably nobody has plynged a grubby hand into them. So back to take rice, foule (a standard mideast cooked bean dish) and a garlicky aubergine and onion mixture which has actually been kept fairly hot, as well as being delicious. J tries and is similarly impressed. And we switch to tea, which is hot.
Ayet, our guide for the day, arrives, a friendly young lady in a jean jacket, and we head for the pyramids, a short drive away. The only remaining wonder of the original 7 wonders of the world, so simple and yet so incredibly impressive. Ayet refers to limestone as the best of building materials, but only in such a dry climate would it have survived, and indeed over time the largest pyramid has gone from 146 metres to 137 in height over the past 4500 or so years.
We see the Sphinx, but decline the perfume factory tour, although Ayet points out it's included in our package. Ditto the papyrus making demo, which we agree is very interesting but something we have seen before. This buys us more time at the museum, and J persuades Ayet to forgo the explanations of other exhibits so that we can spend all our time with King Tut's treasures. It's all interesting, from amulets to a hinged, folding camp bed used by the boy king on hunting trips.
The best of it is astonishing. There's the well known death mask, with its eleven kilos of gold and the classic symmetrical face, and the coffins, which fit together like a Russian doll. Two of the three, made of solid gold, are on display, as are the gold inlaid nesting containers they fit inside, each bigger than the last, and the largest one enormous. The most moving of the King Tut exhibits, though, is the throne. It's a gold chair of moderate size, but its back panel has a coloured bas relief of a teenaged King Tut and his young wife, unique in its intimate and informal portrayal of affection. The two have eyes only for each other. He is seated comfortably and she is standing, rubbing his arm with oil. Each wears only one sandal of a pair, a unit only when they are together.
Ayet meets us outside King Tut's rooms by some mummies, calling our attention to one which includes a lock of hair, "given to him by a grandmother as a hair-loom," she tells us seriously. We head off across the city for the Islamic area. Driving in Cairo is not for the faint-hearted. Some streets are impossibly narrow but many are multi-lane, the lanes not always marked as cars four or five abreast fight for space, hands on horns and fenders showing signs of past wars. Most of the traffic is vehicular, but there is the odd cart pulled by a donkey and once we pass a wagon pulled by a donkey yoked with a horse. One would expect more accidents and there are many battle scars but we don't witness any prangs, though we once see a smashed car being carried on a small flatbed.
Ayet, who has sadly given up on us a source of extra tailor-made tours tomorrow, takes us to an outside cafe in a square beside the Sayyidina el-Hussein Mosque (apparently, according to the old Let's Go, the resting place of the skull of the grandson of Mohammed). It's a lovely sunlit spot where locals and tourists mix. As we arrive, a large man wearing shorts and a Hawaiian style shirt climbs into the front of a tourist bus and shouts to his wife "wrong bus!" Most tourists are less cliched looking though, and mix with locals. Ayet has guava juice while J and I drink tea with large sprigs of fresh mint immersed - very refreshing. There are sales attempts every few seconds - watches, jewellery, caps - but nothing too pressing. And we get a chance to chat with Ayet. She doesn't wear the hijab, but agrees most women do, though she says there's no pressure. She's learning Russian because there are increasing numbers of Russian tourists. The cafe is a lovely, cosmopolitan spot. Women walk past carrying large suitcase-sized bundles on their heads, the traditional load now wrapped in bright green plastic. Arabic and English are not the only languages in the air. As we leave, we see a tiny kitten curled under a table.
Back at the hotel we can still hear the traffic from our 10th floor room with the window closed.
Ayet, our guide for the day, arrives, a friendly young lady in a jean jacket, and we head for the pyramids, a short drive away. The only remaining wonder of the original 7 wonders of the world, so simple and yet so incredibly impressive. Ayet refers to limestone as the best of building materials, but only in such a dry climate would it have survived, and indeed over time the largest pyramid has gone from 146 metres to 137 in height over the past 4500 or so years.
We see the Sphinx, but decline the perfume factory tour, although Ayet points out it's included in our package. Ditto the papyrus making demo, which we agree is very interesting but something we have seen before. This buys us more time at the museum, and J persuades Ayet to forgo the explanations of other exhibits so that we can spend all our time with King Tut's treasures. It's all interesting, from amulets to a hinged, folding camp bed used by the boy king on hunting trips.
The best of it is astonishing. There's the well known death mask, with its eleven kilos of gold and the classic symmetrical face, and the coffins, which fit together like a Russian doll. Two of the three, made of solid gold, are on display, as are the gold inlaid nesting containers they fit inside, each bigger than the last, and the largest one enormous. The most moving of the King Tut exhibits, though, is the throne. It's a gold chair of moderate size, but its back panel has a coloured bas relief of a teenaged King Tut and his young wife, unique in its intimate and informal portrayal of affection. The two have eyes only for each other. He is seated comfortably and she is standing, rubbing his arm with oil. Each wears only one sandal of a pair, a unit only when they are together.
Ayet meets us outside King Tut's rooms by some mummies, calling our attention to one which includes a lock of hair, "given to him by a grandmother as a hair-loom," she tells us seriously. We head off across the city for the Islamic area. Driving in Cairo is not for the faint-hearted. Some streets are impossibly narrow but many are multi-lane, the lanes not always marked as cars four or five abreast fight for space, hands on horns and fenders showing signs of past wars. Most of the traffic is vehicular, but there is the odd cart pulled by a donkey and once we pass a wagon pulled by a donkey yoked with a horse. One would expect more accidents and there are many battle scars but we don't witness any prangs, though we once see a smashed car being carried on a small flatbed.
Ayet, who has sadly given up on us a source of extra tailor-made tours tomorrow, takes us to an outside cafe in a square beside the Sayyidina el-Hussein Mosque (apparently, according to the old Let's Go, the resting place of the skull of the grandson of Mohammed). It's a lovely sunlit spot where locals and tourists mix. As we arrive, a large man wearing shorts and a Hawaiian style shirt climbs into the front of a tourist bus and shouts to his wife "wrong bus!" Most tourists are less cliched looking though, and mix with locals. Ayet has guava juice while J and I drink tea with large sprigs of fresh mint immersed - very refreshing. There are sales attempts every few seconds - watches, jewellery, caps - but nothing too pressing. And we get a chance to chat with Ayet. She doesn't wear the hijab, but agrees most women do, though she says there's no pressure. She's learning Russian because there are increasing numbers of Russian tourists. The cafe is a lovely, cosmopolitan spot. Women walk past carrying large suitcase-sized bundles on their heads, the traditional load now wrapped in bright green plastic. Arabic and English are not the only languages in the air. As we leave, we see a tiny kitten curled under a table.
Back at the hotel we can still hear the traffic from our 10th floor room with the window closed.
Tuesday, 24 February 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
Afternoon bus to the airport as we begin our Cairo jaunt. Dougie, the regular bus driver, is about to take a holiday himself. After years, he claims, of never winning anything, he has won two separate holidays, and is about to take the first of them in Athens. For the second he has some choice and is thinking of going to Rome. The airport has been undergoing renovations and has, accordingly, acquired much less general seating space and more things to buy at not especially attractive prices. The duty free shop in generous mode, though, so we sample single malts and chocolates, marking the former down for later purchase.
The flight itself is on Egyptair - about an hour and a quarter to Cairo. Minimalist safety instructions, not including any info on the life jackets, although this is one of the few flights on which a life jacket might be of some use if the plane went down - mostly over water and that water with temperatures above the mid-teens. We do get a fairly nice lunch though, and the best landing cards we've ever seen. They're bright little booklets with the immigration info on a tear-out page, the rest being a souvenir with basic information like useful Arabic phrases (all right, some of them not all that useful, like Merry Christmas) and even a map of the Cairo subway.
We're met on arrival and after visa purchase we're handed to Abdoul, who finds our driver and comes with us to the hotel, the Delta Pyramids. We have room 1001 - shades of Arabian nights. The room isn't large, but it does have a fridge and satellite tv (BBC World, Nile TV, a movie chanel, TV Monde plus Arabic chanels). Bathroom with tub and shower, bidet and middle east water hose as option to toilet paper if desired, as well as a large sink with soap dish artfully tilted to drip onto the floor not the sink. The drama comes, though, when we open the bedroom drapes for a stunning view of the pyramids dramatically backlit for evening.
The flight itself is on Egyptair - about an hour and a quarter to Cairo. Minimalist safety instructions, not including any info on the life jackets, although this is one of the few flights on which a life jacket might be of some use if the plane went down - mostly over water and that water with temperatures above the mid-teens. We do get a fairly nice lunch though, and the best landing cards we've ever seen. They're bright little booklets with the immigration info on a tear-out page, the rest being a souvenir with basic information like useful Arabic phrases (all right, some of them not all that useful, like Merry Christmas) and even a map of the Cairo subway.
We're met on arrival and after visa purchase we're handed to Abdoul, who finds our driver and comes with us to the hotel, the Delta Pyramids. We have room 1001 - shades of Arabian nights. The room isn't large, but it does have a fridge and satellite tv (BBC World, Nile TV, a movie chanel, TV Monde plus Arabic chanels). Bathroom with tub and shower, bidet and middle east water hose as option to toilet paper if desired, as well as a large sink with soap dish artfully tilted to drip onto the floor not the sink. The drama comes, though, when we open the bedroom drapes for a stunning view of the pyramids dramatically backlit for evening.
Friday, 20 February 2009
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Canada once again makes it onto BBC World television - live coverage at that - courtesy of Obama's 7 hour visit to Ottawa. So we'll see what adjustments will be made in Harper's efforts to please the Americans as the culture of the new administration takes effect.
Thursday, 19 February 2009
Wednesday, February 19/2009
Walk out to M&M's for lunch. Bacalao - a Portuguese casserole with layers of potato, dried fish and tomato - and much nicer than that might sound. Second helpings all round. We get most of the way home before the rain starts, and it's not cold rain.
Wednesday, 18 February 2009
Tuesday, February 17/2009
Our tickets for Cairo arrive and we hand over the second half of the payment.
Over to the church to meet Liza, the girl who is heading off to Canada as a nanny. She's joining a family in Toronto (Markham) who have 3 year old twins and is nervous, but excited. A lovely girl and we hope, as she does, that it's a nice family. So many Philippine domestic workers here are badly treated - not paid or asked to do work that is beyond their contracts. Sometimes actually abused and often not respected.
Liza has a friend with her and they make tea in the rectory. Liza has made a carrot cake and Fr. Wilhelm and his dog, a German shepherd, join us. We exchange addresses and phone numbers and try to supply information. Most things in Canada are cheaper (but not wine). Her friend in BC lives a very long way away - you could take the train but not in one day. The temperature goes below zero in the winter, but not a lot. And then - will the euro go up or down? Ah, if we knew the answer to that we could be rich. She laughs. Her flight leaves in the early hours of Thursday morning, so this is almost the last minute. Hugs and we say goodbye.
Fr. Wilhelm has always had such a nice, relaxed, familial style, especially with the Philippino girls, whom he encourages to use the rectory to socialize on their day off - "you can cook anything except dried fish" - so we ask if he had sisters. Yes, one older and one younger. He beams: "Blessed among women."
Over to the church to meet Liza, the girl who is heading off to Canada as a nanny. She's joining a family in Toronto (Markham) who have 3 year old twins and is nervous, but excited. A lovely girl and we hope, as she does, that it's a nice family. So many Philippine domestic workers here are badly treated - not paid or asked to do work that is beyond their contracts. Sometimes actually abused and often not respected.
Liza has a friend with her and they make tea in the rectory. Liza has made a carrot cake and Fr. Wilhelm and his dog, a German shepherd, join us. We exchange addresses and phone numbers and try to supply information. Most things in Canada are cheaper (but not wine). Her friend in BC lives a very long way away - you could take the train but not in one day. The temperature goes below zero in the winter, but not a lot. And then - will the euro go up or down? Ah, if we knew the answer to that we could be rich. She laughs. Her flight leaves in the early hours of Thursday morning, so this is almost the last minute. Hugs and we say goodbye.
Fr. Wilhelm has always had such a nice, relaxed, familial style, especially with the Philippino girls, whom he encourages to use the rectory to socialize on their day off - "you can cook anything except dried fish" - so we ask if he had sisters. Yes, one older and one younger. He beams: "Blessed among women."
Monday, February 16/2009
M&M to our place for fish chowder, something we haven't had in a long time. The late evening provides a choice of films with Mansfield Park, unfortunately, playing against The Winslow Boy. The latter wins out, so it's Arabic subtitles (from Dubai) rather than Greek ones.
Sunday, February 15/2009
One of the young Philippino girls is leaving for Canada this week and a new future. We don't know her but we do change $40 CAD for her courtesy of Fr. Wilhelm and give him Susan's info on exchanging euros in Canada. Fr. Wilhelm says he tried to persuade the girl to come today to meet us but - he smiles and shrugs - she leaves on Thursday and she's saying goodbye to her boyfriend.
Saturday, February 14/2009
Meet with Leo Leontios in reception to make arrangements for a long weekend ini Cairo. Next weekend if there is availability. He brings with him two small boys, a son and a nephew, who have been promised a treat if they're good, which they certainly are.
Lovely sunny morning for market. They now know our "usual" - two black Cyprus coffees - at the cafe. Two elderly men sit next to us in their usual full sun spot. Well equipped electronically with mobiles and, (one of them) a watch that reads the time aloud.
Six eggs. It's rare in this part of the world to buy a dozen as some would probably not be used while they were at their freshest. As the woman puts our eggs in a small bag, a tiny white feather floats off. A good sign. Then tomatoes (still with garden earth clinging), a cauliflower, a bag of oranges and some broccoli. Also a stop at the little deli for two litres of Spanish wine and a bottle of Cypriot.
Come across a short story of John Updike's saved for a rainy day from a UK Sunday supplement. Saved before Updike's death, but we read it now. His descriptions as spot on as Alice Munro's but with a nice masculine imagery.
Lovely sunny morning for market. They now know our "usual" - two black Cyprus coffees - at the cafe. Two elderly men sit next to us in their usual full sun spot. Well equipped electronically with mobiles and, (one of them) a watch that reads the time aloud.
Six eggs. It's rare in this part of the world to buy a dozen as some would probably not be used while they were at their freshest. As the woman puts our eggs in a small bag, a tiny white feather floats off. A good sign. Then tomatoes (still with garden earth clinging), a cauliflower, a bag of oranges and some broccoli. Also a stop at the little deli for two litres of Spanish wine and a bottle of Cypriot.
Come across a short story of John Updike's saved for a rainy day from a UK Sunday supplement. Saved before Updike's death, but we read it now. His descriptions as spot on as Alice Munro's but with a nice masculine imagery.
Saturday, 14 February 2009
Friday, February 13/2009
Drive up to Nicosia with M&M. We've never been since the Ledra Street crossing was opened. One only has to walk up the pedestrian mall that stretches from north to south across the old city (the only divided city left in the world) and show passports on the Turkish side to get a 90 day visa, kindly supplied on separate pieces of paper so as not to render the passports useless in Cyprus and Greece. A two minute procedure and no more razor wire in evidence.
Maggi and Magne are spending the weekend (their anniversary being on Vaentine's Day not Friday the 13th). After they leave the car in a carpark building, inconveniently furnished with a machine that books 10 hours maximum and is incapable of argument - with the encouragement of a regular customer who says they dono't check on weekends - we separate, they to lunch at a restaurant that features sheep's heads and we to cross to the north.
The formalities are quick and the north is waiting for tourists. the shops are less upscale, but goods are on display outside and the proprietors as happy to take euros as Turkish lira, most using an exchange rate of one euro to two lira. North Nicosia, or the part within the old Venetian city wals, is all charm, and thanks to the EU many of the Ottoman buildings are being preserved and restored. There are empty windows without glass, but also pointed stone arches, ainted wooden shutters and traditional Turkish balconies. It's warm and it's alive. Behind the main mosque (once a church) little girls play hopscotch on the pavement. Mothers with long skirts and hijabs (though this is not a strictly observant country) carry babies. A beautifully marbled cat curls up on a fabric display in the sun just past the antique shop. A man getting into his car stops to point out the one time church turned hamman (or Turkish bath house, so old that its arched door is more than half sunk below street level.
We stop to eat lunch, doner pitas stuffed with lamb from the spit at a little tabe outside the friendly but too hot cafe where we have eaten before. It's in a pedestrian way, a good people watching spot. As we leave, the cook tells us his son is studying in Minnesota. Then J buys Turkish red pepper at a stall in the covered market.
Back in the south we wait for the bus and read the notices fixed to the bus shelter walls. One begins "Good news" - but proves to be an advertisement for young students rather than a religious message:
"This is first time in Cyprus only 4 Asian children's. Are you worried about your children's to study English and maths? Am British qualified childcare and kindergarten teacher. I will teach English and maths only for Asian children's. The tuition fee is affordable."
One would suppose that EU countries do not allow limiting teaching to one particular ethnic group, but in this case it would clearly be preferable if fewer rather than more "children's" enroll.
Signs on buildings as we leave Nicosia: "Ecclesiastical Insurance" - protecting bell towers or parishioners? "Twenty-four hour self video" - the ultimate in narcissism?
Maggi and Magne are spending the weekend (their anniversary being on Vaentine's Day not Friday the 13th). After they leave the car in a carpark building, inconveniently furnished with a machine that books 10 hours maximum and is incapable of argument - with the encouragement of a regular customer who says they dono't check on weekends - we separate, they to lunch at a restaurant that features sheep's heads and we to cross to the north.
The formalities are quick and the north is waiting for tourists. the shops are less upscale, but goods are on display outside and the proprietors as happy to take euros as Turkish lira, most using an exchange rate of one euro to two lira. North Nicosia, or the part within the old Venetian city wals, is all charm, and thanks to the EU many of the Ottoman buildings are being preserved and restored. There are empty windows without glass, but also pointed stone arches, ainted wooden shutters and traditional Turkish balconies. It's warm and it's alive. Behind the main mosque (once a church) little girls play hopscotch on the pavement. Mothers with long skirts and hijabs (though this is not a strictly observant country) carry babies. A beautifully marbled cat curls up on a fabric display in the sun just past the antique shop. A man getting into his car stops to point out the one time church turned hamman (or Turkish bath house, so old that its arched door is more than half sunk below street level.
We stop to eat lunch, doner pitas stuffed with lamb from the spit at a little tabe outside the friendly but too hot cafe where we have eaten before. It's in a pedestrian way, a good people watching spot. As we leave, the cook tells us his son is studying in Minnesota. Then J buys Turkish red pepper at a stall in the covered market.
Back in the south we wait for the bus and read the notices fixed to the bus shelter walls. One begins "Good news" - but proves to be an advertisement for young students rather than a religious message:
"This is first time in Cyprus only 4 Asian children's. Are you worried about your children's to study English and maths? Am British qualified childcare and kindergarten teacher. I will teach English and maths only for Asian children's. The tuition fee is affordable."
One would suppose that EU countries do not allow limiting teaching to one particular ethnic group, but in this case it would clearly be preferable if fewer rather than more "children's" enroll.
Signs on buildings as we leave Nicosia: "Ecclesiastical Insurance" - protecting bell towers or parishioners? "Twenty-four hour self video" - the ultimate in narcissism?
Thursday, february 12/2009
A mushroom artichoke sauce for the spaghetti - amazingly good. Would try it in Canada except we remember what passes for artichokes in our part of the country.
Wednesday, February 11/2009
Two pretty good and two pretty bad computers at the student internet. The two good ones have been out of order for a week, the only advantage being that most users are too discouraged to show up so that sometimes, between crashes, it's retty quiet, almost contemplative. The good have been "fixed" - or at least lost their out of order signs - and are almost instantly virus ridden.
Thursday, 12 February 2009
Tuesday, February 10/2009
Banks as thick on the ground as travel agencies here, frequently more than one to the block. The ground floor of our hotel has one, and there are two in the building immediately across the road (the Lebanese and Gulf Bank and an investment bank) and one in the building kitty corner to us - and this isn't unusual density. They seem to be surviving the crisis reasonably well, in part probably, because loans come out of investments rather than from borrowed funds.
Wednesday, 11 February 2009
Monday, February 9/2009
Yesterday's weird end of world hazy light explained in a way athat sounds exotic to our western ears but probably isn't to the locals. The explanation is a dust haze, the dust moving in from the Sahara, which happens periodically here.
Monday, 9 February 2009
Sunday, February 8/2009
A kind of strange end of world look when we open the morning curtains. Morning light but high cloud cover and not a speck of sun. It's not cold though. Stop at the bakery after Mass. We're still buying the rye loaves studded with sesame seeds, and this time they're still warm. Regrettably probably the last time for the koulouri. They've got smaller and more expensive (45 euro cents each) and this time they're not even fresh. No longer a pleasure unfortunately.
Saturday, February 7/2009
Lovely day for market. It's not ony vegetables and fruit. We thread our way past a blue plastic crate half filled with snails. There are some grubby lettuce leaves on top which I first take for rubbish but decide must be snail food. Some time we'll try the fungoid shaped Jerusalem artichokes, but not this week.
After market place coffee we go back to have lunch with M&M. Salt herring, and nicely done, with strawberries and kiwis for dessert, on the balcony overlooking the sea. As lovely as winter gets. Shirtsleeve weather in the sun, sea breeze, a drink in hand and good friends.
After market place coffee we go back to have lunch with M&M. Salt herring, and nicely done, with strawberries and kiwis for dessert, on the balcony overlooking the sea. As lovely as winter gets. Shirtsleeve weather in the sun, sea breeze, a drink in hand and good friends.
Friday, February 6/2009
The BBC struggles with the problem of political correctness with uneven results. So when Carol Thatcher, daughter of former prime minister Margaret Thatcher, says, during a conversation in the green room after a show, that a French tennis player looks like a gollywog she is sacked. Whereas Jeremy Clarkson, the motorsport presenter, who is of far more value to the BBC, refers to Prime Minister Gordon Brown as a "one-eyed Scottish idiot" he is not. But then Thatcher initially refused to apologise, whereas Clarkson says that he was wrong to call Gordon Brown one-eyed and Scottish - but maintains that he is an idiot.
Friday, 6 February 2009
Thursday, February 5/2009
Maggi's planned a night out, so we meet at Napoli Pizza, M armed with a full page review of the place in her handbag. The pizza is indeed as filling as promised in the review and it's a friendly informal place.
Then back to our own hotel. The Kition's entertainment claim to fame is Thursday evening when "Ian sings the golden oldies." And he does, with a wide repertoire of songs from the 50's and 60's. Two fifty a drink but no cover charge and a small dance floor, and there's clearly a small regular contingent of (mostly) Swedes and Brits. I tease J about being the best looking guy there and he says he thinks just the yougest. It's a mellow crowd all right, but quite pleasant.
Then back to our own hotel. The Kition's entertainment claim to fame is Thursday evening when "Ian sings the golden oldies." And he does, with a wide repertoire of songs from the 50's and 60's. Two fifty a drink but no cover charge and a small dance floor, and there's clearly a small regular contingent of (mostly) Swedes and Brits. I tease J about being the best looking guy there and he says he thinks just the yougest. It's a mellow crowd all right, but quite pleasant.
Wednesday, February 4/2008
The rest of the year is sliding into place as we book two 2 week stints with the Welby in London. That should be enough to make the pound rebound sharply.
Wednesday, 4 February 2009
February 3/2009
Sunny with high close to 20. Walk out to Orphanides supermarket, nting flats to let. Seems any clean and modern flat is described as "luxury" in Cyprus. According to the Sunday paper the tourist trade will shortly be in major difficulty (last Sunday's headline: Hoteliers told drop rates or face disaster). this is linked to the world financial problems, particularly the drop in value of sterling (half the tourist business is UK). It's also linked to price increases in Cyprus that seem well beyond those reflecting the strength of the euro and, ironically, to deliberate government policy to lower the number of low cost tourist beds in the hope that they wil be replaced with higher cost places attracting a better class of tourist. Instead of the more desirable tourist appearing in large numbers, they have been shocked to find that companies have been considering Turkey and Egypt better value for money. It's a year or two back now that we read a letter to the Cyprus Weekly saying how much more tourists paid to visit Monaca - and wondered if the writer had ever been to Monaco and nted things like the modern plumbing (most Cypriot and Greek plumbing won't take toilet paper due to ridiculously narrow pipe diameter) and sidewalks free of broken paving stones and misparked cars.
And when we reach Orphanides I notice that the price of salad greens, admittedly not an expensive item in Cyprus, has risen from 15 Cypriot cents a bunch (24 euro cents) to 35 euro cents since last year, a 46% increase.
And when we reach Orphanides I notice that the price of salad greens, admittedly not an expensive item in Cyprus, has risen from 15 Cypriot cents a bunch (24 euro cents) to 35 euro cents since last year, a 46% increase.
Tuesday, 3 February 2009
February 2/2009
The two good computers at the student internet are still down (still that is since Saturday) leaving some rather despondent queuing for the two badly performing ones remaining.
J and I stop at Top Kinesis travel agency and inquire about holiday packages, a necessity as well as a pleasure as we can only stay in Cyprus 90 consecutive days, which won't take us to our return flight to London. The only thing on offer is a week at Sharm El Sheik, but a beach holiday playing hotel is not really our scene. Could they arrange something in Crete? The girl will check. Give her a few hours and she will telephone. We wonder, not for the first time, how all the travel agencies in Cyprus manage to survive. Given a secure computer, I could probably set up the same package in less time and more cheaply, so who is using all the travel agents? There are seldom clients inside as we walk past and most of the package holidays in the windows have disappeared. But there are a great many travel agencies, unlike in London where most of them seem to have been replaced by mobile phone shops.
London - now under a foot of snow. Canadian weather but without Canadian equipment from snowplows and snow tires to aluminum shovels and warm tall boots. To say nothing of winter driving skills. But it will melt with uncanadian dispatch.
J and I stop at Top Kinesis travel agency and inquire about holiday packages, a necessity as well as a pleasure as we can only stay in Cyprus 90 consecutive days, which won't take us to our return flight to London. The only thing on offer is a week at Sharm El Sheik, but a beach holiday playing hotel is not really our scene. Could they arrange something in Crete? The girl will check. Give her a few hours and she will telephone. We wonder, not for the first time, how all the travel agencies in Cyprus manage to survive. Given a secure computer, I could probably set up the same package in less time and more cheaply, so who is using all the travel agents? There are seldom clients inside as we walk past and most of the package holidays in the windows have disappeared. But there are a great many travel agencies, unlike in London where most of them seem to have been replaced by mobile phone shops.
London - now under a foot of snow. Canadian weather but without Canadian equipment from snowplows and snow tires to aluminum shovels and warm tall boots. To say nothing of winter driving skills. But it will melt with uncanadian dispatch.
Monday, 2 February 2009
Sunday, February 1/2009
Sunday afternoon walk. Stop at the crowded second hand shop to find some reading material. There are plenty of books but they're hard to access, piled two layers deep and hard to see in the dark shop. I move whole stacks at a time to peer behind at other stacks, carefully replacing not only books but ornaments and kitsch piled on top whenever a book sticks out far enough to make this possible. A clothes hanger with 3 colourful neckties dangles in front of one shelf. For the bottom shelf I sit on the floor and inspect one handful at a time. There is an amazing variety from Barry Goldwater to play scripts to manuals on breastfeeding. In the end I emerge with four read aloud candidates - Pride and Prejudice (which neither of us has read recently), Dickens' Hard Times, John Mortimer's Titmuss Regained and Edith Sitwell's The Queens and the Hive, history of Elizabeth I and Mary Queen of Scots. I bargain a little to get them for three euro instead of four, and would have bargained harder had I noticed how ruthlessly annotated the Austen and Dickens are, scarcely a page of either untouched by childishly handwritten explanations and lipstck coloured highlighting - a far more thorough job than most undertaken by my own former students. No petering out here after the opening chapters. As they are Penguin editions, I have not even checked inside until after paying my money.
A walk along the waterfront and we sit on a bench watching the endless Sunday parade of walkers, local and tourist. Sundays are always semi-carnival mode along here. Family groups, tourist couples, foreign workers and stalls with ice cream and helium filled animal shaped balloons. From the other side of the street we can smell the sugar of the candy floss. Sunny and warm and the scent of flower beds under the palm trees. Hotels and cafes on one side of the road and lttle stalls along the beach on the other. Benches on both sides for people watching. And the one way street a constant stream of traffic crawling past, much of it people out to see and be seen. The same cars circle by several times.
The tv schedule promises the film Keeping Mum with Rowan Atkinson in the evening, but for the second time in a month it doesn't appear, a not unusual occurrence in Cyprus. In this case it's replaced with Zorro - fifty some years after the time when J and I would have considered the sword play a great treat.
A walk along the waterfront and we sit on a bench watching the endless Sunday parade of walkers, local and tourist. Sundays are always semi-carnival mode along here. Family groups, tourist couples, foreign workers and stalls with ice cream and helium filled animal shaped balloons. From the other side of the street we can smell the sugar of the candy floss. Sunny and warm and the scent of flower beds under the palm trees. Hotels and cafes on one side of the road and lttle stalls along the beach on the other. Benches on both sides for people watching. And the one way street a constant stream of traffic crawling past, much of it people out to see and be seen. The same cars circle by several times.
The tv schedule promises the film Keeping Mum with Rowan Atkinson in the evening, but for the second time in a month it doesn't appear, a not unusual occurrence in Cyprus. In this case it's replaced with Zorro - fifty some years after the time when J and I would have considered the sword play a great treat.
Saturday, January 31/2009
Coffee at our market cafe in the morning. Plastic tables and chairs crowded together but we manoeuver ours into the sun.
We finish reading Anita Brookner's The Next Big Thing, not exactly as penance but certainly as discipline, because it's Brookner and because we've begun it and because we're rapidly running out of reading material. We're left tempted to check online for reviews other than those on the jacket
We finish reading Anita Brookner's The Next Big Thing, not exactly as penance but certainly as discipline, because it's Brookner and because we've begun it and because we're rapidly running out of reading material. We're left tempted to check online for reviews other than those on the jacket
Friday, January 30/2009
Brief afternoon rain with bits of hail. Not exactly tropical pattern but we've been getting days that begin cloudless, become sullen around noon and provide brief rain. Warm enough though. If we miss the weather in English we can always pick it up in Greek. A weather map is easy to read. The word for tomorrow in Greek is avrio. For tonight it is something written in Greek letters but pronounced a-popsy. Quite humerous to Anglo ears.
M&M come to dinner and J makes goulash.
M&M come to dinner and J makes goulash.
Friday, 30 January 2009
Thursday, January 29/2009
The nearer Smart store, discount in theory although not always in practice, has moved to larger quarters and opens today so we stop, but no ceremony, no specials - though a pretty good price on cayenne, so it´s not a wasted trip.
Today Bill Stone, the last British WWI vet to have seen active service, is buried. (I have no enemies only friends he used to say: outlived all my enemies.). He was 108. Impressive enough, but a woman is discovered in Uzbekistan with documentation giving her birthdate as 1880 and consequently making her a hundred and twenty-eight years old. She appears on television in a brightly coloured scarf, toothless and looking old, but no older than women of a hundred who could have been her daughter´s age.
Today Bill Stone, the last British WWI vet to have seen active service, is buried. (I have no enemies only friends he used to say: outlived all my enemies.). He was 108. Impressive enough, but a woman is discovered in Uzbekistan with documentation giving her birthdate as 1880 and consequently making her a hundred and twenty-eight years old. She appears on television in a brightly coloured scarf, toothless and looking old, but no older than women of a hundred who could have been her daughter´s age.
Wednesday, January 28/2009
An afternoon walk in search of reading material, which is thinning out. An Updike book would be nice, to commemorate the writer´s death, but actually anything we both like would do. We stop at the second hand shop, a place so crammed full of clothes, books and other things that it´s almost impossible to examine the wares. Sign on door says back in five minutes. So round the corner to the charity shop called Curiosity Killed the Cat. They don´t have many books but we are treated to the owner of the crowded second hand shop of our first stop, (a girl who is Georgian or Bulgarian?) telling the woman behind the counter of a male stripper group which they both agree would be much better entertainment than the pub.
Back to the crowded shop on the way back from our walk, but the back in five minutes sign still in place. Perhaps someone else is hearing about the male strippers.
Back to the crowded shop on the way back from our walk, but the back in five minutes sign still in place. Perhaps someone else is hearing about the male strippers.
Tuesday, January 27/2009
Early forecasts show no showers (unlike last night´s predictions). So we (M&M and J and I) drive out past the airport - and the flamingos at rest in the salt lake - and join up with the coast road until we turn north for Lefkara, via a back road into Maroni - a village so silent it could be deserted, with streets no more than eight feet across and little blind corners and dead ends.
Lefkara is known for lace and silver work and is a charming town in the hills, divided into Kato (lower) and Pano (upper) towns. Narrow lanes, stone houses with wooden shutters and women sitting in the sunlight working at lace and embroidery. we´re invited to watch and it is interesting, although we´re not really there to buy, which is a bit awkward. Not nearly as much pressure as usual Maggi assures us.
Over the hills, on an astonishingly good road. We stop at Kato Drys, a tiny village, for a picnic lunch. Only four people in evidence in the village the whole time we´re here, two of them a very young couple on a motorbike who roar past three times, like punctuation in a quirky comedy. There´s a covered well in the middle of the village where we spread out our picnic in the peaceful sunlight. We´re just round the corner from a ruin, the roofless stone arches of an old church on a hillside.
Then back through other loely little villages - Choirokitia (near the neolithic settlement of the same name) where we get directions from two young boys proud of their village, Tochni, and Skarinou. Narrow lanes, dark blue shutters, glimpses of bougainvillea blooming in courtyards, and rosemary in flower by a church. And almost no sign of the blight of huge developments of villas and holiday homes we passed closer to the sea.
Lefkara is known for lace and silver work and is a charming town in the hills, divided into Kato (lower) and Pano (upper) towns. Narrow lanes, stone houses with wooden shutters and women sitting in the sunlight working at lace and embroidery. we´re invited to watch and it is interesting, although we´re not really there to buy, which is a bit awkward. Not nearly as much pressure as usual Maggi assures us.
Over the hills, on an astonishingly good road. We stop at Kato Drys, a tiny village, for a picnic lunch. Only four people in evidence in the village the whole time we´re here, two of them a very young couple on a motorbike who roar past three times, like punctuation in a quirky comedy. There´s a covered well in the middle of the village where we spread out our picnic in the peaceful sunlight. We´re just round the corner from a ruin, the roofless stone arches of an old church on a hillside.
Then back through other loely little villages - Choirokitia (near the neolithic settlement of the same name) where we get directions from two young boys proud of their village, Tochni, and Skarinou. Narrow lanes, dark blue shutters, glimpses of bougainvillea blooming in courtyards, and rosemary in flower by a church. And almost no sign of the blight of huge developments of villas and holiday homes we passed closer to the sea.
Wednesday, 28 January 2009
Monday, January 26/2009
Watching the sports reports on European television sheds interesting linguistic lights. So, for example, Austria, in German, is Osterreich - literally the Kingdom of the East - a lovely Wizard of Oz sounding place.
Jenny texts with the names of her two new grandchildren - Cody (Laura) and Jasmine (Emma).
Jenny texts with the names of her two new grandchildren - Cody (Laura) and Jasmine (Emma).
Monday, 26 January 2009
Sunday, January 25/2009
Rain in the night has made its way through the ceiling, so back to the red plastic pail. Leak fortunately mid-floor and not over bed.
Gwynne Dyer's column appears semi-regularly, as today, in our Sunday paper, so a touch of home as well as good analysis. The Sunday Mail (Cyprus) also carries a fairly horrific article on Cypriot teachers defying the Minister of Education in order to continue teaching a distorted, inaccurate and highly chauvanistic version of recent Cypriot history and the Turkish-Greek conflicts. Well beyond a question of interpretation and into propaganda.
Gwynne Dyer's column appears semi-regularly, as today, in our Sunday paper, so a touch of home as well as good analysis. The Sunday Mail (Cyprus) also carries a fairly horrific article on Cypriot teachers defying the Minister of Education in order to continue teaching a distorted, inaccurate and highly chauvanistic version of recent Cypriot history and the Turkish-Greek conflicts. Well beyond a question of interpretation and into propaganda.
Saturday, January 24/2009
Rain day. So mostly inside things - embroidery (me), soup making (J) and reading aloud Anita Brookner's The Next Big Thing. Then in late afternoon M&M arrive at the door with fresh strawberries and cream, straight from the morning market to the brandy marinade to us - lovely.
Friday, January 23/2009
We've been watching a blue splotch on the BBC Mediterranean weather map working its way across the Med from west to east and today it does bring in some rain. More promised so over to Metro and the bakery and lay in some fish and bread. Now set for a couple of rainy days.
Finish reading aloud Charlie Chaplin's autobiography. Interesting but by far the best bits are the impoverished youth in south London. In the early parts he doesn't avoid the personal and relational as he tends to do in later years.
Finish reading aloud Charlie Chaplin's autobiography. Interesting but by far the best bits are the impoverished youth in south London. In the early parts he doesn't avoid the personal and relational as he tends to do in later years.
Friday, 23 January 2009
Thursday, January 22/2009
The Eleonora - our apartment hotel of last year - has a showing of its renovated flats, word having spread by mouth - or text. So we go to look, along with a small crowd of others, mostly Scandinavians. They´re not finished yet - in fact we must be contravening EU safety regulations as we explore unfinished balconies. Enough of the floor is still open that J can see that the plumbing - in terminal difficulty last year - hasn´t been replaced. And most of the changes don´t really strike as improvements - e.g. kitchen and bathroom layouts. It is going to have that new flat gloss - but a lick of paint and some new tiles and counter tops would have achieved the same effect for much less money. Winter stay prices are supposed to be 650 and 700 euros a flat monthly, a 44% increase on last year.
M&M come back with us for tea - the cafe where the five roads meet having waffled enough over the price of coffee that we give up on them - 90 euro cents last week, one euro fifty-four on the printed menu, and a euro even when Maggi inquires inside.
Then Margaret and Tommy Mann - from the Isle of Mann - stop for tea. They´re up from Limassol for the day, staying on a 4 week package. Luckily they check out the Eleonora renovations just as we´re leaving (they having stayed at the E last year). Nice catching up. Margaret had a kidney removed in October so she´s still recuperating - and unfortunately their Limassol hotel has had some kind of bug circulating.
M&M come back with us for tea - the cafe where the five roads meet having waffled enough over the price of coffee that we give up on them - 90 euro cents last week, one euro fifty-four on the printed menu, and a euro even when Maggi inquires inside.
Then Margaret and Tommy Mann - from the Isle of Mann - stop for tea. They´re up from Limassol for the day, staying on a 4 week package. Luckily they check out the Eleonora renovations just as we´re leaving (they having stayed at the E last year). Nice catching up. Margaret had a kidney removed in October so she´s still recuperating - and unfortunately their Limassol hotel has had some kind of bug circulating.
Thursday, 22 January 2009
Wednesday, January 21/2009
According to (Cypriot) Financial Mirror, the average interest rate on bank deposits in 6.5%, necessitated by the high rates paid by Greek banks (7-9%). Greek banks based in cyprus pay up to 7.6%. Difficult to imagine how and why Greek banks do this, considering the difficulties the Greek economy is having.
Wednesday, 21 January 2009
Tuesday, January 20/2009
Lazing about in the morning as M&M drop in, so tea and J has an excuse for sweet biscuits and concocts a drambuie flavoured icing for the digestive biscuits in seconds.
BBC World provides hours of live coverage of Obama's inauguration and, along with a third of the world's population, we watch. For us the time is quite good as well. Ten a.m. in Washington is 5 p.m. in Cyprus, and between the hoopla and the hope of the new dispensation a good time to sit back and raise a glass of wine.
BBC World provides hours of live coverage of Obama's inauguration and, along with a third of the world's population, we watch. For us the time is quite good as well. Ten a.m. in Washington is 5 p.m. in Cyprus, and between the hoopla and the hope of the new dispensation a good time to sit back and raise a glass of wine.
Tuesday, 20 January 2009
Monday, January 19/2009
We're reading in the early afternoon when we hear screech-thunk. Out on the balcony we're not alone as there are viewers from balconies along the road. A girl in a fairly posh black BMW has tried to cross three lanes of traffic at an intersection without traffic lights and been broadsided. It's surprising that there isn't more of this in Cypriot traffic. Half an hour of discussion with the young man who hit her (having had, in the far lane, limited opportunity to see her coming) and various bystanders cum witnesses. No police, though the station is only a block away, close enough in fact for a policeman to have looked out and shrugged his shoulders.
Monday, 19 January 2009
Sunday, January 18/2009
Sunny skies as we set off in early morning with Maggi and magne for Limassol down the coast, threading through and past little villages as we go. Limassol is bigger than Larnaca, more spread out, its business centre more modern European looking. M&M drop us at St. Catherine´s Catholic church and head off for Maggi´s faith meeting. We have some time to kill so we check out a couple of hotel apartments nearby. Stunning seqview across the waterfront park, but prices at least twice what we´re prsently paying, which if fair disincentive.
After church we drive out to Limassol´s Sunday flea market - big and cheerful though not incredibly cheap. Good poke about though and nice semi-carnival atmosphere. Stop at the little plastic tables for a cheeseburger, which is big and filling, lots of fried onions and friendly service. It´s lovely sitting in the sun people watching, the market pennants flutering overhead. There are a number of foodstalls including one offering food for vegetarians and vegans and another serving Indian food -"real Indian food all the way from India via Manchester."
On the way back Maggi drives up to the reservoir at Germasogeia where we see for ourselves how very little water is there, a shallow covering in the bottom of a dry reservoir - with a few hopefuls fishing at its side.
Then to Protaras, just north of Agia Napa, where Ellen, the Norwegian tour representative whom we met on our trip to Israel last year, has invited all of us for "coffee and cake" - Maggi says a standard Norwegian invitation. Ellen has a lovely little flat near the little hill with the chapel of St. Elias on top (Elijah to Anglos). She's had it nicely decorated and lives there 8 months a year, returning to Norway in the summers. She's made waffles with fresh strawberries and ice cream and we eat in her kitchen/dining room with a balcony overlooking the town and the sea. As night comes on the view is of the tiny lights along the bay.
Ellen has some interesting stories to tell. One is of a small Orthodox monastery in our area. It has, she says, three monks - well, four. One died 20 years ago and had, in fact, been buried, when the monks in their wisdom decided to dig him up and check for signs of sanctity, which apparentyly they found - less corruption of the flesh or something of that sort. So now he sits, fully dressed, at a desk, his face decently obscured but otherwise the pride and pleasure of the three remaining monks.
After church we drive out to Limassol´s Sunday flea market - big and cheerful though not incredibly cheap. Good poke about though and nice semi-carnival atmosphere. Stop at the little plastic tables for a cheeseburger, which is big and filling, lots of fried onions and friendly service. It´s lovely sitting in the sun people watching, the market pennants flutering overhead. There are a number of foodstalls including one offering food for vegetarians and vegans and another serving Indian food -"real Indian food all the way from India via Manchester."
On the way back Maggi drives up to the reservoir at Germasogeia where we see for ourselves how very little water is there, a shallow covering in the bottom of a dry reservoir - with a few hopefuls fishing at its side.
Then to Protaras, just north of Agia Napa, where Ellen, the Norwegian tour representative whom we met on our trip to Israel last year, has invited all of us for "coffee and cake" - Maggi says a standard Norwegian invitation. Ellen has a lovely little flat near the little hill with the chapel of St. Elias on top (Elijah to Anglos). She's had it nicely decorated and lives there 8 months a year, returning to Norway in the summers. She's made waffles with fresh strawberries and ice cream and we eat in her kitchen/dining room with a balcony overlooking the town and the sea. As night comes on the view is of the tiny lights along the bay.
Ellen has some interesting stories to tell. One is of a small Orthodox monastery in our area. It has, she says, three monks - well, four. One died 20 years ago and had, in fact, been buried, when the monks in their wisdom decided to dig him up and check for signs of sanctity, which apparentyly they found - less corruption of the flesh or something of that sort. So now he sits, fully dressed, at a desk, his face decently obscured but otherwise the pride and pleasure of the three remaining monks.
Saturday, January 17/2009
Very sunny at morning market so we ignore forecasts of rain and have Cypriot coffee at the ittle cafe with M&M. Then pick up oranges, broccoli, onions and tomatoes from the stalls - a big bag of oranges with the dark green leaves stil fresh. The promised rain does come in the afternoon but not enough of it to help Cyprus water supply much. Our hotel gets municipal water supplied three days a week. The other days it has to be brought in, and at that we´re much luckier than the locals, many of whom simply do not have water every day. Some water has been brought in from Greece by ship but the situation is still very difficult. The basic problem, of course, is simply lack of rain but there is also a lack of deent storm sewers and local reservoirs. When there is a real rain, as just before Christmas, the local news is busy reporting not only on flooded streets but on how busy the fire department has been pumping out people´s basements. An interesting use for the fire department.
Saturday, 17 January 2009
Friday, January 16/2009
Late night. Jewish MP Sir Gerald Kaufman is interviewed on BBC 5 radio. He´s so softspoken, so rational, so humane. So sympathetic and yet so totally opposed to Israeli policy that considers Palestinian lives as having no vallue, as they did Lebanese lives. Hamas is particularly unpleasant, but Kaufman blames both Israelis and Americans for having been unwilling to talk to Arafat and more moderate Palestinians until they were left dealing with Hamas. Sir Gerald´s perspective is interesting. He represents Manchester and points to the number of British killed by the IRA in Manchester and the fact that peace eventually came in Northern Ireland not via bombing or even British troops but by talk and negotiation. The other interesting aspect of his perspective is his family history. His grandmother was killed by German Nazis and he regrets what he considers the use of the holocaust to blackmail the world into accepting the unacceptable. So unacceptable that he believes that Israeli leaders should be tried for war crimes.
Thursday, January 15/2009
Further to the price of sweet things in Cyprus. A single iced doughnut costs a euro sixty five at the bakery down the street, and that´s not unusual. That´s $2.75 CAD of one pound fifty UK. By comparison, a litre box of Spanish wine - young vin tres ordinaire, but perfectly drinkable - can be had for a euro fifteen ($1.95 CAD or just over a pound UK). Impossible to explain.
Thursday, 15 January 2009
Wednesday, January 14/2009
Walking home from the supermarket I pass a high school. In front is a bit of graffiti - two large words printed in English. NATIONALISM and RACISM. No suggestion of pro or con.
Only in Cyprus. For the past month a Cypriot criminal called Kitas, better known by his nickname Al Capone, had been on the loose after escaping from a medical clinic. Kitas, who had been jailed for life in 194 for the rape and murder of two women, was recaptured only Monday, after endless scandal in the press, police searches, etc. Now tonight the clincher - two senior policemen are accused of being accomplices in the escape. And we´ve been wondering why police are so reluctant to ticket the many Cypriots who park illegally or use Hollywood mufflers.
Only in Cyprus. For the past month a Cypriot criminal called Kitas, better known by his nickname Al Capone, had been on the loose after escaping from a medical clinic. Kitas, who had been jailed for life in 194 for the rape and murder of two women, was recaptured only Monday, after endless scandal in the press, police searches, etc. Now tonight the clincher - two senior policemen are accused of being accomplices in the escape. And we´ve been wondering why police are so reluctant to ticket the many Cypriots who park illegally or use Hollywood mufflers.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Meet Maggi @ internet and she invites us to lunch so we collect J and drive out. So lunch on th sunny balcony overlooking the dark blue sea. It´s a stunning view, and one we could hae shared but for us a bit far from the centre. Lovely lunch and we linger and chat. Then walk back along the waterfront, our shadows long in the sun across the road.
Tuesday, 13 January 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
We watch television, although only BBC World is in English. The other chanels do show English programs though; particularly films, though sometimes documentaries. So we see quite a bit in the way of subtitles. We´re a bit slow at sounding out the Greek leters and some of the combinations ae quite different; for example the mp letter combination gives the b sound. But it´s interesting nontheless. The Swedish chanel is quite interesting, with many words similar to the English or, often, to the Scots usage. Thus child is barn, comparable to bairn. Sometimes as interesting as the program itself, although there are often good British programs in the very late evening. We also get a chanel from Dubai where the programming is almost entirely American of a relatively uninspired sort (chat shows, soaps), apart from the occasional film and local news. Here everything has Arabic subtitles but it´s done nothing for our literacy. Periodically one thinks that it should be possible to learn what any six year old can learn with a little application, but the swirls and dots remain impenetrable.
Monday, 12 January 2009
Sunday, January 11, 2009
We take a walk down to the waterfront. It´s sunny but quite breezy. Either tonight or tomorrow morning a boat is supposed to go to Gaza from Larnaca carrying medical supplies, a successor to the boat Dignity that was rammed by the Israelis, apparently in international waters. We try to spot the boat from the pier. There´s a possible one in view but who knows. We´re less than 200 miles from Gaza. Mostly we´re north of it. We´re probably not a hundred miles from Syria, roughly opposite Latakia, where Lilly, my genealogical correspondent and probably very distant relative lives.
The news from Gaza is so horrific it´s painful to listen to. Actually, it´s rather difficult to listen to, as J is too frustrated by the blatant Israeli framing of the conflict in misleading terms to listen silently. Not only are casualties running a hundred to one but, as has been pointed out, this is the only war of recent times where civilians are unable to flee the conflict. Usually there´s not much historical context to reports (we´re largely dependent on Euronews and BBC, but there are worse sources). However on BBC World radio the other night we listen to Robert Fisk, experienced and prize winning journalist with the UK paper The Independent, for incisive and courageous analysis.
Meanwhile it´s hard to know whether the second Cypriot boat is being sent with any realistic hopes of getting through or on a mission that is symbolic only.
About 5, just after I´ve put the rice on, we hear car horns outside. A wedding? A celebration after a football match? We go out on the balcony and look down on a parade of honking cars festooned with Palestinian flags. Check down at the waterfront but no demo, though the restaurants and cafes are fairly busy and there are still children at the merry-go-round.
J still has with him his little pin with the entwined Canadian and Palestinian flags that he got in Bethlehem last year, though we left our Free Palestine shirts at home.
The news from Gaza is so horrific it´s painful to listen to. Actually, it´s rather difficult to listen to, as J is too frustrated by the blatant Israeli framing of the conflict in misleading terms to listen silently. Not only are casualties running a hundred to one but, as has been pointed out, this is the only war of recent times where civilians are unable to flee the conflict. Usually there´s not much historical context to reports (we´re largely dependent on Euronews and BBC, but there are worse sources). However on BBC World radio the other night we listen to Robert Fisk, experienced and prize winning journalist with the UK paper The Independent, for incisive and courageous analysis.
Meanwhile it´s hard to know whether the second Cypriot boat is being sent with any realistic hopes of getting through or on a mission that is symbolic only.
About 5, just after I´ve put the rice on, we hear car horns outside. A wedding? A celebration after a football match? We go out on the balcony and look down on a parade of honking cars festooned with Palestinian flags. Check down at the waterfront but no demo, though the restaurants and cafes are fairly busy and there are still children at the merry-go-round.
J still has with him his little pin with the entwined Canadian and Palestinian flags that he got in Bethlehem last year, though we left our Free Palestine shirts at home.
Saturday, January 10, 2008
Snake down through the wavering line that is the Saturday market. Inger, the Swedish woman who lives on the 2nd floor, has painted it, and the postcard sized version lives on our desk at home. It´s such a sensual pleasure - bags of oranges still with the leaves on, artichokes, radishes the size of tennis balls, fresh wet cheeses, bundles of cut narcissi, tomatoes with garden earth clinging, kohlrabi with flags of leaes sprouting, rough local wine in plastic water bottles, buckets of eggs (buy the number you need not a dozen). At one stall a man is running a small gambling enterprise involving a little roulette wheel and various bottles of liquor as prizes.
We meet Maggi who has cycled in and have Cypriot coffee behind "our" cafe. The tables in front spill into the market proper but those behind catch the warm sun. J´s butcher, whose shop also opens onto the market, leaves the door open and lovely smoked ham smells emerge. Loops of sausage and smoked tenderloins hang in the doorway. We resist, but do round the corner for 6 eggs from the egg bucket. And i get a half dozen onions as well. At one time the market was the cheapest, or at least inexpensive and the freshest place for produce. Sadly, this isn´t always so now, so each purchase has to be weighed on its merits and the days of our going home with 20 different coloured plastic bags and the week´s fruit and vegetables seem to be over. But we seldom miss going.
We meet Maggi who has cycled in and have Cypriot coffee behind "our" cafe. The tables in front spill into the market proper but those behind catch the warm sun. J´s butcher, whose shop also opens onto the market, leaves the door open and lovely smoked ham smells emerge. Loops of sausage and smoked tenderloins hang in the doorway. We resist, but do round the corner for 6 eggs from the egg bucket. And i get a half dozen onions as well. At one time the market was the cheapest, or at least inexpensive and the freshest place for produce. Sadly, this isn´t always so now, so each purchase has to be weighed on its merits and the days of our going home with 20 different coloured plastic bags and the week´s fruit and vegetables seem to be over. But we seldom miss going.
Saturday, 10 January 2009
Friday, January 9/2009
Maggi picks us up and we go to suburban Livadia to check out the supermarket there. Nice to pick up the bottled water there (what comes out of the tap being suitable for cooking) as it's heavy to bring back when walking. It's a beautiful day - M has been swimming this morning - so we sit in the sun at the corner where the fivew roads meet and drink Cypriot coffee - always served with a glass of water on the side. Like most Cypriot cafes the tables spil out across the sidewalk and into the road.
Now reading, alternately with the Chaplin autobiography, Ann-Marie McDonald's prizewinning Fall on Your Kneew. Very powerfully written.
I learn never to try to roast garlic in the microwave. We have no oven and it seemed like a good idea. I oil the garlic and put it in a cup copvered with a saucer with water in it. However, the result is not glorious pasty roasted garlic but a microwave filled with smoke which J removes to the balcony. So, open patio doors, scented candles and, fortunately, no fire alarm. And the corn on the cob J has bought at Prinos greengrocers is boiled not microwaved as J prefers it. (It's good enough corn, but not a patch on fresh August corn at home).
Now reading, alternately with the Chaplin autobiography, Ann-Marie McDonald's prizewinning Fall on Your Kneew. Very powerfully written.
I learn never to try to roast garlic in the microwave. We have no oven and it seemed like a good idea. I oil the garlic and put it in a cup copvered with a saucer with water in it. However, the result is not glorious pasty roasted garlic but a microwave filled with smoke which J removes to the balcony. So, open patio doors, scented candles and, fortunately, no fire alarm. And the corn on the cob J has bought at Prinos greengrocers is boiled not microwaved as J prefers it. (It's good enough corn, but not a patch on fresh August corn at home).
Thursday, 8 January 2009
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Down on the lift to get a litre of milk for breakfast. At 8 o´clock the lobby is not quite dressed for the day, as the cleaners mop down the floor. The manager and another man are behind the counter and in front of it stands a man wearing shorts and t-shirt and holding a plate of what I take to be his beakfast on raised palm, waiter style. He´s singing, in English, with indeterminate accent and a pretty good baritone. The shy manager has a look somewhere between amusement and embarrassment and I listen, unsure whether my acting as audience is appreciation for serendipitous entertainment or just encouragement for a drunk.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Thunder and lightning, visible through the curtains at 6 a.m. this morning, but by the time we get up the sky is an innocent blue. And the temperature rises to 20 degrees - 26 in the sun - though it does cloud over later.
I stop at the charity shop, presided over by a large and motherly englishwoman. A customer, a thin middle aged woman with blonde hair, possibly not naturally so, asks tentatively if she could dye her hair grey by using household bleach. "Somebody said yo could and it would be inexpensive." I´m still wondering why one would choose to do this and only two possibilities come to mind - returning it to its natural colour or playng an elderly character in a play. The mother figure is firm. She definitely cannot use household bleach; she´s to go to the Smart store where she can buy hair colouring for only three euros, very reasonable. The timid woman continues: would jewellery be ageing? No, no, says Mother; it brighterns you up. As I leave she is studying the plastic earrings wistfully.
I come in to the flat as one of the cleaners is leaving. The other, not hearing me, continues taking advantage of the good natural light on the dressing table mirror to examine her spots at length.
Construction in Cyprus often uses quite different, even baffling methods. So, out the window we see a fork lift affair loading gravel into a flat via the first floor (read 2nd floor in North America) balcony.
I stop at the charity shop, presided over by a large and motherly englishwoman. A customer, a thin middle aged woman with blonde hair, possibly not naturally so, asks tentatively if she could dye her hair grey by using household bleach. "Somebody said yo could and it would be inexpensive." I´m still wondering why one would choose to do this and only two possibilities come to mind - returning it to its natural colour or playng an elderly character in a play. The mother figure is firm. She definitely cannot use household bleach; she´s to go to the Smart store where she can buy hair colouring for only three euros, very reasonable. The timid woman continues: would jewellery be ageing? No, no, says Mother; it brighterns you up. As I leave she is studying the plastic earrings wistfully.
I come in to the flat as one of the cleaners is leaving. The other, not hearing me, continues taking advantage of the good natural light on the dressing table mirror to examine her spots at length.
Construction in Cyprus often uses quite different, even baffling methods. So, out the window we see a fork lift affair loading gravel into a flat via the first floor (read 2nd floor in North America) balcony.
Wednesday, 7 January 2009
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Feast of the Epiphany, which in Cyprus seems unrelated to the Magi. Religiously, it commemorates the Baptism of Christ, but culturally it´s a carnival style family day. There is, in every Cypriot city (near the water at least) a parade from the principal church to the sea. In Larnaca this is from St. Lazarus Church, the crypt of which is said to have been the burial place of the Biblical Lazarus following his second death (in fact the name Larnaca means coffin).
The parade is a rather unsettling mixture of Orthodox Church clergy in full regalia and the military, cadets as well as weapon bearing soldiers. Greek flags much in evidence. The bishop throws a cross off the pier (prudently tied to the end of a string - the cross, not the pier) and teenage boys dive to retrieve it. It´s an honour to be the successful diver but it´s no polar bear feat. The high temperature today is close to 20 degrees, warmer in the sun - and the water will not be terribly cold. The pier is strewn with aromatic leaves from the mountains which we, along with others, gather up afterwards, as they smell lovely in the flat.
There are crowds for the parade and the waterfront is bright with helium balloons and full of children eager for the bouncy castle or ice cream or popcorn. And plenty of people of all other ages as well. We stand on a low wall at the edge of a bed of petunias to get a better view. Then Maggi texts "where r u" and we meet up. Impossible in the crowd without directions. Back to our place for tea and cake.
In the evening J does swordfish for dinner. And then the terrible contrast with our day as the news brings ever more horrific scenes of Gaza, such a short distance away, sharing our eastern end of the Mediterranean. And last January we were in Palestine.
The parade is a rather unsettling mixture of Orthodox Church clergy in full regalia and the military, cadets as well as weapon bearing soldiers. Greek flags much in evidence. The bishop throws a cross off the pier (prudently tied to the end of a string - the cross, not the pier) and teenage boys dive to retrieve it. It´s an honour to be the successful diver but it´s no polar bear feat. The high temperature today is close to 20 degrees, warmer in the sun - and the water will not be terribly cold. The pier is strewn with aromatic leaves from the mountains which we, along with others, gather up afterwards, as they smell lovely in the flat.
There are crowds for the parade and the waterfront is bright with helium balloons and full of children eager for the bouncy castle or ice cream or popcorn. And plenty of people of all other ages as well. We stand on a low wall at the edge of a bed of petunias to get a better view. Then Maggi texts "where r u" and we meet up. Impossible in the crowd without directions. Back to our place for tea and cake.
In the evening J does swordfish for dinner. And then the terrible contrast with our day as the news brings ever more horrific scenes of Gaza, such a short distance away, sharing our eastern end of the Mediterranean. And last January we were in Palestine.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Trips to bakery and supermarket as tomorrow, Epiphany, is a holiday and nothing will be open. It´s the fifth holiday in 13 days as on the days after Christmas and New Year´s most things are shut. Some enterprises - building construction projects for example - seem simply to close for the entire period.
Jenny texts to say that her daughter Laura has just had a boy. Exciting times as her other daughter, Emma, is also due in January. The UK has been very cold and she says that at 6 this morning there was an inch of snow in Thames Ditton - suburban London.
Jenny texts to say that her daughter Laura has just had a boy. Exciting times as her other daughter, Emma, is also due in January. The UK has been very cold and she says that at 6 this morning there was an inch of snow in Thames Ditton - suburban London.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Rainy a.m., so back to the books and the Sunday paper. Learn on the news that there was a shoot out on the street in Agia Napa last night. Here we thought it was semi ghost town when the truth had more of the wild west about it.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
In the evening we join M&M and drive up the coast to Agia Napa to have dinner at Tony´s, an old haunt of M&M´s in the days when they wintered there. It´s too dark to see the sea, but there´s still the romance of the lights strung out along the bay, backed up by the light romance of Maggi´s new Mantovani cd´s.
Agia Napa is quite different from Larnaca. Once upon a time it was a humble fishing village. Now it has ballooned into a commercial resort, booming and relatively vulgar in high season but semi ghost town in low. Little raffic and many shops and cafes closed for the season. There remains a small community of off-seasoners though, many of them Scandinavian.
Ton´s is nearly but not quite full and Toy himself, a short man with a waist length white beard, does greet Maggi with a hug, but she´s not sure he actually recognises her. The menu is typically Cypriot but also what J and I refer to as a "Polish menj" (as in Poland menus list all the dishes that are ever on offer, many of which may not be available on any given day). Thus the stuffed vine leaves that Maggi´s mouth had been ready for are not on, but she has moussaka and Magne giant shrimp, both of which they say are good, while J and I both order beef stifado - the nicest I´ve had and very generous portions. So while M&M regret the lively venue they remember - open 24 hours and a live band at night - we do have a very good meal.
Agia Napa is quite different from Larnaca. Once upon a time it was a humble fishing village. Now it has ballooned into a commercial resort, booming and relatively vulgar in high season but semi ghost town in low. Little raffic and many shops and cafes closed for the season. There remains a small community of off-seasoners though, many of them Scandinavian.
Ton´s is nearly but not quite full and Toy himself, a short man with a waist length white beard, does greet Maggi with a hug, but she´s not sure he actually recognises her. The menu is typically Cypriot but also what J and I refer to as a "Polish menj" (as in Poland menus list all the dishes that are ever on offer, many of which may not be available on any given day). Thus the stuffed vine leaves that Maggi´s mouth had been ready for are not on, but she has moussaka and Magne giant shrimp, both of which they say are good, while J and I both order beef stifado - the nicest I´ve had and very generous portions. So while M&M regret the lively venue they remember - open 24 hours and a live band at night - we do have a very good meal.
Monday, 5 January 2009
Friday, January 2, 2009
No man´s land between holiday and ordinary time. Sale signs have begun appearing in shop windows, some advertising 50% off, interesting in itself as sale times used to be controlled by legislation. But most shops have not reopened yet, extending the New Year´s holiday. Even the supermarkets are still closed J finds. I pass a large flower bed shared by snapdragons looking sadly tired but still faintly aromatic and three dark green artificial Christmas trees.
The Dubai television chanel, which usually features the most vapid American programming imaginable, along with brief and superficial local news reports and the occasional film, now has several hours of a robed man in a chapel like room mournfully chanting from the Koran. Have we failed to remember an important Moslem holiday? Is this a lament for the fate of Palestinians? No, it seems a council member has died and displaced regular programming. But the dirge continues for enough hours that we begin to speculate on possible arrangements for bathroom breaks. How does he manage?
The Dubai television chanel, which usually features the most vapid American programming imaginable, along with brief and superficial local news reports and the occasional film, now has several hours of a robed man in a chapel like room mournfully chanting from the Koran. Have we failed to remember an important Moslem holiday? Is this a lament for the fate of Palestinians? No, it seems a council member has died and displaced regular programming. But the dirge continues for enough hours that we begin to speculate on possible arrangements for bathroom breaks. How does he manage?
Friday, 2 January 2009
January 1, 2009
New Year´s Day. Still chilly but we wake to that cloudless dark blue sky that is so very Mediterranean. Walk out along the seafront for our now traditional New Year´s meal with Maggi and Magne. There aren´t a lot of people out in the cool wind, though the man who sells hot chestnuts is there. Once the wind drops the sun is quite warm though. Lovely meal from a beautifull lemony shrimp cocktail and roast pork to Christmas pudding and brandy sauce. The sun still streaming in from the balconyas we start.
Wednesday, December 31,2008
New Year´s Eve. We´re reminded of the old Cypriot custom of barbecuing on the street. Shopowners used to barbecue meat and halloumi and share it, along with wine and spirits and pitas and salad with their customers. One still passes the occasional shopfront barbecue but mostly they´re just intended for staff now.
Buying frenzy in the supermarkets, both for New Year´s meals and because the annual sales on liquor are coming to an end.
We work a bit at staying awake through the evening but 11:45 sees us bundled up - it´s an astonishingly chilly +5 C and windy - and down to europa Square on the waterfront. It^s only a block away, so we don^t need much time to get there. Plan B would have been to watch from the roof as Inger said she would do, but the waterfront is livelier and, as J says, it´s probably warmer at ground level. Crowds as usual. There is free wine, beer and zivania, all in plastic cups, but the disincentive is the need to remove a hand from a warm pocket to wrap it around a cold drink. The first salute comes from the deep tones of the ships at anchor in the bay as their horns greet the New Year. Then the fireworks, accompanied by terrified cross-flutters of birds that had thought themselves safely at roost for the night efore the big bang. The fireworks are set off on the beach and we´re standing about 200 feet away, so the bursts of colour and light are almost above our heads and we´re looking straight up at the cold black velvet sky. We don´t linger long when it´s over. Back to the warm studio and a New Year´s rusty nail.
Buying frenzy in the supermarkets, both for New Year´s meals and because the annual sales on liquor are coming to an end.
We work a bit at staying awake through the evening but 11:45 sees us bundled up - it´s an astonishingly chilly +5 C and windy - and down to europa Square on the waterfront. It^s only a block away, so we don^t need much time to get there. Plan B would have been to watch from the roof as Inger said she would do, but the waterfront is livelier and, as J says, it´s probably warmer at ground level. Crowds as usual. There is free wine, beer and zivania, all in plastic cups, but the disincentive is the need to remove a hand from a warm pocket to wrap it around a cold drink. The first salute comes from the deep tones of the ships at anchor in the bay as their horns greet the New Year. Then the fireworks, accompanied by terrified cross-flutters of birds that had thought themselves safely at roost for the night efore the big bang. The fireworks are set off on the beach and we´re standing about 200 feet away, so the bursts of colour and light are almost above our heads and we´re looking straight up at the cold black velvet sky. We don´t linger long when it´s over. Back to the warm studio and a New Year´s rusty nail.
Tuesday, December 30-2008
Meet M&M at student internet so they stop in for tea.
PM begin reading aloud Charlie Chaplin^s autobiography. Absolutely fascinating and, somewhat to our surprise, very well written. His early childhood was spent in the Kenington road area of South London, very near the Imperial war Museum. As he was born in 1889, his memories are of a Victorian London, and one in which his family was so poor that he spent time in the Lambeth workhouse. Any real pretence of education had ended by the time he was twelve and his stage career had begun. Amazing the changes in his world as he went on to become an international star, a thorough cosmopolitan, and, in 1975, to be knighted.
PM begin reading aloud Charlie Chaplin^s autobiography. Absolutely fascinating and, somewhat to our surprise, very well written. His early childhood was spent in the Kenington road area of South London, very near the Imperial war Museum. As he was born in 1889, his memories are of a Victorian London, and one in which his family was so poor that he spent time in the Lambeth workhouse. Any real pretence of education had ended by the time he was twelve and his stage career had begun. Amazing the changes in his world as he went on to become an international star, a thorough cosmopolitan, and, in 1975, to be knighted.
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