Wednesday, February 8/2012

Wet again today. Good thing we've been here for the past eleven years - otherwise we might think this was the norm. Quick run out to Carrefour and Prinos. Lovely having such an excellent greengrocer five minutes away - and buying tomatoes and cucumbers and courgettes in mid-winter.

Tuesday, February 7/2012

Wash day - everything from Cairo filthy, and easy to wash but too wet for outdoor drying.

Monday, February 6/2012

View from Maggi's Room

We've arranged for a transfer to the airport about 12:30 for 50 Egyptian pounds ($8.20 CAD, £5.20 GBP, €6.20). The original plan was to go in the morning to see the Nilometer on Roda Island but conflict has escalated in the night so we decide to keep a lower profile and stick closer to home. The shopping district around Tala'at Harb Square is peaceful enough. Rather too peaceful actually as the shops seem only to begin opening after 10 o'clock and then one or two at a time, reluctantly as it were. Near home we stop for a cup of coffee and a pastry. Pastries delicious. Maggi's coffee comes but not ours - which in the end is just as well as we're out of time and it takes some effort to elicit a bill.


On the way to the airport the driver gestures and tells us that Mubarek lived "back there" in a big place. We think of the big jail his sons are living in now There are so many beautiful buildings in Cairo, such lovely colonial architecture, mostly now grimy and crumbling.


Terminal 3 is large and very new. We change back the little Egyptian currency left - in our case into sterling with $3 US as top up. Duty free shops not terribly interesting, and snacks available in Egyptian pounds a shocking price. The small bottle of water that is 1.50 in Egyptian pounds on the street is 26 Egyptian pounds here ($4.27 CAD, €3.23, £2.71), much worse than Larnaca airport at €1.10. Announcements for departures are interesting - in Arabic, English and the language of the destination country, and preceded by a few bars of music appropriate to the destination. Ours is from Zorba the Greek!


Flight home about an hour and twenty minutes. The illuminated sign next to the fasten your seat belt sign now advises against using electronic equipment during take off and landing - which doesn't prevent at least two men from talking on their mobiles as the stewardess is presenting the safety demo. They're asked to put them away but don't seem to grasp the point of turning them off as well. But we land safely in Larnaca. We're home.

Sunday, February 5/2012

Qaitbey Fort, Alexandria

We're up at six for breakfast at 6:30 and our planned trip to Alexandria (€65 for a car and driver for the day). Breakfast the same as yesterday - except that Maggi has been at work in the kitchen and the cups are visibly cleaner and the breakfast tray not only washed but dried. Mohamed does give everything a quick rinse, but that seems to be more or less the extent of it. Not that things are necessarily different in posher accommodation. We remember watching a waiter in our hotel in Giza cleaning a handful of cutlery on the corner of a less than pristine tablecloth. We eat the white buns, foil-wrapped soft cheese triangles and jam but give the hardboiled eggs a miss. By the time they're done, and too hot to hold, it's time to go.

It's a very foggy start. The usual smog with a much higher fog component, so we leave hoping that there will be decent visibility for our day in Alexandria. As we hit the motorway, though, this rapidly becomes the least of our concerns. We pass, in the initial stages more incredibly ugly accidents than I have seen in the whole rest of my life put together, including a car crushed beneath an enormous semi (artic). The balancing wheels from the front of the trailer section have actually gone through the roof of the car. But this is only the beginning. For over half an hour we drive past accidents so numerous that we give up counting - cars crushed, folded almost in two, and torn apaart, and bodies by the side of the road, some of them not moving - faces covered. There is the occasional ambulance, but many of the vehicles look like survival would have been impossible. Occasionally a small fire has been started by the side of the road as a makeshift flare, but there is hardly any need to warn us - the road is one huge accident scene. The fog, of course, is the most obvious cause, but excessive speed for the conditions has clearly played a major part; the vehicular damage we see cannot have been inflicted at low speeds. Ashkok, our driver, is good - but he too is going fast enough that any exception on the road (which is a new one and good) could be problematic.

Alexandria is entered through a large portal with white columns and the city name engraved in Greek as well as Arabic. It's sunny and we snake through narrow, crooked lanes that hardly look as if vehicle traffic were possible Our first stop is at the catacombs. They were rediscovered in 1900 when a donkey fell into a hole which continued into three levels of catacombs with many little passages and a honeycomb of burial spots. The carvings are Egyptian but the catacombs obviously have mixed Egyptian, Graeco-Roman and Christian antecedents. About second century.

Then a stop at Qaitbey Fort on the sea. A fairy tale castle of a fort. It's an Islamic fort built in 1480, originally on the Island of Pharos, built on the remains of the lighthouse, but now part of the mainland, as silt long ago filled in the gap.

A quick snack at Gad, one of a chain of Egyptian fast food restaurants. Very busy, and so it should be as the local style food is good and very cheap. You decide whaat you want and then pay for it. The cashier gives you a receipt with your choice printed on it in Arabic, which you hand over at the counter in exchange for the food. Very clean as those preparing food don't touch the money. Two counters and a man at the entryway cutting meat from two large doner spits. Meat in a bun about $1.40 or spiced bean paste and tomato slices in a small pita for about 15 cents. Delicious too.

Then to the new Alexandria Library. the original livrary, of course, one of the highlights of the ancient world, but its successor is pretty impressive too. It opened in 2002, the work of a Norwegian architect who won a UNESCO competition. Strikingly modern and with room for 8 million books, as well as museums and a planetarium. M and I have drinks at a café nextto the library, the magnificent building in front of us and the corniche with the Mediterranean blue harbour behind.

Then J and I spend an hour at the museu, admiring sculptures recently retrieved from the Mediterranean as well as tiny tanaga statuettes showing period style and dress, and coptic paintings and fabrics. M goes instead with Ashkok for a coffee.  And back to Cairo, the road now more or less fog and accident free. Askok points out the large jail where Mubarekès two sons are being held.

We enjoy a second night at Felfela. this time itès not the anniversary of Mohammed's birth and we're allowed beer. Also sample the mixed grill and a delicious aubergine dish with a dash of (balsamic?) vinegar. Tala'at Harb Square is humming as are the streets around. Shops open and open air vendors busy even at ten p.m. on a Sunday evening. The protestors are busy later too. it must be aaround midnight when a huge cohort pass noisily under our window on their way, presumably, to Tahrir Square. And the net (wifi in the rooms here) has news of escalating protest southeast of us at the Immigration Ministry - barriers breached and stone throwing answered with gun pellets.

Saturday, February 4/2012

Breakfast at 8:30, by which time Maggi's been out for a recce and found soap. The first priority is decent maps and info. So, often my first unhassled source of information, a five star hotel We head out along our street, now  happily humming. A man has cycled along with two large trays of puffed up pitas on his head, and further down a donkey stands patiently with a cartload of oranges across from the Franciscan school. Under the flyover accesses to the October 6 Bridge. Crossing streets in Cairo has been compared to a real life game of frogger, and yo do need your wits about you. Times have changed in Egypt and there is now airport style security at the Hilton, as well as a German Shepherd on guard. So we pass  our bags through the x-ray and ourselves through the metal detector and head for the bookstore and a nice laminated map of Cairo, suitable for wiping coffee off if necessary. I also take advantage of a moment to check out the Lonely Planet guide book and see where the tourist info office is. When you ask a local - even one with good English about the tourist office, it's obvious that it's a foreign concept and you'll probably be pointed to the nearest travel agent. So we enjoy the five star lounge, and later the loo, and plot our route.

It's down past shops, and at one point a car, made into a market barrow with clothing for sale  hung from roof, doors, and open trunk. The girl at the tourist info is quite helpful with handouts and advice on where to go, and, probably more  important, on where not to go. There's a park nearby,but we discover that the well kept parks are well kept in part by virtue of charging admission and keeping most people out. We sit on the wall and eat our sandwiches, watching the world pass, almost literally over our feet, as we're stationed between vendors. Cairo sellers spread out their wares on the sidewalks - handbags, shirts, watches, whatever.  Then back to the Nile. On the pavement we meet a shop owner - a doctor whose family land was taken when the Aswan Dam was built. We're very near Tahrir Square and he tells us his sons were part of last year's revolution - and he was very proud of them. His brother is now in parliament - not an Islamist but, like all, working for change.

Across the bridge to Zamalek. Well, that's the intent, but it involves circling Tahrir Square, clearly set up for protest and abuzz but not hostile at midday. The square does have open gates, but it's well ringed with concrete and metal barriers. There are flags waving, and at one entrance an effigy hanging. We pass a few tents on the pavement. Continued occupation? There are boys and young men milling about but the real action is saved for evening. We do pass yellow ambulances, though. Dozens of them lined up and waiting. I give up any thought of counting. And a nearby street has concrete barriers.

Our objective on the island at the other end of the bridge is the Cairo Tower - 187 m high, with views out over the surrounding countryside. The entry fee is 70 Egyptian pounds though, and given the heavy smog J and I opt out. M goes up but is underwhelmed. Then back across the bridge. Lots of pedestrian traffic, including one daring boy walking on the railing - though death by pollution seems more likely than death by drowning. There are boats in the Nile below, including one being rowed by a woman, which appears to contain not only her husband and child but most of their possessions.

This tie we circle back the other way - along the corniche behind Tahrir Square and the Egyptian Museum, past a burnt out building and several burned cars, seemingly dating back to last year's revolution.

Early dinner at a restaurant just off Tala'at Harb Square, a five minute walk away. The restaurant is Felfela and we're not the first westerners to discover it. Jimmy Carter ate here - and signed a menu. Our meal is pretty good - the stuffed artichokes less exciting than they should be, but the kushari and Egyptian meatballs are comfort food nice. The space itself, though, is wonderful. We're in a raised alcove that holds two tables and is surrounded by carved wood and an aquarium  at one end. At the other, birds peep out through little birdsnest holes and emerge to preen and play on branches just behind the glass that's almost touching Joe's chair. The tables are all thick slabs of wood, soe ofthe smaller ones cross-sections of large trees, with stone pedestals.  Then home past the busy shops - and the odd begging child.

Friday, February 3/2012

We take the bus to the airport in the late afternoon. Actually almost past the airport as, despite Maggi's having said "airport" as we got on, and despite the airport's being a main stop, the driver continues on past as we belatedly realise that he's not going to stop. Not a long walk back, fortunately.

Jane and her friend Jan are there, on their way to Morocco - a two week holiday involving a six hour camel trek and overnight in a tent in the desert. They have a connection in Cairo - after a thirteen hour wait. The waiting bit begins here, as the plane leaves nearly two hours late, having first arrived late from Cairo and then been obliged to change a wheel. We're given vouchers for €3.50 (£2.90, $4.60 CAD) for a snack as we wait, which runs to a small bottle of water and an extremely small packet of crisps each at airport prices - but there is a small meal on the hour and a half flight. Cold, but quite nice.


We're not optimistic about the promised airport pick up by the hostel/hotel (often a borderline call in Egypt). But no, the poor man has indeed waited for us - for about 3 hours by the time we've purchased our colourful visas ($15 US each) and cleared customs. So we're outinto the warm Egyptian air, and driven back throuogh Cairo's amazing traffic, past the city of the dead, through Tala'at Harb Square, and - another block - to Vienna Hostel. It's on the third floor of the building, reached by an antique cage of a lift. The rooms are basic, but they're clean and there is a shower in the loo with extremely hot water and plenty of water pressure, though no soap. Mohammed, the teenage student son, offers to go out to buy some, baksheesh no doubt in mind, but we decide to wait until morning. A quick look out the doors to the tiny balcony at the once classic building opposite and a quick check of the internet (wifi in the rooms!) and it's midnight.

Thursday, February 2/2012

Meet Margaret for coffee at George's. Leslie is there as well, cheerful as ever. M has brought little packets of sweets for each of us - so lovely that I phone her later to say I fear J is going to leave me for her. She's pleased - there's still a lot of the flirt left in her at 80!

Protests, of course, growing in Egypt, and bodies arriving back at the train station in Cairo from the Port Said stadium riot. We'll reassess in the morning.

Wednesday, February 1/2012

Out for a haircut, prudently taking an umbrella, which turns out not to be needed. The book to read while waiting isn't needed either, as it's a slow day at the hairdresser's and the maestro is taking an unaccustomed break when I arrive, so straight to the chair.

Adrienne and Gabriel over for a drink and a chat after supper. They live, for two weeks at least, at the far end of the corridor. The rest of their life, though, is divided between Mississauga, Canada, their primary home, and Hungary, their country of origin. He's eighty now and looks back on a very interesting life. A freedom fighter in the Hungarian Revolution and a civil engineer by training, he fled Hungary and ended up designing highways in Saskatchewan in the late 50's. This was followed by jobs in various third world countries, from Bangladesh to Malawi, and finally, via Hungary (where he married Adrienne) back to Canada where he ended up teaching at Seneca College. And has he slowed down in retirement, J asks. Not a bit of it He's written fifteen novels, several of them published as ebooks. He offers to give us some reading for the Kobo. What aout a novel and a science fiction?

And late in the evening comes the news that a riot has broken out following a football game in Port Said, leaving, at first reports, over fifty dead and many more injured. The best case scenario, of course, is that this is only a sporting conflict and there will be no political repercussions, but it doesn't seem likely.

Tuesday, January 31/2012

Last night's pyrotechnical display exacts its price: once more Joe's bed is wet. The cleaners arrive and I show the damage to Venera whose English vocabulary seems to be more or less the equivalent of my Greek one. Nero (water) I say, pointing to the ceiling, lest she suppose the damp mattress had another cause. she asseses the situation and says "change" - the usual preliminary to the regular (or, rather, irregular) linen change. I agree, though I don't follow the stream of Greek that comes after. Meanwhile, the other cleaner, who always has a little of the deer in the headlights about her, begins cleaning the balcony - a first in our experience at this hotel. Venera disappears, presumably for fresh sheets, but comes back with a whole new mattress, a Norwegian guest obligingly holding up the other end.

In the midst of all this activity, now taking place around cleaner number two, who has moved from the balcony to the kitchen, more or less blocking the door from the corridor, the Brother arrives to adjust the television (which doesn't receive Capital, a channel with evening films).  Maggi says that the Brother's name is actually Mr Fetus, in accordance with the Cypriot custom of using the title Mr, or Mrs or Miss, before a person's first name. But I can hardly bring myself to address such an ineffectual person, or anyone else for that matter, as Mr Fetus, and continue to think of him as the Brother. So, as the Brother makes repeated efforts to reprogram the telly, cleaner number two, apparently unwilling to be seen doing nothing, continues rewashing the kitchen floor. I'm interested in the fact that our television seems to have some games, conveniently identified in English  (unlike all the other programming information), including Tetris. J points out that the Brother is trying repeatedly to get  out of Tetris. And, as suddenly as it began, it's all over.  New bed, television programmed and floor rewashed, and we're on our own.

In the evening to Vlachos taverna with Maggi, Jand and Bill, and Harry and Aylsa. Jane, who is off to Morocco on Friday for a two week holiday, unfortunately suffering stiffness and pain from the side effects kof a hepatitis A injection. Always a good spread, though the moussaka this time is unduly heavy on the béchamel sauce - enough so that I wouldn't order it again, which is a pity as we liked the old recipe.  As usual, the side dishes would have made a meal on their own, and Harry and Aylsa's many animals get a bag of leftovers.

Monday, January 30/2012

This is another day in this year's January pattern. Starts out dry but by late morning there's rain. we take umbrellas down to Lidl, run innto Maggi there and drive back. Lunch of cheese and dips and coffee. In the evening the rain gets serious, with dramatic lightning and a good view of same from the glass doors to the balcony.

Sunday, January 29/2012

Several people using the lobby this morning, including a woman with an East European accent who is interested in going to Choiokitia, a village near Larnaca that boasts the remains of a neolithic village. Very interesting and quite moving as the outlines of the little dwellings huddle together for comfort and safety. Turns out the woman and her husband are Canadians, originally from Hungary but now living in Mississauga. They've been visiting relatives in Hungary and are now in Cyprus for two weeks.

The Congolese merchant banker is ensconced in the far corner, voluble as ever but unhappy with the speed and quality of his connection. "There are too many people in the lobby using the wifi," he tells his unseen telephone partner. "The signal isn't good." But he stops short of asking the rest of us to shut down our computers.

Saturday, January 8/2012

This has been the coolest (no Canadian could call it cold) and wettest winter we've experienced in Cyprus. Having said which, iti's rarely rained for a whole day and the temperature has always climbed at least to the midteens, so all things are relative. Today's forecast is for fine weather and when we plan our walk for coffee the temperature is 20 in a shaded but sheltered spot on the balcony and the skies mostly clear with a little light cirrho-stratus cloud inland. Then it takes no more than three blocks walking before the clouds darken and the sun disappears, accompanied by a drop in temperature. But down at Harry's Café, opposite St Lazarus church, the sun comes back as J, M and I sip our Cyprus coffees and all is bright again.

Email from Alex in Cairo to say that he has booked us in at the Vienna, subject to our confirming with them by email, which we promptly do. So now accommodation booked and also a promise for pick up at the airport.

There's a merchant banker from the Congo staying at the hotel. we know the occupation - and quite a bit more - because he uses the lobby, equipped with the same hesitating wifi the rest of us put up with, as an office for lengthy discussions and internet phone calls. Maggi points out that her suspicions may be unkind but as soon as Kiki turned on the television tonight the man left. Was he feeling deprived of an admiring audience she wants to know.

Friday, January 27/2012

Tickets booked online, so now we turn to accommodation. Alex and Lynette email that their first choice had proved unsatisfactory and the hotel next door which they went to notworth the price, but they're now in an inexpensive and central place that is convenient and OK - should they book us in as well. Yes please.

The fewer online transactions the better. I've used the debit card for the UK account, which has finite funds, but at the end of the transaction they want to know if I wish to register the card - if I don't I may have difficulty making future online purchases. However, when I say yes. I'm asked for my UK postal code. A click on "help" elicits the information that those not resident in the UK can telephone the following number....So we'll hopethe problem doesn't arrive until we're back in the UK. though there is quite a bit of money left on the Cypriot mobile - it's just the combo of mobile, long distance, and sometimes non-English accent at the other end.

Thursday, January 26/2012

Maggi and I meet Margaret for coffee at George's. M not keen on George's - smoked glass overhead makes the open court darker and chillier, the prices aren't good, etc. - but it's Margaret's local, so to speak. She can go there for elevenses any time and meet someone she knows and share a laugh. There's just the three of us this time, though, so Margaret takes advantage of Maggi's having the car along to ask us over to see her flat. It's in Drosia, a part of Larnaca up past the Salt Lake. A nice, large, secure flat fill of the mementos of a lifetime - a large cabinet full of crystal, some of it a lovely pink, china figures, a cheerful stone Scottie dog. And several framed photographs of Margaret and Charlie, her husband who died three years ago of prostate cancer, including a wonderful one of Margaret (aged 60 at the time she says) clinging to her husband's arm and wearing a miniskirt which shows off a great pair of legs. Maggi and I check with Martina as well as at a randomly chosen other travel agency on the price of airfare only to Egypt. Martina quotes us €180 and the other place €190. The price online from Egyptair is €156.25, and there's no credit card fee, so that settles that.

156.25 return, and there's no credit card fee, so that settles that.

Wednesday, January 25/2012

Interesting minor drama. I'm reading to J, who is facing the glass doors to the balcony, when he sees a woman on the top floor of a nearby apartment building come out onto her balcony and find herself unable to get back in. We watch her efforts for about five minutes and then I leave to see what I can do. As soon as I reach the ground it becomes obvious that the problem is somewhat different than it appeared from the fourth floor. You have to get quite close to the apartment to see the balcony as it's screened by another tallish building and it's high enough that shouting up (or down) isn't really possible, even apart from language difficulties. However there is a lobby with a man on duty in a grubby, smoky room in front of pigeon hole mailboxes full of keys. He's talking on the pone but I explain the proble and he says he will check it out. I'm off to Carrefour, reluctant even to look up at the disconsolate figure in the pink cardigan, but when I get back the balcony is empty and J says that the woman was let in shortly after I left. It had looked funny for a minute or two, but she could have spent quite a while out there with nobody close enough to shout to.

Over to the cinema at Dhekelia with Maggi and Turid, her Norwegian friend, to watch War Horse. Beautiful filming and some Spielburg mgic. Though those who have seen the stage play say it has more magic than the film.

Tuesday, January 24/2012

Enjoying reading A View from the Foothills, Chris Mullin's political diary, written as a British junior minister and covering the first half of the last decade. It's astonishingly indiscreet. One can't actually imagine its being published in Canada. The publishers would be afraid to touch it, and those who considered themselves to have been embarrassed would know no better than to sue and thereby prolong the embarrassmen. There are some people who come off better than one might have expected (Tony Blair, John Prescott), people who come off worse (Gordon Brown) and lots of insight into how the system works - sometimes like Canada and sometimes not.

Monday, January 23/2012

Alec and Lynette, Australians, have been staying here for a couple of days and are now off to Egypt. I leave to go on errands, find them drinking coffee outside in the sun, and end up talking for three-quarters of an hour. Theyève rented out their house in Australia and are seeing the world for twelve months. Interesting couple. We talked to them yesterday and found a fair bit in the way of overlapping interests, reading, etc. Theyève booked an inexpensive but central place to stay in Cairo, online. The pictures look fine but they'll email with their recommendations.

Finally on with the errands. Stop in at George's where Margaret and Leslie are having coffee with a friend, and join them. Then off to the Slovakian travel agency - well, the one where Martina, the Slovakian girl, works - to check on trips to Egypt or Syria. Tell her we want something cheap and wonderful, and she duly photocopies some options.

Sunday, January 22/2012

Terrific rainstorm in the night with high winds. Before I open my eyes it seems that there is a bright light. Feels like the sun has come out, but this turns out to be J's bedside lamp. He's stripping the bed, so I inquire. The bed is wet. Takes me a minute, as I'm thinking oh no - it's come to this, but it turns out that the ceiling is leaking in the rainstorm. So basin under the leak and move the bed. By now we're awake enough to open the curtains and admire the storm.

M's moving day and she treks up and down with drawers of cutlery, clothing, etc. She's got permission to take the sofa from 202 with her. It's old and worn, but the one supplied in 302 is vinyl and armless - looks like it belongs in a dentist's waiting room. But, Mr. Andreas says, don't think of doing it yourself. The men can do it tomorrow, or maybe if my friends come by for coffee today....Meanwhile random furnishings are being dumped in 202 as M removes her belongings and we can see that her sofa may turn up anywhere at all. there's a workman who points to his heart as he refuses to help so - spur of the moment - M and I take it up the flight of stairs ourselves. Not quite ready to hire ourselves out, but fairly proud of ourselves nontheless.

Out to the cinema at the Dhekelia base to meet up with Jane and Bill to see The Iron Lady. Meryl Streep brilliant as always. M's a Thatcheer fan - we of course not. Don't know about Bill and Jane.

Saturday, January 21/2012

The plan was to go down to DaVinci Café, opposite St Lazarus Church (traditionally believed to be the second burial place of the Biblical Lazarus) for a coffee in the sun. But sun in short supply, so M suggests driving out past the airport for a village coffee wherever takes our fancy. This turns out to be a local café in the village of Pervolia. A tiny adult of indeterminate gender points to the door and we're out of the wind and into a local. Three Cyprus coffees and local men at the next table looking like a permanent fixture of the backgammon and coffee sort. there must be live music here on occasion as there is a mike with a sculptured head and hands attached to  sax. M takes a photo.

Friday, January 20/2012

Air traffic controllers, in protest over civil service pay freezes. Public sympathy - and  ours as well - pretty limited, as the lowest paid earned €120,000 last year as well as over €50,000 overtime.


Exciting first. I download Chris Mullin's political diary, A View from the Foothills onto the Kobo. Have only downloaded freebies from Project Gutenberg, etc before. I've wanted to buy the book for some time, so this is a great pleasure.

Thursday, January 19/2012

Going to meet Margaret for coffee at George's and run into Jane having coffee on her own She's in for blood tests. So George, who doesn't have to be asked, arrives with a pot of tea and I drink the first half with Jane and the second at Margaret's very busy table. I've brought her a jar of lemon curd, made this morning, and, with the enthusiasm that must have been much the same seventy years ago, she's busy sampling it and giving a little taste to the man sitting next to her.

Much media analysis of the character of the captain of the Costa Concordia, the Italian cruise ship that ran aground. So that one psychologist talks of the panic fuelled personality disintegration of an alpha male who finds that everything has gone wrong and feels compelled to deny that there is a problem. Another commentator adds that he is not afraid of the Captain Schettinos in the world - only of the Captain Schettino inside himself.

Wednesday, January 18/2012

Explore the new (to us) charity shop up behind Carrefour. Quite a good selection of books - though this year we're far from desperate, with the Kobo. J picks up a copy of William Dalrymple's From the Holy Mountain. It's a travelogue with depth, a trip through the area of the Byzantine world as experienced by John Moschos, a wandering monk in the 6th century, just before the whole of the Middle East became Moslem. A fascinating look at that part of the world then and now, and a focus on the remnants of Byzantine Christianity still remaining in these countries.

Tuesday, January 17/2012

Dinner with Jane, Bill, Harry, Aylsa, and Maggi at Xylotymbou, a neighbouring village just up the motorway from Pyla. Very nice meal. The village tavernas seem to keep the old country tradition of extras - Greek salad and tahinni dip, pickles and olives, warm pita, etc. - that come gratis with the meal - even token desserts like fruit or deep fried nibbles and brandy. The restaurant's own sauce, available on chicken or pork fillet, is rich and oniony. It's a cool evenng and the fireplace - which is gas - is lovely as well as warm. Home with the car smelling of fresh basil from Jane and Bill's garden.

Horrific accounts of the behaviour of the captain of the cruise ship that hit bottom off the coast of Tuscany. We get to listen to recordings, with voice-over in English, of the coastguard demanding that the captain get back on the ship, which still has unrescued passengers. Harry and Bill, both of whom have extensive sailing backgrounds, Harry on ships, have quite a bit to say on the subject of safety measures aboard.

Monday, January 16/2012

Endless in-house drama as Norwegian couple in next flat seem to be angling for the same apartment, 302, that Maggi occupied last year and has booked for this year and next.  Iit's being renovated but the renovation is nearly finished. It is, of course, the fault of co-owner Mr. Andreas, who dislikes conflict and is therefore quite likely to promise the same flat to more than one prospective tenant, possibly hoping that the world will end before he has to deal with the resulting difficulty.

Sunday, January 15/2012

The Russian cyclists (obviously a national team of some sort) are moving out, with heaps of shopping bags and piles of luggage in the lobby. They train in Cyprus in the winter, taking advantage kof the varied terrain and relatively unbusy back roads as well as the climate. so we get usedto seeing them  in team uniforms in the lobby and sometimes biking through the city.

The Sunday edition of the Cyprus Mail deplores Standard and Poor's actions, its headline reading: Hidden Agenda of Downgrade.

Saturday, January 14/2012

Standard and Poor's has come out with major downgrades for most Euro countries. The most international attention is given to France's loss of AAA status, but Cyprus has, like Portugal, been downgraded to junk bond status - BB+.

Friday, January 13/2012

Dinner at Vlachos Taverna with Maggi, Bill and Jane. We were set for moussaka, but they apologise - one pan of it was burned and only one portion remains. So J and I split it, as well as splitting a mixed kebab plate. The usual enormous portions, and as the dog owners, Harry and Elsa, aren't here, the doggie bags come home instead of to the dogs. Fresh lemons and basil from Bill's tree and garden.

The Russian ship sent on its way by the Cypriots on condition that it go to Turkey and not Syria has arrived in Lattakia, Syria, somewhat predictably.

Thursday, January 12/2012

Final look at the icons on the dentist's wall. An article in The Cyprus Mail a week ago may shed some light. it refers to a surgeon whose walls contained not graduation certificates but icons given by grateful patients who considered that he had performed miracles.

Coffee with Margaret and a couple of expats. Len reminiscing about his early days: the doctor said move out of London or the run of the family won't survive - so we went to Southend.

Wednesday, January 11/2012

The Cypriots have detained a Russian ship that came into port at Limassol, suspecting it of carrying "dangerous goods." They have good reason to be wary, as last July there was a massive explosion due to seized munitions that had been stored for over two years in the sun at a naval base. Thirteen people were killed and the country's main power station wrecked. This time, despite suspicions, the ship has been allowed to continue on the understanding that it sail only to Turkey and not to its planned destiation of Lattakia, Syria. The captain's word, apparently, the guarantee.

Tuesday, January 10/2012

Maggi has reported the deficiencies of our fridge to the powers that be. Thus the cleaner and the brother arrive to investigate. We demonstrate - the door to the tiny freezer is missing - replaced by one of Jès construction, made of cardboard covered with plastic bags taped and tied with string that forms opening hndles. They profess astonishment at the missing door and leave, muttering "avrio" - tomorrow. The (feigned?) astonishment is interesting. The fridges obviously get defrosted and, one hopes, cleaned between guests. There's ample opportunity to observe damage and defects. And in any case, what do they presume has happened? This must be a regular occurrence with cheaply constructed fridges, and the freezer doors must be found periodically next to the afflicted fridges. It seems extremely unlikely that they can actually suppose that a maverick guest ripped off this particular door and disappeared with it in his suitcase.

Monday, January 9/2012

J rereading The Haj, by Leon Uris after many years - this time with a  sense of annoyance about the strong pro-Israeli, anti-Palestinian bias. And more critical of the quality of the writing as well.

Sunday, January 8/2012

Thunderstorms at night and some rain in the moroning. Sophie, the cat, is not pleased and goes out to sit on the ledge under the little white patio table to survey the world from a dry perch. But the sun comes out in time for our 11:30 bus home, and the flag it down on the waterfront system works. The pavement is busy as we wait - a little street market, Philippino girls with a day off, and an old woman who can scarcely reach into the roadside skip but emerges with three handbags, two of which, after careful examination, she returns to the skip, walking off with the third over her shoulder.

Rain holds off until we're home again before beginning. We're about to have lunch - acquired a seeded rye still warm from the bakery - when Maggi calls up to say that lentil soup is on the boil. we can come down but she has to get bread in. So down we go with warm bread to join M for lentil soup. Perfectly timed.

Saturday, January 7/2012

Sam and Paddy suggest we stay another day, with more time to visit. So we head off with Sam to look at Curium Beach - just below an old Roman settlement - and do some errands. The beach has interesting stones and shells and an exhilarating wind, which has led some parakiters to bring out their colourful sails like giant kites. we speak to a young Portuguese man just before he heads into the surf, the wind catching him and taking him what seems like a half mile down the breakers before he tacks back and builds up speed again.

After collecting the bread, Sam asks if we would like to see Kolossi Castle. It's a couple of miles away in the next village, an early 13th century square Crusader castle with walls that must be close to ten feet thick. The first thing that we notice is what looks like decorative stone work at the top of the tower. Not merely decorative, it seems, but the spot where boiling oil could be poured down on the heads of invaders. Inside it's simple but very nicely proportioned, with stone arches and fireplaces and window seats, and stone floors that must have been cool in summer and frigid in winter.  J wonders about water supply and Sam points to a stone aquaduct outside. Beautiful views across the fields and villages and out to the sea from the top.


Home to find that Paddy has not only fiished washing the crystal - having postponed all my offers of help - but taken down the Christmas tree and put away the decorations. The season is over. Chat, and nap, and dinner of prime leftovers. Then a game of Scrabble. Paddy, who has been working most of the time since dawn yesterday, is off to bed, but we linger and talk to Sam for a couple of hours. He has a lovely quiet style, a good memory and a wide range of interests. And, that greatest of charms, opinions and interests that overlap significantly with our own.

Friday, January 6/2012

Walk down to the beach to take the bus to Limassol, only to discover that the waterfront road is still blocked off after this morning's Epiphany parade. Rapid Plan B, as we remember that the second stop is opposite St Helena's Church. Where the bus duly arrives - unfortunately a small one that doesn't accommodate all the would-be passengers. J and I do get seats, but are at opposite ends until midway, when I move up and take a now empty seeat next to J, while the driver, who speaks no English, is at pains to let me know that I needn't sit next to this man as there is a single seat available across the aisle.

Sam, Jenny's father, picks us up as planned and we drive the 15 km to Erimi. The table is already beautifully set for twelve, but Paddy is ready with small bowls of soup to tide us over, as we won't be eating until 8:30.

And a lovely meal it is, with venison paté as a starter, followed by roast leg of lamb with mint sauce and currant jelly, roast potatoes and vegetables, and a choice of Paddy's homemade desserts - ginger trifle, chestnut log and mince tarts. Good conversation too, as we get to know the other three couples, all expats.

Thursday, January 5/2012

Weekly coffee with Margaret and assorted friends at George's café. The shop next to our outdoor table has a closing down sale ahalfnd women from our table make make forays in, emerging with bags of half-price gift items, including a tallish wooden giraffe. It seems everything really does have to go, as the shop owner emerges with a large shopping bag containing plastic boxes of potpourri, one for each of us

Wednesday, January 4/2012

Help Maggi move her things from the storage room - inconveniently located on the mezzzanine where the lift doesn't stop. She's two floors below us in 202 while they finish redoing the third floor - clearly not a day or two but now what? Three weeks?

Tuesday, January 3/2012

Rent due and so the annoying question of cash point withdrawals arises. Different banks have different maximum dispersal amounts, but on a long stay higher is better as there's a withdrawal charge each time. So it is irritating to find that no Larnaca bank appears to dispense more than €600 at a time (€540 of which will disappear instantly as the rent is paid) particularly as we were able to withdraw €1400 in Paphos. J suggests that our lack of info on cash point withdrawal possible is due to our reluctance to ask questions. Actually I think it's in large part due to the reluctance of Cypriots to provide answers, or at any rate accurate and useful ones, so that many inquiries take a lot of time without resulting in corresponding enlightenment. But, chastened, I head to the Marfin Laiki Bank round the corner to ask questions.

The first person tells me that the cash point allows withdrawals up to €€400. This is a little puzzling as I know from past experience that it will give €600. However, I put this down to possible, if improbable misunderstanding, as a woman with excellent English takes over. Perhaps it's a problem with my daily limit - what is my daily limit? Two thousand dollars, I say, deciding that the Canadian and US dollars are close enough for me not to bother complicating the issue with explanations. she takes my bank card, makes a phone call in Greek, and says yes, as she has said, the maximum on foreigh cards is €1000; there have been recent changes demanded by Visa. But my card isn't Visa, and the Paphos bank that gave us more in November was also a Marfin Laiki bank.  All the same, the maximum is €1000. So will the machine outside give me €1000? Yes. It doesn't, of course.  Just repeats its message that its maximum is €600. Which, as I say to J, is why I am reluctant to ask questions in Cyprus. After all the production, you're no further ahead.

Maggi arrives in the late afternoon. So hugs, and our first g&t of the season, with ice cubes made in the empty clear plastic six egg carton. Then supper with lentil soup and sandwiches - chicken salad, humus with cramelised onions, J's chicken liver paté, cheese. And a bottle of Smart Stores bubbly de maison to celebrate her return. 

Monday, January 2/2012

As New Year's Day is on a Sunday this year, Monday is also a holiday with more or less everything shut. J off to the beach, where he walks laps on the sand.I defrost the little bar-sized fridge. As its tiny freezer across the inside top  has no door - mush oonce have done, so what happens to these things - J has fitted it with one made of heaving cardboard covered with thin plastic bag taped in place. Frosts up faster than one with a real door, though. It will keep meat frozen or make ice cubes, but ice cream would turn (based on past experience) to milkshakes.

 

Sunday, January 1/2012

The rain is no longer what the television newsreader refers to as torrential, but it rains on and off all day. Finish reading the last book of Paul Scott's Raj Quartet.

Saturday, December 31/2011

Margaret phoned last night to say that the shops will be closed Monday as well as Sunday, so we're off early to pick up the few things we need. Will Prinos be open at eight? It will be a zoo later. Turns out it's been open since six - and 6:15 is its usual time. Who goes then? As usual, I go for two things - carrots and potatoes (the latter 40 euro cents a kilo - or 32p GB or 53 cents CAD - and still with the iron rich red earth clinging to them). But end up with extras - leeks, onions, garlic, courgettes, red and yellow peppers (€2.20 a kilo, £1.83 GB, $2.91 CAD) and lettuce (32 cents EU, 27p GB, 42 cents CAD) each.

We meet up at the beach later and go on to the New Year's Eve market. The sky is beginning to darken but the fruit and vegetables still gleam and we choose pink grapefruit, tomatoes, tiny cucumbers and green beans, all fresh.

New Year's Eve  is traditionally celebrated at the beach with fireworks, free wine and beer (and not a drunk in sight) and a concert. But suppertime brings a thunderstorm  with the lightning showing palm trees bending in the wind and sheets of water blowing up the street. We don't go out, and wonder if it's all been cancelled, but at midnight we can indeed see the fireworks, only partially obscured by a building on Makarios.

Friday, December 30/2011

Meet Margaret at George's café. She has plans to attend a 65th birthday party, getting a ride there with a widower now sitting at the next table - but she's careful to add that she's not going with him - he can go and talk to his own friends once they're there. She and Leslie share a bacon and egg sandwich.


Stop at MTN to complain that my mobile won't send texts to Norway. They take it seriously, call me back, have me get the settings rechecked, and give me a new SIM card. A young man called Zacharias even gives me his phone number in case of problems. In Smart Store, on the way home, Maggi phones and, oddly, I can hear the Scots accent seconds before I identify the voice. She'll be here on Tuesday. Try texting her later, but no joy. When I phone, though, that does connect. Encouraging, but maddening.

Thursday, December 29/2011

Major renovations taking place in (what will be) Maggi's flat beneath us, with sounds like a giant dentist's drill.

Wednesday, December 28/2011

D-Day - d being for dentist. J comes along. Fortunately the dental surgery is next to the charity shop, because there's no reading material in English - just what appears to be religious matter in Greek. And a large fish tank. So he's able to nip next door for a book.

I've just said to J that there are really questions I should have been asked much sooner - such as whether I'm taking blood thinners, when the assistant takes me off to ask these slightly belated questions as well as others seemingly less useful. How many children do I have? And, strangest, what is my father's first name? And not deterred by the fact that he's dead. Not unusual in Cyprus according to others. But what possible use could they make of this info?

There are twenty-four religious icons on the wall, but no framed dental qualifications. Isthis significant? Then I'm moved to another room with too many icons to count. The specialist does speak English, but isn't all that forthcoming as he works. No friendly warnings before a sudden jab in the roof of themouth or general chat on how the extraction is progressing. In fact the chat, and jokes it would seem, are reserved for the assistant. At one point I hear him whispering to her and turn round to see that he has his arm around her.

But eventually over, all but the instruction sheet, the prescriptions - and the 180 euro payment, delivered in a room that does have the framed qualifications. Done.

Tuesday, December 27/2011

It's Jane and Bill's anniversary, and a lovely day. Off for home after breakfast. The drive starts along the coast, goes through the mountain chain, and continues thorugh plain that is almost prairie-like. Jane and Bill live in Pyla, near the border, so after we cross we stop at their house for coffee - and to admire their garden; flowers, herbs, and a prolific lemon tree amongst other things. Then lunch at a nice little café round the corner from the Sunflower - crowded with locals. And our Christmas weekend is over.

Monday, December 26/2011

Boxing Day., and dawns brightly over the orange grove. Flowering trees sparkling as well. Breakfast buffet fine, if interestingly arranged, e.g. queue slowed by the fact that cups and spoons are on one side of the hot water urn - tea bags and coffee powder on the other. Lovely sunny room.

After breakfast we drive out to Belapais, perched on the edge of the mountains looking down at Kyrenia. It's probably only 5 km or so from Kyrenia, but uphill most of the way. We've all walked it in the past and taking the car makes it zoom by. The centre of the village is a restaurant and shop next to the "tree of idleness" made famous by Lawrence Durrell in Bitter Lemons of Cyprus as the sleepy spot where men used to sit and play backgammon and drink coffee - not, in those days Nescafé.  Sadly, the restaurant has surrounded the tree so that it's no longer possible to sit under it.

Long before Durrell, Belapais was home to an abbey founded by the Augustinian monks who had been forced to leave Jerusalem when it was conquered by Saladdin. It's a ruin now, but a pretty impressive one, and in the days before spreading villas and suburbs it would have looked down over fruit trees and olive trees and wandering goats to the deep blue Mediterranean, the mountains of Turkey on the other side just visible as they merge with the clouds.

We set out to explore the abbey, starting with the church. There's some elaborate carving in the large Gothic space, and big chandeliers. The man in charge shows us an amazingly complex pulpit carved out of a single piece of hardwood. Interestingly, the decline of the abbey began not with the Turkish occupation, but after the Ottomans gave it to the Orthodox in 1570. Its moral decline began somewhat earlier, though. The Augustinians gave way almost immediately to the Norbertines  in the early 13th century, and by the mid sixteenth centry monks had one, or even two, wives and were accepting only their own children as novices. In its glory days, though, it was rich and influential, at times the residence, and then burial place, of kings. The refectory is the best preserved part, 30 metres by 10 metres, with a ceiling much higher than its width. A rose window is at the peak in the  eastern end, and on the north side windows overlook the Mediterranean, darkly blue in the distance beneath. A pulpit at one side would have been used by a monk reading to the others during meal times. The hall is now full of folding chairs, as the space is used on occasion for concerts.

It's warm in the sun after the stone chill, and we stop to enjoy coffee at the café in the grounds against this incredible background of aabbey ruins and sea.

Drive through the hills on the side of the mountains with more wonderful views. Then down along the coast, where we stop for lunch at a restaurant across from a beach where turtles come to lay their eggs. We only really want a sandwich, with dinner in the offing, and it's fine. But for me the truly impressive thing here is the toilet seat. Jane informs me that it's not unique, but I've never seen one like it. Before use, you press a button and the seat, which appears to be covered with something like cling wrap, rotates, providing a new and presumably pristine surface. Can't imagine how it works - hygienically that is, not mechanically. Disinfectant? Heat treatment? Little pixies in the back armed with new cling wrap?

Back at the Ship Inn, dinner comes almost too soon. J and I both order the fahita makings that Jane had Christmas Eve - and it is as nice as it looks, especially as Joe asks for and is delighted to receive what we only know as beber. That's the Turkish word for pepper, but what they have - only in North Cyprus and Turkey as far as we can see - is a softly flaked red pepper, medium hot.

Sunday, December 25/2011

Rain in the night such that it almost seems the swimming pool should be overflowing, but of course it isn't. After breakfast we take a dolmus (shared taxi, or in this case minibus - name means "stuffed" and is similar to the name for stuffed vegetables) into the centre of Kyrenia. They run every few minutes along the coast road - cheap and efficient and willing to pick you up anywhere along the route.

The centre has been spiffed up a little but we spot the little restaurant we used to eat at in the two weeks we spent here eleven years ago.  The rain begins, lightly, but we've already spotted a café on the corner in the harbour, windows on two sides and transparent plastic up on both, so thereès a good windbreak and a bit of a view.

After the rain we go over to the castle. Probably built in the 7th century BC, it was captured in 1191 by Richard the Lionheart on his way to the Crusades. It was enlarged in the 13th century and again after the Venetians took Cyprus. Itès an interesting enough castle in its own right, with dungeon and gunpowder room and chapel and tower, as well as the occasional life size figure in period costume, weighing the gunpowder, manning the canon, or occupying the torture wheel.

The prize exhibit, though, is the ship - fairly comprehensive remains of an ancient ship - circa 300 BC - that was recovered just off the coast of Kyrenia. Preserved in the mud for centuries, it was found largely intact, and what we have here is about 14 metres of an original 16 metre boat. Amazingly, it appears to have been about 80 years old when it sank, and period renovations included lead sheathing. The wood was Aleppo pine (therefore Syrian) and much of the contents of the ship survived and is on display, including curious square millstones which served as ballast on the outward trip, several amphora, which would have been roped in place, and, astonishingly, a sackful of almonds (original sack long gone, but almonds quite recognizable) and even grape pips! Recovered dishes suggest a crew of four and itès all too clear how exposed they would have been on this little open craft as it made its way (map there showing reconstructed journey) from Greece. It's interesting viewing it with Bill and Jane, as they have sailed in the Mediterranean for years and are familiar with both boats and routes. Bill points out that its construction involved adding the ribs after the exterior shell - the opposite of normal modern practice.

Christmas dinner is included in our holiday package and the menu has been posted since our arrival, with choices for starters, main course and dessert. J, J, and B all opt for smoked salmon and shrimp followed by turkey and I have brandied chicken liver paté and roast lamb with gravy. All very good, especially the smoked salmon. There are Christmas crackers with hats as well. We have a table near the front, nice for the music and the belly dancer - who would probably have had more cash tucked in below her bejewelled navel if the audience weren't made up mostly of men accompanied by their wives. The waiters do a fairly creditable Turkish/Greek style (both sides would be offended by the thought that there is little difference) dance, short on technical polish but high on energy and enthusiasm. And general dancing follows, as we sip our wine and watch.

Very different, but lovely Christmas.

Saturday, December 24/2011

Christmas Eve. It's rained all night and is still raining. Not quite what we'd hoped for, but we're all cheerful as we set off with Jane and Bill for the North. Jane has the border visa stop down to about 90 seconds, with everything ready in advance. Bill attentive to the changing speed limits - the cameras are out and when you leave the North you're presented with a bill for the fines.

We're at the Ship Inn, just west of Kyrenia on the road to Lapta.  A main hotel building and little white fourplexes clustered in gardens around the pool, one of which has our room, with patio doors opening onto an orange grove. Largish dining room with Christmas decorations and everything quite festive. Carafe of wine. Mushroom soup very good, though meat a little on the tough side. Jane's fahita makings - sizzling meat with onions and peppers straight of the grill quite impressive. Gypsy music wasn't gypsy, but was fine - though nice to have coffee in the lobby where we can hear our conversation. Quite a thunderstorm at night, with lightning flashing against the dramatic ragged mountains behind us.

Friday, December 23/2011

The day starts with rain, though it's not cold. By the time we leave to meet Margaret for coffee, it's stopped, and we end up with both umbrellas and sunglasses, ready for all eventualities. Margaret has already had, with another friend, two cups of Nescafé - her fluid maximum - but chats while we drink tea. Fortunately this week we remember M's Christmas card - her 49th she tells us.

J off to walk the beach while M and I walk down Kiteos St - she to the stationer's for puzzle books and I to the tourism office. I'm worried about her crossing busy streets, at 80 and blind in one eye. This is a country of shockigly bad driving - people backing out into traffic while talking on their mobiles and constantly running red lights. But I needn't have worried. She simply raises a hand to stop traffic so she can cross mid-block, and it works. "Yes, I was a policewoman."

Thursday, December 22/2011

Winter solstice: today is the shortest day of the year. The dentist calls, moving my appointment forward to today from tomorrow. My initial assumption that she is looking for a long Christmas weekend proves wrong - her husband is having surgery. So she begins what should have been a root canal only in order to stop with the discovery that the root is cracked, the upshot of which is that it will require extraction by a specialist. Would I like this to happen tomorrow, if possible, or after Christmas? Right then - the twenty-eighth. Well, this should allow for a couple of hearty meals for the condemned. And yes, if we were in Canada Ernie would have done the same with less sympathy and more expense.

Wednesday, December 21/2011

The lift is doing funny uneven jerky things as it goes. Fingers crossed we're not in it when it dies, but we're on the fourth floor - by North American reckoning the fifth (not counting the mezzanine). It's a long, if healthy, walk.

Walk back from downtown under thunderously black sky. It doesn't rain - but does produce a rainbow in the north.

Tuesday, December 20/2011

The handymen are back. On Thursday they put in new electrical switches, designed to turn off the heater/air conditioner if windows or sliding doors are opened. Quite a production, involving, at one point, four young men and a woman in tights, lined winter boots and a mauve sweater (who calls to mind Desmond Morris's view that the shape of the female bosom was intended by nature to mirror the shape of the buttocks) whose sole function seemed to be to hold the keys. With the regular maintenance man, his wife and child, and the two of us, the flat was more than full. Today we get the new windows - double glazing for both windows and balcony doors.

The manager has already told us that the intent is to retile the bathroom and replace bedroom and sitting room carpet with tile. Also to replace the bathtubs with shower units - in order, he says, to save water. Actually the tub which we have has had the valve that would allow the water to switch from shower to tub taps removed - a much cheaper and simpler solution to saving water. In fact the whole upgrading project seems unlikely to pay for itself in the first decade without substantial rent increases, which is our first thought. but it also seems to be a great deal of trouble to go to for management as chronically lazy as this. Thus our second thought: they're spiffing it up in order to sell.

Monday, December 19/2011

Still too warm to be Christmassy. the thermometer on the balcony at 37 this morning, though less in the shade, and a fair breeze moving the palm trees and the breakers. Our Christmas decorations now up - some Christmas ornaments and coloured tinsel and a few Christmas cards. The little stained glass Christmas tree on the balcony doors. And the "people" - a dozen brightly painted wooden figures an inch or two high. Santas and angels and snowmen and such grouped around little trees on the television set.

Sunday, December 18/2011

Out in the morning to pick up the Cyprus Sunday Mail. The "brother" is in the upper hallway, clearly working up to say something beyond good morning. "Downstairs. Two minutes. Letter." Right - so I stop by the reception desk on my way back with the newspaper. The brother is there now, eyes fixed on a book or paper in front of him. The letter is there too, a red envelope filling our letter box diagonally. I wait patiently in front of the desk two feet away from, but totally ignored by, the brother, until his left hand creeps up,the forefinger beginning a tentative exploration of the left nostril. "The letter," I say, hoping to get it uncontaminated, and am rewarded by being handed the card - with his right hand.

Down to St Helena's Anglican in the evening for the annual service of the nine lessons and carols. Only ten in the choir, but they do very well, with the rest of us joining in. the usual hazard that those singing old familiars from memory face, since the pc editors have been at the text, so that "man" becomes "all" and such. It's a difficult job given the limitations of rhythm and line length, so it's a relief to see that "born to raise the sons of earth" has perforce been left as is rather than being changed to "kids of earth."

Mulled wine and Christmas food upstairs afterward.

Saturday, December 17/2011

Market morning. The street where the craftsmen work has huge distilling vessels standing outside in the road, one copper and one silver coloured. Is home distilling a less surreptitious activity here than in Canada? The temperature is in the low twenties but much hotter in the direct sun. The proprietor of our favourite outside café waves to us nd we pick seats in the shade and order Cypriot coffee - dark and dense and served in small cups, always accompanied by a glass of water. The building opposite houses craft and souvenir shops, including one where a Ukrainian girl makes her own jewellery. At the other end of our café a boy - the owner's son? - plays Christmas carols on his clarinet, not quite fluently but with a fair repertoire.

J does an excellent job of making frozen spanakopita in the frying pan we have rather than the over we don't, as the instructions would have had it. Very nice, and he pops the cork on a bottle of dry Belgian "champagne" to go with it.

Friday, December 16/2011

Back to the dentist. There's nothing wrong with last week's filling except the same "stone in the shoe" sensation that went with pressure on the tooth before the filling. Xenia does an x-ray which appears on the screen in front of us. I need a root canal, she says. We can try antibiotics first, but....The only good thing about it is that a root canal costs less here than at home - 140 euros. All prices transparent and listed on a chart (in Greek) in the outer office.

We meet up with Margaret at George's Café, where she's already ensconced with a Nescafé. Suspect her of substituting her piece of toast (along with the marmalade George brings in a help-yourself jar) for either breakfast or lunch so that she gets to eat with company. A good plan, but hopefully her other meals have more nutritional substance.

Thursday, December 15/2011

So to the bank around the corner. Surely the address can't really be  the same as ours? J finds the Greek word for bank particularly appropriate, given the finances - trapeza. Though Cypriot finance is in somewhat better condition than Greek.

Wednesday, December 13/2011

Haircut, and a fairly good one. There are no appointments at the shop, so I take a book with me, prepared to wait, which results in my being taken after only five pages. I've never  had a bad haircut here, but it's always a little unnerving when the whole pre-cut conversation consists of my holding up thumb and forefinger to indicate the length to be removed and then saying "layered" and "fringe".

Looking for a Marfin Laiki bank as this was the only bank (on this occasion in Paphos) to allow us to withdraw more than 600 euros - thus avoiding extra withdrawal charges for frequent small amounts. The internet obliges with several addresses in Larnaca - one of which proves to be the precise address of our hotel. Bizarre.

Tuesday, December 13/2011

Stop on our way home at the Tourism office. J chats a little with the man on duty re the general state of the economy and, seemingly on impulse, he offers to phone Inter-cit and ask if the buses, which, he says, have run on public holidays so far, will in fact be running this Epiphany. Yes, his informant says, they will - on the Sunday schedule. So that - presumably - is that.

Monday, December 12/2011

Checking out the inter-city buses, as we've been invited to Erimi, near Limassol, to visit Jenny's father and his wife on wht turns out to be the Feast of the Epiphany, a major public holiday in Cyprus. we do have a leaflet explaining bus times, amazingly clearly, but it fails to mention holidays. The real problem is that it is quite possible to pursue this and get an answer, but equally possible that the answer will prove to be inaccurate. So I enlist Kikki's help, thinking that language, at least, will not be a barrier to communication. She's dubious, having had difficulty getting similar info in the past, but gives it a try.

The third number she tries (by now using my mobile as the hotel's phone in reception "can't call that number"), which is only one digit different from the number printed on the leaflet, seems to be the right one. Brief conversation in Greek. And? "She said to call back in two days." It would be nice to think that the schedule for 2012 is now being drawn up and will be ready on Wednesday, but it's equally probable that Wednesday is the speaker's day off and someone else will have to deal with problematic questions.

Sunday, December 11/2011

J has inherited my cold - now gone - so we decide not to share the sneezes at church. So morning in with brunch and the Cypriot Sunday Mail. It's a weekly treat for the puzzles and avoids the mindless chauvinism of the Cyprus Weekly - in fact a couple of the regular opinion pieces are quite good - but otherwise a bit lame. It does have the week's radio and tv listings, though this, of course, does nothing to improve the quality of the television offerings. But it's thin to begin with, and padded - not only with the usual advertising, but with articles that are very thinly disguised advertising and repeated news events, appearing in various parts of the paper in more or less detail.

One such repeat this week (appearing in three places) concerns the disruption of university elections by an invasion of about fifteen people in black, wearing helmets and brandishing bats and crowbars. They threatened student voters, threw chairs, used pepper spray, and stole four ballot boxes. Some have since been arrested (in one case because the helmets were still lying in the back seat of his car). Nor were these adolescent pranksters: one of those arrested was 27, and another a serving officer in the National Guard. Only in Cyprus.

Saturday, December 10/2011

Sunny, but there's quite a breeze. but our favourite café from last year has put up a windbreak, which doubles as a rail for "le patron" to hang his paintings. They're decor - but you're welcome to buy. Fewer tables than last year, though, when they used to spill out onto the sidewalk.

As always, Saturday is market day, a multicolour feast for the eyes, with boxes, bags and heaps of oranges, grapefruit, potatoes, broccoli, cucumbers, aubergines, carrots, courgettes, lettuce, nuts, cauliflower - and much more. We buy less than we used to here, partly because it is a long way to carry things and partly because Prinos greengrocer (known locally as a fruitaria) is very good and very near us.

Friday, December 9/2011

Dentist first. I suspect a broken filling, but it's a break in the tooth, fixed by Xenia, our dentist. One advantage to female dentists is smaller hands filling your mouth.

Surprisingly, we do get a tv working on all channels. The man we take to be the manager's brother comes, along with the cleaner, to investigate our defective arrangement. An interesting choice of personnel, as neither speaks any English. The first attempted solution is a switch of sets  with another flat. Not so good for the next tenants there if we're trading bad for good. Tomorrow, the brother says, of the exchange. But tomorrow may never come, and we realise that the reason for the postponement is the brother's inability to lift things - when we were collecting our stored belongings he raised his shirt to reveal more scarred anatomy than we needed to see, by way of apology for non assistance. So J effects the transfer. Still no luck. But then the digital boxes are exchanged and that does it - perfect reception.

We book a three day holiday (well, we've always said that the winters aren't our holiday - they're the other half of our life). We're joining Jane and Bill in a Christmas trip to Kyrenia in North Cyprus, breakfasts and Christmas dinner included. Nice to have company again after all those years when we got together with Maggi and Magne for Christmas dinner.

Thursday, December 8/2011

We've been in Larnaca for a week, though it feels like longer, probably because it's only eight months since we left the flat. Major thunder and lightning in the night, but nothing left of the storm but damp roads and a bruised sky in the morning.

The cleaner changes the sheets and towels this morning. I point out a stain on the bedspread, implying (I hope) that it too might well be changed. She's all smiles. Nai, nai, nai. It takes me a second to remember that nai (though pronounced nay) means yes in Greek. And the change is effected.

The same woman was enormously pleased to see us when we returned. But, as her lack of English is about as complete as my lack of Greek, we spent a rather awkward ride in the lift to the fourth floor. There's only so much grinning and nodding one can do before resorting to staring at the elevator buttons.

Wednesday, December 7/2011

Flirt with the idea of a Red Sea cruise (Thomson out of Limassol). Jane and Bill are going and it would be fun. Price pretty good too, but as we look at booking and are into insurance requirements, late booking charge, some hassle over the return flight (from Sharm El Sheikh via Cairo) we decide not to. Bit of excitement while it lasts though.

Tuesday, December 6/2011

Jane picks us up and takes us to their place in Pyla before we go out for a meal. Joe hasn't been here before, so it's all new to him, and a pleasure for both of us. There's a beautifully grgrant kaffir lime tree, of which they are justly proud, a luxuriant bay tree, various thriving herbs and flowers and a flame of the forest tree grown from seed. And we are given fat lemons from a heavily laden tree. We have tea inside and admire Jane's paintings as well as enjoying Bill's baking - little mince pies.

Chat and then out to eat at Vlachos on the Dekhelia Road, a Cypriot taverna in the old style: the owner is affable and the food plentiful. The nibbles before the meals arrive are a meal in themselves - a large bowl of salad, a basket of warm pita bread, plates of pilaf and scrambled egg with spinach, as well as olives with fresh lemon juice and spears of kohlrabi. We could easily decoare ourselves full, but find roomfor moussaka (J and J), chicken fillets (me) and gammon steak (B), all on large platters with homemade chips. There's a bottle of water and a large carafe of red wine as well, to say nothing of the complimentary bowl of fruit at the end of the meal. The bill comes to 48 euros ($66 CAD, £41) - tax and tip included in Cypriot bills. Andno one everhurries you in a Cypriot restaurant. The meal is respected as an occasion.

Monday, December 5/2011

Coffee at "George's" - if he has another name we don' know it. He has a café with mostly outside tables under a smoked glass roof. Ninety-nine percent of his customers, he says, sitting down for a moment at the table, are regulars. Inside there are classic movie posters. Gone with the Wind and Breakfast at Tiffanyès by the door, and so many inside that they're stacked several deep in the landing outside the loos.

We're here to meet Margaaret, a feisty woman in her eighties - I had my driver's licence stamped when I was eighty and I don't need it done again until I'm 83. The driver's licence is a bit of a problem as she's blind in one eye but lives a little outside the city. So she's come to an arraangement with the licensing inspector - she compliments him, she says, and he grants her a licence to drive in the daytime without passengers.

Margaret seems to have some regular coffee friends, which is reassuring as she's been rather lonely since her husband died. So we're introduced to Leslie, who works part time at the Body Shop and is afraid it will close; Petros, who used to live near Little Venice, the canal behind Paddington Station in London; and Maroula, a former chef, who is laden with shopping and off to make her grandson's lunch. Once more, coffee is a bit of a euphemism, though it is what the others are having, and in some cases toast as well. But it's been a mile's walk in the sun, so we split a large beer.

Sunday, December 4/2011

Some changes at Our Lady of Graces. Fr. Wilhelm is now gone, and a bit of the heart gone out of the liturgy. Still plenty of Philippina workers singing lustily, but no longer standing room only.

Down to the beach promenade in the afternoon. Unlike the one in Paphos, most people aren't tourists and few are speaking English. More variety though - more children, more locals, more nationalities, even more dogs on leashes. there's a giant Christmas tree - some 60 feet high with six foot high layers made alternately of plastic water bottles and drinks cans. It's rather more impressive than that sounds. the cafés are doing steady business and there are ice creams, drinks and balloons for sale along the walk.

Saturday, December 3/2011

Have a letter to mail but the queue isn't worth it. The place is full of pre-Christmas parcels - maids from the Philippines and Sri Lanka sending off huge boxes or buying money orders.

Coffee outside the Saturday market place with Jane and Bill. Or, rather, not precisely coffee: Jane has a frappé and Bill a juice, while J and I split a large beer. Beer here, as in Paphos, is frequently less expensive than Nescafé, as well as more refreshing. Bill and Jane have signed up for an eight day cruise from Limassol to Sharm El Sheik and J is interested in a side trip, which goes to El Alamein.

Friday, December 2/2011

Over to our favourite bakery for a loaf of our favourite sesame seed studded dark rye bread. In the gutter are two pairs of sandals and an orange. Oranges not uncommon in the streets here, but this one nowhere near an orange tree.

In Carrefour, Silent Night is playing faintly in the background. As J says, the first Christmas carols we heard were in Canada - the day after Hallowe'en.

Television here seems now to be digital. Thus we have a new box and a brilliant picture - but both state channels and Euronews have a "signal" problem. As J says, it's really a reception problem - the picture keeps breaking up and the sound stuttering. So it's possible to see, say, Sarkozy speaking, and even to establish the topic, but not actually to follow the speech. If war broke out we'd know, but we might never find out who'd won.

Thursday, December 1/2011

We're up early, having packed yesterday. No weight restrictions here, but extra unpacked jackets will be a nuisance in a hot shared taxi. It's here at 8:40, but takes some time filling up at various hotels, giving us a mini tour of Kato Paphos, as the driver makes cavalier right (equivalent to North American left) turns over an arched cobbled median. There are nine seats, including the driver's, and a surprising amount of room for luggage. Ours is no problem. the seat next to ours is taken by a young woman who speaks English, rather than Greek, to the driver, but with an Eastern European accent. We collect her at a posh hotel and she's headed for Larnaca airport, her only luggage a small flowered cloth carry-on bag.  I consider congratulating her on managing to travel so light, but think better of it.

In Limassol the exchange takes place with drug runner speed at a mall. We and the Eastern European girl are moined in the new van by an elderly Cypriot couple, cane in hand, packed in by solicitous younger family members. They're handed on to other relatives at a villaage stop just off the motorway. In the end the two quotes we've been given re prices are irrelevant, and we pay each driver €10 for a total of €20 for each of us. Not much different, but where did the €19.40 and €21.80 quotes come from?

Back at the Suflower, with emphasis on the sun. Acquiring a southern exposure is like moving to a different, and warer, country. Emotionally warmer, too - when Kikki  begins her afternoon shift at 3 there are hugs. 

Wednesday, November 30/2011

Last day of November  and last day in Paphos. there were more things that we meant to do, but we'll be back. All packing done today - and as usual we've bought too much food and have to decide what is takeable. Order Travel Express, a shared taxi service, for 9 a.m. - but it may be early so be ready by quarter to nine and allow 3 hours for the trip. It's about 140 km, but will involve shifting to a different vehicle in Limassol. The price is cited as €19.40 by the website, but the hefty blonde in the office told us €21.80. Not unusual for Cypriot websites to be out of date. What was unusual for Cyprus is that the woman could hardly get us out of the office fast enough - order one day before, she said, gesturing toward the door.

Tuesday, November 29/2011

Sign reading always a pleasure. Speculation on the nature of the "flee" market. and is Luky Dave, proclaimed above a shop in enormous letters, really lucky? While a hotel sign informs us that it is "strickly" forbidden to consume one's own food and drink in hotel rooms. rooms, as opposed to apartments, which is what we have, but is it legal to be this officious? Surely within reasonable limits it's the guest's own business what takes place in the room. One is reminded of the chinese hotel in which an employee entering the room encountered a naked female guest - who was told that undressing should only take place in the bathroom. Would prevent Strauss Kahn syndrome.