Saturday, April 15/2017

Stop at Marylebone to collect train tickets for Stratford on Avon for a week Monday. J's been there before but I haven't. Now all we have to do is hope there's no rain. 

Carry on to Greenwich, where the tall ships are here for a festival gathering. The pier by the Cutty Sark is crowded and festive, with food, drink, a merry-go-round and throngs of sightseers. Some of the ships are here and some at Woolich, a little to the east. A bit disappointing visually, though, as the sails aren't up so they're not really in full regaliag. 

J has another destination, though. St Elfege's Church, the Greenwich home church of James Wolfe, conqueror of Quebec in 1759. This weekend the church is open to visitors, as always, but they're also giving tours of the crypt on this occasion. The church people are very welcoming and point us to the corner where the Wolfe information has been gathered. In fact James Wolfe's father, also a general, is buried in the church as well. And there's another Canadian connection. Thomas Kelsey, the first European to reach Saskatchewan, lies in the churchyard. 

I'm curious about the church for a more personal reason. My German ancestors sailed to Greenwich or nearby Deptford from Rotterdam in 1709 and spent the winter at one of 1709-1710 at one of three encampments in the area. Two years ago we went to Blackheath but what we guessed to be the nearest church wasn't old enough. So the question is, was St Elfege's here then? The timing is critical. This church was the first to be built under the auspices of Queen Anne, and it was Queen Anne who allowed refugees from the Rhineland to become British subjects in return for becoming labourers in (what was still) British North America. I can't remember their dates of sailing, but later, with internet access, realise that the church on site at the time would have been the medieval church that preceded the present building - a church that had to be rebuilt after its roof fell in during a storm in November 1710. 

Some of the foundations of this church are still in evidence in the crypt, which we are lucky enough to get a tour of. A small group of us are guided through the stone underworld where there are a number of tombs, including the Wolfe family vault. I'm not a huge Wolfe fan for various reasons, including his contempt for his Scottish enlisted men, but it's still interesting, and J is much more philosophical - not regarding Wolfe as notably worse than other English officers of the period. Other vaults hold the bones of other St Elfege's families, often seafaring families because of the church's proximity to the Greenwich docks. The crypt was also in use more recent times as a shelter for local families during the blitz, and one woman who returned recently to see the place she had spent wartime nights as a young girl was taken aback to realise that the place she had slept was not the bed she had supposed it to be but bedding on top of a tomb.

Friday, April 14/2017

Good Friday but most things open - shops, museums, etc. It's overcast and cool, but not raining, so we head over to the war museum. We're not alone. It's very busy, which makes sense, as it's the kind of place that children like as much as grandparents. There's a fairly good exhibit on espionage, from the First World War (and slightly earlier) to the present. Everything from impossibly heavy looking code transmitters in clunky suitcases, difficult to hide or deny if caught, to bits of humour. The old MI5 headquarters was in an unmarked building on Curzon Street - unmarked but someone remembers a bus driver calling out "Curzon Street and MI5." 

We find a window ledge to sit on, seating being almost non-existent and the exhibit having required longish bits of standing. This leads to some reflection on beneficial changes that might be made, J mentioning that many of the exhibit labels are not only ill lit but unreasonably low on the wall for even a child to read them. Moreover there is virtually no reference to the contribution of Commonwealth countries, even when, J points out, their rôle was critical to British success. It is, after all, the IMPERIAL war museum, as in empire. Have begun mentally composing letter of suggested improvements, including replacement of seating unaccountably removed during installation of new staircases. Possibly an intent to encourage more time and money spent in tearoom, but there are several floors of exhibits and presumably no one wants more than one cup of tea. Then spot remembered benches half hidden behind new staircases and dismiss thoughts of letter. 

In any case we never do view all the exhibits. We're here once or twice a year so usually focus on a few things each time, so it's ok. And, actually, we really like the place.

Thursday, April 13/2017

Meet with Alexander for lunch at Roses. We're lucky in the timing, as Thursday is Roses' kleftiko day. Mindful of the fact that they only make fifteen portions - nothing frozen and no leftovers - I phone at nine to ask them to save us three kleftikos for 1:15. They have remembered, and do us proud, which is nice. 

And the place lives up to our description of it as a working man's café (pronounced caff in this instance) when the man eating at the next table, who has overheard Alexander's observation that the minimum wage has gone up, apologises for intruding, introduces himself as a Marxist, and decries the failure of the traditional parties, Labour included, to prevent people going hungry or sleeping on the streets. We all assure him we agree that even the new minimum wage is totally inadequate to survive on. 

Interestingly, in this little skit on the working man (could make the cast more gender inclusive, but in fact the man's wife continues silently eating her meal throughout, perhaps having survived similar embarrassments in the past) the very British question of accent arises. Twice the husband, whose name, he tells us, is Chris, tells Alexander that if he had A's accent people would take his views more seriously. And when the question of occupation comes up A says that he is a piano tuner (true, though modestly short of the whole truth, as he tunes and supplies instruments for concerts and symphonies). Chris responds, as only an Englishman could, doubting the information - "You don't sound like it." But they part as friends, with good wishes and Facebook information.

Wednesday, April 12/2017

To Saatchi Gallery. There's often a good exhibition, but today there are several that are really fun. The dominant theme is the age of the selfie, and there's a lot of wit and playfulness. Some, perhaps, happily accidental, like Victor Obsatz's portrait of Marcel Duchamp, a striking double exposure resulting from the camera's failure to advance. 

There's humour, as in Antoine Geiger's Mona Lisa, a satirical view of rubbernecking selfie photographers in front of da Vinci's painting in the Louvre. And there are, appropriately, interactive works, drawing the viewer in and playing with the resulting image. Like Mirror No. 12, which makes use of a small camera and the manipulation of straight lines to create a blurred image of the viewers, or Rafael Lozano-Hemmer, whose project, 

This Year's Midnight also draws in the observer. Here are a series of three frames where the viewers are not only filmed but become characters whose eyes are consumed by smoke. Disturbingly, "live and recorded eyeballs extracted from the video accumulate on the bottom of the display." 

While many of the displays deal with self portraiture (and not always photographically - there is the full frontal nude painting of Lucian Freud) there are a few other exhibits. One that is both surprising and moving is a series of photographed sculptures of refugees produced by Cypriot students, their link with the sea central to the portrayal.

Tuesday, April 12/2017

First time back at Indian Veg since their renovations. Hasn't changed much, but spiffed up a bit, and the buffet has gone to £7.95. Which is still pretty decent, of course. Salad part of the buffet is more extensive, and everything is labelled now. All vegan except for one curry and one sauce. And now the sign is on the wall saying that they feed the homeless. In fact one probable candidate comes in while we're eating and gets a foil box full. 

Small Asian girl on the tube going home singing for miles.

Monday, April 10/2017

Bits of shopping. Get, in change, our first of the new pounds. The coins are bimetal, with silver centres surrounded by gilt. They're not quite round, although they almost look it, but twelve sided. The centre features a rose, leek, thistle, and shamrock. Can't help wondering whether, once Brexit has finished playing out, it will be down to the odd couple - the rose and the leek.

Sunday, April 9/2017

Summer weather, all the more precious because there's a ten degree temperature drop predicted for tomorrow. We decide on Greenwich - we and half the rest of London. There's a steady stream of people out the exit at Cutty Sark Station. Sundays are good in Greenwich anyway, with the covered market and outdoor markets almost too crowded to walk through. 

We head up to The Junk Shop, one of our favourite spots, on Greenwich South Street. It's difficult to move through as well, but here it's because the wares leave little room for the customers. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, most things here are too heavy to take back. I love the little antique medicine bottles, dark blue and green and brown. They remind me of the village doctor's when I was little. He prescribed and filled the prescriptions himself from the mysterious bottles lining his walls. J laughs on the way out when he sees the sign under the Junk Shop's letter slot - no junk mail. 

A few doors down is the Halcyon book shop. The signs in the window say every book for a pound. Closing? Maybe, although there are plenty of shops with closing sale/last day signs that have seen quite a few last days. Inside is book heaven - or chaos - depending on your point of view. Some traces of original cataloging remain, masking taped to the shelves, but really anything could be anywhere. And there's a terrific variety of anythings - from a book on canoeing for the disabled to one on the history of Scottish religious services. Quite astonishingly, I actually find a book I'd been looking for - The Reason Why, copyright 1953. Not so surprising that it's in the shop, but quite amazing that I spot it. 

Stop for a pie at Goddard's Pie Shop - over a hundred years in the same family serving meat pies and mash or eels. Haven't tried the eels, but we've eaten the pies and the fruit crumbles for over twenty years. Some of the signs on the wall are reproductions from a much earlier time, in line with food traditional in Victorian days.

Saturday, April 8/2017

Meet up with Jenny for a picnic in Regent's Park. Such a lovely spot. We haven't been for years and there's a lot of it we haven't seen. There's a lot to see - flowers, a lake, birds. The London Zoo is near the north end, and the canal just north of that. There's also a large mosque and acres of land. A reminder that London is a quarter green space? A busy Saturday with people in paddle boats, sunbathing, buying ice creams. We find a flowery nook with a bench and share buns, cheese, olives, tiny tomatoes, juice, wine. Leisurely meal and a good catch up chat about family and friends and then a stroll through the park. The birds have no fear of people, living as they do in a protected park. A wildlife man has cameras set up so people can see the heron nests - three large ones complete with baby birds. We also pass quite a few herons on the grass by the lake, standing catatonically still. 

Friday, April 7/2017

Take advantage of the good weather again and head to the London Museum, Docklands, where there's an exhibition featuring the ongoing archaeological discoveries connected with the cross rail excavations as a new rail line is put in, underground in mid London but ultimately extending all the way to Reading. The oldest of the finds are very old indeed, and include bones that have been identified as belonging to woolly mammoths! And there are bone fragments from reindeer and bison found at the Royal Oak tube station site, about a fifteen minute walk from where we are now staying, where 68,000 years ago the Westbourne River flowed through treeless meadows. Though life was not entirely peaceful. The deer and bison bones have been gnawed by carnivores like wolves. There are much more recent artefacts, of course. Pottery from Roman to Victorian times and coins, for example, and photos of earlier days. A fascinating display. 

We've noted on Twitter that the Stop the War Coalition has a demo planned for five o'clock at 10 Downing Street protesting the missile attack on Syria this morning. Not, of course, by the UK, but government has been making supportive noises. The group does outnumber the police, but it's not large. Possibly down to lack of time between attack and demo. We're not, of course, allowed on Downing Street, although J can remember a time when the public could go there, so the gathering is on the other side of Whitehall, next to what appears to be a semi-permanent anti-Brexit display. 

Thursday, April 6/2017

Lovely weather - again - so we head down to Embankment and cross the river on the Golden Jubilee foot bridge, coming off by the Royal Festival Hall. It's a beautiful day for walking and people are everywhere. We browse the books and old prints at a large display. It's the prints of old London neighbourhoods that I'm always taken with. Resist this time, but sooner or later there will be one of a particularly cherished spot that has to accompany us home. 

Next stop is the National Theatre, to pick up their current brochure - and receive excellent advice. The NT reserves several seats for each performance until the day of the performance, at a price of £15. Hard for us not to remember that a few years ago it was £10, but still one of the best theatre deals in London. The box office opens at 9:30 and, according to the lovely young man on duty the earliest queues have started as early as 4:00 AM. That'll unusual, though, and one of the many bits of good advice he gives us is to call the evening before we are thinking of attending to ask what time that morning's queue formed. 

We tend to forget how tidal the Thames is, but it's low tide now and there's a fair beach down below the walkway. There's a man playing the sax - with a blanket to catch coins thrown in appreciation, and sand artists. There are also quite a few children digging happily. Last stop is the Tate Modern. We're hoping for a new installation in the great hall, and there will be, but not yet. Dozens of workers in hi-vis jackets are busy with some enterprise, which we hope will be finished before we leave London. There is a consolation exhibit though. Outside an installation creates a "fog sculpture" - a mist that adults as well as children are enjoying playing in. 

It's Thursday - kleftiko day at our favourite Kilburn café - so we take a Jubilee line train to Kilburn and find we're in time. They haven't run out. Good as ever. We always say we could split a portion and be satisfied - but we never do. Chat with the owner, who remembers us now. Yes, there are quite a few regulars. Six of them died during the last year. I'm curious about the man I photographed here a couple of years back, asleep over his tea mug, but am reluctant to admit to photographing the customers without permission. No, most of the regulars don't live in the area, but they keep coming back.

Wednesday, April 5/2017

,

The daffodils we bought at the corner flower seller's aren't doing as well as hoped. My favourite flower, and they flourish wild here, but these are struggling. Suspect lack of sunlight, as the window in our room is tall but the light pretty indirect. Though we have bought daffodils here before with better results. Tube to Embankment. 

Take a detour through Victoria Embankment Gardens, where the flowers certainly are flourishing. Blazing colour and people sprawled beside the flower beds enjoying the sunshine. The pigeons are having a good time as well. There's a small café next to the gardens where they have discovered not only crumbs but whole chips left from someone's meal and are greedily feasting on the ground and on the table as well. 

We stroll past Trafalgar Square - busy, but no busier than usual - and up Regent Street. Pass a troop of about 30 Hari Krishnas singing their way down Regent Street, brought out by the spring sun. Thought they had disappeared decades ago. There's a small church on the other side of Oxford Street that I've meant to check out. Turns out to be All Souls, and a great deal simpler and more modern inside than out. It's across the road from one of the BBC centres and we're drawn by music to an outside area where they're recording a singer and band. Don't know who they are, but she's good - and the amps extremely powerful. As they finish, other people are setting up a little  hockey "rink", involving small nets and unicycles. We don't stay for the game, but looks like fun. 

Tuesday, April 4/2017

 To West Harrow to see Jean. Talked to her Friday evening before we came back to London, as she was preparing for her choir's annual concert - this year singing Handel's Messiah. It's a classical choir with a tradition going back eighty some years, and we usually just miss the spring concert. Good chat as always, this time over Cornish pasties and rioja. Jean planning to go to Fredericton in May or June.

Monday, April 3/2017

Up to Kilburn, one of our favourite parts of the city. Once Irish, as the name suggests, it is now also home to people from Africa, the West Indies, and the Middle East. Wonderful rich mix of colours, dress, and accents. Pubs, mobile phone shops (sales and repairs), supermarkets, pound shops, fast food and ethnic restaurants. 

We have some shopping of our own to do. Nairn oatcakes (surprisingly) from the Pound Store, grapes from one of the street vendor stalls, and peanut butter and wine from Aldi's. I'm impressed by the customers at Aldi's. The place is a zoo, with mothers pushing babies and trailing toddlers, shelf stockers pulling huge metal carts of tins and boxes, and long queues at the checkouts. Really far too many people for the space. Most of the prices are good, so people are philosophical about the inconveniences, making room for the next customer at the counter, giving tired smiles, and sharing the odd joke.

 We're near Roses, our favourite eating spot, but decide to try Tim's Café, just off Kilburn High Road. We've often passed it and could see it had a steady local clientele. The downside was that it closes around five - basically an all day breakfast and lunch place. Today we're early, so we stop. Handwritten menu outside featuring roast beef or lamb with potatoes and veg, chili and rice, chicken curry and rice. Everything under £6. Sandwiches and burgers and chips also possible. Three small tables outside and several more inside. The chilli is finished so we settle for the chicken curry. Not as good as Friday's, to be honest, but hard to complain about at £4.50. And in Cyprus water is always bottled, whereas London has some of the best tasting water in the world and restaurants are legally obliged to provide free tap water, an environmental as well as financial advantage. 

London also the only place we get really good telly - not high on our list of priorities, but nice when it happens. A fascinating program tonight on the history and "secrets" of the underground. And, to our surprise, a program on Canadian Railway's CN line, following a train heading east from BC to Toronto, our regular train, on its full scenic trip, with plenty of laudatory commentary. One comment does attract our attention, though. Laughing, a CN employee debunks the notion that the toilets still empty onto the tracks. But didn't we already pursue that question? Search the blog, and sure enough, calling into question all their happy claims, the following, from October 28: 

*️⃣ Notice the sign on the toilet wall requesting that passengers refrain from flushing while the train is in the station. But surely raw sewage is no longer spewed on the tracks? No? Well, googling reveals that this is indeed still the case. Not only here but in The UK as well - and quite probably most of the rest of the world, to which my computer set up is less sensitive. VIA claims it would take government millions to acquire holding tanks, the British papers are full of complaints, railway workers are subjected to disgusting effluent, and the Atlanta centre for disease control insists there is no health hazard. There you have it.*️⃣

Sunday, April 2/2017

Lovely and sunny. Not Cypriot temperatures obviously, but very nice. Start with SOP - a definitely-know-you're-awake coffee at Starbucks and catch up on email, news, etc.

Hyde Park full of people and the streets as well. Children and dogs everywhere. In the afternoon a walk down to Paddington Basin. Little Venice on the canal. Today almost all the mooring spots taken, as usual, and several boats with people lounging on top with smokes or drinks. There's a canal boat that serves as a café - standing room only today. 

On the other side there's a restaurant. Area's mostly clean but some rubbish - plastic bags, drink tins, etc - in the water. By the edge, in the midst of such, J spots a duck nesting calmly on top of a half dozen eggs.

Saturday, April 1/2017

April 1. A national holiday in Cyprus, but the airport bus running on regular schedule. J's suitcase is two kilos over but we have them weigh mine first and it's two kilos under, so they don't bother to hold up the queue in order to have J remove two kilos from his case and put it in mine. 

Flight full except for the seat next to J (he and I have aisle seats opposite). Best thing about Norwegian Air is the free wifi. Still feels very cool to be able to email from a plane. We're on time and the queue at immigration both short and quick. Train to King's Cross and tube to Bayswater. Nice to be welcomed. Timothy seems genuinely pleased to see us - and we have our usual room 😊. 

Friday, March 31/2017

J to dentist for quick checkup. We meet Fehmi's brother. He speaks a little English and, in fact, summons up a couple of words in Polish, having learned it years ago from Poles who were working on the Famagusta harbour. Fehmi has another patient, but the brother shows us their memory room, a small room behind the waiting room which served as the bedroom for the four brothers when they were growing up. Now it's almost a shrine, filled with family photographs, certificates, period furniture, lace. A very old sewing machine, a recessed wooden cabinet once in their kitchen, copper pots with lids. Beautiful. 

Jane and Bill arrive. We've planned lunch but for the first time in a week there's a cool breeze and a brief shower. Same restaurant we'd picked for curry, but fortunately they have an inside table. Close to five by the time we get back to the Sunflower so we stop at the Holy Cow for coffee - or in Jane's case a date smoothie - and say our goodbyes. 

Would go up to our flat (our usual one!) but the lift is broken so head over to Carrefour where we pick up a couple of chicken fillets and a large bottle of water. Then two oranges from Prinos. Supper taken care of and the timing is good - lift fixed. And then the repack. Suitcase has to be under 20 kilos, nothing sharp or liquid in the carry ons. The newly acquired books don't help!

Thursday, March 30/2017

Last day in Famagusta. We leave before breakfast to go over to the school and talk to the teacher we met on Monday. He has free periods early in the morning, and J's dental appointment isn't until noon today, so we arrive at the school about 8:30. Couldn't be more welcome. Turkish coffee and lots of talk. He's a socialist, but more than that an idealist, with an enthusiasm more typical of twenty (once upon a time, anyway) than sixty. Both widely and deeply read, emotional but not naive. Really, quite compelling. Before we go he plays us a song his father composed. It's on YouTube and it's very easy to believe it was highly popular, because it's lovely, even though we don't understand Turkish. Actually, Usul translates for us, and the words too are moving. And then he presents us with a book - stories and poems of his own and his fathers. Inscribed. All this before breakfast! 

And of course our little walled city is a small world. Turns out our poet philosopher friends taught the daughter of Femi, our dentist, some twenty years ago.

Wednesday, March 29/2017

Our week more than half over. Where did it go? We walk what is walkable of the city walls, looking down on the city on one side and the now dry moat on the other. Most of the city wall is undergoing restoration, but we do get a nice view of the harbour. Pretty steep steps coming down from the south bastion. 

Fehmi, the dentist, invites us into his office to see his photographs and share some Turkish coffee that has assistant makes. The photos are on his computer and synched with music. Huge collection of CDs in his office and music playing in the dental surgery as well. Many photos of Famagusta, some quite impressive, and also family photographs tracing his life and heritage. As he says, we are the same vintage, and it's true in many ways. He's a little younger than we are, but not much, and we have many overlapping interests and views. Life in North Cyprus has been much more difficult than our life in Canada but very rich in family and community connections. Fehmi is working in the house he and his brothers were raised in. He has spent much of his life within the stone walls of the old city, formed lifelong friendships here, attended school, stood here in 1974 when a bomb fell a few metres away and killed the nearest four men. He's not a bitter man, but is well aware of the injustices his country has suffered. Still, his face is usually smiling, and walking into his house feels more like visiting a friend than it does like a medical appointment.

We stop at a restaurant that is no more than four little outside tables and a chalkboard showing the menu. We order chicken curry (from the four or five choices) and beer. North Cyprus lager is very good. The meal turns out to be more elaborate though, starting with a dish of various pickles, followed by small salads, yogurt on the side with the curry, and then finishing with Turkish coffee and biscuits. Fairly impressive for the minimal facilities - and price. We have company, too. Two dogs lie in the road next to us, enjoying the late afternoon sun, and having to be moved when a small truck wishes to park. Opposite us, just this side of the cathedral/mosque are shops whose walls were obviously part of the buildings in the mosque square. 

We stop on our way back to buy a sunhat from the display outside one of the smaller shops. We walk along here in the mornings when the owners are setting up. A lot of work, as most of the wares have to be placed on tables and stands outside to have any hope of attracting the tourists, who are the only possible buyers.

Tuesday, March 28/2017

Wake to more perfect weather. Always now low 20's in the daytime and about 10 or 12 at night. A little sad how quickly we become dismissive. Day four of the same breakfast. Well, not quite the same, as we've asked to be dispensed from the anari cheese. In its place a second baked egg. But always a sliced tomato (good, but they don't know not to destroy its flavour by refrigerating it), three pieces of green pepper, some black olives, fried egg, a basket of white bread, and (the best) two slices of grilled halloumi (known as helim in the North). And when we're finished a peeled and sliced orange - an incredibly sweet and juicy one, even for Cyprus). Coffee is, this being Cyprus, Nescafé, the packets accompanied by a teapot of very hot water. Interesting on day one, but becoming less so. 

Back to the dentist. This time I follow J in the chair and get my teeth cleaned. The old city almost devoid of food shops. The restaurants do a brief but busy trade at midday but other than that there is little sign of food. We're hoping for oranges, possibly yogurt, something a little short of going out for the full kebab meal. The newsagent where we bought the English language weekly doesn't run to much more than crisps and whisky, but we find a little shop round the corner from me dentist that sells a little more. Acquire two oranges for later. 

Such a beautiful little city to be spending our time in. Bougainvillea flourishing and medieval stone everywhere. We know the layout pretty well now and are piecing together the history - Lusignan, Venetian, Ottoman, British, Turkish - and the troubles. Our host at the hotel is interested in Cypriot culture and has written several books, one of which - half in Turkish and half in English - he presents us with. His day job is teaching literature at the university. Quite interesting to talk to. He was originally from Larnaca, but after the conflict in 1974 he, like most Turks moved North. 

Monday, March 27/2017

First dental visit. Dr Tunçel doesn't live in the house where his surgery is now, but he was born and grew up in it, along with his three brothers. A lovely man. I'm invited into the room along with J. Not sure I'd have agreed it I'd known it was going to be an extraction. But the dentist is regretful and gentle, and no tears. Appointment for tomorrow to deal with the rest.

We're attracted by the sound of a children's playground, which leads us to the fence of a primary school. Interesting how all school playgrounds sound the same, regardless of the language spoken. Enjoying watching the children playing when a teacher comes over to see us. We're a little apprehensive. Do we look like people of dubious intent? But not a bit of it - he welcomes us and, in full extrovert mode tells us about himself - retiring next year at sixty, working on a PhD in political science, involved in bicommunal cultural projects with people from the South - and the school. The school has students of many national and ethnic backgrounds - it's a peace school - and we love them all. And indeed the children do gather round him affectionately, hugging happily and saying hello to us. We arrange to meet in the morning to chat.

More ruins. Beautiful St George Church. Then a pizza for supper. About seven o'clock and restaurants hoping for stragglers. There are at least five men working in the place, some of them African, though the young man in charge is from Istanbul. Actually African, Asian, and seemingly Middle Eastern workers are quite common in the restaurant business here. Two other patrons. As so often, we feel the slight burden of supporting a business almost unaided. Was it really worth their while staying open another hour in order to sell us a medium veggie pizza and a large bottle of water? Shouldn't we at least have a whisky to help out the lonely man behind the bar?

Sunday, March 226/2017

Biking friends at breakfast again. They stayed an extra day and biked up to see Salamis and St Barnabas Church. Off now to Nicosia. We chat with our host. His day job is teaching at the university, but he is also interested in Cypriot history and culture and has authored several books, one of which he gives us a copy of. 

Lovely day walking round the tiny city. The Lala Mustafa Pasha Mosque is early Gothic. it began life as the Church of St Nicholas, dedicated in 1328, but became a mosque after the Ottoman conquest of the city in 1571. The fig tree in front is believed to be the oldest living thing in Cyprus, planted in 1220 when construction of the cathedral began. A fascinating city. 

A nice chicken curry at an outdoor restaurant where we've eaten before. People at the table next to us are Swiss - or at least the lady who speaks to us and exclaims at the size of our enormous dinner is. We agree, but that's how they come. Then a group of Russians takes the next table. Very cosmopolitan in midday. 

Saturday, March 25/2017

Breakfast between eight and ten, but it's brought on trays to the tables as each guest arrives, which probably makes sense rather than laying it out cafeteria style, as there don't seem to be a lot of guests. The disadvantage is that, apart from the basket of sliced bread, each meal is pre-chosen and exactly the same, so that one cannot, for example, choose extra tomato but none of the ricotta-like anari cheese - fresh, mild, tasteless, and damp, and reminding me slightly of mortar, though I obviously haven't tasted mortar. Plenty of protein, though. With a baked? egg and golden browned slices of halloumi. 

At the next table are a father and son from, of all places, Sault Ste Marie. They're cycling round the island, starting in Larnaca. Quite impressive. The son is fortyish, but the father is closer to our age. 

Living in Famagusta is living in an archaeological site, with ruins and (some) restored buildings everywhere, some dating back to the twelfth or thirteenth century. Sadly, the sanctions insisted on by the South, combined with the sinking value of the Turkish lira, have made life very difficult and left too little hope for the future of the young. The old city is alive between mid-morning and late afternoon, when the tourist buses disgorge people - mostly staying in the South - from Europe and the UK. They stop at the restaurants and cafés. Maybe they pick up small souvenirs, and then they're gone. Does anyone buy the designer jeans, the brand name handbags, the gold jewellery? Maybe, but there's such a short window of time, and prices no less than the South, although the meals are a little less. Few people still live in the old city and many of the houses are shut up and in need of repair, with broken windows and deteriorating roofs. It's sad, and also enraging, because, like much human suffering, it's unnecessary. 

Not entirely different outside the old city. We wander beyond the gates and pass many restaurants that have closed. Also shops. Photography shops, barber shops, and pharmacies seem plentiful, but there are many closed up restaurants, and even food markets. We do pass a statue we'd forgotten - that of the mother and children murdered in the bath. This commemorates an horrific event from Christmas Eve 1963, widely reported in the British (although not Greek Cypriot) press at the time, when the wife and three small children of a Turkish Major Ilhan were murdered along with friends as they tried to hide in the bathroom of their Nicosia home as part of the massacre of over a hundred Turkish Cypriots by Greek Cypriot militia thugs. 

Stop at a café of locals - no tourists - for doner kabobs and beer. Then home, to the quiet, gently lit streets within the walls.

Friday, March 24/2017

Suitcases join boxes in the mezzanine storage room for the week With J&B to Famagusta. Fields still green - their winter not summer colour. Hotel is inside the castle, near the city walls - which are mostly 15th and 16th century. We book in and Jane comes with us to check out the room. Not much bigger than the double bed (well, not technically a double bed, but rather that European monstrosity, two single beds pushed together, with separate bedding except for the bedspread). But we have become so assuming in recent years. Just think of the Great Bed of Ware, now ensconced in the Victoria and Albert Museum, but in the sixteenth century able to accommodate four couples. Expectations clearly different. Small balcony, large cupboard, loo. We all eat lunch at a nearby restaurant - Cyprus sausages, salad, chips.  The city is full of ruins, many of them of fourteenth century buildings, so we wander a bit and stop for coffee. Our home for the next week.

Thursday, March 23/2017

Packing day. Actually almost as much hassle as leaving for the winter. We don't have to drain the water system, but we do have to see that every single item is put in a box to save for next year, packed in suitcase or carry on, or thrown or given away. And some things are hard to spot, like the plastic suction hook for the dish towel, or the plug converter for the inexplicable European plug on the two burner cooker (Cyprus uses UK plugs and power points). Yes, the converter is ours, and much better than the shoddy piece of flimsy plastic provided, but we've long since stopped seeing it as anything other than the end of the cord.  This year slightly more complicated as we're going to Famagusta in the North for a week, taking only our carry ons - so clothes and toiletries for the next week, fluids and knives no problem, but next Friday the redivision between checked luggage and on board. Fortunately not affected by the electronic devices in the cabin ban!

Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Last minute errands about noon cause us to miss Jane, who intended to drop in. Pre-packing begins. The books. In theory we could use entirely ebooks. But somehow we always acquire more "real" books. Or they breed in the corners. So now the crunch - give away, take home, store for next year, put in the (mostly Scandinavian) library in the lobby. The take home option is pretty limited. Total suitcase weight for five months plus is twenty kilos each, much of it spoken for. Give away option, of course, unlimited, but....Then pop up info on the tablet re the London terrorist attack. Crazy number of people hit on Westminster Bridge. They won't have been on the roadway, so the car must have slalomed across the bridge, mowing people down as it went.

Tuesday, March 21/2017

Apostolos Andreas Restaurant for dinner - last of the season, with Bill and Jane and Harry and Ailsa. Ailsa is going into hospital on Thursday for a hip replacement, becoming increasingly urgent, so we won't see her and Harry before we go, which is only three days from now. Food is good, and massively over plentiful. Really next time J and I could easily split a meal, although it's not a waste when the leftovers go to A and H's animals.

Monday, March 21/2017

Spring equinox. And release of the international happiness index, the one in which Canada was number seven and Norway number one. The Cyprus Mail heads their article as follows: Cyprus ranks 65 in happiness index, Turkish Cypriots at 61. No actual analysis attempting to explain the differential, which in any case is not a large one, but the importance of the Turkish Cypriots being happier is clearly the main point.

Sunday, March 19/2017

Feels like summer - well to a Canadian, anyway. Meet Jane and Bill at Cambanella's for lunch. Sign outside for the Sunday lunch buffet says "eat as much as you like." Interestingly, thé British usually advertise buffets saying "eat what you like," while the North American equivalent is a considerably less attractive "all you can eat," as if it were some repulsive sort of contest - which it sometimes is. Here, of course, the difficulty is that as much as you like, or even as much as you can hold, is never enough to satisfy the good lady hostess, who seems to think we are all at risk of anorexia. Coffee at J&B's with a chance to admire Jane's newly framed painting of the entrance arch at Angelostitsi Church. Then coffee at our place. Last Sunday of the Cyprus season. Next week in the North and the following Sunday in London. Stream Vera from ITV via FilmOn. Signal just barely adequate on the newer iPad - the older one gives up.

Saturday, March 18/2017

Now trying to dispose of excess copper coins - euro five, two, and (especially) the tiny one cent pieces. The one cent ones are worth less than the smallest Canadian or British coins, but they seem to accumulate and they're heavy. The bus driver is willing to take a few per trip. Possibly more than a few for all I know. There are limits to how unreasonable I'm prepared to be. The best place to get rid of them should be the supermarket but it's hard to predict the exact total and embarrassing to hold up the queue scrabbling for change, so I usually leave with more copper than I came with. Today at Prinos the strawberries on the outside stands are 95 cents for 500 grams. Local and lovely. So I hand the man a fifty cent piece, two twenties and five ones. He looks at the coins in his hand with disdain and returns the ones. Not worth the bother.

Friday, March 17/2017

Dream, shortly before morning, that I'm on a high balcony - looks, actually, like a walkway outside a flat in a London slum clearance project - when there's an earthquake. Not truly violent, but goes on for at least a couple of minutes. All my effort is concentrated on protecting my iPad. Wake up wondering whether there really was an earthquake that worked its way into my dream. But googling produces nothing except a series of magnitude four quakes in Iran, and it seems unlikely that they would have been felt this far away.

Only suitable St Patrick's Day drink in the cupboard is a Baileys style cream left from Christmas. Really just dregs, so we finish it.

Thursday, March 16/2017

D&D's last day, so we meet them for coffee at Harry's. Sunny and warm, and the spot is sheltered. And stop at Natalia's shop where both Donna and I choose necklaces. Hers is to be a present - Darryl has just bought her a lovely one to commemorate the trip to Cyprus. But the sky is clouding over and a chill wind coming up - weather letting us down again. Something about our recommending Cyprus brings out the worst in temperature and precipitation. So lunch inside. Navy Marine has a reasonably good view of the Med while providing shelter. Menu ok for snacks as well as meals. The proprietor is eager - the wine will be free. And indeed a small carafe of local red is provided. Now afternoon, so we say goodbye and walk back, with the very tiniest of raindrops - which disappear almost as soon as they start. Lovely having visitors.

Wednesday, March 15/2017

Meet at the Blacksmith restaurant for dinner. Jane and Bill come in by bus as their car is in the shop being repaired. Much text correspondence as my understanding of the route (which we have only experienced personally at the Pyla end) is based on the schedules and maps online, which don't show the bus going all that close to the Blacksmith. Fortunately, J and B have taken same bus recently - as in yesterday - so, as usual, real life experience trumps Cypriot published info. 

We've booked indecently early by Cypriot standards - 6:30, and assume that very few people will be there that early on a Wednesday. Not so - it's full. Lucky they squeezed us in, as there's a huge family gathering for a thirtieth birthday, mostly young adults and quite a few small children. Noisy, but happy. Nice to be able to introduce D and D to J and B. We all have the meze, which they do particularly well here, and persuade the waitress to slow the pace of producing the fourteen dishes. From our extremely limited Greek vocabulary, "σιγά, σιγά" (siga, siga) - slowly, slowly. A phrase used frequently, and implying a relaxed approach as much as lack of speed. Lovely meal, and only at the end does it become too loud to converse easily. Not cold on the walk back, either.

Tuesday, March 14/2017

I'm 

Down in the morning to meet up with Donna and Darryl. The Opera Hotel (odd ring to "going to the opera in the morning") has been done up fairly nicely, clean, light, and a sea theme, and, best of all, looking out at St Lazarus. Coffee in the little breakfast room and then we decide to take the eleven o'clock bus to Nicosia. Collect maps at the tourist centre and round the corner to the water front for the Lefkosia (Nicosia) bus. It takes an hour, but gives us a look at the Cypriot countryside, green after the winter rains. Half of the hour is negotiating the Nicosia suburbs. Interesting to note that the bus now stops first at Ikea and the General Hospital. Potentially handy, though in the case of the latter one hopes not. 

Walk over the border at the Ledra Street  pedestrian crossing, Ledra Street on both sides being a pedestrian shopping area. Still, despite the shops, there's a distinct cultural change on crossing. Fewer, and less upscale shops, and more for sale on the street outside the shops. Start with the Buyyuk Khan, built in 1572 after the Ottoman takeover of the island. Initially a caravanserai, with two levels of rooms built around a courtyard, used after the British came in the 1870's as a prison, and eventually restored in the 1990's. Now all craft shops, with the courtyard used as a restaurant. A happy transformation, if a bit overpriced. We eat at the square opposite, having first persuaded the young man to move our table into the sun. It's only just warm enough - and for Darryl, stoical but in shirtsleeves - probably not. Would be OK, except for the wind. Nice leisurely lunch with salad, hummus, and yoghurt, as well as the typical Cypriot grilled meats and Efes beer at admirable North Cypriot prices. 

Then to the Ömeriye Mosque, which was originally a Latin rite church, transformed by the Ottomans into a mosque. They're quite happy about "appropriately" clad visitors going in, so I take off my shoes, put on my headscarf, and take a look. Have been there before, but not for years. It's as simple and bare as most mosques, with, of course, its original soaring ecclesiastical architecture.  The market next to it has been changed since our last visit, with much less fruit and veg than when we were there in the past and much more crafts and souvenirs and clothing. No butchers or nut sellers. Not really a farmers' market at all any more. Last stop is the Buyuk Hammam. Built in the early 14th century as the Latin Church of St George (some dispute over this) and transformed in the late 16th century into a Turkish bath. A sign on the hammam  gives the schedule - times for men, women, and "tourist mixed". Makes us sound quite decadent. But regardless of schedule it is closed and padlocked. Then back across the border, past the signs warning that if we are going to claim refugee status we must do so immediately or face dire consequences, passports scanned, and we catch the 4:30 bus back.

Monday, March 13/2017

Take the 9:20 bus to Pyla, getting there just as Bill has started the lamb, sporting sprigs of rosemary, on the spit. Coffee and preparations, with no great hurry, as the roast is meant to take about two and a half hours, according to the butcher's expert opinion. Not long before it smells enticing, as Bill bastes it and the smoke rises. Susan and David arrive to share the meal and Jane has made a lemon cake which we have with coffee. Clouds over but manages to stay nice until lunch is over. Definitely worth doing again. S and D kindly give us a lift home. 

Darryl and Donna due in by plane but not really expecting to see them until tomorrow. Do check arrivals online and note their flight in slightly early. Less than an hour till Donna messages to say they're at the hotel (Opera, across the road from St Lazarus Church) and we arrange to meet tomorrow.

Sunday, March 12/2017

Better than yesterday, but still very windy. Wait for pause between showers to nip out round the corner for Sunday newspaper. Kiki, on the reception desk offers to lend me an umbrella. Kind, but not only are we between bouts of rain but the wind would destroy it immediately. But warm and dry in the flat. Coffee, bacon and eggs, jazz, newspapers (both real and electronic), and life is good. Also good that Jane changed barbecue to tomorrow, as today would have been almost impossible, even if we had stayed inside to actually eat. Tomorrow's forecast ok.

Saturday, March 11/2017

Stormy all day. Wake to thunder and lightning and definite inside day, fortunately with no need to do otherwise.

Friday, March 10/2017

Bill back with small tool kit, accompanied by Jane. Another go at J's suitcase. Really the wheels aren't designed for the weight it carries, even though that is, of necessity, never more than 23 kilos. After all, carrying weight is what suitcases do. Jane has a doctor's appointment so they don't stay for lunch. But J does go with them to the butcher to collect the lamb roast for Monday's barbecue. Should have been Sunday, but the three day forecast is for wind and rain, which has in fact begun.

Thursday, March 9/2017

Coffee at Harry's Café for the first time in a while. Three Americans at the next table. They must have taken us for American as well, because when I asked where they were from they said DC. Here (Cyprus that is) for 11 days, using Limassol as a base. Unusual to run into North Americans here. 

Finish reading Nick Hornby's How to be Good, clever and quirky, and take it along when we go to Vlachos for dinner. Hoping that it jibes with Ailsa's sense of humour, so pleased when she says Nick Hornby is one of her favourite authors, and have I read About a Boy. I have, though haven't seen the film, with Hugh Grant. A going for a hip replacement week after next, so may have some less mobile time for reading. 

Dinner with Ailsa and Harry and Jane and Bill. Very good. We can see that Vlachos has cut back on portion sizes (Jane's moussaka) and on meze variety, but hard to complain when it's more than we can easily eat.

Wednesday, March 8/2017

Positively hot at the beach, and for that matter on the way down. Can still pick up a breeze, and might conceivably be chilly in a very shady spot. Beach getting tourist crowded. See that boat on the pier at the marina is now in business, doing lunches with a limited menu every day and staying open in the evening on weekends.

Tuesday, March 7/2017

Bill over in the morning as the plan is to work on J's suitcase, the wheels of which keep sticking. Side trip (J and B) to Andrews hardware store, conveniently round the corner from us. Then second side trip to Bill's favourite butcher, almost equally close to order lamb for Sunday's barbecue. After which Jane, who has been at her painting group down at the Flamingo Hotel, joins us for lunch. We do a spaghetti carbonara with added mushrooms and shrimp. And local strawberries for dessert.

Monday, March 6/2017

Spot an Ian Rankin book that we haven't read at St Helena's charity shop and am compelled to buy it. There must be close to a dozen books here that we haven't read. This is insane. The electronic books are all chosen - and can come with us - but hard copy?!

Sunday, March 5/2017

Our alternate Sunday lunch search takes us to Kiti and the Landmark Restaurant. Larnaca itself pretty crowded on a sunny Sunday and traffic almost at a standstill. We pass a rather sad memorial, hand painted in black on a sheet, on Makarios near the bus station, obviously a tribute to the seventeen year old boy who was killed there a week ago when his motorcycle hit a bus that was making a right hand turn (equivalent to a left hand turn in North America or continental Europe). 

Very slow along the busy beach, which is full of tourists and kiosks, but then we cut up to the motorway. Kiti was a tiny village, and it still has an old village heart, but its outer area has sprawled urbanly and is full of the same supermarkets and services as the city. The Landmark is in the cobbled centre, opposite a bakery, as the woman told Jane it would be - although the bakery is so tiny that we overlook it at first. 

Not full, but filling up a bit as we eat. We order the meze and it's quite good. Particularly impressed by the scrambled egg with wild asparagus. Scrambled egg with a veggie - like spinach or mushroom - is not unusual in a meze, but wild asparagus is a rare treat. Also a treat is the little Greek pastries they bring us at the end of the meal with our coffee. 

Stop after the meal at Angeloktisti Church, the name meaning "built by the angels." Jane is doing a painting of it and wants a photo of the entry way for reference. We've been there before, but probably about fifteen years ago. There's a stunning mosaic inside - sixth century - I and the church itself is probably thirteenth and fourteenth century. A kind man who must be local tells us about it and about the 800 year old trees outside.

Saturday, March 4/2017

We notice simultaneously that we have no internet connection. Actually reasonably unusual, compared to simply having a poor connection. Then discover there is no electricity, which is even more unusual. So, good time to head out. No lift, of course, so we walk down the four flights, read the notice saying that the lift is not working due to lack of electricity, and out into the sunlight and light breeze. Past the spot where yesterday's caterpillars were swarming - now no longer in evidence. The intersection just past Carrefour looks different. Turns out the lights are off and a policeman is directing traffic. So power outage is fairly widespread. The stores seem to be functioning, possibly on alternative electrical supply. So a kilo of mature cheddar at Carrefour and local strawberries at Prinos - €0.95 for half a kilo. When we get home all has been restored and we don't have to walk up.

Friday, March 3/2017

Spot a small swarm of caterpillars in the grass on the way to the supermarket. A tight circle about eight inches in diameter of dozens of constantly wriggling tent caterpillar style creatures. Very strange. And no camera.

Thursday, March 2/2017

To Famagusta with Jane and Bill. Right upper bridge came out, but Fehmi, our dentist resecures it. Good, because I had feared that I'd broken a tooth and it would prove impossible to fix. Then to the Thursday market in its new location, as large and colourful as ever. Beautiful fruit and vegetables, mostly at good, though not ridiculously good, prices- you do have to know what they'd be in the south. We get dried apricots, broccoli, tomatoes, oranges, and almonds. Actually, it's almond blossom time here now, with flowering trees near the road. Stop on the way back, in the south, for a latish lunch. Roadside café that grew from a mobile canteen with additions, the eating area essentially a large tent with windows and doors. Order the special for four and it's super. Chicken and pork kabobs, pita bread, chips, and a large salad. All of them excellent and more than we can hold. Luckily for me this is Cyprus. Everything cooked from scratch after we ordered it - no microwaving - so I'm well past the dentist's two hours without food by the time we eat.

 

Wednesday, March 1/2017

Notice in the paper that motor vehicle tax for the year is due by next Saturday. Late payment brings a fine of €10 plus 10% of amount due. After three years of non payment the vehicle is removed from the register and cannot legally be driven. The difficulty is that there is no visible sign that a vehicle is registered and the fee paid, such as a sticker on the licence plate or a disk, so that only a random check or investment in an accident would bring a delinquent owner to official attention - and apparently unpaid registrations are very common. Joke among UK expats living here: of course they won't send us back- we're the only ones paying our taxes.

Tuesday, February 28/2017

Jane arrives with mobile which I dropped in the back seat of their car yesterday. Thoight it was there but happy to have it confirmed. Not a smart phone, but handy for local calls and texts here and in the UK. For a tiny fraction of what we would pay in Canada for much worse service. Bought in Damascus duty free in 2011. A €10 card lasts us all winter here and only requires topping up annually.