Wednesday, March 21/2018

Jane and Bill here for noon meal. They frequently have their main meal of the day at midday. Suspect it may be connected with aging, as we've known others to adopt the practice. Not denial that prevents me. It's just that having breakfast after coffee and the digital newspapers and second cup can mean it's ten o'clock. Hurrying to make the main meal for noon seems onerous - and slightly ridiculous. And works rather poorly with any meal that requires more than two hours prep and cooking time. But a good idea for today as they need to be in Larnaca anyway. Borscht, salmon fillets, and fresh strawberries with ice cream. Can't imagine why we don't have borscht more often here. Almost all veg extremely cheap and beets can be bought vacuum, four to a pack, already peeled and boiled. J does point out, fairly enough, that the flavour is better if the beets are cooked in the soup rather than precooked. He's right but there's none of the caught red handed bit this way. Very clean.

Tuesday, March 20/2018

First day of spring and also, apparently, International Happiness Day. The Cyprus Mail captions it oddly, saying that Cyprus is the 61st happiest country. Could be worse; that is in the top half, but that's not how they put it. The annual index ranks countries on happiness with income, healthy life expectancy, social support, freedom, trust, and generosity as the variables. Like all countries Cyprus looks first at itself and then at its significant others, citing Greece at 79th and Turkey at 74th, as well as Russia 59th, Israel 11th, US 18th and the UK 19th. Then the stinger, in a paragraph all to itself: "The report also includes the north of Cyprus which held 58th position".

Monday, March 19/2018

Meet J down at the waterfront. It's 25 degrees today, warmer than I like it, though I know better than to say that to anyone in Canada - or in UK during this repeat cold spell. And indeed can see how soon we'll be missing Cyprus's warmth. Though the thing is that official temperatures are in the shade, of course, which leaves it quite a bit hotter than that in the sun. But Harry's has its umbrellas up and we do have our coffee in the shade. Quite a few tourists around now and umbrellas up on the beach. Tourists in shorts but locals certainly not, and in fact often wearing two sweaters or hooded jackets. Something we've always wondered about. Understandable that people from different parts of the world learn to feel comfortable at different temperatures, but surely some physical phenomena are standard, like the temperature at which people perspire. One of life's mysteries. 

As we're having coffee J spots the bird lady across the road. She's often seen in the centre of town wearing long black skirts and sitting or walking with several birds on her head and shoulders. People do take photos, but it's not at all clear that posing for them, and perhaps accepting contributions, is her main motivation. Certainly she's never aggressive about approaching anyone. We stop at the cancer patients charity shop to donate a set of Greek coffee cups (cups are Cypriot but coffee in them would be Greek - or Turkish - same coffee with nomenclature varying politically). Simply too heavy to consider taking back with us. 

Cut across the courtyard in front of St Lazarus Church, festooned with pendants and flags - Greek, Cypriot, and the black two-headed eagle on gold background representing the "Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople", in other words the Greek Orthodox Church. By the wall a woman is painting St Lazarus, often the subject of photographs as well.

Sunday, March 18/2018

Sunday lunch at Jane and Bill's today. Bill has produced a terrine - chicken, bacon and sausage meat  this time, and nicer, actually than the rabbit one. Lovely to look at too. Can see that the horrible stick-your-finger-through-it bacon at home would do it no favours but wouldn't mind giving it a try. Can't be only old age and failing memory that makes us think side bacon used to be better. Certainly less water infused. And there's no doubt that streaky bacon here and in the UK is much leaner than what we get at home. 

Watch the next bit of The Crown on Netflix, taking us up to the coronation and the breaking up of the relationship between Princess Margaret and Peter Townsend. Can remember watching the coronation on Uncle John's TV, long before we had a set. Not, of course, in colour. And not live either. No satellite transmission, but the video specially flown out to Canada immediately after the ceremony.

Saturday, March 17/2018 🍀

Should we wish to buy property in Cyprus - which we don't - we should have done it twenty years ago, and it would probably have tripled in value. Not a bad rate of return regardless of upkeep and taxes. One good reason for not having done so is the endless fiasco of the title deeds, or lack of same. When we first began coming here we were puzzled to see advertisements for houses or flats "with title deeds", our previous experience leading us to believe that the title deeds were what you were handed when you bought the property, or at least when you finished paying for it. 

Not so in Cyprus. Despite various ineffective efforts of the government to solve the problem owning a (fully paid for) house without the title deeds is very common, possibly more common than possessing said deeds. This applies to Harry and Ailsa's house. Also to Bill and Jane's, though Bill makes regular visits to the land registry office where they call him Mr William and assure him that the paper work has all been done. He points out that this has been going on for years and he will be eighty-five next birthday. But assurances are all he gets. And so another government attempt at solution falls somewhat short of convincing. Actually, this attempt seems to come from the opposition, which is not necessarily more encouraging. The Cyprus Mail summarises:

"In the absence of tangible government action, main opposition Akel said on Wednesday it will be preparing two proposals designed to iron out kinks in a 2015 law that sought to sort out the title deed mess, offering relief to so-called trapped buyers. The law sought to resolve the problems for homeowners who had paid for their properties but were not issued with their title deeds either because it was mortgaged by the developer, or the state could not go ahead with the transfer because of outstanding taxes. Since developers’ land and buildings were counted as assets that need to be offset against their debt to banks, this gave lenders a claim on people’s properties that had been mortgaged by developers."

This does provide some level of explanation for the bizarre state of affairs, but Cypriots have learned not to hold their breath.

Friday, March 16/2018

Intend to drop off a couple of books and a shirt at the convent school’s charity shop, largely because it’s conveniently located on my way to meet J for coffee. It has extremely nice volunteers running it and also very low prices, which is not actually a good thing, because the point of my visit is not really to support the school but to dispose of items that we can’t easily take with us or store here, and being presented with desirable books at twenty-five cents apiece is not helpful. 

But they also have very limited hours and I seem to have missed them. So head over to St Helena’s charity shop. It also has limited hours but Friday from ten till one is included. And I’d rather support them as their shop proceeds go to feeding the hungry. Get into long conversation with a new volunteer, triggered by a query about my accent. She, it seems, would love to move to Canada. What do I know about immigration. The answer really is not much for sure. Last looked into it fairly superficially about twenty years ago when a Scots cousin expressed some interest. 

It gets more complicated. She likes the cold although her young Tunisian husband might not so much. He’s a hard worker, though, in construction. Feel sorry for her, both because her mother has rejected the marriage (on grounds of religion and some rather sweeping assumptions about terrorism) and because the UK, which has to take her back, won’t allow her husband in unless they have far higher income than they can hope for. Have heard this story before, the last time from a woman whose daughter worked for a UK supermarket and was married to an American with an army pension. Her income not high enough to sponsor him and his pension not, apparently, considered. Suggest that best odds might be to find a company looking for construction workers in a location with a labour shortage. Haven’t the heart to say I don’t think it will be easy, or even that the last spell of horribly disruptive British weather was neither cold nor remarkably snowy by Canadian standards. Heartbreaking, though, how modest many people’s hopes and expectations are. How little they ask and how unlikely they are to find it. “He’s a hard worker,” she says, “And I can do anything”.

Thursday, March 15/2018

Reading a new afternoon (as in enough daylight to read by) read aloud book. Alice Munro’s The Progress of Love, as acquired at St Helena’s book sale. Thought we had it at home, and maybe we do, but in any case I can’t remember the stories. Which could always be more a commentary on my memory than proof that we don’t own a copy. Good reading anyway, as always with Munro. Also picked up another Nobel prize winner’s book at the same sale - Naguib Mahfouz’s Midaq Alley. We read part of his Cairo trilogy years ago and it was excellent. Hope we have time to fit this one in as well before we leave. It’s also set in Cairo and apparently his most popular. Published in 1947.

Dinner in the evening at Apostolos Andreas Restaurant. Ailsa and Harry, and Bill and Jane bring with them Sheila and Nick. Retired, and splitting their time between England and Cyprus. He now teaching part time in Nicosia at English school apparently in need of a senior geography teacher. Though that doesn't appear to be the primary reason for their part time Cyprus residence. We've actually met Sheila before, though quite a long time ago. Massively too much food, which is good news for Ailsa and Harry's many rescue dogs and cats, who will be the beneficiaries.

Wednesday, March 14/2018

Cyprus, legendary birthplace of Aphrodite, makes some attempt to promote itself as a venue for tourist weddings, and no doubt there are tourists, and certainly locals, who manage to wed without benefit of tourist board assistance. The climate is kind and there are plenty of picturesque spots for wedding photos. A frequent one is St Lazarus Church, and seafront shots are also popular, particularly on the little pier just east of the church. In fact occasionally when we are having coffee at Harry's a wedding party will trek past on the short walk from the pier to St Lazarus. Today J, out for his beach walk, spots a photo op at the pier with bride and several bridesmaids but no groom or groomsmen. Assuming this is, unusually, a pre-wedding picture.

Tuesday, March 13/2018

To Harry's Café for coffee - and a small unexpected slice of chocolate cake. The canary cage is out as usual, and the canary singing away. As the owner says, the music is free. J always hears the song as happy, but I'm less sure. We don't speak canary, and it is caged. A pigeon lands on the table next to the bird cage, spying some crumbs there, and the canary is not happy, though somewhat short of panicked. It retreats to the top perch and keeps a wary eye out.

There's rarely anyone in the flat next to us but it does seem to be occupied. Trainers permanently on the little balcony and window sometimes open. Tonight, though, there are sounds of a television, not loud enough to be disturbing but arousing our curiosity. There is also an unmistakeable scent of weed. This is interesting because the laws on marijuana are pretty draconian in Cyprus. While we couldn't care less whether our neighbour is using, it seems reckless of him to assume that no one in the building would be the sort to call the police and self-righteously report illegal drug use.

Monday, March 12/2018

Heading, indirectly, to Kakopetria, a picturesque village in the Troodos Mountains. Jane comes here after swimming and Bill is to take the bus in from Pyla and join us. He arrives a little after ten, somewhat put out by having waited endlessly for the one bus that goes down their road. Last time it was fifteen minutes early so he timed himself accordingly, only for it to be ten minutes late this time. As that bus only goes every hour or hour and a half, catching it can be a procedure. 

We're off to Nicosia first, where Jane has a cushion to return to IKEA. The store is a newish addition to Cyprus and we've not been before and stay just long enough for Jane to do the return and us to pick up a catalogue. Entirely in Greek as, more surprisingly, are all the signs in the store - unlike road signs or those in supermarkets. But we can look at the pictures and see the prices. 

Then out of the city no west. We're actually following the border just south of it, although we're really reminded of that only when Bill spots a UN lookout spot. And Jane a sign showing that we're only a few kilometres from Morphou (Guzulyurt to the Turkish), and nearly on the west coast. We're gaining altitude at the same time and can at times see the sea to the north of the island. 

Kakopetria is a lovely little village nestled in a valley. We've been here before but it was three years ago. Quite a compelling place, though. One of those spots that leaves you thinking I could stop and live here, this would be as good as anywhere. An odd thought for a gypsy like me. (And yes, I know the word is politically incorrect but it still feels so much more romantic than the alternatives, and traveller is terribly imprecise). The restaurant is called The Mill, and there once was a mill here. Now restaurant and hotel. With probably the nicest trout I've ever tasted - although it's had competition! We all know we're going to order the trout but read the menu anyway out of curiosity and for general inspiration. 

Then down the steep and windy roads and home via Limassol. A reminder of just how small this island country is. Between ten o'clock and six we've gone from seaside to mountains and back, been to the three largest cities and looked down on the Mediterranean on the north coast before lunch and the south coast after.

Sunday, March 11/2018

Sunday lunch at Cambanella’s. The bus, as usual, gets us there a few minutes early, so we take a walk around a field, where it turns out the poppies are just appearing. Spurs discussion between J and me about whether I prefer British or Canadian Remembrance Day poppies. And I’m torn. Initially, British poppies looked faded and a bit drab to me. But they’re a lot more like real poppies in colour. Canadian ones have the virtue of being what I grew up with, but they’re too crimson, and I’m starting to regard the velvety texture combined with the brilliant colour as a bit vulgar - kind of Elvis in gold paint on black velvet. But the ones in the field are lovely. 

After lunch over to a small freshwater pool - actually where the drainage ditches empty with water from the fields. Moorhens not in evidence, but a still egret poised watching the fish. And some of the fish are surprisingly large - perhaps eighteen inches - as they surface in the murky water to take the bread J throws them. It’s just metres away from the walkway along the sea. A fresh water lagoon.

Saturday, March 10/2018

Lovely as it might be to have servants, I'd be bad at it. Winters in Cyprus are the closest we come, with our monthly rent paying for daily cleaning and twice weekly linen change as well as the one bedroom hotel apartment. The cleaning consists of emptying the garbage, providing the toilet paper, sweeping and washing the tile floors and cleaning the bathroom fixtures. If we didn't make the beds the cleaners probably would do, but like all the other (Scandinavian) long stayers in the hotels we've lived in we regard that as our responsibility. (In fact one Swedish woman of our slight acquaintance was the cause of scandalised gossip amongst long stay Scandinavians for leaving the beds for the maids.) 

Cleaning has never been problematic in the other places we've stayed - pretty thorough and occurring either six or seven days a week. Here it has always been rather lick and a promise, and on the fourth floor the sisters (in the familial not religious sense) got it down to about three minutes by virtue - though virtue doesn't seem like quite the right word - of never vacuuming. One of the advantages of the move to the first floor was that the floors were all tile so that the sitting room as well as the kitchen and loo got washed daily. At first, that is. Then the odd day of no show, then two, and eventually three. In the end almost a guarantee that if we did not go out there would be no service, possibly with the self-deluding excuse of not disturbing us. 

At which point I feel compelled to mention the problem to Kiki, the receptionist, so as not to report Venera the maid, whom I like, to Management, whom I don't much. Putting it as tactfully as possible - has the cleaning schedule perhaps changed? Kiki is clearly appalled at the slackness, and presumably this will solve the problem. The sad thing is that we don't usually tip - for what is the worst housekeeping service we've ever experienced - which may have led to worse service. It's also possible, even probable, that the cleaners are underpaid, but given a fairly hefty rental increase this year we're unenthusiastic about assuming the burden of subsidising the staff. Ah well, servant problem not one I'm blessed with at home. 

As we're having lunch, Kiki comes up to the flat with a large bag of oranges. Left for us at reception. By a man - no she doesn't know who - an old man. Mystery solved when Ailsa calls to say that Harry has taken us some oranges (they have a tree). I say we'd been wondering but didn't get far by asking for a description. Ailsa agrees that there would have been no obvious descriptors - he's not tall, short, fat, or excessively thin. Don't feel compelled to mention Kiki having said old. Don't actually think of Harry as old, but suppose that at eighty the description is not completely unfair.

Friday, March 9/2018

 Partly out of interest and partly because the nearby British forces base provides us with quite a bit of BBC radio, and partly because we're much closer to the UK than to North America in time zone, we follow quite a bit of British news. Heavily Brexit for weeks, with continuing bits of complaint about the effects of austerity on health and social programming. 

Now, for the past several days, a lot of dramatic focus on the attempted murder by nerve poison of the former Russian spy Skripal and his daughter. Trying to remember whether the somewhat similar poisoning twelve years ago of the former spy Litvinenko received quite the same non-stop coverage. We were in London at that time and certainly it was a major news story, made more dramatic by the fact that for days he was conscious and contributing clues to the murder mystery until inevitable death overtook him. 

The cases are not precisely analogous, because Skripal was a double agent who betrayed his fellow Russian spies for cash and was convicted of treason and then given to the West as part of a later prisoner exchange. Litvinenko reacted against Russian corruption and sought asylum in the West. This does make him a somewhat more sympathetic character, but it also makes him a more likely Kremlin target. The convention has been that those who were part of prisoner exchanges are not targeted afterward by the governments that originally employed them, as this would make future spy swaps pointless - no one would participate. However either high level secret service personnel or those involved in illegal international activity such as money laundering might well have wanted revenge, wished to make a very public warning and had some access to highly restricted chemicals. In that case the perpetrators would be Russian but not Russia, I.e. the Kremlin. 

Even this much analysis is too much for the BBC, which endlessly repeats the basic story of finding the two victims, the fact that an unspecified nerve poison is involved and threats of sanctions that must be taken against Russia if it is indeed found to be the culprit. More than once an hour, and always as the lead story, even in the absence of new information. Brexit has disappeared from the news entirely, at a point at which the UK is more or less paralysed by government infighting and the EU has frozen talks until there is an amended proposal to discuss. It has not become any less urgent, but is more than failing the 'if it bleeds it leads' test. 

In fact, following the cui bono principle, one can't help observing (tasteless as it may be to joke about these things) that the chief immediate beneficiary of the Skripal poisoning is probably Theresa May, whose failings have been replaced in the media by a great deal of posturing about the UK's intent to identify those responsible for the poisoning and bring them to justice. The outrage at an attack on British soil is perfectly legitimate, but twenty years from now the story will be all but forgotten while the UK will have been majorly determined by whatever the Brexit negotiations create.

Thursday, March 8/2018

Thursday, and the dust in the air much reduced, as promised. Warm (definitely T-shirt weather) and windy. Meet J down on the promenade and we stop for coffee on their balcony. By far the best - and cheapest - coffee in town. Prefer Harry's Café, but the thought that they might not have put the large umbrellas up for shade is a deterrent. Bad timing at McD. It's 11:30 and crammed with teenagers. Half holiday? Teacher's strike? Student walkout? The last two not nearly as uncommon as they might be in most countries, but no way of knowing. They're all in pretty good humour as befits the newly released, but it makes for about a fifteen minute wait. 

Good people watching site though. Quite a lot of people on the beach, with several in the water. Sea temperature today 17.6. (August average 28.1). So any warm, sunny day is good swimming. The poles for the beach umbrellas are now planted on the beach by the dozen, but umbrella rental has not yet begun.

Wednesday, March 7/2018

Early to Prinos to get some fruit for lunch. Early by our standards at least; Prinos has been open since 6:30, as always, and is unlikely to consider eight o'clock early. And it will be open until early evening. When we first started coming to Cyprus all but the smallest corner shops closed mid-afternoon on Wednesdays and Saturdays, an inconvenient old time practice backed by legislation that the larger enterprises fought, eventually successfully. We have pears and grapefruit and oranges at home but add apples,  kiwi and grapes (imported) and strawberries (local). Citrus fruits are beautiful all winter here and there have been local greenhouse strawberries for a month now, but grape and fresh fig seasons end in late autumn, about the time we arrive. There are local apples but they're never as good as the imports, our favourites being Pink Lady from Greece or (preferably) Italy.

The artichokes are in season now and J has bought half a dozen. He's learned by dint of watching a seller at the market, to trim away everything but the heart and carves the tiny slices off the choke to sauté in olive oil. Very highly labour intensive - probably ten to fifteen minutes an artichoke for the trimming and carving - and the yield is small, but lovely and rich. An appetiser today when Jane and Bill join us for lunch, but also a luxury topping for pizza on rare occasions.

Tuesday, March 6/2018

Cooking the vegetables so that they only have to be reheated tomorrow when Bill and Jane come to lunch. Necessary because we only have two burners and a microwave. The frying pan is good stainless steel but not very big, which means endless panfulls. Strips of red pepper, long dark green beans, hard boiled free range eggs cut lengthwise with their dark orange yellow eyes. Time consuming but such an aesthetic pleasure. Later J trims the artichokes and slices the hearts. Truly labour intensive, but I read to him from the third volume of Alan Bennett's diaries as he's sautéing them. Bennet's diaries always such gems it feels they should be saved for dessert - but wifi off, so options limited.

Monday, March 5/2018

Back to the air pollution. And as usual the haze in the sky is particulate matter, most probably dust from the Sahara. Improving by Thursday, according to the paper. It's been a dusty year. No truly horrible day, but a number of warnings. No one to blame, really, either. Not much to be done about desert sand and wind.

Sunday, March 4/2018

Invited to Jane and Bill's for Sunday lunch. Beautiful roast leg of lamb and we eat outside as usual. Susan and David here again, and, happily, Maureen from down the terrace. She's going to London in a couple of weeks to visit her daughter and has taken our UK mobile number so we can meet up for a drink. After the others have gone we watch first part of The Crown, with Claire Foy as a very young Queen Elizabeth. Well done, but liberties? Was the Queen Mother really that self-centred? Who knows.

Saturday, March 3/2018

Caption in today’s Cyprus Mail reads “Man arrested illegally entering Republic by jumping off wall “. The man was a Kurd and had obviously landed, by air or more likely sea, in the North - where he would probably have been made more welcome. Although as far as the Republic (the South) is concerned any landing in the North is illegal. However, for whatever reason, he chose to enter the South by jumping from the old Venetian walls, exiting via a small park atop the wall in broad daylight at 2:30 in the afternoon. Unsubtle enough to make one wonder about his mental state, although if he intended to apply for asylum or assistance he would have had questioning to face anyway. And jumped is undoubtedly an overly dramatic way of putting it - scrambled more likely. 

We remember being in that park looking down, on the only visit when we ourselves entered illegally (from the point of view of the South), taking the ferry from Turkey to Kyrenia. It was a very odd feeling going to Nicosia and looking down on the South where we had stayed the previous month, barred from entry. The border is much freer now than it was in 2001, but only non-EU tourists who land in the South can cross freely from North to South. And yes, they would know. Your passport would give you away.

Friday, March 2/2018

Theresa May's much anticipated speech on Brexit - part whatever - proving largely that the driving force, as it was for her predecessor - is the unpleasant task of trying to satisfy a hopelessly divided and antagonistic cabinet. Jonathan Freedland in the Guardian has the metaphor for it: 

'When I was a young child I had a tantrum at a motorway cafe. My parents ordered for everyone, selecting baked beans on toast for me. I stamped my foot and demanded I choose for myself. I then proceeded to read the entire menu, holding up everyone, including an increasingly impatient waitress. Finally, I announced my choice: I would have baked beans on toast.

The memory of that episode returned to me while watching Theresa May give her big Brexit speech at Mansion House today. The speech was praised in some quarters for being serious and, by the standards of her government, pretty detailed. The main takeaway was that the prime minister had finally bidden farewell to “cakeism”, admitting that we couldn’t both leave the single market and have unchanged access to it. “Life is going to be different,” she warned.

But the speech also suggested that Brexit could end up rather like my strop at Little Chef. We would put ourselves and the rest of Europe through a great ordeal, only to end up with an arrangement rather like the one we could have had anyway, all for the sake of feeling in control. Except that, in this case, the end result would be both inferior to, and much more costly than, the dish originally on offer.'

Indeed.

Thursday, March 1/2018

Tourist arrested for drunk driving. Normally the locals have significantly worse driving habits than the tourists. In fact, today as I'm walking to the bank a car travelling north on the very busy Makarios Avenue pulls across the southbound lane midblock, forcing a honking car to brake in order to avoid a collision, and proceeds to park on the far side of the road (heading the wrong direction, of course). 

But the arrest of a tourist is unusual. Tickets, yes. It's an open secret that car hire licence plates (coloured red to alert those who need to know) are much more likely to be ticketed for minor infractions. This is a small island and no police officer wishes to find that the ticket recipient is a friend of a relative or relative of a friend. Besides, it's only right that those who can afford to holiday should contribute to the state coffers. 

So the caption 'tourist arrested for drunk driving' arouses immediate cynicism. Does drunk mean fractionally over the conservative .05 blood alcohol, and were the red plates the reason he was stopped. No, and no. The 28 year old visitor attracted patrol car attention by speeding in a town at midnight without lights, overtaking two cars stopped at a red light and driving through said red light. Fair cop - obvious cause for investigation. And he was breathalysed at three times the drink drive limit. But also charged with possession of weapons. Two knives (not described), a collapsible baton (?), and a sledgehammer. A sledgehammer? No doubt that it could inflict grievous bodily harm, but is it really a prohibited weapon? Who knew? Fence post installers be warned.

Wednesday, February 28/2018

Haircut day. Me, that is, as J usually cuts his own. Then we meet up in the courtyard of St Helena's Anglican, where the regular end of month used book sale is taking place. It's generally pretty good, as the books are donated disproportionately by British expats about our age. Too many light novels, but often a few gems as well. While browsing, I overhear the following conversation between a man and woman. He has obviously remarked on, and probably recommended, a vegetarian cook book:

She:  (apologetically) I really should be vegetarian, but I’m too weak.

He:   Oh, the problem is people eat too early. I never eat anything after five o’clock. I eat a big     

breakfast though.

She: (probably hoping to avoid further unsolicited advice) Have you ever eaten meat?

He:   Oh yes! I’ve eaten dog. I’ve eaten rat, I’ve eaten mouse.

She:  (weakly) That must have been when you were very hungry.

He:   Oh no! It was for the experience. I like to experience everything!

I do refrain from commenting on the stellar social life he must have, never eating before five and then vegetarian or rat. In all fairness, the vegetarian period seems to have followed, and probably superseded, the rodent period, but he is at pains to point out the voluntary nature of the dog and rat experiences.

On the way home we come across a cat, happily soaking up the sun.

Tuesday, February 27/2018

Flowers are not all that's bright and beautiful along the road on the way to meet up with J for coffee.

Monday, February 26/2018

Showery and a reading day. Current reading aloud book is Judith Flanders' A Circle of Sisters. It's the story of four sisters from a large middle class Victorian family who through marriage became the wives of Pre-Raphaelite painter Edward Burne Jones and Edward Poynter (who became head of the Royal Academy), and the mothers of Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin and poet Rudyard Kipling. It's highly readable but still a well referenced piece of scholarship, as much a pleasure for the social history as for the narrative. A "real" book, though, so only readable in daytime natural light. 

Mildly annoyed that, for the second time in a week the sisters who clean the hotel have skipped our flat. Just thinking we should say something when there's a knock at the door. Housekeeping? Well, sort of. Kiki, the receptionist, and Venera, the younger cleaner, with a foil covered plate of baking. It's the birthday of Maria, the older sister and she has been baking. It seems ungracious to mention the non-cleaning in the same breath as the thanks for baking, so we don't. But no return visit with a mop. As J says, no one should have to clean on their birthday.

Sunday, February 25/2018

To Kofinou for lamb kleftiko, with Jane and Bill and their neighbour Maureen. A bit cloudy but not cold and the restaurant surrounded by flowers and almond trees in blossom.  There are several restaurants in the village that specialise in kleftiko, and Sunday's are often busy. Entirely local, apart from us, and ordering anything other than the obvious can involve poor translation on our part or even hand gestures. Thus we don't manage to get Jane a small carafe of wine, but the good woman does understand that a small rather than large bottle will suit. The rest of us drink beer, which is simpler. And we all have salad - large shared bowl - as well as olives and pourgouri (a bulgar and vermicelli dish which is nice but which we know better than to eat much of, as it's filling and we know how much kleftiko and roast potato will follow). Kleftiko is from the outdoor beehive shaped ovens, cooked to a melting softness. 

Opposite us are three Cypriot hunters enjoying an enormous meal. They're dressed in typical Cypriot hunter garb - camouflage! Horrifying to Canadians, who wonder why there aren't even more accidental shootings. Meal finishes with small warm cheese filled pastries, two apiece. Though we thought we were full. 

And the kleftiko? As we're leaving we read, for the first time, the single sheet menu taped to the front door and reading in part kleftiko (goat). Have no way of knowing if that is sometimes or always, and in any case goat meat very difficult to distinguish from lamb. We wonder about bringing pictures to inquire next time, in preference to trying out animal noises. Only really idle curiosity - except for Maureen, who does seem mildly distressed.

Saturday, February 24/2018

To Lidl for bread and walnuts. Well, they have the bread. As is so frequently the case with Lidl, the walnuts are on sale at a pretty good price, but conspicuous by their absence. Since it's a Saturday/Sunday sale beginning this morning, it's pretty clear that there won't be any. But they have a pretty good multi-grain seeded bread. 

On the way we pass the still under construction 16 storey Radisson Blu Hotel. We've been watching the construction for some time - talking years not months - and have wondered at its location. It's an unprepossessing on-the-way-out-of-town strip with shops, car dealerships and such on the land side and the commercial port and huge oil storage containers along the sea front. There is, certainly, a plan for the removal of the oil refinery installations and depots and the development of a beach front linking up with the beaches by the hotels further up the coastal road. Unclear whether the water would need decontamination. But Cypriot plans are often slow in coming to fruition. Meanwhile, the Radisson Blu remains unfinished, though with some signs of construction activity, in an area characterised by oil tanks and the sort of unsalubrious hotels one might expect of a commercial port area. (OK, we're within walking distance ourselves, but the sleazy nightclubs and substandard hotels are past our place. 

The Tourism Board has definitely had plans: 

"The road leading from Larnaka city centre to the tourist region of the Larnaka-Dekeleia Road will undergo regeneration with the removal of the oil refineries and new area upgrades. The area will be developed for touristic and recreational use and with the refineries transferred there will also be an additional 3 km of beach for use. Larnaka-Dekeleia Road is lined with hotels, holiday apartments, restaurants, pubs and other leisure facilities."

 All very nice, but perhaps optimistic, as the completion date listed is 2014. Meanwhile, the Radisson Blu, if not the refineries removal, is progressing with outer cladding and a sign. Also an impressive website, describing five star facilities, conference rooms and a twenty-four hour restaurant. You can even get married on the sixteenth floor in a room with a Mediterranean view. Only in the smallest of print does it say that it is opening in early 2018 - which must by any definition mean by June 30. There's high rise parking too, which is good, because on street is pretty poor. Traffic heading to the centre is undisciplined and central parking desperate, but anyone staying at a five star hotel shouldn't balk at the prospect of an overpriced taxi. Or they could cross the road and wait for the half hourly bus. With a view of the oil refineries.

Friday, February 23/2018

Several snails on a wall and sidewalk between us and the greengrocer. Fairly large ones. They're not far from a fenced yard with lots of greenery and flowers where they'd be much better fed and presumably happier, so it's a mystery what they're doing here. Tempting to toss them into the long grass, but we don't interfere. Locals often look for them in the fields and collect them as a delicacy.

J has acquired a very nice beef fillet from the butcher at Prinos. The plus and minus of living in a simpler food culture. He inquired on Friday and was told to come back on Wednesday. And indeed on Wednesday it was there, a kilo and a half of it. So the timing of the invitation to Jane and Bill for Friday follows on the butcher's acquisition. Soft as butter lovely, though, with mushroom sauce and leeks and carrots and salad. As always, we have two burners (with somewhat uneven heat) and a microwave. Really miss the radiators of past years. Once a dish was hot it was possible to keep it warm until everything was ready. Fresh local strawberries now - greenhouse, obviously, but nice.

Thursday, February 22/2018

The two flats directly above us are occupied, by friendly, quiet Norwegians. For whatever reason, though, the kitchen sink and bathroom toilet empty with sounds as clear and present as if they were in our flat. Not an annoyance, but slightly weird, to walk past the loo and hear the flush, knowing neither of us is in there. Kind of like sharing the place with a friendly ghost.

Wednesday, February 21/2018

Jane’s birthday and the gang meets up at a Chinese restaurant (which we actually suspect of being Filipino, but Asian, anyway). Nice festive sparkly decor appropriate to a birthday, and the food’s pretty good too. With seven of us each choosing a dish there’s lots to sample. And bonus - Jane gets the owner to turn down the music so we can hear everyone at the table. As with every restaurant here, regardless of the ethnicity of the food, there’s Greek coffee to finish. Lovely warm night as we leave - stars and a sliver of a moon lying on its back.

Tuesday, February 20/2018

Finish reading Payback, the novel about kidnapping a banker during the Cyprus financial crisis. Fun, and a fast read. If you're a Cypriot, or a Canadian from anywhere other than Toronto or Vancouver, you probably rarely read a book set in a place you know intimately, as must happen to Londoners, say, all the time. So reading Gail Bowen's mysteries set in Regina had a particular resonance for me as the central figure, like Gail herself, lived within six blocks of a house I had lived in, and one book was actually partially set in a university building where I had had an office when I taught there. And much of the pleasure of Payback is in the familiarity of the setting. Not a great literary attribute, but a pleasure. Minor editing failures - leading me to wonder not for the first time if I would have enjoyed life as a copy editor. Like the hero rolling down the car window, enjoying the wind in his face, and lighting a cigarette. None of the five co-authors ever smoked? But fun anyway.

Monday, February 19/2018

Well, today is Green Monday, and predictably only a few tourists are wandering along the waterfront. It’s nothing like as busy as any other holiday, or even a normal weekend day. The locals are either at home barbecuing or, more traditionally, picnicking and flying kites in the countryside. Cypriots have strong rural roots, even the urban dwellers. A little like Canadians of a generation ago, when the phrase going home to the farm resonated with many even if the farm in question belonged to an uncle or grandparent. With Cypriots it’s the village, and you often hear that someone is going to the village (name not specified but understood) on the weekend or a child is staying with grandparents in the village. Unlike Canada, farmers are quite likely to live in a village rather than on an isolated farmstead. 

Many restaurants open today, especially in tourist areas, though our usual café closed. Charity shops, mostly run by  expats, seem to be open, but shops, including supermarkets, closed, apart from the tiny corner shops. Bakeries always open. In fact we discovered our favourite bakery by means of happening to walk past it one Christmas day. Few Cypriots buy their bread at supermarkets (and even there almost all of it is baked on the premises) and deprivation of fresh baked bread is apparently unthinkable.

Sunday, February 18/2018

Well, as always, the day after rain there's almost no sign it ever was wet. The sunny street has an innocent who-me-you-must-have-been-dreaming-of-England look. Sort of like the look the blue lake has the spring morning after the ice goes. It's always been sunny. 

Although this morning's Cyprus Mail has stories of flooding in Limassol, down the coast from us, that will run to hundreds of thousands of euros in clean up and repairs, with tales of people standing on restaurant chairs and tables to escape the water and cars being submerged. They say that infrastructure is not the problem, but this seems unlikely as it doesn't take torrential rains here to flood the streets here, and J's observation is that the drains are often not at the lowest point. We are interested in accounts, as after every rainfall cum flooding, of large numbers of householders calling the fire department to pump out their basements. And our UK friends tell us this would be standard practice in Britain. Can only imagine Canadian firemen having a good laugh before advising one to head to Canadian Tire and buy a pump.

   Limassol  (Courtesy Cyprus Mail)

Saturday, February 17/2018

As per weather warning, today is a day of rain, sometimes heavy. It's also the start of a long weekend, with Monday being Green (or clean) Monday. Green Monday is, in the Greek Church, the beginning of Lent, but with a fairly cheerful fresh start feel to it rather than a penitential one. Traditionally people head for the countryside and fly kites as well as picnicking. During Lent not only meat but eggs and dairy products are not eaten (which takes us, cross-culturally, to the Western Church's pancake day as a day to use up milk and eggs that will be verboten for the next forty days or so) and fish is eaten only on feast days. Happily, if surprisingly, seafood is allowed, so in a country where fresh fruit and vegetables are everywhere this makes for a remarkably unpenitential start to Lent, with family seafood barbecues and large salads. 

Saturday would normally be the day to buy all the food, with the farmers' market thriving, but not many people are out today. And, as usual when there is rain here, the streets fill up pretty rapidly with water, so that the usual problem when caught out in a rainstorm is not wet hair and clothing but having to wade ankle deep across intersections. But we're well supplied, so have a day reading books and looking out the window as passing cars create waves in their wake.

Friday, February 16/2018

Maggi stops in for tea and to lend us a copy of Payback, a novel about the kidnap of a banker in revenge for the levy imposed on Cypriot bank accounts during the 2013 financial crisis. The novel was written jointly by five people from a creative writing class under the nom de plume of Alex Xenon and is set in and around Larnaca, and as Maggi says that in itself is intriguing. We know the landmarks, drink coffee near the scene of the crime, lived kitty corner to the police station - which makes it fun. We were also here at the time of the crisis, when the banks remained closed for an unprecedented twelve days as the country held its breath.

Thursday, February 15/2018

To Famagusta, or Gazimağusa, to use the Turkish name. Dental appointment first, but Fehmi - as always with a civilised pace - has us start with Turkish coffee. Phyllis, his wife joins us and we apologise for having failed to find the son’s restaurant on Friday. More internet mapping since then, and a consensus that - diversion apart - we simply underestimated how far it was and gave up too soon. 

It’s market day - not coincidentally - so that’s our next stop. Always a feast for the eyes first. We buy a half kilo of yoghurt as well as mushrooms, cherry tomatoes and lentils, and give many other attractive things a miss, having been to Prinos yesterday, and mindful of the limitations of our little fridge. 

Then out to Ocean House for lunch. Fehmi and Phyllis’s son is unfortunately ill and not there but Phyllis is, and sees to it that we get the royal treatment - and a fish and seafood platter for four. Delicious, and unlikely to be our last visit.

Wednesday, February 14/2018

Ash Wednesday and Valentine's Day. First time since 1945 they've been on the same day, which is slightly bizarre. But this is Cyprus, and Greek Orthodox Easter, and therefore Ash Wednesday, is a week later than the Western. This year, not every year. Don't ask. Meet Maggi for coffee and she comes bearing three small pastries which she has acquired while doing volunteer visiting. Very nice with coffee, and settles the question of which day is being celebrated. M getting ready for trip to Sri Lanka. On the way back pass a motorcycle more studded than adorned. 

Lunch and then to Prinos. Grapefruit, oranges, pears, onions, baby potatoes, garlic, courgettes, cauliflower, tomatoes, yellow peppers - and change back from our €5. Passed on the snails, though.

Tuesday, February 13/2018

There is Gas off the coast of Cyprus, which might in theory be good news, but is, predictably, a cause of conflict. At this point a Turkish warship is preventing drilling in Cyprus exclusive economic zone, which should seem a clear wrong. Almost. Turkey says it is attempting to prevent Cyprus from exploiting resources without sharing the rewards with Turkish Cypriots. And the response from the (South) Cypriot government is that resources will be shared equitably IF REUNIFICATION TAKES PLACE. And if not? As usual, back to a plague on both your houses.

Shrove Tuesday (western, not Orthodox calendar) but we opt for curry rather than a sugar hit supper.

Monday, February 12/2018

Added to the list of much too early deaths, Chris Stockwell, former Speaker of the Ontario Legislature. Conservative MLA who became a superb Speaker, intelligent and  even-handed. Once heard him explain his philosophy on the role. He saw it in terms of sport, with his function being to keep play moving. Thus minor infractions that would not have interfered with the flow could be ignored, whereas breaches of regulation or insults that would interfere with debate had to be called. One of the few Speakers who was a real pleasure to watch. Dead at 60. RIP

Sunday, February 11/2018

To Lidl despite Sunday understaffing and resulting queues. A fairly nice shiraz on for €2.20. Nice except, not unusually, they don’t actually have any.

Bathroom light burnt out last night, so we mention this to Kiki, the receptionist. Turns out the fitting is some special kind that will require replacement by someone other than the regular cleaners. Sounds either inefficient or inaccurate, but no great problem to wait a day. However J can’t resist telling her that it’s scary having to use the loo in the dark. She’s amused by him as usual and asks if he would like a candle.

Saturday, February 10/2018

Saturday, not that days of the week matter enormously in retirement. Made fish chowder Thursday night and so invite Jane and Bill to stop for lunch after their errands.

Friday, February 9/2018

To Famagusta with Jane and Bill. J has a dental appointment to have a ceramic crown put on. We arrive at the same time as our dent, Fehmi, and are admiring some large yellow lilly-like flowers that prove to be part of a massive thick vine which grows along a stone wall, through the garden next door, and up above the second storey of the old building in the garden. Quite astonishing. Fehmi tells us that he planted the vine, and breaks off one of the many flowers for us to examine and a cutting for Bill to plant at home. The flowers are enormous, perhaps six inches across (though the petals seem to fold back even before they reach full size), with five stamens and a pistil in the centre. 

When J is finished we go for coffee in the old city and then head off for lunch at Fehmi’s son’s seafood restaurant, armed with a couple of screen shots from the map I checked as well as explanations and a bit of hand drawn map from Fehmi, who has said he will phone the son. So all is well until we hit road works. British diversion versus Canadian detour. Detour has an obvious Canadian advantage in that it is bilingual. Diversion takes on a certain bitter iron - sounds like entertainment, but after over an hour of mucking about and trying to co-ordinate our efforts with the minimalist map we’re feeling fairly unentertained and give up on it. Rather nice bonus of a tour round the pleasant and extensive campus of the Eastern Mediterranean University. Twice, actually, as we try to regain the main road. 

Fortunately, we know an excellent restaurant which we can find - Minder, our restaurant of last Thursday, as good today as it was then. And well deserved - by Bill as driver at least - Efes (Turkish pilsener) waiting.

Back home with wifi look up the flowers. Solandra Maxima, commonly known as golden chalice. They're not native to Cyprus - originally Latin American - but do well here, flowering in winter and spring.

Thursday, February 8/2018

Harry and Ailsa's fiftieth wedding anniversary. The actual anniversary was on the weekend, but they've kindly waited until we returned from Crete. Heavy dust in the air today and a pretty high particulate count, but still warm into the evening. We meet up with H&A, Jane and Bill and another couple we hadn't previously met (Ian and ?) at Masala, an Indian restaurant on Dhekelia. Nice round corner table and the restaurant is quiet enough for conversation - a welcome rarity in Cyprus. First curry in some time, and hot. Kept hot, too, in individual little pots over burners on the lazy susan. Lots of laughter and lovely evening.

Wednesday, February 7/2018

Spitting rain, but not all that inconvenient as we're leaving today, so no agenda, and the airport bus stops immediately across the road from the hotel. So leisurely breakfast looking out over the narrow street that bends downhill toward the harbour. Women walk up the road carrying bags and umbrellas and a couple of men stop at the tiny café opposite. The occasional dog crosses to see what is happening. 

Had thought that today's might be a quieter flight, but there's a school trip of some sort, so lots of chattering teenagers and few if any empty seats. Larnaca airport has signs in Greek (obviously), English, and Russian. Interesting, as the official languages of Cyprus are Greek and Turkish. English is the world's second language. But Russian? Well, follow the money. 

Tuesday, February 6/2018

Our one day in Crete. Could have set it up slightly differently maybe, but would really rather be back in Cyprus at this point. But a lovely day. Leisurely breakfast and then a walk down the hill to the harbour. We’re headed for the Historical Museum but arrive just as a coach is unloading about sixty old people on the steps. (Well, all right maybe they aren’t any older than we are but they look old and the museum is about to be really crowded). 

So we wander along the waterfront. They’re continuing to excavate the old Venetian harbour with digs that go below the water line and between the fort and the modern fishing boats it’s a fascinating and attractive site. Up the pedestrian walkway and we pause for koulouri, the thin sesame studded bagels. There’s a handy bakery, although in Greece we’re used to buying them from a cart on the street. Pick up the tickets for tomorrow’s bus to the airport from the dispensing machine at Eleftherias Square and back to the Historical Museum, which is almost empty now. We spend the afternoon there. 

Crete has a history that is not only interesting but very long. Knossos Palace is a stunning relic of the Minoan period but the palace at Knossos dates to a period from about 1900 to 1700 bc. Not all that far back in Crete’s astonishing timeline. Remains of a settlement underneath the Bronze Age palace go back to the seventh millennium bc. There are actually stone tools from southern Crete that are at least 130,000 years old. There is speculation that pre-Homo sapiens hominids from Africa crossed to Crete on rafts, making Crete a cradle not only of civilisation but of humanity. 

Obviously no museum could do justice to a history that goes from quartz axes to anti-Nazi resistance but the museum makes a creditable attempt, starting with a time outline and early artefacts - tools, lamps, vases - and proceeding to various theme areas, such as icons and Crete in WW II. Some of the icons are pretty hard to make out, as they’re protected from light almost to the point of making them invisible, but I’m taken with some embroidery (circa 1700) which uses traditional Byzantine stylisation but includes some surprisingly modern faces, apparently silk with minutely embroidered features - right down to eyelashes. And there’s also a room devoted to a modern painter, Jannis Spyropoulos. May I photograph? Of course, without flash. Everyone in the museum relaxed, friendly, helpful. Including the woman in the tiny cafeteria who makes us Greek coffees which we take outside to a little patio. Super afternoon.

Monday, February 5/2018

Anastasiades still president, as the winner of yesterday’s run-off. Not particularly surprising. Could tell there was a winner when the car horns started sounding along Makarios Avenue, and continued for a couple of hours. Reminded me of growing up in Quebec, where victory always sounded first in the streets, long before there was an official announcement on the radio. 

We’re off today to Crete, on what is essentially a visa run. Can only stay 90 days in Cyprus without leaving, though after an absence of any length the 90 days start over. We’re extremely fortunate that Cyprus is not a Schengen Area country like most EU countries, as the Schengen countries function as a single unit for visa purposes. After three months in the Schengen Union you are obliged to leave the whole Schengen area for a three month period. Would totally ruin our winter pattern. Actually, Cyprus is legally obliged to join but has managed to put the obligation off on the grounds that the government cannot control what happens in the North. 

Crete only an hour and a half flight and a fairly friendly place. Historically and culturally somewhat like Cyprus. Bus in from the airport goes within a block or two of the hotel. Evening wander in the squares around the lions fountain and then pick up a couple of chicken pitas from a very good corner spot we remember from last year and take them back with us.

Sunday, February 4/2018

Cambanella’s, our default British Sunday lunch location. Then back to Jane and Bill’s for coffee. Their garden scarcely looks winter any more, and tomato plants are in flower, though Bill is wondering whether they will have ripe tomatoes before they leave at the beginning of May for summer in England. One beautiful bird of paradise out. Then we watch Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino.

Saturday, February 3/2018

Local media pleased to report that Turkish troops have fired at fleeing Syrian refugees at the Turkish-Syrian border. The story is disputed, and may or may not be true. The interesting thing is that it makes it into the limited world news provided in the English language paper and the ten minute English news broadcast daily on Cypriot television. With so much competing world news, one can only conclude that it falls into the category of bad-things-the-Turks-have-done-that-everyone-should-hear-about.

Friday, February 2/2018

Sunday will see the run-off, stage two of the presidential election, which is a separate event, with all Cypriots having a direct vote. In the run-off only the top two candidates remain, in this case the current president, Anistasiades, and Malas, the independent but Communist backed challenger. No pretence of separation of church and state here. The Archbishop of Cyprus has already announced that Malas will lose, presumably simple prediction and not the gift of prophecy. It's not surprising that the archbishop wants Malas to lose (interesting, though, that one would predict the loser rather than the winner) as he does have some skin in the game. Malas has said that the practice of the government consulting the church on the appointment of the minister of education should cease. It's by no means the only way in which the church influences the state in Cyprus, but probably one of the most formalised. As well as being one of the most powerful agents keeping Greek and Turkish Cyprus apart.

Thursday, February 1/2018

Arrive in Famagusta noonish for their Thursday weekly market, our first visit since the construction of the new covered market. Fortunately the roof doesn't keep out the light and the oranges and tomatoes and celery still gleam in the sun. Dried fruit and all kinds of nuts, although J is amused to note that an enormous sack of walnuts in the shell has been shipped from California. Also, round the periphery, clothes, shoes, handbags, books. Outside, as in the old market, flowers and other bedding plants and hardware. 

Stop for coffee at our old café by the mulberry tree. Minder, the restaurant where we went with Fehmi and Phyllis for traditional Cypriot fare, is next on the agenda, but this leaves some confusion with my not necessarily accurate memories of the last visit, Bill's instincts and driver's knowledge of the city, and the little dot on the map not quite in harmony. We resort to asking and a small conference consisting of the café owner and a couple of friends, provides directions. It's very close, as we knew, and they point the way to the back exit from the market, but slightly to our embarrassment they point to a name on the top of a very tall building nearby: Minder. The restaurant is on the ground floor. The men joke that their friend café owner wasn't going to tell us, hoping that we would stay and eat at the café, but are quick to add that Minder is a very good restaurant. 

And it is. It's fairly full, but we're pleased to find that there is a bilingual menu, as last time Phyllis ordered for us in Turkish. Excellent food, including Cypriot meatballs, seasoned rice with bits of liver and roasted chestnut and a starter of içli köfte - minced meat and spices with maybe pine nuts wrapped in a dough made of potatoes and fine bulgar and deep fried. Delicious. At the end of the meal we leave the money, including a modest tip in the small wooden box in which the bill is traditionally presented. As we're standing up to leave the owner comes over. Have we misunderstood and underpaid? Not a bit of it. He's explaining that we've paid too much and fears it may have been accidental. We reassure him and all smiles. Our waitress was a sweetheart and quite helpful. The conclusion is not only that they are honest to a fault but that only locals come here. Cypriot tradition doesn't run to tipping, although it is customary to round up a little and not to tell the waiter to keep small change. 

Then J's dental appointment. The broken tooth is in fact a porcelain one, and Fehmi is reassuring. Yes, it can be repaired. Can we return on Tuesday? Fortunately Bill remembers, as we don't very quickly, that we'll be in Crete on Tuesday. End of week then.