Tuesday, February 28/2023

 Could post a photo of the magnificent mountains behind us showing that they are mostly  haze or of the sea showing that the distant blue grey melds with the sky and this morning there is no line of demarcation. But difficult for a photograph to show what isn’t there, and the mountains are shrouded, faint  hulks looming above us. Not mist but desert dust from the Middle East. With us until Thursday, the Met Office says, though it’s dropping by evening and the fine particulate matter hasn’t predominated.

Monday, February 27/2023

 

View from the kitchen balcony of our house, in the middle of our street. 

Take a short walk heading west. Always cats, of course. And dogs. But that’s not all. A pen behind one of the houses is home to a rabbit and, much more surprisingly a cheerful black pig. Seems very friendly - that is if a wagging tail means the same in pig language as it does in dog lingo. If, on the other hand, it means the same as it does to cats then maybe not so enthusiastic. Would like to take its photo but can see that doing so through the fencing of its pen wouldn’t do it justice. A little farther along the  road we spot the probable source of our early morning wake up call.

Then

Then head down toward the supermarket. We’ve just passed the little café we keep promising ourselves to visit when we hear someone calling. It’s a man at the window and he’s beckoning us to come back to the café. We do and are welcomed heartily, table and chairs moved into the sun for us. Two Turkish coffees, and we do know how to ask for them without sugar. But it rapidly becomes clear how little else we can say. The man and his wife join us at the table. There are biscuits, and we convey a surprising amount - though not nearly enough - to each other, much of it through sheer force of good will. They wonder if we have a house. Tell them Aphrodite, the name of the owner’s company. The man gets it immediately. Doğan! Yes, that’s right. Big smile. Seems Doğan‘s hello greeting is promptly followed by his bye bye, but he is good. We all laugh and agree - yes, he’s good but very busy. We’re given two large oranges and small knives. J cuts one and gives me half. Sweet, seedless and juicy. No, we can’t eat two, but the man insists we take the other with us. 

A café whose whole point is relational. It can’t possibly be a paying proposition and clearly that isn’t why it exists. The owner likes people and no one could fail to like him.

Sunday, February 26/2023

 Calico cat is our favourite and most regular visitor, and considers herself part of the family, though she’s definitely not an indoor cat. Not that she wouldn’t be willing to become one. However other cats do appear and this white and grey has come off and on since we first arrived. Much more demanding than the calico. Suppose this might be because it’s hungrier and it does seem a little unfair that with cats as with humans neediness is not particularly attractive. We do feed her though.

Hear the familiar sound of a power saw and look out to find that the neighbour across the road is sawing some wood. Looks like bits of dead brush, possibly from the mountain behind us. By home standards most of it isn’t big enough to cut without turning it into kindling, but would depend on the size of his fireplace, and some of it probably an awkward shape. In any case it’s likely to be free fuel and the nights are chilly in the hills.

Saturday, February 25/2023

 Cloudy, so in the first view of the sea it’s unclear where the sea stops and the sky starts. All a bluish grey. And behind us the mountains are invisible, disappeared in mist.

The calico cat has adopted us. And it’s not entirely cupboard love, though that is still of some importance, and probably a consideration in its announcing proprietary rights when other cats are inclined to venture in. Morning is meal time, but the cat is more than happy to join us sitting on the deck in the afternoon, especially when there are pools of sunlight warming the tiles. Left ear has been clipped, so she’s been spayed. A good thing as there are really too many cats of no fixed address though the climate is mild, people do feed them, and the ones around here don’t appear ill nourished. They probably help keep the rodents under control as well, as they famously do at ports.

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Friday, February 24/2023

 Our Lapta home. We live in the top floor and underneath us is a café and drinks bar not currently rented. Or, more accurately, recently rented again and now undergoing renovations to reopen in April. We meet the two young men who are working on it as we’re returning from the supermarket and stop to chat briefly. One is Russian and the other Israeli, which explains why the conversation we’ve overheard recently from below has been in English, second language of half the world. J asks the Russian where he learned such good English and he says mostly from a former girlfriend in Sofia when his father was posted to Bulgaria. Bit of travel talk and we tell him that we stayed with families in Moscow, his home city as well as St Petersburg. And realise that 1991, the year of the famous August Soviet coup attempt against the Gorbachev government is now more than 30 years ago, and quite probably before he was born. He knows about it of course - but it’s history.

Thursday, February 23/2023

 Chanticleer raises the sun in the morning, and it’s possible to buy local free range eggs with deep orange yellow yolks and wisps of feather clinging to the outside. And free range hens here actually do get to go outside year round. Not unusual to see them beside village houses.

J and Steuart do some work on S’s car, a little white Mazda with an only semi explained rattle underneath, observed by some of the many cats around, two of which are his. Stunning views from his house down the mountainside to the sea. And a lush jungle of a garden including avocado, lemon, blood orange, mandarin orange, apricot and fig trees. Obviously should  be photographing the prolific beauty but instead opt to save my tablet’s battery to allow me to read while the mechanics are at work. Possibly not my last opportunity. 

Late lunch of lahmacun and lamb pitas outside a little restaurant. And back to ours to sample the Jameson’s triple distilled from Istanbul duty free.

Car’s semi explained rattle noticeably improved but it has developed a previously nonexistent scraping sound in retaliation.

Wednesday, February 22/2023

 The human effects of Turkey’s earthquake continue to be felt in North Cyprus. Thousands of refugees from stricken areas have come to stay with family in the TRNC or because they had nowhere else to go. As one man said, “We went to bed at night, we had everything. We got up in the morning, we had nothing any more”.In response to the need to provide earthquake relief for Turkey, the government here announced that there would be a deduction from the wages of public and private sector workers to raise the necessary funds. However the decree has been revoked in response to fourteen unions filing lawsuits.

Meanwhile there have been four arrests in Turkey in connection with the collapse of the Isias Hotel in which the volleyball teams from Gazimağusa were killed. Apparently the hotel had been badly built, combining two blocks of flats in a way that was structurally unsound and using substandard building materials. So presumably inspectors as well as owners bear some responsibility. The hotel was billed as four star - which wouldn’t mean the same as four stars in most western European cities, but nothing in its literature or initial appearance would have signalled danger.

Tuesday, February 21/2023

 Nicosia (Lefkosia, Lefkoşa) the last divided capital city in the world. Haven’t been there for six years and the first year we were there, early in 2001, we couldn’t cross the border. Went once to the South from Larnaca and a few weeks later from Girne in the North, having entered the North by ferry from Türkiye. A strange feeling looking down through a fence at a street we had walked on a few weeks earlier on the other side of a border we were forbidden to cross.

The border is somewhat more permeable now, but it’s still a border. And the North side remains poorer but more interesting, more distinctive. Much restoration, and also buildings that one fears will never be restored. Old houses stone walls in need of repair topped by satellite dishes and roofs with disintegrating tiles and blue plastic tarps to prevent leaks. At the same time the centre of the old city is definitely moving upscale. The covered market is more a collection of boutiques than of vegetable stalls, nut sellers and butchers. The Selimiye Mosque is currently closed for major reconstruction but the shops and cafés in the area seem to be thriving.

We head over to 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. We’re having a Turkish coffee and

trying to establish wifi. A gentleman from the next table comes over to help with the password. A few minutes later he returns and says he would like to give us this book he has written. The book is a slim reminiscence of his memories of being a fighter and also a high school student at the time of the 1974 conflict. He would have been a little younger than Fehmi who was a student home from Istanbul and in Gazimağusa at the time and maybe slightly older than Ulus [who it later transpires is a mutual FB friend]. The man’s name  is Süleyman Ergüçlü and he is a retired journalist, formerly Editor in Chief of the Kıbrıs Media Group.

Meet up at the Ledra Palace crossing with Steuart who comes bearing lunch, fish fritter and egg samosas from a Sri Lankan shop in the South. Incredibly good. Accompanied by delicious mango and coconut drinks. 

We take the mountain road returning. Steep and winding with breathtaking views of green fields below and ragged cliffs above as well as sheer drops on one side. Mostly only single lane, but virtually no traffic. Grazing mountain goats regard us with equanimity. They’ve seen people before and are only mildly interested.

 Pine trees scent the air and the sun warms the southern slopes. Then, when we pass the crest, there are white houses and the sea far below us.

And an equally winding road down and home to our village.

Monday, February 20/2023

 Almond trees in blossom, though not as luxuriantly as they will be. This one is across the road from us.

Into Girne with Steuart. We first stayed there in February 2001 and it has changed enormously over the last twenty years. It’s bigger, more modern, more commercial. Probably more successful, but has lost if not innocence some of its unique culture. Haven’t been here for five years and construction has continued at a furious pace as the population has grown rapidly. The really old landmarks remain, of course. A castle that was originally Byzantine (though possibly built on the site of Roman fortifications) but substantially developed by the Lusignans and the Venetians - for centuries a working fortress. We’ve been before, and in any case the port area is significantly disrupted by restoration activity which is intended by summer not only to provide necessary infrastructure upgrading but also to create ambitious tourist and sport facilities which may well bring in much needed revenue but risk destroying the historic charm of the place.

The waterfront restaurants being closed, we head a little east and lunch at an Indian restaurant. In solitary splendour, presumably because this is well before evening, and also it’s only Monday. All of us choose lamb dishes, J and I in part because we rarely see Canadian restaurants where it’s even on the menu. Though in fairness we don’t eat out much in Canada. Very good.

Sunday, February 19/2023

The Pentadaktyl Mountains re the dramatic portion of the Kyrenia Mountains running east west for 160 kilometres near the northern coast of Cyprus. Pentadaktyl meaning five fingered, of course. Beşparmak In Turkish. We are living on the northern slope, one of the coolest locations in Cyprus in summer, though a bit of a mixed blessing in winter when altitude and the shade of the mountains do make it cooler as well. But hard to argue with mountain springs, clean air, and stunning views, both up to the peaks and down to the sea.

Saturday, February 18/2023

 You know you’re in a village when you wake to the sound of a rooster crowing. At about the same time as the muezzin’s first call for prayer, which is before sunrise, when the first light can be seen on the horizon. Today in Lapta that would be 5:16. We do go back to sleep - or fail to wake up. Reminds us, though, of the five months we spent in Gazimağusa in 2020, most of it in the old wall city. We were staying not only in another country and another city but in another era. Something we sort of realised but didn’t completely understand at the time, Famagusta (Gazimağusa) is a world heritage site, a walled city of historic buildings and ruins that attracts tourists and daily coach tours, keeping the shops and restaurants busy. The majority of people who work in the city don’t actually live there and at night it empties. When the border closed in March of 2020 all the businesses closed except for grocery stores and pharmacies and only the few who lived there remained. It became a village. We could hear a rooster in the morning as well as the calls to prayer and in our little corner shop we bought eggs that still had feathers adhering to them. The neighbours brought us home baking and shared food from their barbecue. We gave them the customary donation by those not fasting during Ramadan to provide for the poor, especially at the celebrations of Eid al- Fitr. We felt we belonged to the village. We still treasure it and its people. It will never be a village again, but Cyprus does have enduring villages.

Friday, February 17/2023

 Our exploration of the North continues. It’s a highly varied country - mountains, green fields with grazing sheep, Mediterranean beaches, limestone cliffs. Continuous change from one kind of beauty to another. Steuart takes us to a Maronite village, a unique little enclave. Koruçam is one of four Maronite (Eastern Catholic Rite, originally Lebanese) villages to remain in North Cyprus after the division in 1974, the others being in the northeast Karpaz peninsula. 

It’s charming and well maintained, despite my predilection for photographing semi ruins. The odds are that the house pictured will be restored to its original beauty. Note the sign of orderliness in the form of a house number attached to a house which is roofless and clearly derelict. But it may well be restored and when it is will have its number. There are, somewhat surprisingly considering the population would be under four hundred, two Maronite churches, and we take a peek inside the smaller of the two. Behind this one is a convent, obviously inhabited but no sign of the nuns - well, other than a sign requesting respect for their privacy.

We’ve now been as far west as the island goes. And no, the distances as the crow flies are not enormous, but then most Cypriot roads don’t take much account of flying crows. Especially in the hills they’re winding with plenty of blind corners for excitement, should local driving and overtaking habits prove insufficient. And, especially in the villages, there are quite a number of places where two vehicles meeting involves one reversing, not that this slows anyone down.

Stop for a meal at a seaside restaurant. And they have şeftali sausages, one of my favourites. So Steuart and I order that and J has a lamb casserole baked with cheese. All very good, and a window table overlooking the sea. 

Last stop is to get some honey. It’s local, in a supermarket, but the date it was bottled handwritten on the jar - last week. Thick and dark and beautiful. And outside the store a milk dispenser, the first we’ve seen, for purchasing local milk. One way to fight the proliferation of used containers in an age when it’s no longer possible in any but the greenest of specialty shops to go with your jug and ask to have it filled.

Thursday, February 16/2023

 Slightly reminiscent of Albufeira in Portugal, as we’re living on the slopes of a mountain and anywhere you go involves hill walking - although Albufeira seemed to have rollercoaster hills that meant it felt a fair bit of the walk for groceries was uphill going and coming back. So down to the supermarket to replenish and also just to see what is there - and on the way there. Sesame studded bread baking in the oven, for one thing, so we dally long enough for it to cool sufficiently to be put in paper bags and on the shelf. Shop seems to have a fair wine and liquor collection for a store its size too, although we’re not in need at the moment.

No need to buy fruit. Copious quantities of lemons growing in our garden (at least a dozen trees).  Blood oranges too, which J says he first fell for in Jerusalem many years ago.   As in every country, we avoid expensive imports and eat the local things we love. A list: avocados, artichokes, aubergines. All grow in Cyprus.

Wednesday, February 15/2023

 

So many interesting artefacts in and around this house, as befits a house that has weathered centuries and been home to many generations. Not all centuries old, of course, but nothing new or mass produced either. Like our doorbell.

Or the curtain holdbacks (should be a classier term, probably French, but I don’t know it). Brass, about nine inches high by ten across, and more than up to the job 

Traditional wood beam and woven bamboo ceiling.

Tuesday, February 14/2023

There are more flowers here in spring and summer but they don’t disappear in winter. This beauty is flourishing all by itself at the foot of our steps. As predicted, once J acquired cat food two felines took up residence, outdoors only but minorly put out to find that I lay claim to my chair in the pool of sunlight regardless of which of us gets there first. Though it seems that a flower pot can serve as an alternative to a chair in spite of lacking a soft cushion.

 

Interesting study, the cats. Quite clear that the posturing over the kibble J put out is not simply in order for cat number one to get more - it’s important to cat number one that cat number two gets none. She can’t quite manage the logistics but would like to. On the other hand they’re happy to curl up together on MY chair. Maybe that’s just another version of the shut out.

Monday, February 13/2023

 Steuart has recycling to take to the collection point, which is at the ŞAh supermarket on the far side of Girne, and we happy to go along to experience an upmarket store - specialty cheeses, organic products,  imported spreads, wines and whiskey. Always a pleasure to browse, and we do buy bread, cheese, and whiskey. Oh yes, and cat food. J has a tenderer heart than I. There are a great many cats here and can well imagine dozens of them lined up for breakfast once the word gets out.

Then a side trip to Karmi, lovely village high up on the mountainside. Spectacular views on the way. The sea well below us and above us the Pentadaktylos (literally five finger) Mountains. Crowned by St Hilarion Castle, originally a tenth century Byzantine watch tower, designed to keep a lookout for approaching pirate ships, though there must have been some form of signalling involved. It’s 732 metres above the sea, and watchers on foot would have taken a long time to reach the shore. We have actually been to the castle. The last bit is a climb but you can drive quite a way up to a convenient car park.

Karmi is a charming little village, abandoned by Greek Cypriot residents after the island divided and later occupied and lovingly restored by foreign residents, chiefly British and German. It’s origins go back considerably farther than that, though - archaeologists have found tombs in the area from the Middle Bronze Age.

Not terribly busy on a winter Monday. Quite a lot of the residents aren’t here year round and the village is most attractive in summer when the trees are all in full flower and the mountainside breezes are cooling rather than chill. But it’s far from deserted and the ubiquitous cats are definitely in evidence.

Stop on the way back for a meal at a restaurant that appears to have everything on a pretty ambitious international menu. Originally meant to be lunch but portions enormous. Think we’ve had our tea. 

Sunday, February 12/2023

 Wake to blue seas again and sun. We actually have two little balconies on the sea side, overlooking the village street, as well as a larger deck off the kitchen entryway. A pool of sunshine has formed on the deck and we move our chairs into it. Soon joined by one of the many optimistic cats that inhabit the area, and indeed most of the island.

  Also joined by Steuart, who has come bearing gifts of orange marmalade - made from his blood oranges and not his mandarins this time - local carob syrup, and, having noted J’s sweet tooth, a packet of biscuits. So tea and biscuits and conversation - reminiscences, political analysis, laughter. A lovely afternoon.

Saturday, February 11/2023

Grocery shopping translated into pots of spaghetti sauce and lentil soup. Big fridge after months of bar size, although in point of fact the kitchen is cool enough to serve as a cold room cum pantry of old. Grapefruit season over but lemons, avocados, mandarin oranges, blood oranges flourishing. Cypriots, like Greeks, seem to put lemons in almost everything, and our house comes with its own abundantly laden lemon tree, so can see more lemon curd in the future. 

And in the greater picture the death toll from the earthquakes is now over twenty-five thousand. And no one supposes that is close to the total. Yesterday a ten day old baby and his mother were rescued but temperatures are freezing, a hazard for victims and rescue workers alike. And, while the earthquake could not have been prevented, it was expected. No one could have said precisely when or where, but Turkey has two major fault lines. It’s earthquake territory. Thus after the 1999 quake a special tax was levied in order to prepare - to improve construction standards and rescue equipment. People paid the tax for over twenty years in order to find that the money [about €4.4 billion] has disappeared, and not into improving building construction: 

‘ "The maximum intensity for this earthquake was violent but not necessarily enough to bring well constructed buildings down," says Prof David Alexander, an expert in emergency planning and management at University College London"In most places the level of shaking was less than the maximum, so we can conclude out of the thousands of buildings that collapsed, almost all of them don't stand up to any reasonably expected earthquake construction code." - BBC

Friday, February 10/2023

 Windy. Sea is grey with white caps when we wake up. The house is old, about six hundred years. Lusignan (French) period, predating the Venetian period, which predated the Ottoman period. Fortunate to be married to someone better educated than I and with a better memory as well. Much more to learn. 

 The house is stone and has the sort of stone walls that remind us of my late cousin’s house in Scotland, originally a worker’s cottage with three foot thick stone walls. Floors also stone, mostly tile but with trim of the kind of small Mediterranean stones inset on edge that make lanes on Rhodes destructive of suitcase wheels and ankles.

 Delightful and eclectic mix of old and new - antique furniture, old wood not so readied for the dealer that we’re afraid to use it. Marble surfaces. Our bed the only four poster I’ve ever slept in - though could claim a second if desired as there is another in the second bedroom, complete with lace curtains. But beds always warmer when shared. Lace curtains do show in the photo. What isn’t clear is that the bed is a good metre off the floor, not including the mattress.

Lovely to find ourselves staying in a place where the house is as much pleasure to explore as the village, Lapta, in which it is situated.

And meanwhile in the country the grief continues as bodies of the students have been retrieved and returned to TRNC for burial. The whole country feels the devastation but this is particularly true in Gazimağusa (Famagusta), their home. J quicker than I at spotting the location of this anguished funeral. It is Lala Mustafa Pasha mosque. Have sat under its ancient fig tree many times. A five minute walk in the old city from the place we lived for most of our five month lockdown in TRNC.

Translates roughly as There is no Remedy for this Pain

Thursday, February 9/2023

Wake up in a four poster bed and can see the Mediterranean without lifting our heads from the pillows. Breakfast a delightful what to choose first. Electricity expensive here and subject to occasional power cuts but stove, with four burners and an oven, is gas.

Steuart, no earlier up than we are, comes round to show us the village, all mountainside lanes, traditional houses, and mountain and sea views. And stops to trade cars with Doğan, our landlord, and introduce us. We stop at a local supermarket and fill our cart - no desire to waste the opportunity of available horsepower or the local advice on quality.

Peppers, aubergines, broccoli, potatoes - could have filled the cart entirely with local produce - had there been no need for basics like cheese and wine. Then stop for a now latish meal. Excellent fish and chips and beer, which we eat outside. Bit of a chill in the air but lovely in a sunny, sheltered spot. And afterward there’s a little Russian shop with sausage and smoked meats and frozen perogies. A little earlier and there would have been rye bread. Food authentically Russian but made locally. 

And Doğan round in the evening to fix a recalcitrant internet. We’re no longer incommunicado.

There is, though, a sad counterpoint to this happiness. The country is in mourning. Among the many thousands dead in the Turkish earthquake, a small group from northern Cyprus is held in the hearts of everyone here. Twenty-four students, aged between eleven and fourteen, were attending a volleyball tournament in Turkey along with four of their teachers, ten parents and a trainer. An exciting trip for young students anywhere, especially for Turkish Cypriot kids. TRNC is not recognised internationally and, other than in Turkey, they cannot attend international competitions. They were asleep in their hotel when the earthquake struck and flattened it. A teacher and three parents were pulled out alive but since then only bodies, and not yet all of them. And now there is no hope.