Cyprus Delight

I went to sleep on Sunday night dreaming of breakfast  - which I missed as I slept in on Monday morning. There is irony for you.

After a good shower and some cheese from our fridge supply, we drove up to Ktima Paphos (the old town perched on the hill) in search of the two museums we knew to be open on Monday. Having struggled to find a free spot, I parked in a cactus and we proceeded to the Byzantine Museum via the municipal gardens. Opposite was a shop called "Thesis". They were having a sale. No comment. We left our staff in a locker in the main entrance and the proprietor showed us the oldest icon – 1300 years old. "10 years younger than me," he said. The icons were beautiful – all painted directly onto the wood and using texture as well as colour, with intricate patterns carved into the halos. I was eavesdropping on some German women who seemed to know their stuff and were discussing each icon as they walked around. I think the gist of what they were saying is that the style remained remarkably consistent throughout the centuries of Venetian rule. The lost some of their credibility, however, when one of them described the Madonna and child collection as “ein Babyfest” – I know Christoph assures me there is no such word in German, but (a) that never stopped a German before and (b) I know what I heard. There was a room of vestments and Bethhad guessed correctly that my favourite would be the purple one, with gold embroidery. She picked out a crown to match, and it's sweet that she thinks they'll make me a bishop by the end of the fortnight. 

Andreas, the proprietor, showed us the icons that he made himself and showed me my name saint, Katerina. "This is you, see, with the crown." They clearly appreciate me here. He told us how he started sculpting icons to make ends meet when it was illegal to have more than one job in Cyprus – so he didn't get caught be changed a letter of his name on the packaging. Then when I bought icons he insisted I have a free postcard of his church at Geroskipou, and said we must visit there. He also plied us with Cyprus Delight (think Turkish delight only definitely not Turkish) – "one for the road?"

We retraced our steps to the Ethnographical Museum, housed in a large still occupied home. Opposite Beth spied a vestment tailoring shop and went in to ogle fabrics. The lower level of the museum was laid out as a traditional Cypriot dwelling – a classic hot country rooms-off-courtyard set up.

They have quite the collection of farm implements and workshop items that show how labour-intensive ordinary life was until very recently.

This ingenious contraption is a hand-powered olive press, with the initial crushing done by the big rock bit and the oil finally collected using the wooden machine to the rear.

 This is a chapel in a cave off the courtyard.

Returning to the car we we left in the large cactus, we climbed in (only slightly perforated) and followed the war in the streets over to the bazaar end of town, where we parked by the mosque in the Mouflattos area. A cafe on the corner offered a "mosque special" takeaway coffee.

The market was eerily deserted, except for the German ladies from the Byzantine Museum. The random cluster of postcard and magnet stands sent me on a payment odyssey to three stalls - which is how I found out that they were closing for a siesta. We had our own siesta at a cafe, outdoors overlooking Kato Paphos and the sea.

We enjoyed mixed kebabs in a leisurely manner then returned to the hotel to lounge in the common area. Beth got online and we watched the Big Bang Theory. I wrote up my journal! We ate from our fridge supply watching New Tricks. I ended the evening drifting off in the lobby as Beth asked, "Kathleen, are you being mesmerised by the lamp?"

Yes, Beth. Yes, I was.

Sunbeams and Rainbows

Proving that weather follows me, there was a huge thunderstorm overnight and into the afternoon on our first full day on Cyprus. It rained intermittently all day, but it was punctuated by periods of bright sunshine against a dramatic grey sky and the wind sent great waves rolling in.

The breakfast buffet was promising, not lease the vat of mushrooms and onions that appeared every morning thereafter and seemed bottomless.

In the absence of sun, we spent some time after breakfast combining our thoughts on St Mary’s social events for semester two (Beth’s big project) and found our way to the pool. The only family in the restaurant with us by the time we left included a five year old boy who worked his way along the buffet table, threatening various cereals, until his tirade culminated with, “I’m gonna rearrange your face, punk!”

I went out for a drive in the afternoon to explore and look for a supermarket (almost all closed on Sundays, as it turned out). I drove out of Pafos and along the coast to Coral Bay where the waves were crashing in.

Looking for a supermarket, concentrating on the speed limit in Km, being aware of other cars and trying not to get lost all at once was a bit challenging, so I ended up getting list in Coral Bay. After a few more failed attempts at the supermarket search I have up, returned to Kato Pafos and happened upon a large and convenient supermarket, lights on and everything, but then watched several couples walk right up to the automatic doors and realise it was closed. I parked back at the hotel and decided to check out the tiny-looking “kiosk” on the corner by the hotel – lo and behold, it had a larger back section and I was able to pick up some supplies before returning to the hotel, forgetting to check on the way back if Beth had gone out and left the key at reception. Oops.

Beth returned just as I finished my very late lunch, and we decided to go for a drive – when my friend Alexis texted from a few miles down the road to say she was passing with her friend Becca and could pop in. We suggested we all went for a drive along the coast, and set off into Ktima Pafos, where Alexis and Becca showed us how to get to the market and a great viewing point. We ended up at Agios Georgios at the end of the peninsula after following a spectacular double rainbow against the slate grey clouds.

The clouds were beginning to dissipate over the Mediterranean and we were in time to watch the sunset while huge waves crashed against the harbour wall and the wind blew water uphill over the cliffs.

I stayed outside to take photos after everyone else sensibly got back I the car and out of the rain. Wimps!

We dropped the girls off at their 80s-themed, pink-velveted hotel. We then headed down towards the harbour to tour the newer part of town – new if you don’t count the Roman mosaics and biblical ruins, I suppose – and stopped for a stroll. The frozen yoghurt was in no way a contributing factor in this decision. But it was sugar-free and they mixed in real fruit to order! I had delicious black cherry and cemented my slow-eater reputation by having barely skimmed the top by the time Beth had finished – and she didn’t have much of a head start.

We grabbed ourselves food (or an approximation thereof) at McDonalds which was, to be fair, one of our only two takeaway options given the Sunday night closures, the other being KFC. They have something intriguing called the “Big Greek”, but I claimed some chicken nuggets as we went home to watch Hairspray.

Later that evening, we set about rearranging the furniture in our hotel room into a more pleasing and ergonomic configuration. We moved the beds to opposite corners of the room to create more floor space – finding, in the process, not just dust bunnies but whatever it is that eats dust bunnies. We hoped for mopping on Monday.

Eastern Journey

Back in April last year I thought about the prospect of another harsh winter on the windswept coast, and decided to formulate a plan to cope with it. I spent a few days mulling over my options, and abandoned all pretense that it would be bearable when Beth suggested escaping for sunnier climes. Thinking of the warmest places in Europe and with a mind to the entertainment of two biblical studies researchers, we settled on Cyprus, which Beth (for unknown reasons) conflated with Sicily for a few weeks... So by the first of May we had a flight to Pafos booked and had selected the most insane-looking hotel I could find. Thus, we found ourselves at last hurtling towards Edinburgh Airport on a dreich January morning.

Just made luggage weight limit – 19.6 Kg! I was remembered by the mobility assistants though disconcerted by PA announcement describing me as a “Major Romeo” (Beth’s suggestion “Mobility Requirement”)

Got fasttracked through security again and taken up to aircraft in lift. Snow forecast. It was very windy and they took their time letting us on board, so we sat there swaying gently in the breeze and hoping the lift was solid. On board we found a free row and the flight was fairly painless, with our four hours taking us over Germany, via Prague, Sofia and Izmir to Pafos at sunset.

After a quick trip through the tiny airport we found the bus for the car hire place. An equally rapid stop there had us on the road and speeding towards our hotel (by way of a diversion that was to become very familiar over our fortnight on the island). We found the hotel without a problem, despite my repeated attempts to indicate with my wipers; the Nissan Tiida had the controls on the opposite side to my car. I almost mastered the foot brake.

The hotel was a beautiful monstrosity – we agreed that when we stop finding the décor entertaining it will be a very bad sign. Roman title, Greek frescoes, Egyptian papyri, Swiss chalet doors – and walls all frescoes, mirrors or furry leopard print. Coooooool.

We decided to eat at the buffet in the restaurant before unloading the car. After unpacking we watched some of our DVDs… Start as you mean to go on, I suppose. Let the relaxation commence!