Epistle from Cyprus II - 29th August 2006
Here is number 2 in a limited series of notes from sunny Cyprus. Unbelievably it is now 4 weeks since I departed the UK. It hardly seems possible and time has flown by. For those who were notpaying attention the first part of my last note was a pack of lies. At least everything except my time of arrival and the temperature. Anyway here a few more observations about my current life.
I have found a marked similarity between Greek grammar and Cypriot wine. For example the definite article in Greek (the word 'the' you moron!) comes in several flavours. Like other European languages it has a masculine, feminine and neuter variety. As I am sure you all know wine also has similar characteristics of red, white and rose.
The similarity does not end there however. The Greek definite article (Pay attention at the back there boy! Yes I am still talking about the word 'the'!) also has three variations for each gender. These are nominative, accusative and genitive. This gives a total of nine variations for the word 'the'.
Similarly with local wine (at least when purchased in the quantities that I am thinking about) comes in sweet, medium and dry for each of the three colours. This also gives nine variations. Now that I have your attention there is more. The Greek definite article (Yes yes yes I am still talking about the word 'the'!) has both singular and plural versions for each of the previous nine. This gives a grand total of 18 possibilities for the word 'the'. I suppose I could continue and say the same is true with the wine but that might be stretching the point.
Ere.. I shay.. pash be adudda o' dose female genitive plurals..
However it does give you some idea of how easy English must seem in comparison and perhaps it accounts for why Anglophones are so bad at learning other languages. Our brains are never exerted when we are learning our native tongue.
I should mention something of the local Flora and Fauna
One day last week I witnessed a David Attenborough moment. A life and death struggle between a wasp and a spider. Being a lifelong Spider-man fan there was no doubting where my sympathies lay but I was on a loser here. A small but terrifying wasp was everywhere and soon immobilized her eight-legged victim. She then proceeded to find a suitable location and drag her prey to a quite hole to lay her eggs and depart. Ah the female of the species.
The bungalow is surrounded by bougainvillea (sp?). Very picturesque and all but do not be fooled. Anyone who is familiar with this will know it is a nightmare. It is covered in thorns at every leaf joint just waiting to impale the unwary. The petals when they fall are almost indestructible. They do not seem to rot into the earth like other biological material but simply blow around for ever clogging up every drain hole and blowing through every doorway. I am thinking of suggesting to NASA that they may want to use these petals as a heat shield on the Space shuttle because as far as I can see they are almost indestructible. I just have to find someway of knitting them together.
A few mornings back we discovered we had been sharing our bed with a monster. There was a spider as big as a dinner plate dead in the bed. I swear it was that big. In the morning closer inspection showed it was actually the size of a 50 pence coin but as many out there will confirm the size of objects in bed is often greatly exaggerated.
One day we were tidying the garden with a little pruning of the bushes and plants. Hilary discovered a cute little green 'grasshopper'. However this 'grasshopper' turned out to be a preying mantis.
Traditional English sports
Some of you may be aware of the traditional 'olde englishe' pastime of cherry stones. The aficionados of the game will know that this involves the eating of cherries and then the firing of the cherry stone between the thumb and forefinger at a target the size of a beer bottle, some 8 to 12 feet away. The game is usually accompanied by copious quantities of English beer. Circumstances have demanded that I have adapted the game to use olives and olive stones instead. I have to say that unlike English beer this is something that travels very well. Mmmmmm. What do you mean you never heard of such a game?
Village life.
The village of Tremithousa is quite unusual in that it changes the spelling of its name according to who you ask and which map you look at. The village itself is situated outside Paphos on the side of a hill. It is a mixture of traditional Cypriot houses in the centre and newer 'villas' around the outside. I can only assume that the locals have made a packet selling off land to the developers. That said it is one of the less developed areas here. We went for a drive to some of the other nearby villages and it could be anywhere in Spain.
The main street of the village runs from the village piazza at the southern point then uphill northwards. The geographic position might seem irrelevant now but wait....
To call it a 'street' is a bit of flattery as at some points it is only the width of 2 people with their arms outstretched. That does not stop the locals from using it as a race track and stunt arena. One of their favourite tricks is to drive their quad bikes up the hill and then tip the bike on to 2 wheels and weave from sideto side of the road .... in the dark .... with no lights. I have to admit I was impressed by that.
The main street has 2 local coffee bars one on each side. These are conveniently positioned so that in the morning you can sit in one and drink Greek coffee and water in the shade and then in the afternoon move to the other side of the road to drink beer and still enjoy the shade. See how the geography of the location is all important and cunningly planned for the all day drinker, idler and ne'er-do-well!!
In my previous epistle I may have seemed a little dismissive of the local attitude to religion. How wrong could I be? The same night I finished that note we visited the local watering hole. The local priest came in and joined us with a few other locals. It was the eve of the big Greek Orthodox celebration of the Assumption of the Virgin. They sat near by and the priest joined the others for a few drinks. By and by someone drove up with some of the local bread which he handed over. From that point I swear it was a miracle. Food seemed to appear from every pocket and every car until the table was covered with a veritable feast.
To rub salt in the priest invited us to join them and the locals were only too glad to share whatever they had with us. This spontaneity seems quite characteristic.
A few evenings later some of the younger village men decided they would have a barbecue. In the main street next to the coffee shop and between the telephone box and wooden telegraph pole. Once again it was quite amazing to see how they produced food from nowhere. Also it was surprising to see such a diverse age range mixing together. The group of about 15-20 guys ranged from 40s to early teens and all seem to be able to mix and chat together. I do not think I have ever seen anything like this in the UK.
By marked contrast we sat with an ex-pat local for a short period were he told us that he had been in Cyprus for 10 years and how much he disliked the Cypriots. He finished his beer and went home to the wife. Apparently his wife does not like him drinking in the pub so he only ever has the one. What a waste of space, oxygen and beer!
Mesogi (mes soy ee) is a village approximately a 20 minute walk away. It is a larger and more populous and popular village especially with the ex-pats and tourists. We decided to eat at one of the taverns there. Once again we struggled to finish the meal and had to admit defeat before the final courses were served. Towards the end of the meal 2 police officers, one armed with a pistol arrived and started to inspect the place including the kitchen. We assumed they were there on some official business. As they approached the room we were in they stopped at table with two local men. The sergeant poured two glasses of beer which I assumed he was giving to the two diners. This shows how rash it is to assume anything here. He then took a large swig from one and proceeded to help himself to the meal. This was not enough. They then decided to put several tables together and had an impromptu feast next to our table. The proprietor served them by now the group had grown to 6 with his finest. One of the guys had brought his own bottle the local version of ouzo. This seems a fairly common practice in the smaller taverns here whereas bringing your own drink into a pub or bar at home would be an invitation for immediate eviction. They insisted that Hilary and I join them for several shots of this firewater. It was not too bad.
They joined us in conversation and when they found out that we were staying in the neighbouring village of Tremithousa thought it great fun to tell the story of the 'Tremithousa brain'. Apparently it is a well documented fact that the average brain in Tremithousa weighs in at 300 grams whereas in Mesogi the average is 400 grams. At least it is well documented in Mesogi. I thought it wiser not to ask if the fact was as well recorded when I got back to my local. As one wag later pointed out perhaps with my brain I should be well at home here in Tremithousa.
Enough for today.
I have found a marked similarity between Greek grammar and Cypriot wine. For example the definite article in Greek (the word 'the' you moron!) comes in several flavours. Like other European languages it has a masculine, feminine and neuter variety. As I am sure you all know wine also has similar characteristics of red, white and rose.
The similarity does not end there however. The Greek definite article (Pay attention at the back there boy! Yes I am still talking about the word 'the'!) also has three variations for each gender. These are nominative, accusative and genitive. This gives a total of nine variations for the word 'the'.
Similarly with local wine (at least when purchased in the quantities that I am thinking about) comes in sweet, medium and dry for each of the three colours. This also gives nine variations. Now that I have your attention there is more. The Greek definite article (Yes yes yes I am still talking about the word 'the'!) has both singular and plural versions for each of the previous nine. This gives a grand total of 18 possibilities for the word 'the'. I suppose I could continue and say the same is true with the wine but that might be stretching the point.
Ere.. I shay.. pash be adudda o' dose female genitive plurals..
However it does give you some idea of how easy English must seem in comparison and perhaps it accounts for why Anglophones are so bad at learning other languages. Our brains are never exerted when we are learning our native tongue.
I should mention something of the local Flora and Fauna
One day last week I witnessed a David Attenborough moment. A life and death struggle between a wasp and a spider. Being a lifelong Spider-man fan there was no doubting where my sympathies lay but I was on a loser here. A small but terrifying wasp was everywhere and soon immobilized her eight-legged victim. She then proceeded to find a suitable location and drag her prey to a quite hole to lay her eggs and depart. Ah the female of the species.
The bungalow is surrounded by bougainvillea (sp?). Very picturesque and all but do not be fooled. Anyone who is familiar with this will know it is a nightmare. It is covered in thorns at every leaf joint just waiting to impale the unwary. The petals when they fall are almost indestructible. They do not seem to rot into the earth like other biological material but simply blow around for ever clogging up every drain hole and blowing through every doorway. I am thinking of suggesting to NASA that they may want to use these petals as a heat shield on the Space shuttle because as far as I can see they are almost indestructible. I just have to find someway of knitting them together.
A few mornings back we discovered we had been sharing our bed with a monster. There was a spider as big as a dinner plate dead in the bed. I swear it was that big. In the morning closer inspection showed it was actually the size of a 50 pence coin but as many out there will confirm the size of objects in bed is often greatly exaggerated.
One day we were tidying the garden with a little pruning of the bushes and plants. Hilary discovered a cute little green 'grasshopper'. However this 'grasshopper' turned out to be a preying mantis.
Traditional English sports
Some of you may be aware of the traditional 'olde englishe' pastime of cherry stones. The aficionados of the game will know that this involves the eating of cherries and then the firing of the cherry stone between the thumb and forefinger at a target the size of a beer bottle, some 8 to 12 feet away. The game is usually accompanied by copious quantities of English beer. Circumstances have demanded that I have adapted the game to use olives and olive stones instead. I have to say that unlike English beer this is something that travels very well. Mmmmmm. What do you mean you never heard of such a game?
Village life.
The village of Tremithousa is quite unusual in that it changes the spelling of its name according to who you ask and which map you look at. The village itself is situated outside Paphos on the side of a hill. It is a mixture of traditional Cypriot houses in the centre and newer 'villas' around the outside. I can only assume that the locals have made a packet selling off land to the developers. That said it is one of the less developed areas here. We went for a drive to some of the other nearby villages and it could be anywhere in Spain.
The main street of the village runs from the village piazza at the southern point then uphill northwards. The geographic position might seem irrelevant now but wait....
To call it a 'street' is a bit of flattery as at some points it is only the width of 2 people with their arms outstretched. That does not stop the locals from using it as a race track and stunt arena. One of their favourite tricks is to drive their quad bikes up the hill and then tip the bike on to 2 wheels and weave from sideto side of the road .... in the dark .... with no lights. I have to admit I was impressed by that.
The main street has 2 local coffee bars one on each side. These are conveniently positioned so that in the morning you can sit in one and drink Greek coffee and water in the shade and then in the afternoon move to the other side of the road to drink beer and still enjoy the shade. See how the geography of the location is all important and cunningly planned for the all day drinker, idler and ne'er-do-well!!
In my previous epistle I may have seemed a little dismissive of the local attitude to religion. How wrong could I be? The same night I finished that note we visited the local watering hole. The local priest came in and joined us with a few other locals. It was the eve of the big Greek Orthodox celebration of the Assumption of the Virgin. They sat near by and the priest joined the others for a few drinks. By and by someone drove up with some of the local bread which he handed over. From that point I swear it was a miracle. Food seemed to appear from every pocket and every car until the table was covered with a veritable feast.
To rub salt in the priest invited us to join them and the locals were only too glad to share whatever they had with us. This spontaneity seems quite characteristic.
A few evenings later some of the younger village men decided they would have a barbecue. In the main street next to the coffee shop and between the telephone box and wooden telegraph pole. Once again it was quite amazing to see how they produced food from nowhere. Also it was surprising to see such a diverse age range mixing together. The group of about 15-20 guys ranged from 40s to early teens and all seem to be able to mix and chat together. I do not think I have ever seen anything like this in the UK.
By marked contrast we sat with an ex-pat local for a short period were he told us that he had been in Cyprus for 10 years and how much he disliked the Cypriots. He finished his beer and went home to the wife. Apparently his wife does not like him drinking in the pub so he only ever has the one. What a waste of space, oxygen and beer!
Mesogi (mes soy ee) is a village approximately a 20 minute walk away. It is a larger and more populous and popular village especially with the ex-pats and tourists. We decided to eat at one of the taverns there. Once again we struggled to finish the meal and had to admit defeat before the final courses were served. Towards the end of the meal 2 police officers, one armed with a pistol arrived and started to inspect the place including the kitchen. We assumed they were there on some official business. As they approached the room we were in they stopped at table with two local men. The sergeant poured two glasses of beer which I assumed he was giving to the two diners. This shows how rash it is to assume anything here. He then took a large swig from one and proceeded to help himself to the meal. This was not enough. They then decided to put several tables together and had an impromptu feast next to our table. The proprietor served them by now the group had grown to 6 with his finest. One of the guys had brought his own bottle the local version of ouzo. This seems a fairly common practice in the smaller taverns here whereas bringing your own drink into a pub or bar at home would be an invitation for immediate eviction. They insisted that Hilary and I join them for several shots of this firewater. It was not too bad.
They joined us in conversation and when they found out that we were staying in the neighbouring village of Tremithousa thought it great fun to tell the story of the 'Tremithousa brain'. Apparently it is a well documented fact that the average brain in Tremithousa weighs in at 300 grams whereas in Mesogi the average is 400 grams. At least it is well documented in Mesogi. I thought it wiser not to ask if the fact was as well recorded when I got back to my local. As one wag later pointed out perhaps with my brain I should be well at home here in Tremithousa.
Enough for today.
posted by /s at 12:12 pm
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