Epistle from Cyprus VII - 29th November 2006

Food again

It is autumn and the season for wild mushrooms. As you might expect the Cypriots take advantage of all of nature’s bounties. Otto’s coffee shop has the doors closed in the evening now and a kerosene heater stands in the middle. One of Otto’s regular customers is the ‘Mushroom Man’ who visits with a large bag of mushrooms he has collected in the hills and fields nearby.

Fortunately for all the customers the kerosene heater also doubles as a stove. You can see the foil package of mushrooms cooking on top of the stove.

A sharp reminder of where I am

It is the end of November and the temperature is 22C (72F). As I sit here in the late afternoon sunshine it is all too easy to forget exactly where I am. For those not aware this island paradise of Cyprus is actually divided between the north and the south. Divided because of religious and sectarian differences. The south is predominantly Greek Orthodox Christian and the north is Muslim. The separation occurred in 1974 with a bloody war and the two sides glower at each other across a UN peacekeeping line. I read a sharp reminder of that separation in the newspapers and TV.

In the capital of Lefkosia (Nicosia) and in other parts of the island there are a number of International schools which have been set up to bring the two communities together. In the Lefkosia International school an incident took place between a 13 year old and a 12 year old were there was a perceived slight on the others religion. Whether the slight was real or imagined I do not think matters much. The next day a group of masked and hooded pupils from surrounding schools broke into the International school. They were aged 16 to 18 and the proceeded to beat up and terrorize a group of kids who did not share their particular faith. Iraq, Lebanon and Gaza are literally not a million miles from here.

God spare me from such 'faiths'.

Preconceptions and Misconceptions

For the rest of this epistle I will look at something close to home. How what you perceive and may have believed for a long time is not always true.

Strange how we/I make an assumption about something and only when it the assumption is put to an acid test does the truth really emerge.

Mandria

I have been told or warned at least in the local coffee bar about a village called Mandria. The bar talk was that this had become an ex-pat ghetto and should be avoided if at all possible. I had no reason not to believe the accepted wisdom which seemed to be common belief.

I was driving back from a tourist location called Petra Tou Romiou (the Birthplace of Aphrodite) when I saw a sign for Mandia and thought I should just drive through and confirm my prejudices. My suspicions began to be confirmed when I saw that there is only one road into Mandria and that is through an underpass that runs under the motorway. I presumed the locals had done this deliberately so that if necessary they could block the underpass and keep the undesirable ex-pats holed up there.

Once through the underpass however it was a different story. The road to the centre of the village was an avenue of whitewashed trees typical of the south of France. The centre of the village was a group of small tavernas and coffee shops. There was none of the high rise building usually associated with new developments. The area itself was a rich agricultural plain with extensive citrus orchards and olive groves. All this and a beach front as well.

Admittedly there is quite a lot of new development going on but it seemed to be in keeping with the village.



There was one exception to this which was a long row of box like houses each with its obligatory satellite dish so that they could face west and worship their Sky god, Rabid Maddog. What is he now? Australian, British, South African, American? I suspect he may be Indian next as that is what will be paying most.

It seemed such a waste of good agricultural land which is at a premium in this country.

Ayia Napa

I have mentioned Ayia Napa in a previous epistle. I had never been there and based all my opinion on the press and TV coverage of young Brits drinking too much and generally misbehaving. Well at long last I had the chance to go and see myself even though it is at the far end of the island from here. Not too far distance wise but on Cypriot roads and my little old car it was a very long way.

The first thing I saw as we approached were some cows in a field. Big deal you may say but I have not seen a cow for months and they are such a common sight in England. They simply do not exist at this end of the island. Weird how you can miss a simple thing like a cow.

Then we drove into Ayia Napa itself. Well it was clean and tidy and altogether a completely different place to the Ayia Napa of my imagination. The people were friendly and surprise surprise it had a municipal museum with some good displays of ancient ships and artifacts. Good value too at just a few pounds.

Most surprising was the lack of Brits. Perhaps they were all in bed with hangovers but the population seemed to be made up of Scandinavians. Swedes, Norwegians and Finns. If you popped around to Sweden to borrow a cup of sugar you and found that it was closed up and no one was home don’t worry. They were all in Ayia Napa.

Caged dogs

Down at the Otto’s coffee bar there was a holidaymaker who must have lost his way. I say that because the village is not exactly on the on the tourist map. He was launching into a vitriolic diatribe against the Cypriots as cruel and heartless because he had seen a dog that was kept in a cage outside someone’s house. I have to admit that I had fallen into the same trap when I arrived here but kept my mouth shut. It was only much later that I learned that only the people who care about their dogs keep them in a cage. The reason is that the farmers in this part use a poison called ‘lanate’ to keep the snake population down. The poison is almost always fatal when ingested by dogs and cats and acts with a matter of hours. Unfortunately it is not unknown for some despicable individuals to deliberately leave scraps of food that have been spiked with ‘lanate’ in public places.

In such an environment caging your pet dog does not seem quite so cruel.

The cemetery view

The road from my place to the shop where I buy the daily newspaper runs by a bungalow that has an ‘alley way like’ entrance. That is the entrance is set back between two typical white walls. In front of the entrance is a table and 4 chairs and there is an elderly man who sits there from morning to night looking out down the alley and over the road, across the valley and away into the distance. He always has a carton of wine in front of him and he could easily pass for a character from Steinbeck’s Tortilla Flat who live from one gallon of red wine to another. In recent days I have met him and spoke to him a few times in our broken English and Greek as he walked up to the kiosk for his next carton of wine.

His name is Alekos and he told me he sits by his door so he can look out at the cemetery across the road where his wife who died last year is interred.

I thought the view across the valley to the cemetery was pretty but he gave it a whole new perspective.

Finally

There are years that melt in the seas of life

Like drops in the ocean of time;

And the joys they bring are as soon forgot

As the words of a careless rhyme.

Thanks to GH for telling me about that poem. G cannot read or write but remembers the poem from his schooldays over 75 years ago.