MEDITERRANEAN MEANDERINGS
7TH MARCH 2010

Spring is well and truly here. The evenings may still be a little chilly, but the days are getting warmer and warmer. The temperature is averaging in the early 70s most days and despite being a little overcast it is glorious. Last Monday after posting my blog I wandered out to catch the bus into Agia Napa. As the bus wends its way through the resorts you can see work going on in all the places that have been closed up throughout the winter. Everywhere is getting a fresh lick of paint, the wind-tattered awnings are being replaced and the driftwood that has been blown in from the sea is being swept away. It is only a matter of weeks now before everything is open. Indeed the bus is already starting to get crowded – I had to sit on the non-seaward side of the bus the other day, don’t these people know this is my bus!

I took myself and my notebook to a different place in the Harbour on this occasion. It was the first week it had been open since last summer. The tables overlook the ‘Black Pearl’, although there was no sign of Johnny Depp anywhere, which is always a shame. I spent most of my time looking down into the translucent waters beneath my table watching the crabs sidling across the harbour floor. They were quite large crabs, but still managed to hide behind the rocks waiting for the bottom-feeding fish to pass by so that they could spring out at them. The water was plashing gently against these rocks and the sun was making patterns on the water that at first looked like an opaque bathroom window, but that later I could only equate with the black hole that we are seemingly drawn into at the beginning of episodes of Dr. Who (or at least we were the last time I watched them, I have no idea how the new series begins). The dappled sunlight was moving in concentric circles like an optical illusion and if I hadn’t looked away every so often I am sure I would have been ensnared into its centre. From my chair I was looking directly out through the harbour walls and could see right across the bay to the waves breaking against the base of Cape Grecko.

One of the things I noticed while sitting there and watching the world go by was that there were a number of single travellers around, which is good to see. Although what was interesting was that out of all of those I heard speak, either in greeting, or who came in to order refreshments themselves, none of the single people were British. It did make me wonder about what it is in our culture that makes us fear being alone so much. What is it that we are afraid of – being called a ‘Billy No Mates’? Can no one do anything alone in Britain, what a nation of wimpish sheep we are!

Whilst sitting there thoroughly enjoying myself I experienced something that has followed me around since early childhood. It merely lasts a split second, but the effect can only be described as discombobulating! I find myself outside of my body looking at me objectively as though I was just anyone sitting there and I find it very difficult to believe that the mass of neurons, tissue and flesh that is in front of me can possibly be me. When I am back inside myself again I am always very confused as to how I got there and this time I looked around me and I suddenly thought – ‘shit I’m living in Cyprus, how did that happen?’ This strange feeling is very hard to shake off for hours, although the sensation itself can only possibly last a second at the most. It is very useful, however, for taking an objective look at yourself and your life and picking up loose threads. The rest of the day was spent with me feeling not part of the world and not separate either, it is an extremely difficult thing to explain to those of you who have not experienced it, but I know that those of you reading this who have will immediately know exactly what I am describing.

On a less airy-fairy note you will all be pleased to hear that my extractor fan is now fixed. I am sure you have all been lying awake at night worrying about that, but a lovely man called Charlie came to sort me out on Tuesday – although that was nothing to do with the fan! Bless his heart, he was talking me through all the various things that had gone wrong with my fan and how he was going to fix it; and I kept trying to tell him that he might as well be speaking Sudanese to me, that I had complete confidence in his skills as an electrician, but that I had no idea one way or the other whether what he was doing was right. All I know is that it wasn’t working before and it is working now – so that’s just brilliant!

My frogs are still chirruping away from dusk until dawn. I do love them, although I realise that I am living with the uneasy fear that Paul McCartney is about to pop up in a Rupert scarf and start singing along with them. I am comforting myself with the notion that the universe would not be that cruel to me!

Scruffy came to stay with me for a couple of nights this week. I love that dog very much but it highlighted a lot of my issues with freedom, both hers and mine. I realised that I could not have a dog all the time, although it is a pleasure to borrow her every so often! I feel awful that Scruffy is not free, even though I know that it would be far more dangerous for her if she were. I hate having to keep her on a lead and it distresses me that she can only come and go when I say she can. That, to me, is not a life. Having had a cat for the past decade it is a startling contrast to me how dependant dogs are on us. My cat had the freedom to be with me or not, as she liked. She did not follow me around demanding attention, she came to me when she wanted and only when she wanted. It is far easier to be loved by someone, or something, that has its own independence than it is to be adored by someone or something as this so quickly becomes stifling. I know that this is my issue with freedom, and how vital it is to me, and would probably not occur to the majority of dog owners, but I cannot live with the thought of going out and leaving a sentient being confined and so I become confined myself. There is also the thought hanging over my head that I cannot move on should I get a permanent pet again. The guilt has not left me yet from abandoning Parkin, even though she is living in luxury at my mum’s where she is well looked after and loved. How can we tell how long we will stay in a place, as I have said before I may only be here a year, I may be here the rest of my life, but I can’t bear being constrained. I also feel no pleasure from love which seems obligatory, only that which is given freely. So, I will continue to borrow Scruffy and make a fuss of her once a week, as I will not allow myself the comfort of a pet in the short term only to abandon it again in the future at my own whim – that would be purely selfish. We did have a lovely time while she was here though, although she did have a jolly good bark at the frogs when they wouldn’t shut up!

Something else that was highlighted to me while Scruffy was here, that I had noted subconsciously, but that I hadn’t taken out and looked at, was that all the cats have gone since Green Monday. I had been told that often the cats were poisoned at this time so that they do not ‘disturb’ the picnics the Cypriots have on this day. I think I didn’t want this to be true so I did not look at it, but I hadn’t realised how quiet Scruffy had been until one cat that had somehow survived wandered under the balcony and I realised it was the first wild cat I had seen in weeks. I do not think it was the farmer who poisoned them as he fed them along with the other animals on the farm and why would he have bothered if he was only going to kill them? But whoever it was they are gone.

On a lighter note some friends took me out for fish and chips at the army base at Dhekelia on Friday night. I had been told of the legendary quality of these fish and chips within the first few days of my time here, but I had not yet been able to sample them myself. As we pulled up we could hear the waves crashing against the beach and although it was dark, we could see them lit up by the light coming from the restaurant windows. It was very busy in there and there were an equal number of Cypriot families with British ones. The fish and chips were actually cooked by Cypriots and I have to say that for once the legend did not lie. The portions were huge and so unfortunately I could not finish it, although it seemed criminal to leave my haddock and chips. The chips weren’t too soggy and weren’t too crispy and the batter was light and delicious. The restaurant was not fancy, just rows of tables and chairs with plastic covers, like any chippy in the UK, but with the waves crashing in the background, who needs the veneer of finery. I am not a big fish and chip fan, they are normally too greasy for me, but I did enjoy these ones immensely.

So, once again I realise that I have wittered on and on and you have probably all gone out for chips yourself by this time, but if you are still reading, have a fabulous week and I leave you with the words of Anne Morrow Lindbergh ‘Him that I love, I wish to be free -- even from me.’