MEDITERRANEAN MEANDERINGS
1st April 2010

It has been like living in the midst of an H. Rider Haggard novel here for the last few weeks - the drumming has been everywhere. Leaving my flat in the evening I would hear the banging of the drums echoing across the wasteground and wonder if Allan Quatermain was lying somewhere close by, worried that the natives were about to thwart him in his quest to find King Solomon’s Mines. However, it turns out that it was just the local schoolchildren practising for Greek National Day (which was last Thursday) and Greek Cypriot National Day which is today. 1st April was the date of the opening campaign to win independence from Great Britain and today is the 55th anniversary of that event. Greek Orthodox Easter also falls at the same time as Easter in the UK this year so today is the start of six days of bank holidays. Not that I really notice, I can never even remember what day of the week it is, but then you all know that I think that time is holographic and not linear anyway, so I could be writing this in a completely other dimension and it might not even be April 2010 – who knows!

Now I never thought that these words would pass my lips, but I think I am really going to miss the winter here. The tourists are starting to arrive, even though it is still relatively quiet. Last week was so beautiful that I decided to go and sit by the pool for a couple of hours with my book and leave doing anything useful until it was dark. I had the whole place to myself and it was lovely and peaceful. I did the same Monday afternoon and a couple of families, comprising mainly it seemed of teenage girls, had arrived. I didn’t last down there for very long. People shouting at each other about suntan lotion is not my idea of relaxation. I am so used to having nearly the whole complex to myself it is going to be very odd sharing the facilities with all these people. Still, nearly Christmas!

I decided to take my book instead to Fig Tree Bay at the edge of Protaras. This is still very quiet at the moment and is a really beautiful place to sit and be, or read, or write, whatever the mood dictates. As the bus wound through Protaras I noticed that McExploitation’s had opened, so I suppose that means that the season is now underway. There is nothing more conducive to ruining a place of beauty than the Golden Arches. A sight that never fails to make the bile rise in my throat as I think of the atrocities that they contribute to everyday. Luckily the main street of Protaras is not really a place of beauty. It looks like those towns you drive through in America where nothing seems permanent or real. In fact you aren’t ever quite sure whether it is just a clapboard film set. When you get behind this facade to the beaches then the view makes up for this, although this does not mean that I will be going out of my way to spend much time there. There are too many other lovely places to go.

Saturday evening saw me at a housewarming party in Aradippou. This is a little village near Larnaca. Sue, not to be confused with the Sue of last week’s urinal incident, has moved into a beautiful house in the village with her friend Louise and Esther the dog. It is a truly stunning house. The upstairs landing is large enough to have a pool table on it. It is somewhat opulent for their taste, especially the gold and silver taps in the bathroom, but they have played this up superbly and kitsched the whole thing up. They cooked us a delicious meal and I met some lovely people. One of these was a Cypriot called Costas. He teaches Greek and he told me that my efforts to use Greek words such as Yassou (for hello and goodbye) and efcharisto (thank you) would just seem bizarre in Cyprus, although they would be appreciated in Greece. Apparently because of the years of British rule, Cypriots when talking to each other, as opposed to tourists, use hello, bye bye and thank you!! No wonder everyone has been looking at me as though I was a complete lunatic. I asked him how I would apologise for my inappropriate behaviour. He wrinkled his brow briefly and said ‘thinking about it, we would just say “Sorry”’! So much for my wanting to learn Greek. Costas’ English was amazing, better than most British people’s. We had a fabulous conversation about how life was nothing more than a series of paradoxes and oxymorons and he didn’t even bat an eyelid. I am looking forward to going back to visit in the daylight so that I can appreciate the location of the house more.

Sunday saw me in Nicosia as usual. We stopped for lunch before driving home and as we were sitting there a parade of cars started going past. They were all beeping their horns. Most of the passengers were hanging out of the windows with beers and fags in their hands – in fact so were some of the drivers! They were all dressed in green football shirts, which had Shamrocks on, so I assumed it was something to do with Ireland, although all the people in the cars seemed to be Cypriot. This parade went on for nearly 5 minutes, which is an awful lot of cars. I spoke to my Sports Correspondent, Mick. (As an aside I have met 4 people here called Mick since I have arrived and they are all fabulous. I am thinking of just calling everyone Mick and Sue, then I have a good chance of getting it right most of the time!) He informed me that it was the supporters of Omonia. They play just outside Nicosia and had just won the title. How any of them made it to the stadium alive I don’t know, but as we drove past the stadium on the way back down the motorway (picture a quiet A-road in the UK not the M25) they were all streaming in the gates. I wonder if they won on Sunday. It would be a shame to have the victory parade before the match then watch them lose the next game.

I took Scruffy out for our customary walk yesterday. This country is so full of life. The lizards that are on the paths move so quickly I am never really sure whether it was a lizard or just a shadow. The insect life is prolific and all those ‘fowsands’ of caterpillars seem to have turned into many and varied butterflies, but my favourites are the dragonflies. They are absolutely huge and shimmer as they fly past. I am struggling with the mosquitoes however. I don’t kill them, because as you know I don’t think you should just kill things because they irritate you – the number of people I would line up and shoot if we could get away with that would be vast! The citronella candles don’t seem to bother them in the least. In fact last night one came and perched on the side of it. I normally catch them in a glass and then liberate them, but I pushed the piece of card underneath too quickly the other day and killed it. It is very unnerving watching your own blood drip down the wall.

There is a point in our walk when we turn a corner and the whole vista of the bay comes into sight. It never ceases to make me stop in admiration. I often tell Scruffy to look at how lucky we are, but she never sees the bigger picture. It is sad that they can only see that which is directly in front of them, although I expect this is true of many humans too. I suppose it goes back to my theme of conscious walking from a few posts ago. As we were walking along the cliff edge I was looking down into the Mediterranean and it was so clear you could see the sea bed from where we were. I know the Med is meant to have a reputation for being dirty because of its lack of tides, but it always seems so remarkably clear and clean around here. I am not sure it is warm enough to brave going into yet, although there were a few brave souls doing just that. Mind you I haven’t shown my knees in public since about 1992, so it is unlikely that I would be doing more than just paddling in such a public place anyway!

Even though it is not that warm yet, averaging in the early to mid 20s at the moment, my freckles are now growing freckles of their own and we all know just how attractive freckles are. This is with diligent use of factor 20, so goodness knows what sort of a mess my skin is going to be in by the end of the summer. In fact I have got freckles in places that I didn’t know were prone to freckles. Considering my statement of the previous paragraph about not showing my knees in public, this is pretty amazing in itself! Whilst typing this I am now pondering on what a strange word ‘freckles’ is. I wonder where it came from. Does anybody know? You are all normally so good at answering my questions.

This week I have also done something that I have not done for years. I bought an album instead of downloading tracks. It is ‘Starting All Over Again’ by Paul Jones and it is absolutely marvellous. I have had it on constantly – yes in the right order (the person at whom that comment is aimed will know what I am talking about there!) There is a fabulous song called ‘Need to Know’ by Ola Onabule, an Anglo-Nigerian blues singer and it contains a very catchy musical phrase, accompanied by the lyric: ‘think on your predicament awhile’, which I have found myself singing all over the place and then doing exactly what it suggests. There is also a wonderful song called ‘Choose or Cop Out’ which Jones wrote himself and which I love. He has a great voice and for any of you who like the blues I really recommend it. He hasn’t released any solo stuff for years, having been involved with The Blues Band for decades, but this is (I am now trying to think of an adjective I haven’t used yet...) BRILLIANT! (Hats off again to the Passion Man there.)

Finally (about time you say and I have noticed that yet another quiet week has led to reams of ramblings) I want to describe the truly sinister Easter rabbits that are on all the roundabouts in the area. They are huge, fibreglass and absolutely terrifying. A friend of mine described them as the sort of thing that would come to life in an episode of Doctor Who and he is so right. If all the Cypriot children are not having nightmares then they are braver than I am. So I hope you have a BRILLIANT Easter and are not attacked by large sinister fibreglass rabbits and I will leave you to ‘think on your predicament awhile’.