Righto, not a great start to a day that has just turned into the ‘Day of Hell’.
After getting to bed at near on 0330hrs in the morning, the 0745 start was not at all welcome. It would have been better if not for the excessive overnight heat, the chickens at the end of the road shouting at the full moon and the dog barking loudly for what seemed to be no real reason at all. (I slept as well as normally. That is to say, ok. But very hotly.)
I got up, tidied up and thanks to Sean, downed two hot steaming cups of black coffee. This set me up for the morning at least. (Cos I’m lovely, and feel compelled to offer drinks around whenever I have tea. This results in people being offered lots of drinks.)
We hung around at the house until about 10am and then departed in search of breakfast. This was inevitably going to be at fortnights the pub of choice, The Kings Road.
We loaded the cars and left for the pub. When we got there we all sat and ordered. We all had cooked breakfasts except for Laura, who deciding (in her still pissed from the night before state) that a Pepperoni Pizza would be a good plan. We did realise soon after that this would be the first bad idea in a serious of what turned out to be near fatal mistakes for Laura P.
We all tucked into our grub, wharfing down the lush tasty pieces of bacon, sausages and round after round of toast.
Laura began to eat her first slice of pizza…. Over to you Sean….
(The first slice was scarfed down in double-quick time. ‘Mmm,’ said Laura, ‘What a nummy, tasty treat this is! What a delectable specimen of pizza-kind. Nyom nyom nyom.’ With the first slice practically inhaled, Laura then set about her second, while the rest of us looked on amazed, scarcely having tackled our baked beans yet. ‘My word! This slice is just as perfect as the last, if not better!’ she exclaimed, ‘The pepperoni is divine, the cheesy goodness just remarkable, and the…well, hold on just one minute! What on Earth is this?’ At that, she held aloft a tiny sliver of glass. ‘Why,’ she proclaimed, ‘This is glass! I knew I crunched on something just a moment ago, and now I know what it was!’ She then proceeded to turn white as a sheet, imagining the slice and dice job that the innocent silica compound could be doing to her innards at that precise moment. All yours again, Mr Sweeney…)
Thanks Sean, elegantly put there, very Famous Five!
(Thanks. Our breakfasts were pretty good though. I’m a fan of the full English, and the foreign pig-dogs did it fairly well. Andy enjoyed it so much he was going to have two, but we convinced him to hold off a bit, lest he come across as a fat git.)
After having that knocked off the bill and a round of drinks later, Rich and Laura went off for a small constitutional to the Tombs of the Kings.
We sat around in the shade as we knew what was good for us. Time passed and we became evermore sleepy as mid-day came and went. After what seemed like hours of watching VH1 ‘Then and now’, Rich and Laura returned, with ice cream! Laura looked a little pink (probably from the sun rather than the piece of glass firmly wedged in her oesophagus).
We decided that we would move on from the Kings Road as, as they had officially declared war on one of our party, we had to stop Rich from sparking off another International Incident.
We drove through Pafos and out towards the airport to a lovely Taverna that Rich had seen when taking Donna back and we had visited on our last day a couple of years ago.
We found a nice spot on the front near to the road and ordered some beverages. This was Laura’s second near fatal mistake of the day…. Sean, back to you…..
(Plumb’s prandial predicament persisted ‘pon perusing the remnants of her pressed pulp. So let us hie us back to the beginning of the scene, and see what led our heroine to her distressing discovery…
We’d arrived at the Taverna and taken our seats. The waitress was swift to arrive and take our drinks orders, followed just as swiftly by our food orders (All delivered and received, I might add, in near flawless Greek. We really do rock that muchly.) Our drinks arrived soon after, soft drinks and waters, mainly, with a couple of freshly squeezed orange juices, and a beer for (take a guess…) Richard. We sat amiably chatting, as is our wont, eating the toasted bread provided, and partaking of our chilled beverages. When the food arrived, we were all mightily impressed – everything looked superb, and tasted just as good. Laura managed to steal a massive amount of my Carbonara, because she’s a bad ‘un, but given what was about to come, I can forgive that now.
After our hungers had all been sated, we settled back to enjoy the remains of our drinks. Just then, a cry went up to my right: ‘What is that? Ugh! Maggots in my drink!’ We looked at Laura’s drink, and sure enough, the bottom of her glass was a writhing mass of tiny larvae. Laura immediately went a remarkable shade of puce, clasping her hand to her mouth and trying not to reintroduce any of the friendly little critters that may have escaped the glass’ watery clutches back to the receptacle, while Andy went to inform the proprietor. Richard then realised that, in his haste to drink his juice and move onto his beer, he had not paid any attention to the thicker, less juicy part of his drink, believing them only to be pith. Imagine his surprise, then, when a cursory inspection of his glass revealed yet more of our wriggly little friends.
By this stage, Laura had tears in her eyes, and was trying hard (although not quite hard enough) not to imagine what she had swallowed. Our advice, that they were good protein, not at all dangerous to swallow, and that they would only eat dead flesh anyway, fell on less than happy ears, and she continued to have to try hard to control her gag reflex. Andy returned with the owner, who apologised profusely for the problem, and brought us out free desserts and water in an attempt to make up for the trauma caused – which went down fine with us, although I think Laura was probably less appeased. She was a bit happier, though, when the bill came, and she realised that none of her drinks were on it, meaning that, for the entire day, she’s only had to pay for one thing. Result.)
Thanks Sean. So, two culinary near death experiences in less than two hours, the question is, “What is in store for Laura next!”
2216hrs: Here is a first for me, I’m blogging on a plane.
On arrival at Pafos International Airport we dropped the car off near to the front of the airport and checked in. It was something like 11 Euros to upgrade to ‘Speedy Boarding’ so we did that with the view that I would get on board, get a legroom seat and reserve some for Spanna and Goldy.
We waited in the airport for about an hour. Goldy and Myself managed to wangle some free broadband Wi-Fi so I checked the 50 emails I had waiting for me and had a sneaky look at the Facebook.
Our flight was soon called and I got through the gate. I looked back to see a complete maelstrom of writhing bodies as the ‘A’ and ‘B’ passengers crammed themselves into the gate not letting the disabled adults and parents with young kids (special assistance) anywhere near. Sleazyjet need to do something to sort this out. Its not as if it makes the whole thing any quicker, it just promotes Spanna rage. I caught her eye as she was sitting with Goldy through the plastic screen that separated the “EasyJet Elite” from the rest of the plebs. She was not happy, I made a mental note to book us both as Speedy Boarding every time we fly.
I was soon on board our Airbus A321 plane. I had a nice chat with the hostess regarding her current state of employ with GB Airways and her possible moves to either EasyJet or BA. She was not happy with the whole situation and is under the impression that the current staff are being made ‘uncomfortable’ so that they either take the pay cut to work for EasyJet or go somewhere else. It is a sad business to be sure but I suppose that is just the way of things, Shit happens and it rolls down hill.
I reserved seats for G and Anna and they came aboard a few moments later and we set off on our return trip home.
I have learned a number of lessons from this holiday.
1. The human race will die out from either stupidity or laziness (i.e. forgetting or not being bothered about eating).
2. I am a terrible passenger in a car, I cry like a girl if I am not in control.
3. The dishwashing fairy is a hard one to catch on film, it remains outstanding to this day.
4. Strain your freshly pressed fruit juice.
5. Don’t let Richard Bennett anywhere near to any tense diplomatic situation.
Epilogue
Despite our last day being almightily awful for Laura and the transit through the airport being somewhat tense and annoying, the flight went well and touched down on time. Sadly we were not in for a repeat of the speedy exit we managed through baggage collection in Pafos, as we spent a good 20 minutes for the belt for our flight to be announced and this was after having walked the mile or so from the gate to the arrivals hall. Thankfully, once it got going, we were out and on our way back to the car without much delay. The drive home was tiring and involved only one scary drop in concentration from Andy where we veered slightly onto the rumblestrips. It seems as well that the conversion back to a manual car with the indicator and windscreen wiper sticks the right way round again caused a little confusion at times!
When we finally got home, I remembered to check my phone and had a text from Sean to say that they’d had the fire engines and police following them upon landing in Manchester as their plane’s braking system had failed. I can let him explain this fully I’m sure, but no doubt it helped cement the day as one of the worst of Laura Plumb’s life.
Goldy and the Sweeney’s left the tavern about a half hour before us, as their flight was earlier, although we fully expected to see them again through passport control. Our journey to the airport was uneventful, and, as we arrived and parked up, I was surprised to find that we were just leaving our hire car in the car park, without a pay and display ticket or anything of the like. Apparently this is standard procedure, although, of course, I wouldn’t know that. As we bade farewell to our trusty motorised steed and started the short walk to the airport, I could feel the weight of real life coming back onto my shoulders. Bills, jobs, all the baggage of modern life would be picked up at the carousel in Manchester, but they were already starting to settle on me with just the knowledge that I was soon to be leaving my island idyll behind me.
We settled in a cafe (well, tiny snack bar type thing) outside the airport. Richard discovered that by walking just inside the building, he saved about a quid on a drink, then brought it back outside. We discussed the holiday, and what each of our favourite parts were. Laura and Rich came up with one moment, before I reeled off a list of about fifty things. Eventually, it was time for us to join the throng of people at the check-in desk, and wait for our bags to begin the perilous journey to the undercarriage of the aircraft. After a hefty wait, which wasn’t without it’s complaints (from Richard, mostly), Laura’s bag was passed straight through, while Rich’s and mine were subjected to extra scanning and things. We obviously look dodgy as sin. There were no problems getting through though, and we made our way to the departure lounge.
We made a swift move to the gates, where Goldy and Spanna were waiting to be called for boarding. Andy, due to his ‘special needs’ (‘Oh, I’m so tall, let me on first, I’m technically disabled you know...’) had already gone through, but we were able to say our goodbyes to the other two, before going back through to the food and shopping bits. Laura had promised to buy me a present, because I had no souvenir for myself from the holiday, despite having plenty for other people, and we then went to get ourselves a pre-flight snack. One of the biggest slices of pizza in the world later, and we were ready for the off.
The flight was called much earlier than we expected, and we hurried to the gate, only to end up stood there, with a mass of tired holidaymakers, for about half an hour, before eventually being called for boarding. Honestly, Andy was right about EasyJet’s procedures – they really need to get their boarding organised, as it was just a mess. There were all kinds of people complaining that they should have been in a different boarding group, and the lady at the desk, helpful as she was trying to be, seemed to be at the end of her tether. In the end, though, we made it to the bus, and then onto the plane.
Where, for some unknown reason, the couple who had already got the seats by the wing, with the massive legroom, decided to give them up, allowing us to take them, and be able to stretch out for the duration of the flight. This pleased Richard greatly, and he and Laura were able to sleep pretty much straight away. I attempted to watch the film (Mr and Mrs Smith, a great improvement on the tosh served up on the way out), but even I eventually succumbed, and got an hour’s shut-eye. I awoke in time to see us begin our descent while over London. Take off and landing have always been my favourite part of any flight, and I was looking forward to this one. Before long, we were over Manchester, and coming in for landing, when suddenly, I felt the plan angle upwards again, and accelerate noticeably. I thought this was a tad unusual, although assumed that maybe we were having to circle a bit due to congestion or something, until, that is, the pilot came over the intercom to inform us that one of the braking systems had failed. Cue massive eyes from Laura. He went on to let us know that they had a back-up system which they were just checking, and we would be landing shortly. What? You’re checking the back-up systems in flight? I honestly thought all that would have been sorted out before flights began, just in case, but there you go – that’s budget airlines for you.
Well, apparently they were up to scratch, as we once again began our descent into Manchester, and finally touched down with a convoy of fire engines and police attending. We were then held on the plane until they’d ascertained that there were no problems, and the plane wasn’t going to explode, or something (although if it was, I’d rather have been off it and far away when it did), before finally being allowed back onto British soil. As we approached the terminal building, I switched on my phone, and was greeted with a text from a friend of mine rejoicing over the fact that Manchester United had won the Champions League. Oh, brilliant. Thanks for that, mate.
Laura’s dad was waiting for us as we left the baggage reclaim, and we made our way out to the car, and the final leg of our journey home. I quickly fell asleep (there’s me and car-napping again!), and woke up as we arrived at my flat, where Richard and I were disgorged from the vehicle. After a quick goodbye to Laura, and thanks to her dad for staying up late to help us out again, we fell into the flat, and dumped our bags. I made a cup of tea (which would go undrunk), and flopped onto the bed, exhausted. It was 2am BST, 4am to my weary body clock, and I allowed sleep to quickly envelop me, with no thoughts for the worries I would have in the morning, but just happy memories of the fortnight I’d had dancing through my mind.
Some more thoughts, in bullet point form:
· I can’t think of many better people I could have gone away with. There was space for both mental going out-ness, and lovely staying in-ness.
· I can survive in the sun without all my skin melting off, so long as I’m careful.
· I think Greek looks prettier than English. And is probably a damn sight easier to learn.
· The rules of shotgun are immutable. Always look out for reloads.
· Fish are friends. And food.
Wednesday, 21 May 2008
Cyprus - Wednesday 21st May 2008
Tuesday, 20 May 2008
Cyprus - Tuesday 20th May 2008
Well today was great. I got up just before noon, so I obviously needed the sleep.
Upon waking, something felt very odd indeed. It felt as though I had been run over by a train. My shoulders and chest ached and I felt really hot. It was when I looked in the mirror that I saw the whole of my situation. My knees and shoulders were bright red with sunburn and I have a number of mosquito bites on my back and shoulders. I headed straight into the bathroom and applied copious amounts of after-sun lotion. (I also had a spot of sunburn, in weird patterns on my arms. However, as I’m not a giant pussy, I didn’t bitch about it. I just got on with it, layered on the sun cream, and went about my day.)
Sean and Laura were already up and had been to the shop. (No, I had been to the shop. Laura had sat around, and had even offered to drive me the five minute walk, lazy as she is, and assumes everyone else to be. I opted for the more refreshing stroll. It was lovely. I bought eggs, bread and presents for people. I have all kinds of presents for people, and no presents at all for myself. That is lame.)
I decided to have a day in and away from the sun. Photos and Command and Conquer, ace!
Sean, over to you!
(While Andy girled out at the villa, we headed off on adventures. First up, we went to the Prehistoric Village, just past Stavros’ restaurant. Now, on the interest scale, this didn’t rank highly. It was basically just a reconstruction of a settlement they had found there that date back to circa 3,500BC, with, unfortunately, very little information to tell you what was going on. There was a board detailing some of the finds that had been made there, most of which were highly important, and had, therefore, been moved to the Museum of Cyprus in Nicosia. These included statues such as the Lempa Lady, a representation of a fertility Goddess, which is thought to have been a possible inspiration for the Goddess Aphrodite, so that was interesting. Unfortunately, some of the others found it, shall we say, dull, and we shifted out pretty sharpish.
The next stop on our Andy-less odyssey was Pafos Bird and Animal Park. Now, this was by far the most expensive thing we have done so far on the holiday, at a whopping €15.50 each, and we were sorely tempted to turn around and walk away. However, we decided to go ahead (mainly because Anna had already asked for six tickets), and entered the park.
My first impression was that it was bigger than I had expected. It seemed strange that something that size could be so well hidden away, but so it was. We followed the directions given by the surly ticket collector, and headed down our first path. It led, as most paths did, to some bird cages. There were a hell of a lot of birds in the place, and most of them were pretty much of a muchness, but the first section did contain some cool ones – buzzards and eagles (and bears, oh my!) Anna found a massive feather which one of the birds had dropped, which she stole. The buzzards were flying around like mentals, but they had fairly big enclosures, so that was ok.
While we moved on to the petting zoo section (rabbits and goats, essentially), Goldy went to the kiosk for a cool, refreshing drink. I think he was unaware at the time that right next to the kiosk was a cage containing a 4 metre long albino python. When he did find out, however, we rushed over to look. The young lady manning the kiosk was more than happy to get it out for us to touch, which was cool. Snakes aren’t at all slimy, and the feel of the muscles underneath the scaly skin was awesome. After playing with it for a while, Rich, Donna, Anna and I had our picture taken with it (Goldy and Laura kept well away), before it was put back in its cage. Goldy was mighty brave to stand so close to the thing, and didn’t really freak out at all (except when we asked how fast it could move, and after being told, ‘Quite fast,’ it was put on the floor about ten feet from him. He scarpered a bit then.
We carried on meandering around the park, taking in horses, deer, gazelle, and all manner of exotic birds. Laura kept trying to get a peacock to open up to her, but as she didn’t seem to turn the birds on, it didn’t really happen. We also saw a mouflon, which is a type of sheep indigenous to Cyprus, and found nowhere else on earth. They’re extremely rare, with only around 2000 in the world, so I wasn’t allowed to eat it, more’s the pity. By this time, it was almost the hour of the parrot show, so we headed in the direction of the show hall. Right next to it was the best animal of the day – a red squirrel. Absolutely brilliant. It seemed strange to us, but then I do suppose that we keep lots of little lizards in British zoos, which are abundant here. Anyway, he didn’t look to have any fun things in his little cage, so Anna and I gave him a bit of grass to play with. He had an absolute ball with that thing.
We got into the parrot theatre and waited for the show to start, as 5 parrots were placed on perches at the back of the room. The show began with the raising of the flag (by a parrot), and comprised of all manner of exciting and funny tricks, including roller skating parrots, bike riding parrots, car driving parrots, parrots in pushchairs, parrots that could count, parrots that saved their money in a piggy bank, and, as they say, much, much more. The snake lady (for she was also running the show) asked if anyone wanted to have one of the birds fly to them, and, being the noble gentleman that I am, I let Laura do it instead of me. I would have liked to have touched a parrot.
Anyway, after the parrots, some owls were brought in. They didn’t do any tricks though, beyond flying backwards and forwards (and eating dead baby chicken heads and feet), although one of them did twist its head right round, which was cool. Anna and I had our photo taken with one, and stroked it. It was very soft, and tried to fly into Laura’s face.
After the parrot show, we wandered back into the park, seeing yet more wondrous animals – zebras, giraffes, giant tortoises, camels and emus amongst them. The ostrich pen had two newly laid eggs within it, and the ostriches were making a good job of keeping us away from them (wire notwithstanding) with an aggressive display on the edge of their territory. Ostrich eggs are massive. Then again, so are ostriches. I always forget just how big they are – essentially, 6 foot plus chickens, with bad tempers. After Rich had decided to taunt them some more, we moved onto the reptile house, wherein Goldy displayed yet more courage by, firstly, actually entering, and secondly, looking at snakes and not running away. They had some nasty little buggers in there too, horned vipers and the like, although there was a snake that is immune to rattlesnake venom, and sometimes eats them, so Goldy was happy to know that at least one of the species is on his side. They also had one of the ones that lives in the garden of the villa, so now I have definitely seen one.
The sun, incidentally, was almost unbearable at times, so by around half four, we decided that we’d had enough and headed back to our invalided travel-mate. The rest of the afternoon was spent lounging, although I didn’t dare go in the sun anymore, fearing that, as the spell which had prevented me burning at all had now been broken, I might just end up doing two weeks’ worth in one day. Instead, I packed in preparation for tomorrow’s departure, and relaxed around the villa.)
Later on. Donna has departed to the airport with Rich and we went down to the Kings Road Bar for ANOTHER evening of Karaoke. We sang some songs, I failed a Knocking on Heavens Door (but did a great Axel) and Goldy had no balls when I came to asking out a chick.
(Dude, as the holiday has gone on, you’ve gotten totally lame at filling in details. After Donna’s departure, we carried on with our ‘doing nothing’ for a little while before heading down to the pub. Thankfully, there was a much larger crowd in tonight, so we had a little respite between songs, although it was a little annoying that all of us got called up while eating our dinner! Andy didn’t suck at Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door, in fact, but he was annoyed that he only fitted in one bit of Axel business. I underestimated how high November Rain is, though, and felt like a noob. I made it up by totally owning Ace of Spades, which was cool.
The final act of the night, however, was surely the gayest moment of the entire holiday, as Goldy put us all down to sing Perfect Day. It was dreadful. And, even worse, prevented me getting a chance to do a bit of Goldie Looking Chain. I think the aged audience would have gone for it in a big way, as well.
Anna, Andy and I headed back first (as has become usual), at about 1:30, with the others about half an hour behind. Goldy went to bed first, and the other five of us sat around talking outside. Despite the fact that we had an early start on Wednesday morning, no-one seemed inclined to go to bed until they absolutely could stay up no longer, and the final night of our holiday dwindled out in a whirl of circular arguments between the drunkards (AKA Rich and Laura), and a general rundown of the time we’d spent together. Andy, Anna and I sloped off at around 3:30, leaving the other two chewing the fat, hoping to God that they wouldn’t leave the table outside in the same state as they had last time! Laura eventually came to bed about 5, and was very cute, but, to be fair, at that time, I didn’t really have the energy to say anything above a mumble. We slept for a little while in preparation for our final day…)
So, Tuesday for me, DONE!
Upon waking, something felt very odd indeed. It felt as though I had been run over by a train. My shoulders and chest ached and I felt really hot. It was when I looked in the mirror that I saw the whole of my situation. My knees and shoulders were bright red with sunburn and I have a number of mosquito bites on my back and shoulders. I headed straight into the bathroom and applied copious amounts of after-sun lotion. (I also had a spot of sunburn, in weird patterns on my arms. However, as I’m not a giant pussy, I didn’t bitch about it. I just got on with it, layered on the sun cream, and went about my day.)
Sean and Laura were already up and had been to the shop. (No, I had been to the shop. Laura had sat around, and had even offered to drive me the five minute walk, lazy as she is, and assumes everyone else to be. I opted for the more refreshing stroll. It was lovely. I bought eggs, bread and presents for people. I have all kinds of presents for people, and no presents at all for myself. That is lame.)
I decided to have a day in and away from the sun. Photos and Command and Conquer, ace!
Sean, over to you!
(While Andy girled out at the villa, we headed off on adventures. First up, we went to the Prehistoric Village, just past Stavros’ restaurant. Now, on the interest scale, this didn’t rank highly. It was basically just a reconstruction of a settlement they had found there that date back to circa 3,500BC, with, unfortunately, very little information to tell you what was going on. There was a board detailing some of the finds that had been made there, most of which were highly important, and had, therefore, been moved to the Museum of Cyprus in Nicosia. These included statues such as the Lempa Lady, a representation of a fertility Goddess, which is thought to have been a possible inspiration for the Goddess Aphrodite, so that was interesting. Unfortunately, some of the others found it, shall we say, dull, and we shifted out pretty sharpish.
The next stop on our Andy-less odyssey was Pafos Bird and Animal Park. Now, this was by far the most expensive thing we have done so far on the holiday, at a whopping €15.50 each, and we were sorely tempted to turn around and walk away. However, we decided to go ahead (mainly because Anna had already asked for six tickets), and entered the park.
My first impression was that it was bigger than I had expected. It seemed strange that something that size could be so well hidden away, but so it was. We followed the directions given by the surly ticket collector, and headed down our first path. It led, as most paths did, to some bird cages. There were a hell of a lot of birds in the place, and most of them were pretty much of a muchness, but the first section did contain some cool ones – buzzards and eagles (and bears, oh my!) Anna found a massive feather which one of the birds had dropped, which she stole. The buzzards were flying around like mentals, but they had fairly big enclosures, so that was ok.
While we moved on to the petting zoo section (rabbits and goats, essentially), Goldy went to the kiosk for a cool, refreshing drink. I think he was unaware at the time that right next to the kiosk was a cage containing a 4 metre long albino python. When he did find out, however, we rushed over to look. The young lady manning the kiosk was more than happy to get it out for us to touch, which was cool. Snakes aren’t at all slimy, and the feel of the muscles underneath the scaly skin was awesome. After playing with it for a while, Rich, Donna, Anna and I had our picture taken with it (Goldy and Laura kept well away), before it was put back in its cage. Goldy was mighty brave to stand so close to the thing, and didn’t really freak out at all (except when we asked how fast it could move, and after being told, ‘Quite fast,’ it was put on the floor about ten feet from him. He scarpered a bit then.
We carried on meandering around the park, taking in horses, deer, gazelle, and all manner of exotic birds. Laura kept trying to get a peacock to open up to her, but as she didn’t seem to turn the birds on, it didn’t really happen. We also saw a mouflon, which is a type of sheep indigenous to Cyprus, and found nowhere else on earth. They’re extremely rare, with only around 2000 in the world, so I wasn’t allowed to eat it, more’s the pity. By this time, it was almost the hour of the parrot show, so we headed in the direction of the show hall. Right next to it was the best animal of the day – a red squirrel. Absolutely brilliant. It seemed strange to us, but then I do suppose that we keep lots of little lizards in British zoos, which are abundant here. Anyway, he didn’t look to have any fun things in his little cage, so Anna and I gave him a bit of grass to play with. He had an absolute ball with that thing.
We got into the parrot theatre and waited for the show to start, as 5 parrots were placed on perches at the back of the room. The show began with the raising of the flag (by a parrot), and comprised of all manner of exciting and funny tricks, including roller skating parrots, bike riding parrots, car driving parrots, parrots in pushchairs, parrots that could count, parrots that saved their money in a piggy bank, and, as they say, much, much more. The snake lady (for she was also running the show) asked if anyone wanted to have one of the birds fly to them, and, being the noble gentleman that I am, I let Laura do it instead of me. I would have liked to have touched a parrot.
Anyway, after the parrots, some owls were brought in. They didn’t do any tricks though, beyond flying backwards and forwards (and eating dead baby chicken heads and feet), although one of them did twist its head right round, which was cool. Anna and I had our photo taken with one, and stroked it. It was very soft, and tried to fly into Laura’s face.
After the parrot show, we wandered back into the park, seeing yet more wondrous animals – zebras, giraffes, giant tortoises, camels and emus amongst them. The ostrich pen had two newly laid eggs within it, and the ostriches were making a good job of keeping us away from them (wire notwithstanding) with an aggressive display on the edge of their territory. Ostrich eggs are massive. Then again, so are ostriches. I always forget just how big they are – essentially, 6 foot plus chickens, with bad tempers. After Rich had decided to taunt them some more, we moved onto the reptile house, wherein Goldy displayed yet more courage by, firstly, actually entering, and secondly, looking at snakes and not running away. They had some nasty little buggers in there too, horned vipers and the like, although there was a snake that is immune to rattlesnake venom, and sometimes eats them, so Goldy was happy to know that at least one of the species is on his side. They also had one of the ones that lives in the garden of the villa, so now I have definitely seen one.
The sun, incidentally, was almost unbearable at times, so by around half four, we decided that we’d had enough and headed back to our invalided travel-mate. The rest of the afternoon was spent lounging, although I didn’t dare go in the sun anymore, fearing that, as the spell which had prevented me burning at all had now been broken, I might just end up doing two weeks’ worth in one day. Instead, I packed in preparation for tomorrow’s departure, and relaxed around the villa.)
Later on. Donna has departed to the airport with Rich and we went down to the Kings Road Bar for ANOTHER evening of Karaoke. We sang some songs, I failed a Knocking on Heavens Door (but did a great Axel) and Goldy had no balls when I came to asking out a chick.
(Dude, as the holiday has gone on, you’ve gotten totally lame at filling in details. After Donna’s departure, we carried on with our ‘doing nothing’ for a little while before heading down to the pub. Thankfully, there was a much larger crowd in tonight, so we had a little respite between songs, although it was a little annoying that all of us got called up while eating our dinner! Andy didn’t suck at Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door, in fact, but he was annoyed that he only fitted in one bit of Axel business. I underestimated how high November Rain is, though, and felt like a noob. I made it up by totally owning Ace of Spades, which was cool.
The final act of the night, however, was surely the gayest moment of the entire holiday, as Goldy put us all down to sing Perfect Day. It was dreadful. And, even worse, prevented me getting a chance to do a bit of Goldie Looking Chain. I think the aged audience would have gone for it in a big way, as well.
Anna, Andy and I headed back first (as has become usual), at about 1:30, with the others about half an hour behind. Goldy went to bed first, and the other five of us sat around talking outside. Despite the fact that we had an early start on Wednesday morning, no-one seemed inclined to go to bed until they absolutely could stay up no longer, and the final night of our holiday dwindled out in a whirl of circular arguments between the drunkards (AKA Rich and Laura), and a general rundown of the time we’d spent together. Andy, Anna and I sloped off at around 3:30, leaving the other two chewing the fat, hoping to God that they wouldn’t leave the table outside in the same state as they had last time! Laura eventually came to bed about 5, and was very cute, but, to be fair, at that time, I didn’t really have the energy to say anything above a mumble. We slept for a little while in preparation for our final day…)
So, Tuesday for me, DONE!
Monday, 19 May 2008
Cyprus - Monday 19th May 2008
BOAT DAY!
I got up with a spring in my step this morning, today was BOAT DAY!
We were all up pretty early and were out of the door by 0930. (Which is impressive, until you realise that we were meant to get off at 8:30, and the rule was supposed to be that if you weren’t ready to go at that time, you would be left behind. Unfortunately, that would’ve meant only half of us going. As it was, Goldy didn’t come along anyway, because he was feeling ill, so he stayed at the villa and played Zelda. He did get it finished though, so that’s ok.) We drove over to Latchi were we picked up our vessel for the day, aptly named ‘Monkey Boy’. This 80 BHP monster was brand new and still had the cellophane on the seats.
We boarded the ship and assumed our positions, Rich as Captain, Sean as ‘Rear Admiral’ and Laura as the ‘Buxom Wench’. (Andy was First Mate, and Anna was Cabin Boy. These titles are not as cool, so Andy decided not to add them, obviously.)
We were soon on our way out of the port and heading out to sea.
It wasn’t long before Rich decided to ‘open her up’ and we raced along the coastline leaving a massive wave behind us!
It felt great, bouncing over the waves and feeling the spray from the sea coming up from the bow wave soaking us in the ever increasing heat.
Our first port of call was a reef that had formed just along the coastline from where we started. At full power it took us only about 30 minutes to get there.
Upon arrival we weighed anchor and Sean and I were first overboard.
Wearing our life vests, flippers and snorkels we swam the 300m to the reef. (Incidentally, I discovered here that it is actually incredibly difficult to swim in flippers, unless you’re totally submerged. On the surface, they’re just awkward and tiring.) At first, the sea bed seemed completely desolate, with the occasional rock protruding from the sand, then, as we approached the reef, weed appeared followed by some coral type stuff. Below I could only see a few fish. Most were small black and grey fish but there were a couple that were about 5 inches long with a green body and a white back with what looked like a ‘snouty’ face.
We swam over to the rocky outcrop rising from the sea like a small island, then like a couple of penguins, we clambered up onto the rocks and almost completely stacked it because of our flippers. Not wanting to take them off because the rocks were sharp, pointed and would easily have torn our feet to pieces, we had to walk backwards until we found a nice place to sit down and wait for the others. The only thing missing during our stay on what I now christen “Sweeney’s Island” was a thermos of tea and a packet of Hob Nobs. (We must have looked a couple of right plums, walking so very awkwardly and gingerly, attempting not to fall onto the very jagged rocks. It looked like it may have been volcanic, although as far as I know, there are no volcanic outcrops in that area. It was definitely metamorphic though. As it was, I still ended up getting grazed, and also sustaining a small cut to my right shin. I still don’t know how I did that, it didn’t even hurt till I’d seen it. Of course, having seen it, I then had a vague panic about the fact that sharks can smell one part blood in about 8 billion parts water, and would obviously come running (well, swimming) from however many miles away they might be, and try to eat me. Couple that with the fact that we were further out to sea at this point than I’d been before, and it was a little weird.
So, we sat and waited for the others. By wait, of course, I mean ‘watched them fanny about with the boat, while wondering aloud exactly why they were fannying about with the boat, and questioning whether or not they were ever going to bother coming out to the reef, which was the reason we had stopped where we had.’ While we waited, we discussed all the cool stuff we were going to tell them we’d seen, up to and including lobsters, whales and dolphins. We actually did see some limpets and barnacles, and other sticking-to-the-rocks-type creatures, which was pretty good. Andy prised one off of the rock, so we got to see what they looked like in their shells while alive. It wasn’t any different to how they looked dead, to be honest.
After about fifteen minutes of sitting on the rock, there’d still been no movement from the boat. Richard was messing about in the water (apparently doing something with the anchor) but the girls weren’t, it appeared, doing anything, although we now know that, in fact, Anna was being sick. So Andy and I chatted some more, and enjoyed the beautiful surroundings. The tide was coming in, so the little rock pools were being swallowed up by the rising water, and we eventually decided it was time to head back – just at the point Richard and Donna turned up. We swam back to the boat, keeping an eye out for any interesting sea life, but unfortunately there wasn’t too much around.
Still, could have been worse. I could have had my leg bitten off by a shark.)
Sadly, not all of us had this much fun. Rich and Donna kept wittering on about the anchor and shouldn’t we get closer to the reef so it’s not so far to swim etc, which meant Laura and I pulling the anchor up, repositioning the boat, dropping anchor again and realising that during the whole dragging it up and learning how to use the boat, the forward distance we then made barely countered the current pushing us back the other way. Due to me generally being a little rubbish with small boats, it was at this time that I threw up. (Told you.)
I can manage ok when we’re moving, it’s the rocking and bobbing I can’t deal with, especially if my head is over the side of the boat trying to see where the anchor is.
After about half an hour of basking in the sunlight we decided that we would swim back to the boat. We clambered back aboard and piloted our boat to a place called the blue lagoon. On arrival we saw it, exactly as described, blue. The water was a really light aqua blue and stretched off in every direction towards the open sea and into the shore of the small cove.
There was a small fishing boat that had been converted to carry passengers already there. It looked like the passengers were all 40+ and they were enjoying a spot of lunch, so we decided to do the same.
Sammiches had been packed before we left so we broke them out and chowed down. I couldn’t even face mine. Stupid boat sickness. (The fact that lunch had been prepared showed a remarkable amount of foresight, as I would normally have expected some people to have just completely forgotten. Of course, I had to make Laura’s, but I did it out of love and with a happy heart, naturally. We had lovely pitta sammiches. I really must find some of those pittas at home.)
The start of the afternoon brought about probably the most exciting and fantastic part of the holiday for me. A short swim away from the boat towards the shore we found a huge shoal of fish. They were dark brown or black and about an inch long. There were hundreds of them! We had some stale bread in the boat so we broke it up and put it in the water and the fish all swam around.(Stupidly, we used up the stale pitta, and completely forgot that we had about 8 bread rolls which we’d had for about a week and saved for this very purpose.) A short while later, a small shoal of about 10 bigger fish entered the area. These were much larger, ranging from about 3 to 10 inches long. I have seen these before but none as big as the one I saw today. They were grey and silver with a black spot on their sides where their back meets their tail fin.
I have to say at this point that the goggles we bought two years ago are superb and were totally worth the money! (The best fish I saw were in this area. The seabed was only about 3 or 4 metres below us, and the water was as clear as a bath, so everything was easy to see. The first thing Andy saw, and yelled me into the water to see, was a white fish, on the bed, swimming towards some of the bread which had inexplicably sunk (which was worrying, considering I’d eaten it when fresh, and I thought bread was supposed to float.) Anyway, as it nibbled at the tasty morsel, a flatfish hovered into view. I was really excited, as I’d never seen a flatfish before. Unfortunately, it was so well camouflaged that, after I moved away to tell the others, I couldn’t find it again. Still, it was brilliant.
The shoals were incredible – everywhere you looked were more fish. At first, the lagoon had seemed so empty, but then, to find it teeming with life, and such varied life as well, was just amazing. I will truly never get bored of snorkelling, and seeing these other worlds.)
After the snorkelling came the fun with the giant rubber ring. Towed behind the boat and manned by one of the crew, it was the job of said crew member to hang on as tight as possible while the driver had to drive them as fast as possible round in circles and try to shake them off. CHAVTASTIC!
I was a little poor at it and Donna seemed to be fairly at home grasping her ring,… fnar.
There were only minor injuries, a bit of rope burn and some aching muscles. (Is that it? We spent ages on that bloody thing, and that’s all you’ve got? That’s fine, just leave it to me...again.
The giant rubber ring was uber-fun. Now, the reason Andy was crap on his first go was because he sat in the thing, rather than lying across the top of it, which lent greater grip and control. After seeing his mistake, Donna fared slightly better. Then I got on the thing, and bitch slapped it into submission. I think I lasted about an hour before finally getting bored and letting go, just so that someone else could have a play. Rich and Laura both had a turn (we made it go fairly gently for Laura, because she was a bit wary, and, as I’m adorable, I even got Rich to slow right down and pull her in before she fell off.) The weirdest thing about the ring was waiting to be picked up after you’d come off. Essentially, you had to float about in the open sea until the boat could circle round and get you. I have no idea how deep it was out here, but, because the water had been churned up, you could see nothing at all beneath the waves. We were about a mile out, so I imagine it was fairly deep though. It would have been nice to be able to see a few fish, but no such luck.
Anyway, when everyone had had their turn (except Anna, who didn’t fancy it), we all went again, but this time against the clock. Richard claimed that he would drive exactly the same way for everyone, and so Donna went first, clocking up 1.50. Andy’s turn came, and, with the more sensible lying-on-top method, looked pretty good, till coming off at the 1.46 mark. Actually, he looked pretty good when he came off too, but that’s just his innate hotness.
Anyhoo, I then climbed aboard. I was looking to rip it up the way I did in my first attempt, and started superbly, riding the waves like a pro. I kept in the wake of the boat, and had no problems whatsoever until late on in my second minute when, at full speed, Rich somehow managed to cause the boat to cross its own wake, with me attached to the back. All I remember is suddenly being upside down with the water beneath me, and my shoulders wrenching from their sockets, before hitting the sea again, managing to hold on for one more second before feeling as if my arms really were going to be wrenched out, and having to relinquish my grip. From what I was told after I got back in the boat, I was actually about 6 foot in the air, clinging to the inflatable with my boat mates looking on aghast. Apparently, I only lasted 1.48 (hmm...) but I clearly won by being so damn ace.
Laura had another slow go. It wasn’t nearly so spectacular.
Before heading back to land, we drove a little way back down the coast to find an underwater cave we’d been told about. Unfortunately, we couldn’t find it, but we still got to have another little play, and another peek at some lovely little fishies. They were to be my last of the holiday, but they didn’t seem to appreciate the significance. They’re really not that bright, fish.)
We then headed back into port. The trip back was fast and we got REALLY wet, spray went everywhere.
(We had a late lunch in a bar by the marina, where there was free Wi-Fi. Believe it or not, none of us used it, except to check banks, and, in my case, to delete about a hundred pointless e-mails. We then headed back to the villa.)
On returning home I found that I had burned, and had been bitten, (as had I, for the first time in the holiday. It was weird burning, too, because of where my life-vest had been. However, it was not nearly as severe as I had thought it would be at the start of the trip, and I couldn’t, really, be more pleased with the way the sojourn had gone, sun-wise.) I was not a happy chappy and after a lovely dinner that Rich made of Goat Casserole with a bit of rice, I decided to head off to bed for some blissful sleep. My head hit the pillow and darkness engulfed me for the next 12 hours. Sweet! (Not a late night for anyone, really. Everyone was worn out. To paraphrase a parent saying, ‘We slept that night.’)
I got up with a spring in my step this morning, today was BOAT DAY!
We were all up pretty early and were out of the door by 0930. (Which is impressive, until you realise that we were meant to get off at 8:30, and the rule was supposed to be that if you weren’t ready to go at that time, you would be left behind. Unfortunately, that would’ve meant only half of us going. As it was, Goldy didn’t come along anyway, because he was feeling ill, so he stayed at the villa and played Zelda. He did get it finished though, so that’s ok.) We drove over to Latchi were we picked up our vessel for the day, aptly named ‘Monkey Boy’. This 80 BHP monster was brand new and still had the cellophane on the seats.
We boarded the ship and assumed our positions, Rich as Captain, Sean as ‘Rear Admiral’ and Laura as the ‘Buxom Wench’. (Andy was First Mate, and Anna was Cabin Boy. These titles are not as cool, so Andy decided not to add them, obviously.)
We were soon on our way out of the port and heading out to sea.
It wasn’t long before Rich decided to ‘open her up’ and we raced along the coastline leaving a massive wave behind us!
It felt great, bouncing over the waves and feeling the spray from the sea coming up from the bow wave soaking us in the ever increasing heat.
Our first port of call was a reef that had formed just along the coastline from where we started. At full power it took us only about 30 minutes to get there.
Upon arrival we weighed anchor and Sean and I were first overboard.
Wearing our life vests, flippers and snorkels we swam the 300m to the reef. (Incidentally, I discovered here that it is actually incredibly difficult to swim in flippers, unless you’re totally submerged. On the surface, they’re just awkward and tiring.) At first, the sea bed seemed completely desolate, with the occasional rock protruding from the sand, then, as we approached the reef, weed appeared followed by some coral type stuff. Below I could only see a few fish. Most were small black and grey fish but there were a couple that were about 5 inches long with a green body and a white back with what looked like a ‘snouty’ face.
We swam over to the rocky outcrop rising from the sea like a small island, then like a couple of penguins, we clambered up onto the rocks and almost completely stacked it because of our flippers. Not wanting to take them off because the rocks were sharp, pointed and would easily have torn our feet to pieces, we had to walk backwards until we found a nice place to sit down and wait for the others. The only thing missing during our stay on what I now christen “Sweeney’s Island” was a thermos of tea and a packet of Hob Nobs. (We must have looked a couple of right plums, walking so very awkwardly and gingerly, attempting not to fall onto the very jagged rocks. It looked like it may have been volcanic, although as far as I know, there are no volcanic outcrops in that area. It was definitely metamorphic though. As it was, I still ended up getting grazed, and also sustaining a small cut to my right shin. I still don’t know how I did that, it didn’t even hurt till I’d seen it. Of course, having seen it, I then had a vague panic about the fact that sharks can smell one part blood in about 8 billion parts water, and would obviously come running (well, swimming) from however many miles away they might be, and try to eat me. Couple that with the fact that we were further out to sea at this point than I’d been before, and it was a little weird.
So, we sat and waited for the others. By wait, of course, I mean ‘watched them fanny about with the boat, while wondering aloud exactly why they were fannying about with the boat, and questioning whether or not they were ever going to bother coming out to the reef, which was the reason we had stopped where we had.’ While we waited, we discussed all the cool stuff we were going to tell them we’d seen, up to and including lobsters, whales and dolphins. We actually did see some limpets and barnacles, and other sticking-to-the-rocks-type creatures, which was pretty good. Andy prised one off of the rock, so we got to see what they looked like in their shells while alive. It wasn’t any different to how they looked dead, to be honest.
After about fifteen minutes of sitting on the rock, there’d still been no movement from the boat. Richard was messing about in the water (apparently doing something with the anchor) but the girls weren’t, it appeared, doing anything, although we now know that, in fact, Anna was being sick. So Andy and I chatted some more, and enjoyed the beautiful surroundings. The tide was coming in, so the little rock pools were being swallowed up by the rising water, and we eventually decided it was time to head back – just at the point Richard and Donna turned up. We swam back to the boat, keeping an eye out for any interesting sea life, but unfortunately there wasn’t too much around.
Still, could have been worse. I could have had my leg bitten off by a shark.)
Sadly, not all of us had this much fun. Rich and Donna kept wittering on about the anchor and shouldn’t we get closer to the reef so it’s not so far to swim etc, which meant Laura and I pulling the anchor up, repositioning the boat, dropping anchor again and realising that during the whole dragging it up and learning how to use the boat, the forward distance we then made barely countered the current pushing us back the other way. Due to me generally being a little rubbish with small boats, it was at this time that I threw up. (Told you.)
I can manage ok when we’re moving, it’s the rocking and bobbing I can’t deal with, especially if my head is over the side of the boat trying to see where the anchor is.
After about half an hour of basking in the sunlight we decided that we would swim back to the boat. We clambered back aboard and piloted our boat to a place called the blue lagoon. On arrival we saw it, exactly as described, blue. The water was a really light aqua blue and stretched off in every direction towards the open sea and into the shore of the small cove.
There was a small fishing boat that had been converted to carry passengers already there. It looked like the passengers were all 40+ and they were enjoying a spot of lunch, so we decided to do the same.
Sammiches had been packed before we left so we broke them out and chowed down. I couldn’t even face mine. Stupid boat sickness. (The fact that lunch had been prepared showed a remarkable amount of foresight, as I would normally have expected some people to have just completely forgotten. Of course, I had to make Laura’s, but I did it out of love and with a happy heart, naturally. We had lovely pitta sammiches. I really must find some of those pittas at home.)
The start of the afternoon brought about probably the most exciting and fantastic part of the holiday for me. A short swim away from the boat towards the shore we found a huge shoal of fish. They were dark brown or black and about an inch long. There were hundreds of them! We had some stale bread in the boat so we broke it up and put it in the water and the fish all swam around.(Stupidly, we used up the stale pitta, and completely forgot that we had about 8 bread rolls which we’d had for about a week and saved for this very purpose.) A short while later, a small shoal of about 10 bigger fish entered the area. These were much larger, ranging from about 3 to 10 inches long. I have seen these before but none as big as the one I saw today. They were grey and silver with a black spot on their sides where their back meets their tail fin.
I have to say at this point that the goggles we bought two years ago are superb and were totally worth the money! (The best fish I saw were in this area. The seabed was only about 3 or 4 metres below us, and the water was as clear as a bath, so everything was easy to see. The first thing Andy saw, and yelled me into the water to see, was a white fish, on the bed, swimming towards some of the bread which had inexplicably sunk (which was worrying, considering I’d eaten it when fresh, and I thought bread was supposed to float.) Anyway, as it nibbled at the tasty morsel, a flatfish hovered into view. I was really excited, as I’d never seen a flatfish before. Unfortunately, it was so well camouflaged that, after I moved away to tell the others, I couldn’t find it again. Still, it was brilliant.
The shoals were incredible – everywhere you looked were more fish. At first, the lagoon had seemed so empty, but then, to find it teeming with life, and such varied life as well, was just amazing. I will truly never get bored of snorkelling, and seeing these other worlds.)
After the snorkelling came the fun with the giant rubber ring. Towed behind the boat and manned by one of the crew, it was the job of said crew member to hang on as tight as possible while the driver had to drive them as fast as possible round in circles and try to shake them off. CHAVTASTIC!
I was a little poor at it and Donna seemed to be fairly at home grasping her ring,… fnar.
There were only minor injuries, a bit of rope burn and some aching muscles. (Is that it? We spent ages on that bloody thing, and that’s all you’ve got? That’s fine, just leave it to me...again.
The giant rubber ring was uber-fun. Now, the reason Andy was crap on his first go was because he sat in the thing, rather than lying across the top of it, which lent greater grip and control. After seeing his mistake, Donna fared slightly better. Then I got on the thing, and bitch slapped it into submission. I think I lasted about an hour before finally getting bored and letting go, just so that someone else could have a play. Rich and Laura both had a turn (we made it go fairly gently for Laura, because she was a bit wary, and, as I’m adorable, I even got Rich to slow right down and pull her in before she fell off.) The weirdest thing about the ring was waiting to be picked up after you’d come off. Essentially, you had to float about in the open sea until the boat could circle round and get you. I have no idea how deep it was out here, but, because the water had been churned up, you could see nothing at all beneath the waves. We were about a mile out, so I imagine it was fairly deep though. It would have been nice to be able to see a few fish, but no such luck.
Anyway, when everyone had had their turn (except Anna, who didn’t fancy it), we all went again, but this time against the clock. Richard claimed that he would drive exactly the same way for everyone, and so Donna went first, clocking up 1.50. Andy’s turn came, and, with the more sensible lying-on-top method, looked pretty good, till coming off at the 1.46 mark. Actually, he looked pretty good when he came off too, but that’s just his innate hotness.
Anyhoo, I then climbed aboard. I was looking to rip it up the way I did in my first attempt, and started superbly, riding the waves like a pro. I kept in the wake of the boat, and had no problems whatsoever until late on in my second minute when, at full speed, Rich somehow managed to cause the boat to cross its own wake, with me attached to the back. All I remember is suddenly being upside down with the water beneath me, and my shoulders wrenching from their sockets, before hitting the sea again, managing to hold on for one more second before feeling as if my arms really were going to be wrenched out, and having to relinquish my grip. From what I was told after I got back in the boat, I was actually about 6 foot in the air, clinging to the inflatable with my boat mates looking on aghast. Apparently, I only lasted 1.48 (hmm...) but I clearly won by being so damn ace.
Laura had another slow go. It wasn’t nearly so spectacular.
Before heading back to land, we drove a little way back down the coast to find an underwater cave we’d been told about. Unfortunately, we couldn’t find it, but we still got to have another little play, and another peek at some lovely little fishies. They were to be my last of the holiday, but they didn’t seem to appreciate the significance. They’re really not that bright, fish.)
We then headed back into port. The trip back was fast and we got REALLY wet, spray went everywhere.
(We had a late lunch in a bar by the marina, where there was free Wi-Fi. Believe it or not, none of us used it, except to check banks, and, in my case, to delete about a hundred pointless e-mails. We then headed back to the villa.)
On returning home I found that I had burned, and had been bitten, (as had I, for the first time in the holiday. It was weird burning, too, because of where my life-vest had been. However, it was not nearly as severe as I had thought it would be at the start of the trip, and I couldn’t, really, be more pleased with the way the sojourn had gone, sun-wise.) I was not a happy chappy and after a lovely dinner that Rich made of Goat Casserole with a bit of rice, I decided to head off to bed for some blissful sleep. My head hit the pillow and darkness engulfed me for the next 12 hours. Sweet! (Not a late night for anyone, really. Everyone was worn out. To paraphrase a parent saying, ‘We slept that night.’)
Sunday, 18 May 2008
Cyprus - Sunday 18th May 2008
We got up relatively early today, I then spent about two hours cleaning up the kitchen and loading the dish washer.
We drove over to Kaledoni Falls, near to Platres in the Troodos Mountains. The journey took us over on the new EU funded piece of dual carriage way to the east then north along winding roads that had been partially converted into Tarmac. The only real rule on these roads seems to be, if you have a big car you get to stay on the road and force anything smaller off to the hard-core at the side. (I slept pretty much the entire way there. I woke briefly when we stopped at a dam, and also at a bluff that overlooked a lovely valley. I was too groggy to appreciate them really, but apparently, they were lovely. I have no idea why I fall asleep almost the instant that I get into a warm, moving vehicle.)
In spite of the local farmers trying to kill us we arrived in Platres.
Platres is I lovely little town in the middle of the mountains. It has beautiful views over the valley. They also have one of the smallest police stations I have ever seen. It looked about the size of a small village hall. Occasionally a local copper would come out the front of the nick and sit on a chair that he had situated by the door giving him a view over his domain.
I can imagine it being the most boring job in HISTORY. (Doing nothing all day, in beautiful surroundings, with seemingly friendly locals, and very occasional bursts of activity, probably involving a tourist who’s parked outside the lines? Sounds grand to me.)
At the foot of the ravine there was a small Trout Farm. This was really odd to see actually half way up a mountain. I suppose that it’s because there is an abundance of fresh spring water. In the pools the trout seemed to circle ominously. (Ominously if you’re in some way scared of fish. Or circles. Just circley to normal people. And let’s be honest, with the size of the pens, they
would have got really bored going backwards and forwards. I suppose it takes less effort just to go round and round rather than having to constantly do turns at either end.)I don’t know if this is because they thought that as a group they would be stronger and no one would fish them out or if it was some kind of fishy dance.
We had lunch at the trout farm and surprisingly I had trout, it tasted NICE! It was simply grilled and came with boiled potatoes. (I also had trout. It tasted of trout, I guess, which is ok. It was a little more flavoursome than any trout I’ve had at home, although I don’t know whether this has to do with the freshness, or if it is a slightly different breed. Lunch at the farm was like being in a large, sun-filled school cafeteria, as the waitresses were, without fail, ‘older’ ladies wearing tabards (the one who served us was actually Northern of some description!). That was great. It also led to the second best ‘D’oh!’ comment of the holiday. Falling in neatly behind the Richard/Turkey debacle, comes Donna with, to the waitress on the trout farm, ‘Where are your trout from?’ Genius. Of a sort.) I did not have trout, I had chicken. There was loads of it and it was immensely yummy.
After lunch we decided to have a walk up to the falls. (Goldy headed back down to the car park to put more time on our car. Unfortunately for him, we didn’t want to wait, so he had to go off and play in an arcade while we climbed rocks and hills. He was, naturally, gutted.)
After the 1 km walk past loads of little pools, falls and clambering over rocks, we reached the main water fall. It was LOVELY, but very cold. The plunge pool was not very deep but nice enough to paddle in and was pretty cold. (The waterfall was pretty nice. We hadn’t been sure if all the little falls we’d seen were what were referred to, as it seemed like we had gone much further than 1km by the time we got there, but it was worth the walk. Anna and Laura seemed most excited by a mangy cat that was there. Laura was not happy at all with the nature ramble, and I think that, had she known exactly what it would have been like, she would probably have stayed with Goldy. She doesn’t really do nature. I think it might be difficult to convince her to go camping.)
I got us a bit lost on the way home as I wasn’t paying attention to the map when we left Platres. We were singing 99 green bottles and I got a bit carried away getting us down to about 65 on my own, but then when we got to a junction (around 45 bottles) I realised we were on the main road to Limassol with no way of getting back to the road we should have been on. This led to us taking about 40 minutes and 50km more to get home than we should have done.
I hate getting lost so I was quite upset, but no one else cared so I felt like an idiot as well.
Tonight, we take Donna to Stavros’s place for dinner. Going to be so ace. (It sounds like we’re popping round to one of the neighbours’ or something! (Technically he is kind of our neighbour – you can see his place from the villa))
Later on….. Dinner was once again a miracle given form. The food was excellent and a great time was had by all. We even had a visit from a small “Bork Bork” frog. He was about an inch long and bright green. (I didn’t think that the food was as good as the first time, unfortunately. There were some differences than last time, such as the fish being far bonier, and the steak having mustard on it, which might not sound like much, but prevented the overall experience being as good as it was the first time we went. Due to the fact that there were only customers in, rather than friends and family of the proprietor, the atmosphere was also not as good. Now, I’m not saying it wasn’t a good night, but it wasn’t quite the same as it was. And I suppose that’s why you should only visit places once. Oh, the frog was cool though.
When we got back, we sat and had a quiet drink (by which I mean, I had tea.) The frog must’ve followed us, as there was one on the back of Anna’s chair. It seemed quite happy to hop onto her arm while she threw it into the bushes. I think she probably killed it by doing so (I did not! He was fine!). We all went to bed soon after that, in preparation for an early start to Latchi.)
We drove over to Kaledoni Falls, near to Platres in the Troodos Mountains. The journey took us over on the new EU funded piece of dual carriage way to the east then north along winding roads that had been partially converted into Tarmac. The only real rule on these roads seems to be, if you have a big car you get to stay on the road and force anything smaller off to the hard-core at the side. (I slept pretty much the entire way there. I woke briefly when we stopped at a dam, and also at a bluff that overlooked a lovely valley. I was too groggy to appreciate them really, but apparently, they were lovely. I have no idea why I fall asleep almost the instant that I get into a warm, moving vehicle.)
In spite of the local farmers trying to kill us we arrived in Platres.
Platres is I lovely little town in the middle of the mountains. It has beautiful views over the valley. They also have one of the smallest police stations I have ever seen. It looked about the size of a small village hall. Occasionally a local copper would come out the front of the nick and sit on a chair that he had situated by the door giving him a view over his domain.
I can imagine it being the most boring job in HISTORY. (Doing nothing all day, in beautiful surroundings, with seemingly friendly locals, and very occasional bursts of activity, probably involving a tourist who’s parked outside the lines? Sounds grand to me.)
At the foot of the ravine there was a small Trout Farm. This was really odd to see actually half way up a mountain. I suppose that it’s because there is an abundance of fresh spring water. In the pools the trout seemed to circle ominously. (Ominously if you’re in some way scared of fish. Or circles. Just circley to normal people. And let’s be honest, with the size of the pens, they
would have got really bored going backwards and forwards. I suppose it takes less effort just to go round and round rather than having to constantly do turns at either end.)I don’t know if this is because they thought that as a group they would be stronger and no one would fish them out or if it was some kind of fishy dance.We had lunch at the trout farm and surprisingly I had trout, it tasted NICE! It was simply grilled and came with boiled potatoes. (I also had trout. It tasted of trout, I guess, which is ok. It was a little more flavoursome than any trout I’ve had at home, although I don’t know whether this has to do with the freshness, or if it is a slightly different breed. Lunch at the farm was like being in a large, sun-filled school cafeteria, as the waitresses were, without fail, ‘older’ ladies wearing tabards (the one who served us was actually Northern of some description!). That was great. It also led to the second best ‘D’oh!’ comment of the holiday. Falling in neatly behind the Richard/Turkey debacle, comes Donna with, to the waitress on the trout farm, ‘Where are your trout from?’ Genius. Of a sort.) I did not have trout, I had chicken. There was loads of it and it was immensely yummy.
After lunch we decided to have a walk up to the falls. (Goldy headed back down to the car park to put more time on our car. Unfortunately for him, we didn’t want to wait, so he had to go off and play in an arcade while we climbed rocks and hills. He was, naturally, gutted.)
After the 1 km walk past loads of little pools, falls and clambering over rocks, we reached the main water fall. It was LOVELY, but very cold. The plunge pool was not very deep but nice enough to paddle in and was pretty cold. (The waterfall was pretty nice. We hadn’t been sure if all the little falls we’d seen were what were referred to, as it seemed like we had gone much further than 1km by the time we got there, but it was worth the walk. Anna and Laura seemed most excited by a mangy cat that was there. Laura was not happy at all with the nature ramble, and I think that, had she known exactly what it would have been like, she would probably have stayed with Goldy. She doesn’t really do nature. I think it might be difficult to convince her to go camping.)
I got us a bit lost on the way home as I wasn’t paying attention to the map when we left Platres. We were singing 99 green bottles and I got a bit carried away getting us down to about 65 on my own, but then when we got to a junction (around 45 bottles) I realised we were on the main road to Limassol with no way of getting back to the road we should have been on. This led to us taking about 40 minutes and 50km more to get home than we should have done.
I hate getting lost so I was quite upset, but no one else cared so I felt like an idiot as well.
Tonight, we take Donna to Stavros’s place for dinner. Going to be so ace. (It sounds like we’re popping round to one of the neighbours’ or something! (Technically he is kind of our neighbour – you can see his place from the villa))
Later on….. Dinner was once again a miracle given form. The food was excellent and a great time was had by all. We even had a visit from a small “Bork Bork” frog. He was about an inch long and bright green. (I didn’t think that the food was as good as the first time, unfortunately. There were some differences than last time, such as the fish being far bonier, and the steak having mustard on it, which might not sound like much, but prevented the overall experience being as good as it was the first time we went. Due to the fact that there were only customers in, rather than friends and family of the proprietor, the atmosphere was also not as good. Now, I’m not saying it wasn’t a good night, but it wasn’t quite the same as it was. And I suppose that’s why you should only visit places once. Oh, the frog was cool though.
When we got back, we sat and had a quiet drink (by which I mean, I had tea.) The frog must’ve followed us, as there was one on the back of Anna’s chair. It seemed quite happy to hop onto her arm while she threw it into the bushes. I think she probably killed it by doing so (I did not! He was fine!). We all went to bed soon after that, in preparation for an early start to Latchi.)
Saturday, 17 May 2008
Cyprus - Saturday 17th May 2008
Hahahahahaha, Actually, Donna arrived!
That is all.
(Apparently Andy has completely forgotten what happened today, so I shall fill you in.
It wasn’t a very exciting day – we had a leisurely start, then, after Richard had gone to the airport, we went into Kato Pafos. Kato Pafos is ‘low’ Pafos, in my mind at least – it’s the seafront bit with all the tourist-y type restaurants, the tacky souvenir shops and the horrific Anglocentric bars. Our main thought today was to head to the aquarium, the only one of its kind on the island.
Unlike most of the other places we’ve visited, the aquarium didn’t cost €1.71 – it was a solid €6.50, which filled me with both trepidation and hope. After all, if an area of ruins that covers many square miles only costs €1.71 to enter, then surely you have to offer something decent for nearly 4 times as much. Don’t you?
Well, it appears not. Roundhay Park in Leeds has a better aquarium. Hell, Pudsey Park in Leeds has a better aquarium. There were a variety of tanks, although it appeared that most of them contained catfish or cichlids, all of which could probably have been kept together, rather than spread across what must have been literally 15 tanks. There were some other quite cool fish, including one enormous angelfish, but that was about it. There was a shark tank, which contained three, approximately 2-3 foot long, sharks and some other fish, but even that wasn’t that good. The best part of it was walking round and round the tank, getting a shark to follow me and hoping it would attack me, banging its head in the process. It didn’t, I got dizzy, and that was all the interest to be found in there. There were two alligators which looked stuffed, and didn’t appear to be moving at all, and, in the final tank, the coup de grace – a solitary dead fish, trapped partially under a rock, unable even to float to the surface. Without a doubt, this was the most disappointing thing on the holiday so far, and I hope nothing tops it.
Following our look through the death tanks of Pafos, we went to wend our merry way back to the car, having a little look at bars and stuff on the way, to see if we could find anywhere for the evening, as tonight was the night that had been mooted as an evening on Bar Street – an area that Goldy had yet to wow. Unfortunately, it looked like chav central, so it was pretty much decided that we’d go somewhere quieter – the King’s Road perhaps. Especially as that’s where the waitresses worked that had been giving Mr Love-berger the eye…
Having navigated through the British holidaymakers’ neon-Mecca, we carried on towards the car. I stopped to look in some souvenir shops to pick up some more presents for people. It was at this point, after Goldy and Anna had had a brief look in some shops too, that everyone decided to abandon me, and I was stranded in the middle of Pafos with no-one to look after me. I weighed up my options, and eventually decided to head back to the car, reasoning that they’d have to get back there eventually. When I arrived back, they were already in the car, and were waiting for me. So, essentially, none of them had cared enough to come find me. I felt very unloved.
By the time we got back to the villa, Rich had arrived with Donna. We all hung about the pool for a bit, before a dinner of spaghetti Bolognese – uber-Cypriot, eh? But nice. Now, Andy and Anna were saying that, as we were just going to end up going to the pub, rather than out to a few places, they might stay in, which sounded to my boring brain like a great idea. Unfortunately, then Richard said he might stay in too, as Donna was tired and didn’t want to go out, which made me feel like a git, as Goldy was looking forward to going out. Therefore, being the stand-up guy that I am, I said that I would definitely go, as would Laura. Because of how amazing I am, Rich and the Sweeneys also fell in line, meaning we suddenly had a full compliment (barring Donna, who caught up on some sleep), and could prepare to head out.
So, a quick bit of faffing while people got ready later, and we were heading back to town and the King’s Road for an evening of karaoke loving. As Andy touched upon above, we took over the entire evening. Pretty much literally. When we arrived, there was a woman that did a couple of songs, and the compere did one or two as well, but once that woman had left, Goldy, Rich, Andy, Anna and I had about 2 hours of uninterrupted fun, which stopped only when three other people decided they were going to weigh in. It was actually something of a relief to not sing, which isn’t something you’ll often hear people saying at karaoke! However, we did get Laura to sing karaoke, for the first time in her entire life, so that was very cool.
We ended up leaving at about 1:15, despite Andy, Anna and I having said that we would probably head off at about 12, after what was, in fact, a very good night. We even ended up getting quite a bit of money off of the bill, as we’d spent the whole evening entertaining the entire bar! So, back to the villa, and pretty much straight to bed, to prepare for a day in the mountains on Sunday.
That is all.
(Apparently Andy has completely forgotten what happened today, so I shall fill you in.
It wasn’t a very exciting day – we had a leisurely start, then, after Richard had gone to the airport, we went into Kato Pafos. Kato Pafos is ‘low’ Pafos, in my mind at least – it’s the seafront bit with all the tourist-y type restaurants, the tacky souvenir shops and the horrific Anglocentric bars. Our main thought today was to head to the aquarium, the only one of its kind on the island.
Unlike most of the other places we’ve visited, the aquarium didn’t cost €1.71 – it was a solid €6.50, which filled me with both trepidation and hope. After all, if an area of ruins that covers many square miles only costs €1.71 to enter, then surely you have to offer something decent for nearly 4 times as much. Don’t you?
Well, it appears not. Roundhay Park in Leeds has a better aquarium. Hell, Pudsey Park in Leeds has a better aquarium. There were a variety of tanks, although it appeared that most of them contained catfish or cichlids, all of which could probably have been kept together, rather than spread across what must have been literally 15 tanks. There were some other quite cool fish, including one enormous angelfish, but that was about it. There was a shark tank, which contained three, approximately 2-3 foot long, sharks and some other fish, but even that wasn’t that good. The best part of it was walking round and round the tank, getting a shark to follow me and hoping it would attack me, banging its head in the process. It didn’t, I got dizzy, and that was all the interest to be found in there. There were two alligators which looked stuffed, and didn’t appear to be moving at all, and, in the final tank, the coup de grace – a solitary dead fish, trapped partially under a rock, unable even to float to the surface. Without a doubt, this was the most disappointing thing on the holiday so far, and I hope nothing tops it.
Following our look through the death tanks of Pafos, we went to wend our merry way back to the car, having a little look at bars and stuff on the way, to see if we could find anywhere for the evening, as tonight was the night that had been mooted as an evening on Bar Street – an area that Goldy had yet to wow. Unfortunately, it looked like chav central, so it was pretty much decided that we’d go somewhere quieter – the King’s Road perhaps. Especially as that’s where the waitresses worked that had been giving Mr Love-berger the eye…
Having navigated through the British holidaymakers’ neon-Mecca, we carried on towards the car. I stopped to look in some souvenir shops to pick up some more presents for people. It was at this point, after Goldy and Anna had had a brief look in some shops too, that everyone decided to abandon me, and I was stranded in the middle of Pafos with no-one to look after me. I weighed up my options, and eventually decided to head back to the car, reasoning that they’d have to get back there eventually. When I arrived back, they were already in the car, and were waiting for me. So, essentially, none of them had cared enough to come find me. I felt very unloved.
By the time we got back to the villa, Rich had arrived with Donna. We all hung about the pool for a bit, before a dinner of spaghetti Bolognese – uber-Cypriot, eh? But nice. Now, Andy and Anna were saying that, as we were just going to end up going to the pub, rather than out to a few places, they might stay in, which sounded to my boring brain like a great idea. Unfortunately, then Richard said he might stay in too, as Donna was tired and didn’t want to go out, which made me feel like a git, as Goldy was looking forward to going out. Therefore, being the stand-up guy that I am, I said that I would definitely go, as would Laura. Because of how amazing I am, Rich and the Sweeneys also fell in line, meaning we suddenly had a full compliment (barring Donna, who caught up on some sleep), and could prepare to head out.
So, a quick bit of faffing while people got ready later, and we were heading back to town and the King’s Road for an evening of karaoke loving. As Andy touched upon above, we took over the entire evening. Pretty much literally. When we arrived, there was a woman that did a couple of songs, and the compere did one or two as well, but once that woman had left, Goldy, Rich, Andy, Anna and I had about 2 hours of uninterrupted fun, which stopped only when three other people decided they were going to weigh in. It was actually something of a relief to not sing, which isn’t something you’ll often hear people saying at karaoke! However, we did get Laura to sing karaoke, for the first time in her entire life, so that was very cool.
We ended up leaving at about 1:15, despite Andy, Anna and I having said that we would probably head off at about 12, after what was, in fact, a very good night. We even ended up getting quite a bit of money off of the bill, as we’d spent the whole evening entertaining the entire bar! So, back to the villa, and pretty much straight to bed, to prepare for a day in the mountains on Sunday.
Cyprus - Saturday 17th May 2008
Did nothing much today.
I’ll skip the day and move on to the evening. We went onto the Kings Road Pub and did Karaoke.
Holy crap, we were the only people there singing for about three hours solid.
Bed
That is all.
(Absolutely nothing of note happened today. We saw a lizard. That shifted the tedium for all of about three seconds. Then we went in the pool. It wasn’t fun though. We just floated there. It was a little like being in limbo.
In the evening, we went to the pub and did karaoke. The high point of the day was leaving the pub, going home, and succumbing to the blessed relief that is sleep.)
I’ll skip the day and move on to the evening. We went onto the Kings Road Pub and did Karaoke.
Holy crap, we were the only people there singing for about three hours solid.
Bed
That is all.
(Absolutely nothing of note happened today. We saw a lizard. That shifted the tedium for all of about three seconds. Then we went in the pool. It wasn’t fun though. We just floated there. It was a little like being in limbo.
In the evening, we went to the pub and did karaoke. The high point of the day was leaving the pub, going home, and succumbing to the blessed relief that is sleep.)
Friday, 16 May 2008
Cyprus - Friday 16th May 2008
Today, well, I got up at about 10am, processed some pictures from yesterday and waited for the others who eventually dragged their sorry looking arses out of bed. He he, alcohol is not good for the human body! (I finally rolled out of bed at about 12. Not overly happy about that, as I keep going on about wanting to not waste time, but there you go. At least we’ve scheduled in today as a rest day.)
We have had a great day so far. He have sat about reading, I finally got round to finishing off
FOXTROT OSCAR and have given it to Sean to read. (I look forward to it. Andy’s spent much of his time with it laughing like a loon, so I hope it translates well to a civilian. I’ve spent much of the day hanging around in the pool, and writing yesterday’s entry. That’s surely the day’s writing that will finally see our artistic skills recognised and earn us that publishing deal. If not, there’s no justice in the world. Oh, I also discovered Minesweeper on Andy’s laptop. Not a good idea…)I think I am a little bit burnt today. (Ha! Factor 50 has seen me well…) My shoulders are kinda red and I have some colour to my chest.
We are off out tonight to Anesi and then on to the Full Moon for Karaoke night.
Anesi was great, once again the food was awesome! The owner guy looks loads like the guy from KISS with the tongue. (Gene Simmonds. The similarity is striking. The food there was really good, and very cheap, which is good for the wallet. Well, I say good – it all seemed great, but I’m not sure if something disagreed with me, as I currently have a bit of a gippy stomach. Not good. The only other problem was that, for the first time, our meal seemed a little rushed. I would say we were probably there less than an hour which, for a starter and a main, doesn’t seem very long. It would have been nice to spend a little more time there, as the place is lovely, and the staff very friendly. We got to show off some of our Greek skills with the (Australian) waitress – mainly just checking we knew how to pronounce things, but still. I wish we’d been there earlier on, and would get chance to go back, but sadly that seems unlikely now.)
Off to the Full Moon PH for Singing. It was another night of listening to lil’Kev singing his lil’ heart out murdering Elvis and Beetles songs. George Funbus once again wowed the ladies with his slick hair, pencil moustache and Frank Sinatra. I sang ‘Great Balls of Fire’, ‘We Didn’t Start the Fire’ and ‘Big Balls’. (Andy loves balls.) Sean sang ‘Video Killed the Radio Star’ (Slightly too high), ‘Rockstar’ (Slightly too big) and ‘Bohemian Like You’ and ‘Zoot Suit Riot’. Anna regaled us with “Paris to Berlin’ on to ‘Gar Bar’. Rich sang ‘Tubthumping’ and ‘Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me’.
Goldy sang LOADS.
I have a theory. Goldy, being in a different country, with no access to World of Warcraft, has become an addict to a substance more dangerous than Heroin or Crack Cocaine, Karaoke Glory Whoring.
It amazes me that every single night, G has been out trawling pubs and clubs (you make him
sound like a murderer searching for his next victim) looking for Karaoke and an audience to wow with his talents. I think he might be taking it a little too seriously, but, as a substitute to World Of Warcrack, it’s quite good as he is interacting in the real world with actual people. Now all we have to do is lure him away from his Nintendo DS and make him go out and learn things like, history and culture…...: P (Meh, history is overrated – you only have to keep learning more as time goes on, otherwise you end up out of date. And karaoke can be culture. Low culture, granted, occasionally horrifically badly sung culture, but culture nonetheless. After all, without music, we would be as the animals. Although some of those guys last night sounded like animals anyway, so I guess that’s a moot point.On a more salient point, it doesn’t matter, because I WINNED THE KARAOKE anyway. Hurray!
I sang a song Goldy had never even heard of, let along sung, so that means I’m officially the champion. And if we don’t go again on this holiday, that will make me the official (unofficial) Pan-European Karaoke Champion of the Universe (out of us). And that’s a title I’m sure we all want.
Andy had the chance to drink hot coffee because we came home about 1:30, leaving Laura, Rich and Goldy to have another drink. It had been assumed that Andy was driving some people back, then going back for the rest, but the three of them graciously agreed to get a taxi. Sometimes, I’m amazed by people’s kindness. Anyhoo, Anna sloped off to bed, and Andy followed after the others got back. A relatively relaxed start tomorrow, as we’re planning on just going into Pafos.)
Thursday, 15 May 2008
Cyprus - Thursday 15th May 2008
Before we start today’s blog, a small history lesson because this will clear up a whole load of questions that might arise during the text. Greek Cyprus was invaded by the Turks in 1974 because of some political bollocks and they have held the northern part of the island ever since. The UN stepped in and told them to get on and so far there has not been much trouble. (Tune in next time for another exciting episode of ‘Reasons Andy Isn’t a History Teacher!’)
Today we went over to Nicosia, or Lefkosia, as it is otherwise known (by the people who live there, not the language skewing Brits). This is the capital of Cyprus and the only split capital in the world. By that I mean that, like Berlin, pre 1989, it has a UN buffer zone (The Green Line) of ‘no mans land’ running through the middle to separate the Greek and Turkish Cypriots. (It was really odd. Even though I knew that the UN were there, actually stepping out of the car, right by a Buffer Zone, is incredibly weird. All around, there are people just going along there merry way, while massive fortifications and checkpoints protect the peace. Add to that all the signs prohibiting photography, reminding you that the UN are in operation, all the razor wire, and the buildings pockmarked with bullet holes, all basking in the sweltering Cypriot heat, and it makes for a very unusual contrast.)
We began by parking close to the ‘Pafos Gate’, so called because it used to be the exit of the walled city that faced the town of Pafos on the coast. This was pretty close to the boarder (good spelling, anus. I assume you mean ‘border,’ a line separating areas, rather than ‘boarder,’ someone who pays for lodgings) with the Turkish occupied half of the island. We wandered into the Greek side of the town and had a good look around. I feel the need to say at this point that is was REALLY hot (like your mum). It is away from the sea in the centre of the island and there was very little breeze to speak of, apart from the hot air coming from the area of Sean’s face.
It reminded me a little of a cross between a German shopping town like Koln or Dortmund, the streets looked similar and the shopping looked really good. The roads looked very French, with tall trees lining the carriageways that circumference the city.
After the long drive we stopped off for a much needed cup of coffee and a snack before heading on. (I had a weird sausage roll thing, called a sausage pie. It was basically just a big hot-dog sausage wrapped in pastry, and had some strange sauce in it (That would have been mustard), which wasn’t mustard (Yes it was), but was yellow (like mustard). I think it was a cheese thing.)
We went to a mosque in the centre of the town, Anna and I stayed outside to look after all the belongings whilst the others enjoyed the inside. I’ll let Sean go into all that. (I don’t recall ever having been in a mosque before, but it was lovely. It was just like an empty church, and, because of the lack of pews, seemed massive. It was strange to be in a building I’d never been in before with no shoes on, but was ever so peaceful. It was obviously quite a progressive mosque, as they welcomed everyone in, and had on the walls various pieces of scripture from the Q’uran, as well as other writings that outlined the tenets of the Moslem faith. There was quite a lot about how Jesus, David and Moses are Moslem prophets, which made it seem as if they were trying to explain that the three major world religions are not that different after all. I liked that.) They also had a digital clock (better than Jesus o’clock?) and a digital board showing all the prayer times.
On to the Archbishops Palace, originally built in the 15C, (It was Makarios that got independence for the Greeks in 1960) which is now the folk art museum. (Outside this place was a MAHOOSIVE statue of Makarios. It must have been at least 30 foot tall. Very impressive. If a little Hussein-esque.)
We walked on to the Famagusta Gate, similar to the Pafos Gate, but more exciting. This one has been converted into a conference and educational centre to teach the Greeks how the Turks have desecrated all of the churches on the northern part of the island and displaying government sanctioned propaganda that stirs racial hatred towards the Turks. I can see their point though. (I can see where you’re coming from, but then again, I think propaganda is a strong word, especially as the camera doesn’t lie. Seeing pictures of churches which have been ransacked, converted into mosques, or just desecrated by being used as stables or morgues, particularly after having just visited a mosque in the Greek half of the city, is quite compelling evidence of the invading forces’ contempt for the religion and ways of the indigenous population. After having felt included by the Moslem faith in the mosque, it was a reminder of just how hard line some aspects of the Moslem community can be. Of course, it’s no different to what other invading forces have done in the past, but the right to worship freely is one that I strongly agree with, whether I agree with the religion or not, and seeing evidence of the destruction of that right is saddening.)
Next up was the Liberty Monument, erected in 1960; it depicts two EOKA freedom fighters opening the doors to a prison, freeing the people of Cyprus from the British colonial rule. You would have thought that they would be unified against the Brits, and not bickering amongst themselves…. Everybody hates the British. (Only the chav aspect though. And it is probably hard to rally too much hatred against a nation that left you (eventually) to your own identity, especially when you have one that didn’t right on your doorstep.)
Snack break.
(The snack break led to us wandering the streets looking for a mosque which Laura had read has a minaret you can go up to see the cityscape. Unfortunately, we ended up back at the same place we’d already been, and so surmised that the information was wrong, or that the minaret just hadn’t been open. We carried on walking through the centre of the city, and Goldy found a Warcraft shop to look in. While he did that, I finally managed to get my postcards sent (hopefully they’ll arrive in the UK before we do). When I came out, Laura and Anna told me they’d just seen part of the Greek Special Olympic team (well, I assume it was only part of the team – if it was the whole team, they won’t be entering too many of the events!), which is exciting because we can now watch the Games and say that we’ve seen the athletes. It’ll be like having seen someone from Coronation Street, only with more artistic merit.)
The Salamacis building, or Tower 11 as it has been officially dubbed by me, is a bit of a disappointment really, it wasn’t overly high up and there were not that many ‘sights’ to see from that high up. It was a pretty good view but having been spoiled by the Empire State and T42 in London, it was pretty dull. I tried to blag getting in for free on my warrant card but they said that I had to be in uniform,… I knew I should have brought my hat. (I found it a bit annoying because, due to their being two viewing windows on each side, they had two pictures of the layout of the city, but only had half of the sites you could see on each, so you had to keep going back and forth to find everything. Also, the picture hadn’t been updated for a while, so there were loads of buildings on the skyline that weren’t in the picture.)
Back to the Pafos Gate and to the car for refreshments then off to….. Turkey.....
Well, only if you are Richard and talking to a Greek Police Officer at Passport control.
RB: “Is this the way to Turkey?”
(enthusiastically)
PO: “No, There is no Turkey here, for Turkey you need to drive to the Airport, get on a plane to Greece, then connect to Turkey….”
(dryly with a venom to her voice that could have killed a herd of elephants [or Sean’s mum])
RB: “Sorry, is that the way to Turkish Occupied Cyprus?”
(sheepishly)
PO: “Yes, that is the way to go”
(unimpressed)
A prime example of how to get almost get arrested, gang raped and insult a probably very upset copper who has to put up with idiot tourists banging on about going to Turkey, aka, their STOLEN land, their desecrated churches and a leech on their economy.
The moral of this tale, is not to let Rich travel to any politically unstable country for fear of an international incident. (We’re sending him to Palestine next. Or as he knows it, ‘that other bit of Northern Israel’.)
So, we were eventually allowed into the Turkish Occupied part of Nicosia through the Green Line. The Green Line is a really odd place. It is about 200m wide at the point we crossed. On the west side of the road there was a hotel that had been converted to house the many UN Peace Keepers based on the island. There were completely derelict buildings that were riddled with bullet holes and sandbags and ‘pillboxes’ that had been set up more than thirty years ago stand, decaying along the sides of the street. It seemed really sad and very eerie that these places exist, I really wanted to document these in photographs but there were none allowed on the Green Line, and there was so much CCTV I did not want to risk getting my kit confiscated or me arrested to satisfy my photo glory whoring. (The Green Line is so called because of the general who first used it to divide up the island. Not because he was Mr Green, but because he used a green pencil to draw it. This, apparently also explains why it’s different widths at various points in the city, as it is the same width as the pencil line. There’s one bit where it is literally about 5 metres wide. I think that was drawn just after he’d sharpened his pencil). (Or, you know when your pencil becomes semi blunt, you turn it 90 degrees and use the sharp edge)…. Fnar.
Crossing the UN Buffer Zone was extremely weird. It’s like there’s been some kind of explosion there, and the place is no longer fit for humans. Because, in the middle, you’re a good distance from traffic on either side, you can only hear birdsong. It’s quite eerie, and very sad. The border police on the Turkish side were nice enough though. We had to get temporary visas to enter the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus (TRNC, not recognised by any international group whatsoever), as, apparently, if they stamp your passport you are not allowed to return to Greek Cyprus. We had read that people living there weren’t allowed to cross at all, but there were some kids coming through with what looked like bus passes, who must surely have been in school on the Greek side, so maybe the rules are relaxing. Or maybe there’re different rules for schooling. I don’t know, and I didn’t find out, as the last thing I want to do is get arrested in ‘Turkey’ for chatting to underage children.)
On the other side, we split up into two groups. Rich, Godly and I went for a quiet drink whilst Anna, Laura and Sean went off and did their thing (not as good as ours).
We went off into the town, what struck me was how much nicer it was than the Greek Side. They had spent a lot of money ‘welcoming’ people to their side of town. The grass was green, the roads were in fairly good order and it looked fairly sweet! The attitude of the drivers changed as well. They all stop to let pedestrians cross, and the whole place was far more relaxed and chilled out than the Greek side. We bumbled down some side streets looking for a suitable bar to kill an hour in. We eventually found one on one of the main shopping roads in the town. We sat and drank for a little while and I found a camera shop that sold me a monopod for about a tenner (result).
We bumbled back towards the boarder after about 40 mins and found a lovely looking restraint (you found a what!?! Dirty little bugger, you never mentioned to me that you like that sort of thing…). We sat and drank a little more and awaited the return of our three wandering companions.
We talked about how relaxed it felt and how welcome people had made us and we were very surprised considering the turbulent history and the total hatred from the Greeks towards the Turks.
Upon the girls (yes Sean, you are included in that group) return, they had a totally different experience to share….. (As I’ve explained before, it’s the sexy group that I’m part of. Gimp.
Anyhoo, we wandered off into the city to have a look around. About 3 metres after we’d left the others, the niceness dropped off, and the place became a bit dirtier, and a lot less salubrious. I also got very quickly protective of the ladies, as it seemed that every single guy we walked past gave them both a full checking out. They didn’t even bother to hide behind sunglasses like we do. At one point, Laura bent down to take a picture of a kitten, and some old fella actually lent around some boxes to leer. Nice.
We went off to find the city’s main Mosque, which used to be the Cathedral. On the way there, we saw a column with a globe on top. Apparently, it had originally been erected when the Venetians had ruled, and had once had the lion of St Mark sitting proudly atop it. It was torn down by the islanders, and then re-erected with the globe by the British in 1915. See, I’m learning things.
We then mooched along to the Mosque. Inside, it was so spacious. Everything had been removed from the church, and all that remained was the main pulpit. The only concessions to its new faith were a few bits of Arabic writing on some of the pillars, and the carpeting. The carpet was strange, as the lines on it went in what seemed to be an entirely arbitrary direction, until I realised that it was aligned so that the faithful knew which way to pray so that they were facing Mecca. Apparently the girls had realised this in the first Mosque, but I hadn’t noticed the carpet there.
Inside was very quiet, with just a couple of middle aged men praying. It was interesting to see this, particularly as it was such a different proposition to anytime you ever see Moslem prayers on TV – there, it will invariably be thousands of people making lots of noise, and is generally used to show us, subtly, just how different Moslem ways of worship are. Here, however, I was struck by the quiet faith of the man. He had clearly taken time out of his day, possibly on his afternoon break, or after his work day was over, to come and quietly pray. Having never had that kind of faith myself, I found it quite humbling. It’s quite strange to reconcile that image with the images in the media which portray the Islamic faith as today’s bogeyman.
There were some kids in there too, running around and being noisy. Later on, we saw them again in the street. They called the girls sexy, and said that they could ‘f*** them great.’ Nice. If only they went for 13 year-old letches, the kids would have been well away…although they might have struggled to carry them off into the sunset on their bikes.
After the Mosque, we wandered round an indoor market. It was kind of lame. Laura wanted some postcards, but refused to give money to the Turks. She’s uber-principled. We then tried to find Buruk Kham, used as a prison by the British, and now a shopping plaza type thing. Essentially, it’s like a round open air theatre, with two levels. Where it used to house prisoners, it now houses bars, coffee shops and arty craft shops. It could possibly be the nicest place ever to have been incarcerated. Unfortunately, like everywhere else on the Turkish side, it was populated by men with eyes on stalks, but that didn’t take too much away from its attractiveness. In my mind, it was probably the nicest part of either side of the city, possibly because, other than its Turkish name, it bore no signs of the war that has been fought for the land – rather, it was a remnant from colonial times, now put to a nicer use.
We trekked back to meet the guys in their bar, stopping on the way to take some uber-camp photos, of me underneath a stop sign (stop in Turkish is ‘Dur.’ Good for lame ass English tourist gags) and selling Anna a book under a shop sign proclaiming the premises to be the home of Gaye Trading. Because we’re that mature. When we arrived at the bar, I took a quick ‘comfort break,’ which I mention only because the toilet had a cool thing that made the plastic on the seat turn around before you used it, which was immense. I didn’t even need to use the actual toilet, but played with that anyway, as I’m a child.)
Thought I put my twopenny’th in here, but Sean has already touched on the feelings I got whilst in NotTurkey. Having dressed relatively conservatively as I knew we would be going into mosques and churches, I found the attitudes of the Turkish men immensely disturbing. One thing that struck me quite early on was the larger proportion of males to females on the Turkish side across all the age ranges. Outside every café, sitting on every street corner was a group of men. Almost without fail, Laura and I attracted outright stares and, in a thankful minority of cases, wholly inappropriately explicit comments. Considering that the few local ladies we saw were far more “exposed” than we were, I can only guess that their first thought when seeing a blonde, light skinned girl is that she is openly available for sex and would gladly appreciate any one of them (be they 13 or well over 60) telling her she’s sexy and that they could “f*** you great”. I don’t. I do not like NotTurkey.
We managed to return into Greek Cyprus without creating an international hostage situation and got to the cars and travelled the long journey back home.
Well worth the trip, we really needed to go to the “Museum of Cyprus” but we just didn’t have time. It would have been great to see all of the ‘Treasure’ that had been recovered from all the dig sites that we have been to over this holiday. Maybe another time though. (Next time, we also need to go to the Museum of Brutality’ in the Turkish half. I just need to go to any museum with such a contentious name.)
[Extension of above rant] It is such a shame that the two countries can’t just get along. The city has beautiful city walls that are being used on one side for the exact purpose they were designed for. They should have tourists walking along them, enjoying the view and circling the city. The buildings are decaying near to the boarder and some have been totally consumed, with windows sandbagged or concreted up. There are bullet holes in walls and through signs from a conflict more that 30 years ago. It is such a shame that a disagreement all that time ago has become local history when people should be concentrating on the whole towns role within Cyprus and its historical value that stretches back to the great earthquake of 4c.[/rant]
We got home without certain death (I am a terrible passenger), which delighted me greatly. (We almost got sideswiped by a bigger car when Richard was playing ‘road rally.’ That wasn’t fun. Our car would have been creamed.) We had some ice cream and then, later in the evening, the tribe went out to watch (lame) football. Anna and I went to a drive over to Agios Georgios. On the way back we found a great little restaurant called ‘Anesi’, which means ‘relax’. The food was ace, the owner and his wife were brilliant and it is a definite suggestion for tomorrow nights food.
(Football is not lame. I wrote earlier that she was a cruel mistress. Well last night she was like a wife who surprised you with your favourite meal, a night in front of all the Die Hard movies, followed by fellatio. I can’t remember the last time I felt such a wave of euphoria. I can remember the last time I shed a tear at a game though – the 4-1 defeat at Bolton that sent us into the second tier. It’s only right, really, that our possible return there should be greeted the same way. Little Johnny Howson, a local lad playing for his childhood team, wrote his name into United folklore with the two goals that saw off Carlisle in another pulsating match. I couldn’t have been happier with the way the boys played, and there were mercifully few times that I feared for the game. The fans did us proud, the boys made up for the showing on Monday night, and there can be no greater sight than Gary McAllister’s happy little face after the match. John Ward, the Carlisle boss, was magnanimous in defeat, and the whole thing was a positive advertisement for English football in general and the lower leagues in particular. I will now spend the next week trying, probably in vain, but you never know, to get tickets for Wembley. Now to wait and see who we’ll be playing… (Edit on Friday. It’s Doncaster. They blitzed Southend 5-1. Yorkshire derby at Wembley? Could be tasty…)
Sadly, I ended up being made to get drunk by the endless succession of drinks that were placed in front of me. Against my better judgement, I drank them all. Well, except the one that got knocked all over me. I don’t like being drunk. We got back about 2:30ish, had one game of shithead, and then I went to bed. Laura came up a little while after, thinking she’d lost her passport, although it turned out this morning that Anna had actually put it in the safe. Seriously, alcohol does not make anyone be at their best. Andy and Anna were already in bed when we got back.)
Righto, it’s been a long day today so I’m off to bed.
(See?)
Today we went over to Nicosia, or Lefkosia, as it is otherwise known (by the people who live there, not the language skewing Brits). This is the capital of Cyprus and the only split capital in the world. By that I mean that, like Berlin, pre 1989, it has a UN buffer zone (The Green Line) of ‘no mans land’ running through the middle to separate the Greek and Turkish Cypriots. (It was really odd. Even though I knew that the UN were there, actually stepping out of the car, right by a Buffer Zone, is incredibly weird. All around, there are people just going along there merry way, while massive fortifications and checkpoints protect the peace. Add to that all the signs prohibiting photography, reminding you that the UN are in operation, all the razor wire, and the buildings pockmarked with bullet holes, all basking in the sweltering Cypriot heat, and it makes for a very unusual contrast.)
We began by parking close to the ‘Pafos Gate’, so called because it used to be the exit of the walled city that faced the town of Pafos on the coast. This was pretty close to the boarder (good spelling, anus. I assume you mean ‘border,’ a line separating areas, rather than ‘boarder,’ someone who pays for lodgings) with the Turkish occupied half of the island. We wandered into the Greek side of the town and had a good look around. I feel the need to say at this point that is was REALLY hot (like your mum). It is away from the sea in the centre of the island and there was very little breeze to speak of, apart from the hot air coming from the area of Sean’s face.
It reminded me a little of a cross between a German shopping town like Koln or Dortmund, the streets looked similar and the shopping looked really good. The roads looked very French, with tall trees lining the carriageways that circumference the city.
After the long drive we stopped off for a much needed cup of coffee and a snack before heading on. (I had a weird sausage roll thing, called a sausage pie. It was basically just a big hot-dog sausage wrapped in pastry, and had some strange sauce in it (That would have been mustard), which wasn’t mustard (Yes it was), but was yellow (like mustard). I think it was a cheese thing.)
We went to a mosque in the centre of the town, Anna and I stayed outside to look after all the belongings whilst the others enjoyed the inside. I’ll let Sean go into all that. (I don’t recall ever having been in a mosque before, but it was lovely. It was just like an empty church, and, because of the lack of pews, seemed massive. It was strange to be in a building I’d never been in before with no shoes on, but was ever so peaceful. It was obviously quite a progressive mosque, as they welcomed everyone in, and had on the walls various pieces of scripture from the Q’uran, as well as other writings that outlined the tenets of the Moslem faith. There was quite a lot about how Jesus, David and Moses are Moslem prophets, which made it seem as if they were trying to explain that the three major world religions are not that different after all. I liked that.) They also had a digital clock (better than Jesus o’clock?) and a digital board showing all the prayer times.
On to the Archbishops Palace, originally built in the 15C, (It was Makarios that got independence for the Greeks in 1960) which is now the folk art museum. (Outside this place was a MAHOOSIVE statue of Makarios. It must have been at least 30 foot tall. Very impressive. If a little Hussein-esque.)We walked on to the Famagusta Gate, similar to the Pafos Gate, but more exciting. This one has been converted into a conference and educational centre to teach the Greeks how the Turks have desecrated all of the churches on the northern part of the island and displaying government sanctioned propaganda that stirs racial hatred towards the Turks. I can see their point though. (I can see where you’re coming from, but then again, I think propaganda is a strong word, especially as the camera doesn’t lie. Seeing pictures of churches which have been ransacked, converted into mosques, or just desecrated by being used as stables or morgues, particularly after having just visited a mosque in the Greek half of the city, is quite compelling evidence of the invading forces’ contempt for the religion and ways of the indigenous population. After having felt included by the Moslem faith in the mosque, it was a reminder of just how hard line some aspects of the Moslem community can be. Of course, it’s no different to what other invading forces have done in the past, but the right to worship freely is one that I strongly agree with, whether I agree with the religion or not, and seeing evidence of the destruction of that right is saddening.)
Next up was the Liberty Monument, erected in 1960; it depicts two EOKA freedom fighters opening the doors to a prison, freeing the people of Cyprus from the British colonial rule. You would have thought that they would be unified against the Brits, and not bickering amongst themselves…. Everybody hates the British. (Only the chav aspect though. And it is probably hard to rally too much hatred against a nation that left you (eventually) to your own identity, especially when you have one that didn’t right on your doorstep.)
Snack break.
(The snack break led to us wandering the streets looking for a mosque which Laura had read has a minaret you can go up to see the cityscape. Unfortunately, we ended up back at the same place we’d already been, and so surmised that the information was wrong, or that the minaret just hadn’t been open. We carried on walking through the centre of the city, and Goldy found a Warcraft shop to look in. While he did that, I finally managed to get my postcards sent (hopefully they’ll arrive in the UK before we do). When I came out, Laura and Anna told me they’d just seen part of the Greek Special Olympic team (well, I assume it was only part of the team – if it was the whole team, they won’t be entering too many of the events!), which is exciting because we can now watch the Games and say that we’ve seen the athletes. It’ll be like having seen someone from Coronation Street, only with more artistic merit.)
The Salamacis building, or Tower 11 as it has been officially dubbed by me, is a bit of a disappointment really, it wasn’t overly high up and there were not that many ‘sights’ to see from that high up. It was a pretty good view but having been spoiled by the Empire State and T42 in London, it was pretty dull. I tried to blag getting in for free on my warrant card but they said that I had to be in uniform,… I knew I should have brought my hat. (I found it a bit annoying because, due to their being two viewing windows on each side, they had two pictures of the layout of the city, but only had half of the sites you could see on each, so you had to keep going back and forth to find everything. Also, the picture hadn’t been updated for a while, so there were loads of buildings on the skyline that weren’t in the picture.)
Back to the Pafos Gate and to the car for refreshments then off to….. Turkey.....
Well, only if you are Richard and talking to a Greek Police Officer at Passport control.
RB: “Is this the way to Turkey?”
(enthusiastically)
PO: “No, There is no Turkey here, for Turkey you need to drive to the Airport, get on a plane to Greece, then connect to Turkey….”
(dryly with a venom to her voice that could have killed a herd of elephants [or Sean’s mum])
RB: “Sorry, is that the way to Turkish Occupied Cyprus?”
(sheepishly)
PO: “Yes, that is the way to go”
(unimpressed)
A prime example of how to get almost get arrested, gang raped and insult a probably very upset copper who has to put up with idiot tourists banging on about going to Turkey, aka, their STOLEN land, their desecrated churches and a leech on their economy.
The moral of this tale, is not to let Rich travel to any politically unstable country for fear of an international incident. (We’re sending him to Palestine next. Or as he knows it, ‘that other bit of Northern Israel’.)
So, we were eventually allowed into the Turkish Occupied part of Nicosia through the Green Line. The Green Line is a really odd place. It is about 200m wide at the point we crossed. On the west side of the road there was a hotel that had been converted to house the many UN Peace Keepers based on the island. There were completely derelict buildings that were riddled with bullet holes and sandbags and ‘pillboxes’ that had been set up more than thirty years ago stand, decaying along the sides of the street. It seemed really sad and very eerie that these places exist, I really wanted to document these in photographs but there were none allowed on the Green Line, and there was so much CCTV I did not want to risk getting my kit confiscated or me arrested to satisfy my photo glory whoring. (The Green Line is so called because of the general who first used it to divide up the island. Not because he was Mr Green, but because he used a green pencil to draw it. This, apparently also explains why it’s different widths at various points in the city, as it is the same width as the pencil line. There’s one bit where it is literally about 5 metres wide. I think that was drawn just after he’d sharpened his pencil). (Or, you know when your pencil becomes semi blunt, you turn it 90 degrees and use the sharp edge)…. Fnar.
Crossing the UN Buffer Zone was extremely weird. It’s like there’s been some kind of explosion there, and the place is no longer fit for humans. Because, in the middle, you’re a good distance from traffic on either side, you can only hear birdsong. It’s quite eerie, and very sad. The border police on the Turkish side were nice enough though. We had to get temporary visas to enter the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus (TRNC, not recognised by any international group whatsoever), as, apparently, if they stamp your passport you are not allowed to return to Greek Cyprus. We had read that people living there weren’t allowed to cross at all, but there were some kids coming through with what looked like bus passes, who must surely have been in school on the Greek side, so maybe the rules are relaxing. Or maybe there’re different rules for schooling. I don’t know, and I didn’t find out, as the last thing I want to do is get arrested in ‘Turkey’ for chatting to underage children.)
On the other side, we split up into two groups. Rich, Godly and I went for a quiet drink whilst Anna, Laura and Sean went off and did their thing (not as good as ours).We went off into the town, what struck me was how much nicer it was than the Greek Side. They had spent a lot of money ‘welcoming’ people to their side of town. The grass was green, the roads were in fairly good order and it looked fairly sweet! The attitude of the drivers changed as well. They all stop to let pedestrians cross, and the whole place was far more relaxed and chilled out than the Greek side. We bumbled down some side streets looking for a suitable bar to kill an hour in. We eventually found one on one of the main shopping roads in the town. We sat and drank for a little while and I found a camera shop that sold me a monopod for about a tenner (result).
We bumbled back towards the boarder after about 40 mins and found a lovely looking restraint (you found a what!?! Dirty little bugger, you never mentioned to me that you like that sort of thing…). We sat and drank a little more and awaited the return of our three wandering companions.
We talked about how relaxed it felt and how welcome people had made us and we were very surprised considering the turbulent history and the total hatred from the Greeks towards the Turks.
Upon the girls (yes Sean, you are included in that group) return, they had a totally different experience to share….. (As I’ve explained before, it’s the sexy group that I’m part of. Gimp.
Anyhoo, we wandered off into the city to have a look around. About 3 metres after we’d left the others, the niceness dropped off, and the place became a bit dirtier, and a lot less salubrious. I also got very quickly protective of the ladies, as it seemed that every single guy we walked past gave them both a full checking out. They didn’t even bother to hide behind sunglasses like we do. At one point, Laura bent down to take a picture of a kitten, and some old fella actually lent around some boxes to leer. Nice.
We went off to find the city’s main Mosque, which used to be the Cathedral. On the way there, we saw a column with a globe on top. Apparently, it had originally been erected when the Venetians had ruled, and had once had the lion of St Mark sitting proudly atop it. It was torn down by the islanders, and then re-erected with the globe by the British in 1915. See, I’m learning things.
We then mooched along to the Mosque. Inside, it was so spacious. Everything had been removed from the church, and all that remained was the main pulpit. The only concessions to its new faith were a few bits of Arabic writing on some of the pillars, and the carpeting. The carpet was strange, as the lines on it went in what seemed to be an entirely arbitrary direction, until I realised that it was aligned so that the faithful knew which way to pray so that they were facing Mecca. Apparently the girls had realised this in the first Mosque, but I hadn’t noticed the carpet there.
Inside was very quiet, with just a couple of middle aged men praying. It was interesting to see this, particularly as it was such a different proposition to anytime you ever see Moslem prayers on TV – there, it will invariably be thousands of people making lots of noise, and is generally used to show us, subtly, just how different Moslem ways of worship are. Here, however, I was struck by the quiet faith of the man. He had clearly taken time out of his day, possibly on his afternoon break, or after his work day was over, to come and quietly pray. Having never had that kind of faith myself, I found it quite humbling. It’s quite strange to reconcile that image with the images in the media which portray the Islamic faith as today’s bogeyman.
There were some kids in there too, running around and being noisy. Later on, we saw them again in the street. They called the girls sexy, and said that they could ‘f*** them great.’ Nice. If only they went for 13 year-old letches, the kids would have been well away…although they might have struggled to carry them off into the sunset on their bikes.
After the Mosque, we wandered round an indoor market. It was kind of lame. Laura wanted some postcards, but refused to give money to the Turks. She’s uber-principled. We then tried to find Buruk Kham, used as a prison by the British, and now a shopping plaza type thing. Essentially, it’s like a round open air theatre, with two levels. Where it used to house prisoners, it now houses bars, coffee shops and arty craft shops. It could possibly be the nicest place ever to have been incarcerated. Unfortunately, like everywhere else on the Turkish side, it was populated by men with eyes on stalks, but that didn’t take too much away from its attractiveness. In my mind, it was probably the nicest part of either side of the city, possibly because, other than its Turkish name, it bore no signs of the war that has been fought for the land – rather, it was a remnant from colonial times, now put to a nicer use.
We trekked back to meet the guys in their bar, stopping on the way to take some uber-camp photos, of me underneath a stop sign (stop in Turkish is ‘Dur.’ Good for lame ass English tourist gags) and selling Anna a book under a shop sign proclaiming the premises to be the home of Gaye Trading. Because we’re that mature. When we arrived at the bar, I took a quick ‘comfort break,’ which I mention only because the toilet had a cool thing that made the plastic on the seat turn around before you used it, which was immense. I didn’t even need to use the actual toilet, but played with that anyway, as I’m a child.)
Thought I put my twopenny’th in here, but Sean has already touched on the feelings I got whilst in NotTurkey. Having dressed relatively conservatively as I knew we would be going into mosques and churches, I found the attitudes of the Turkish men immensely disturbing. One thing that struck me quite early on was the larger proportion of males to females on the Turkish side across all the age ranges. Outside every café, sitting on every street corner was a group of men. Almost without fail, Laura and I attracted outright stares and, in a thankful minority of cases, wholly inappropriately explicit comments. Considering that the few local ladies we saw were far more “exposed” than we were, I can only guess that their first thought when seeing a blonde, light skinned girl is that she is openly available for sex and would gladly appreciate any one of them (be they 13 or well over 60) telling her she’s sexy and that they could “f*** you great”. I don’t. I do not like NotTurkey.
We managed to return into Greek Cyprus without creating an international hostage situation and got to the cars and travelled the long journey back home.
Well worth the trip, we really needed to go to the “Museum of Cyprus” but we just didn’t have time. It would have been great to see all of the ‘Treasure’ that had been recovered from all the dig sites that we have been to over this holiday. Maybe another time though. (Next time, we also need to go to the Museum of Brutality’ in the Turkish half. I just need to go to any museum with such a contentious name.)
[Extension of above rant] It is such a shame that the two countries can’t just get along. The city has beautiful city walls that are being used on one side for the exact purpose they were designed for. They should have tourists walking along them, enjoying the view and circling the city. The buildings are decaying near to the boarder and some have been totally consumed, with windows sandbagged or concreted up. There are bullet holes in walls and through signs from a conflict more that 30 years ago. It is such a shame that a disagreement all that time ago has become local history when people should be concentrating on the whole towns role within Cyprus and its historical value that stretches back to the great earthquake of 4c.[/rant]
We got home without certain death (I am a terrible passenger), which delighted me greatly. (We almost got sideswiped by a bigger car when Richard was playing ‘road rally.’ That wasn’t fun. Our car would have been creamed.) We had some ice cream and then, later in the evening, the tribe went out to watch (lame) football. Anna and I went to a drive over to Agios Georgios. On the way back we found a great little restaurant called ‘Anesi’, which means ‘relax’. The food was ace, the owner and his wife were brilliant and it is a definite suggestion for tomorrow nights food.
(Football is not lame. I wrote earlier that she was a cruel mistress. Well last night she was like a wife who surprised you with your favourite meal, a night in front of all the Die Hard movies, followed by fellatio. I can’t remember the last time I felt such a wave of euphoria. I can remember the last time I shed a tear at a game though – the 4-1 defeat at Bolton that sent us into the second tier. It’s only right, really, that our possible return there should be greeted the same way. Little Johnny Howson, a local lad playing for his childhood team, wrote his name into United folklore with the two goals that saw off Carlisle in another pulsating match. I couldn’t have been happier with the way the boys played, and there were mercifully few times that I feared for the game. The fans did us proud, the boys made up for the showing on Monday night, and there can be no greater sight than Gary McAllister’s happy little face after the match. John Ward, the Carlisle boss, was magnanimous in defeat, and the whole thing was a positive advertisement for English football in general and the lower leagues in particular. I will now spend the next week trying, probably in vain, but you never know, to get tickets for Wembley. Now to wait and see who we’ll be playing… (Edit on Friday. It’s Doncaster. They blitzed Southend 5-1. Yorkshire derby at Wembley? Could be tasty…)
Sadly, I ended up being made to get drunk by the endless succession of drinks that were placed in front of me. Against my better judgement, I drank them all. Well, except the one that got knocked all over me. I don’t like being drunk. We got back about 2:30ish, had one game of shithead, and then I went to bed. Laura came up a little while after, thinking she’d lost her passport, although it turned out this morning that Anna had actually put it in the safe. Seriously, alcohol does not make anyone be at their best. Andy and Anna were already in bed when we got back.)
Righto, it’s been a long day today so I’m off to bed.
(See?)
Wednesday, 14 May 2008
Cyprus - Wednesday 14th May 2008
I have started the day with toast and tea. That is all for now.
I started the day with a nice long (and much deserved) poo. I then had some pitta, toasted with jam in the middle, NYOM. (I also had jammy pitta. This early morning lark is ok, it comes with free breadstuffs.)
Goldy and Laura had headed out quickly to get some cash and we are stirring, ready for the day’s adventure to Pafos. There is a covered market in the old town to have a quick look at and then to Kato Pafos to have a look at the Roman Villa and Fort in the harbour.
The duck-pond market on the Tombs of the Kings Road, on the way into Pafos, was slightly disappointing. It is an Ex Pat get together really where they are selling off all their (now grownup) children’s junk and toys. A quick wander round let us to seeing only one noteworthy purchase that we are going to have to go back
for next Wednesday, Gollywog mugs. (This was not strictly true for the girls – they spent about a year talking to some guy who takes pictures of dogs. I think they were going to buy a dog just to get it photographed. Also, there were some tools and stuff which were manly, and a massive curved blade thing, which the storeholder assured us we could get through customs in hold luggage. We didn’t bother.)
Pafos town is set on the side of a hill overlooking the sea and it is about as busy as Hertford (traffic wise). The buildings are mostly dilapidated with fading paint and signs that have definitely seen better days with letters missing and paint flaking off them. The only really well kept part of the town is the covered market and the tourist area right next to where the coaches drop off their hoards of tourists.
The covered market was pretty much full of tat. Most of the stalls were selling local lace that was made in India or China, Toys that were cheap knock offs. Sean bought some lace from an old hag, for his old hag (har-har). (That’d be my Grandma, then. Bit rude.)
On the other side of the road from the market is an old mosque that is a leftover from the Turkish presence on the southern part of the island. The mosque, formally the Byzantine Church of Agia Sofia has remained padlocked and shut since around the mid 70’s. Surprisingly the building has not been graffiti’d on, the graves remain intact and all of the windows in the dome (which would have been target practice in the UK) have not been bricked. It was amazing, and even more so in contrast to how the churches in the north of Cyprus appear to have been treated by the occupying forces.
We then went back to the car via a patch of concrete that had a picture of the Virgin Mary in it, (which we only spotted because of the graffiti on the wall. There we were, stood by a Turkish mosque, symbol of the occupying forces in the North of the island, that was left unadulterated, and even had a woman tending the graves to ensure they didn’t get overgrown (actually she worked in a florists shop just over the road and she was taking some nice foliage clippings for her arrangements, but never mind), and some Scally, obviously not taking his lead from the local youths, had spotted, at some point in the past, a spot of drying cement and decided to write Liverpool and what looked like initials in it. Honestly, you can’t trust Liverpool fans. (Although, as Liverpool are such a fantastic club, they have supporters all over the world. So it’s just as plausible that the graffiti was written by a Cypriot! So there, mean boys. Oh, and it wasn’t actually a picture of the Virgin Mary, in that it wasn’t drawn or anything, it was just that the cement had dried into a vague facsimile of her, such as you would normally find on a piece of toast on page 17 of the Sun.) and drove to Kato Pafos (the harbour area).
(As we wandered down the harbour, we were once again accosted by someone from pretty much every bar and restaurant telling us that ‘our table was ready.’ Strange, since we hadn’t asked for one.) At the end of the harbour there is a Byzantine Fort, which stands overlooking the sea. Up until a few years ago it was used as a salt store but in its hey-day it would have been used to protect Pafos and as an administrative building for the docks. The standard tariff of 1 euro 71 did not buy us much for this one, although it had a lovely view over the sea. I got told I was tall by a northerner, I replied that I knew and that I had been tall for ages, and yes, I did get it a lot, they shuffled off and left me alone from then on. (She probably wasn’t sure if your dumb Southern brain had twigged yet.). And we got to do gargoyle poses in the holes in the wall, so it wasn’t a complete loss.
Just outside the fort was a little café called ‘The Hobo’. As it reminded us of Sean’s maternal parentage, we decided to eat there. (I have no idea when this became ‘slag off Sean’s grandparents’ day. I really must remember to check my calendar more closely next year. The actual reason we went there was that it was the only place that didn’t seem bothered if we did or not. Oh, and because Andy felt at home there. Hobo.) The food was pretty nice but expensive, but what did we expect for the tourist centre of Pafos. (Goldy and I had a burger. They put little swords in the top of them instead of cocktail sticks, so it was like our dinner had been attacked by midget pirates.)
After grub, we headed off to the ruins next door of the old Roman Settlement. I believe that it is the biggest archaeological site on the island and has the best preserved mosaics. (Again, is that it? Dude, you suck. We spent ages wandering round these remarkably well preserved ruins (if that isn’t an oxymoron), and that’s all you can say? They also won’t remain well preserved if certain people kept dropping their sunglasses on them and having to step on them will they now….?
The ruins were immense, and were clearly a place of some splendour back in the day. The mosaics were, indeed, very well preserved, and were, for the most part, between 50 and 90% complete, which was wonderful to see. The walk was marred somewhat by the fact that we kept getting waylaid by tourist groups, which meant that it was sometimes a little awkward to get into see some things, as they just kept getting in the way, making asinine comments. Well, I assume they were asinine – they were all in foreign, but from what I’ve seen of English people on coach tours, you can probably assume that people the world over that take these kind of trips have as little common sense as each other.
Goldy once again bottled out of singing in an amphitheatre – this is becoming a feature of the holiday. One more and I think he gets to keep them all. Andy did get some pretty cool photos of Rich in various positions on the thing though, which he has knitted together into one panoramic photo. It’s Rich’s (wet) dream pic – just him 6 times and no-one else.
Ok, fair enough Andy, there’s not really much more to say. The fact is, one ruined settlement is pretty much like another in writing. In person, it’s quite different, but descriptive wise, it’s all pretty much of a muchness. So, if you want to know what this one was like, go re-read what we said earlier. I’ll wait here…
Back? Then let’s carry on…)
After a couple of hours of pottering round the ruins, we headed back to the house for some pool action and using Richards new torpedo,… the phallic jokes begin. (Allow me to clarify slightly. We’d got this cool underwater torpedo thing that glides, erm, underwater, like an, erm, torpedo. It’s quite cool, and I’m hoping to stun a fish with it next time we go out.)
After a quiet dinner of ‘sandwich’ (sammich), we watched a little TV, for the first time this holiday. Andy wanted to catch up on some news, which was good to do – can you believe none of us even knew that there’d been a devastating earthquake in China? (Incidentally, if you didn’t know, then, please, put down Heat and pick up a newspaper every once in a while.) While flicking through, we found two great things – firstly, a channel that would be showing the UEFA Cup final (which I caught the last 20 minutes of, not that it was overly exciting), and secondly and best, the Pentagon Channel. Straight from America’s military heart to their forces worldwide, this was the kind of propaganda you don’t want to miss. After meeting America’s military spouse of the year, we saw how mothers in Iraq were spending Mother’s Day, and got a three day weather forecast for everywhere in the world that currently has US Personnel fighting in it (that took quite some time). However, the piece de resistance arrived in the form of ‘The Grill Sergeant,’ an Army officer who showed the troops how to cook. And I use the term as loosely as possible.
We laughed when he first told us what he would be demonstrating this evening – sandwiches (sammiches). It just got better though, as he demonstrated his first delicacy. Essentially, he got a French stick, put a bit of lettuce on one side, and then proceeded to fry every other ingredient. And I do mean everything – right down to the spinach. By the time he’d finished, the two halves of the (what looked to be a foot-long) stick were separated by about four inches of fried greasy meat that even this confirmed carnivore balked at. I think they’re now standard issue instead of the somewhat passé cyanide pills – an instant heart attack in bread form. I bet it was tasty though. Oh, and that doesn’t even begin to tell you about his grilled cheese sandwich (he fried the cheese. Then buttered the outside of the bread he’d put it in, and fried that too. I think grilled must have referred to some form of questioning that occurred off camera.). If you didn’t see this, you can’t begin to understand the genius of it. Plus he also had a house band called ‘The Tastebuds’. How classy is that?!?!?!
It was to be an early start on Thursday, so everyone got off to bed before too long. Laura still had time, however, to read this magnificent opus up to its current position. She laughed long and hard, although with fine wordsmiths such as us at the helm, who could blame her? She wants to join in…we have to decide whether she could live up to the lofty standards that have preceded her…)
I started the day with a nice long (and much deserved) poo. I then had some pitta, toasted with jam in the middle, NYOM. (I also had jammy pitta. This early morning lark is ok, it comes with free breadstuffs.)
Goldy and Laura had headed out quickly to get some cash and we are stirring, ready for the day’s adventure to Pafos. There is a covered market in the old town to have a quick look at and then to Kato Pafos to have a look at the Roman Villa and Fort in the harbour.
The duck-pond market on the Tombs of the Kings Road, on the way into Pafos, was slightly disappointing. It is an Ex Pat get together really where they are selling off all their (now grownup) children’s junk and toys. A quick wander round let us to seeing only one noteworthy purchase that we are going to have to go back
for next Wednesday, Gollywog mugs. (This was not strictly true for the girls – they spent about a year talking to some guy who takes pictures of dogs. I think they were going to buy a dog just to get it photographed. Also, there were some tools and stuff which were manly, and a massive curved blade thing, which the storeholder assured us we could get through customs in hold luggage. We didn’t bother.)Pafos town is set on the side of a hill overlooking the sea and it is about as busy as Hertford (traffic wise). The buildings are mostly dilapidated with fading paint and signs that have definitely seen better days with letters missing and paint flaking off them. The only really well kept part of the town is the covered market and the tourist area right next to where the coaches drop off their hoards of tourists.
The covered market was pretty much full of tat. Most of the stalls were selling local lace that was made in India or China, Toys that were cheap knock offs. Sean bought some lace from an old hag, for his old hag (har-har). (That’d be my Grandma, then. Bit rude.)
On the other side of the road from the market is an old mosque that is a leftover from the Turkish presence on the southern part of the island. The mosque, formally the Byzantine Church of Agia Sofia has remained padlocked and shut since around the mid 70’s. Surprisingly the building has not been graffiti’d on, the graves remain intact and all of the windows in the dome (which would have been target practice in the UK) have not been bricked. It was amazing, and even more so in contrast to how the churches in the north of Cyprus appear to have been treated by the occupying forces. We then went back to the car via a patch of concrete that had a picture of the Virgin Mary in it, (which we only spotted because of the graffiti on the wall. There we were, stood by a Turkish mosque, symbol of the occupying forces in the North of the island, that was left unadulterated, and even had a woman tending the graves to ensure they didn’t get overgrown (actually she worked in a florists shop just over the road and she was taking some nice foliage clippings for her arrangements, but never mind), and some Scally, obviously not taking his lead from the local youths, had spotted, at some point in the past, a spot of drying cement and decided to write Liverpool and what looked like initials in it. Honestly, you can’t trust Liverpool fans. (Although, as Liverpool are such a fantastic club, they have supporters all over the world. So it’s just as plausible that the graffiti was written by a Cypriot! So there, mean boys. Oh, and it wasn’t actually a picture of the Virgin Mary, in that it wasn’t drawn or anything, it was just that the cement had dried into a vague facsimile of her, such as you would normally find on a piece of toast on page 17 of the Sun.) and drove to Kato Pafos (the harbour area).
(As we wandered down the harbour, we were once again accosted by someone from pretty much every bar and restaurant telling us that ‘our table was ready.’ Strange, since we hadn’t asked for one.) At the end of the harbour there is a Byzantine Fort, which stands overlooking the sea. Up until a few years ago it was used as a salt store but in its hey-day it would have been used to protect Pafos and as an administrative building for the docks. The standard tariff of 1 euro 71 did not buy us much for this one, although it had a lovely view over the sea. I got told I was tall by a northerner, I replied that I knew and that I had been tall for ages, and yes, I did get it a lot, they shuffled off and left me alone from then on. (She probably wasn’t sure if your dumb Southern brain had twigged yet.). And we got to do gargoyle poses in the holes in the wall, so it wasn’t a complete loss.
Just outside the fort was a little café called ‘The Hobo’. As it reminded us of Sean’s maternal parentage, we decided to eat there. (I have no idea when this became ‘slag off Sean’s grandparents’ day. I really must remember to check my calendar more closely next year. The actual reason we went there was that it was the only place that didn’t seem bothered if we did or not. Oh, and because Andy felt at home there. Hobo.) The food was pretty nice but expensive, but what did we expect for the tourist centre of Pafos. (Goldy and I had a burger. They put little swords in the top of them instead of cocktail sticks, so it was like our dinner had been attacked by midget pirates.)
After grub, we headed off to the ruins next door of the old Roman Settlement. I believe that it is the biggest archaeological site on the island and has the best preserved mosaics. (Again, is that it? Dude, you suck. We spent ages wandering round these remarkably well preserved ruins (if that isn’t an oxymoron), and that’s all you can say? They also won’t remain well preserved if certain people kept dropping their sunglasses on them and having to step on them will they now….?
The ruins were immense, and were clearly a place of some splendour back in the day. The mosaics were, indeed, very well preserved, and were, for the most part, between 50 and 90% complete, which was wonderful to see. The walk was marred somewhat by the fact that we kept getting waylaid by tourist groups, which meant that it was sometimes a little awkward to get into see some things, as they just kept getting in the way, making asinine comments. Well, I assume they were asinine – they were all in foreign, but from what I’ve seen of English people on coach tours, you can probably assume that people the world over that take these kind of trips have as little common sense as each other.
Goldy once again bottled out of singing in an amphitheatre – this is becoming a feature of the holiday. One more and I think he gets to keep them all. Andy did get some pretty cool photos of Rich in various positions on the thing though, which he has knitted together into one panoramic photo. It’s Rich’s (wet) dream pic – just him 6 times and no-one else.
Ok, fair enough Andy, there’s not really much more to say. The fact is, one ruined settlement is pretty much like another in writing. In person, it’s quite different, but descriptive wise, it’s all pretty much of a muchness. So, if you want to know what this one was like, go re-read what we said earlier. I’ll wait here…
Back? Then let’s carry on…)
After a couple of hours of pottering round the ruins, we headed back to the house for some pool action and using Richards new torpedo,… the phallic jokes begin. (Allow me to clarify slightly. We’d got this cool underwater torpedo thing that glides, erm, underwater, like an, erm, torpedo. It’s quite cool, and I’m hoping to stun a fish with it next time we go out.)
After a quiet dinner of ‘sandwich’ (sammich), we watched a little TV, for the first time this holiday. Andy wanted to catch up on some news, which was good to do – can you believe none of us even knew that there’d been a devastating earthquake in China? (Incidentally, if you didn’t know, then, please, put down Heat and pick up a newspaper every once in a while.) While flicking through, we found two great things – firstly, a channel that would be showing the UEFA Cup final (which I caught the last 20 minutes of, not that it was overly exciting), and secondly and best, the Pentagon Channel. Straight from America’s military heart to their forces worldwide, this was the kind of propaganda you don’t want to miss. After meeting America’s military spouse of the year, we saw how mothers in Iraq were spending Mother’s Day, and got a three day weather forecast for everywhere in the world that currently has US Personnel fighting in it (that took quite some time). However, the piece de resistance arrived in the form of ‘The Grill Sergeant,’ an Army officer who showed the troops how to cook. And I use the term as loosely as possible.
We laughed when he first told us what he would be demonstrating this evening – sandwiches (sammiches). It just got better though, as he demonstrated his first delicacy. Essentially, he got a French stick, put a bit of lettuce on one side, and then proceeded to fry every other ingredient. And I do mean everything – right down to the spinach. By the time he’d finished, the two halves of the (what looked to be a foot-long) stick were separated by about four inches of fried greasy meat that even this confirmed carnivore balked at. I think they’re now standard issue instead of the somewhat passé cyanide pills – an instant heart attack in bread form. I bet it was tasty though. Oh, and that doesn’t even begin to tell you about his grilled cheese sandwich (he fried the cheese. Then buttered the outside of the bread he’d put it in, and fried that too. I think grilled must have referred to some form of questioning that occurred off camera.). If you didn’t see this, you can’t begin to understand the genius of it. Plus he also had a house band called ‘The Tastebuds’. How classy is that?!?!?!
It was to be an early start on Thursday, so everyone got off to bed before too long. Laura still had time, however, to read this magnificent opus up to its current position. She laughed long and hard, although with fine wordsmiths such as us at the helm, who could blame her? She wants to join in…we have to decide whether she could live up to the lofty standards that have preceded her…)
Tuesday, 13 May 2008
Cyprus - Tuesday 13th May 2008
A nice early rise at about 0900hrs today for a trip out to the Polis area to have a lo
ok at the Baths of Aphrodite and to go to the ‘Best Beach’.
The journey over to this part of the island took us about an hour through the hills, winding through valleys and along cliff edges, the car was pretty good but I was gagging for a manual. (Giggidy.) At least you weren’t driving with Richard. As much as I trust that he can drive, I don’t quite trust Atos Prime to be driven in the same way as his car at home!
The views were beautiful, terraced farmland over massive areas and views over coastal towns and the sea. Truly wonderful. (It is very pretty. Up in the hills, you feel as though you can see the entire island sloping away from you down to the sea, which is quite breathtaking. This was tempered somewhat by the fact that I felt at times as if I meant end up sloping down the hill to join it, such was Rich’s excitement at driving on the winding hill roads.)
My right arm got sunburned after 30 minutes of driving and I think it is a lot more tanned than my left, I might have to let other peoples drive from now on to even it out.
We arrived at the baths for about noon. We were not overly impressed with the baths when we were here last time, but somehow the midges were gone and the water was a little clearer. There were still eels in the pool which made Anna’s day to see the little critters. (I had been told that the pool was all stinky, and eel-infested. It actually smelled fresh, and I saw two eels. Had we seen none at all, I would have doubted everything I’ve ever been told in my life, so that was quite lucky, really. It was a bit disappointing, mainly because I’d expected the place to be a kind of writhing mass of black, as the slippery creatures fought for food and shade and whatever it is that turns eels on, but no. It was all very sedate. The walk up to the pool was invigorating though.)
Godly whined about only bringing flip flops but that is his own fault really. The gift shop had not changed at all, it still sold all of the crap that you get everywhere, snorkels, caps, postcards and fake lace.
(Apparently Andy has decided not to tell you what we did for lunch, so I’ll fill you in. We went into Polis (“Latchi”, actually…) ‘town’ (I use the term loosely) into a nice little restaurant that did all kinds of fish. Now, I can’t remember what everyone had, but I do know that they completely forgot my order of whitebait, so I had to wait a few extra minutes. Everyone else proved that they had been brought up heathens by just tucking in before everyone at the table had their food, except Rich who asked politely first if he could start. As I’m a kind soul, I naturally said yes. Anyway, they eventually brought my dinner out, which, as it had just been cooked, was hotter than the sun. It was also far and away the most entertaining food anyone had bought. We gave each little fish a name and a backstory before he was devoured – I feel more connected to my food if I know where he’s come from first. Some of the stories were quite sad. Andy also dissected some of the fish that I couldn’t finish. That was gross. (I had Red Snapper fillet, Rich had Swordfish, Anna had Dolmades and salad, Laura had a Greek Salad with Lamb and I can’t remember what Goldy had. Oh yeah, Cannelloni.)
After lunch we walked down the harbour, and got excited about a possible boat trip. I spotted a squid in the shallows of the harbour, although we decided it may have been a cuttlefish. Either way, we didn’t catch it for its juices (which is a shame, for both ink and sepia would, I’m sure, have come in handy at some point.) Anna and I decided he was called Christopher, and gave him a very sad story about his wife having left him to wait there three days ago while she went shopping. And there he waited, vainly hoping she and the kids would soon return, while secretly knowing that, in fact, she’d probably run away with Jeremy. There, however, he would remain, until she returned, or he was killed, a death he would embrace in his melancholy. It was clearly a big day for anthropomorphising.
There was also a big boat which was all cool and broken. Have no idea how they got it to sit on its little concrete feet. It was quite a way from the water and it didn’t have legs. It was a boat after all. And there was a kitty with mange.
Laura and I then bought a snorkel set from a shop which stocked hardcore pornography at child eye level. (That was unusual.)
Oh and Rich has booked a boat hire for Monday! Yay! BOAT!
The ‘best beach’ is just that. It is a nice fine stony beach that goes as far as the eye can see in both directions. It has a Taverna (that was totally empty and did not look like it was open at all) and beach loungers with brolleys’ to rent.
We got the old snorkels out again and went hunting fishes. Richard brought out his underwater disposable camera and we got some cracking pictures, we hope. (Andy is obviously far too blasé about snorkelling to get excited about how cool this was. I’m not.
The sea was, at first, really cold. However, by the time I was in up to my chest, and my lungs were doing that whole ‘Oh my God! Raggedy breaths ‘cos it’s so cold!’ thing, my legs were just going, ‘Hey, what’s wrong with you? This is lovely!’ And it really was. In fact, it was actually quite warm, which is not a word I would usually associate with large bodies of water. The first thing I noticed was how clean the water is. Being used to British waters, it was actually difficult to process the fact that I was actually in the sea, so the first mouthful of salt came as a real surprise. Goldy was amazed at the cleanliness too – he said it was like a swimming pool, and he was right – just a massive one, with plants and things.
Ah, those things. I’ve always been a bit weirded out by sea swimming, because the idea of anything brushing against me while I’m in the water makes me shiver. Also, having seen David Attenborough programmes, I’m fairly certain that I’m going to end up standing on a stonefish, or one of those tiny, evil octopuses or something. Going in in sandals stopped any of those worries, not that I actually had any, as, as soon as I was in there, all I was interested in was swimming about, and looking at the serene underwater world.
I still firmly remain in the weirded out by sea swimming camp. Especially when I can see through the snorkel that there’s not a hope in hell that I’m gonna be able to touch the bottom. But there was a nice reef that had rocks on so I spent most of my time trying to stay on them, Wasn’t too impressed when I looked up and saw that they’d all swam off and abandoned me though. But anyway, once I got closer to shore and realised that I wasn’t going to drown, it was really lovely to watch all the fishies.
The fish seemed totally unfazed by our presence, and were completely happy to just swim around our feet, enjoying the spring sunshine (if they can actually feel it under there. Or, indeed, if they care.) There were so many different types, mostly in the 4-6inches region, just shoaling around as if they didn’t have a care in the world. It was so relaxing, just lying face down in the water, watching the little fish exploring the grasses and rocks below the waves. Occasionally, I’d spot a slightly larger fish just hanging around closer to the bottom, doing no harm to anyone, and, a little further out, we saw some rays, which was extremely cool. I love seeing whole fish, as they’re always really vibrant colours, which I remember being really surprised about the first time I ever saw them – I assumed they came in that uniform white colour that their flesh is, I suppose. Here, though, were green fish, purple fish, striped fish, all kinds of fish.
We went out for probably about 45 minutes, before coming back in. On the way in, I was trying to see how close to shore the fish came, and about five metres out, at a depth where I could still stand up, they were all still swimming around me. Going out that far was a complete waste of time. Bloody things could have had the common decency to let me know. Anyway, next time, I’m going to catch one. That’ll teach them to hide when I’m swimming in, so I think I have to go miles when just a few metres would do it. Ah well. They were still quite funky. I think I like fish.
Fishies! There was several kinds of wrasses, a big green one with a purple and blue face, a stripey black and white one and a brown mottled-like-a-giraffe one. There were lots of a little slivery silvery fish with a black dot on its tail and some other little ones here and there. I also saw something that was probably a sea slug or some-such, but by the time Rich had given me the camera he’d hidden in a bush. I also saw a rock that looked a bit like a turtle and have brought home some pretty little stones from the beach.
At the end of our time on the beach, I have burned feet (a now annual tradition) and am feeling a little warm all over. Anna has a bit of ear ache so after a bit of grub back at the ranch, we decided to have an evening in with Sean for Scrabble, chocolate and tea whilst the others are out and about getting lashed at the local karaoke bar. We also made Coke Floats, YUM!
Scrabble scores for the evening:
Sean 200
Anna 176
Andy 124
I did not lose! And I used the word Kudu and Bok! I rok!
Hehehe.
A night in with tea and Scrabble makes us old. It also makes us very sensible, better off than we would have been if we’d gone, and with the knowledge that kudu and bok are legitimate Scrabble words (bok is apparently NOT a legitimate word. When I wrote it just there <- it came up red underlined. Strange, as when we did the same to check if we would allow Anna to use it, it was ok. Maybe because it was capitalised). I won mainly thanks to my tactic of saving up letters to
make one big word finally paying off, when, after four straight two letter word goes, I pulled out ‘promise’ to use up all my letters for a 50 point bonus. I also finished up with ‘cajole,’ for a total of 200 points. My best ever, although, to be fair, I am pretty rubbish at it. I had a really good night, and I’m fairly sure I had a better time than if I’d gone out. Boring I may be, but I honestly can’t face going out every night. Well, unless there’s somewhere to sit, and it’s quiet enough that I can talk at a normal level. (So old!) Oh, to counteract that oldness, we had Coke floats – they went volcanic. It was ace.
The karaoke party followed Godly to a bar where there was karaoke on unsurprisingly. To be honest, that bar was the karaoke equivalent of Eastbourne; where karaoke singers go to live out their days before being granted the sweet relief of death. By walking in the door, I think we may have lowered the average age of the room by at least 10 years. Minimum. But the football was on, and Godly was wowing the crowd and it didn’t turn out quite as bad as the first impression would have suggested.
After they got back, we chatted for a bit before going to bed. It’s a leisurely start in the morning to visit Pafos’ markets.
ok at the Baths of Aphrodite and to go to the ‘Best Beach’.The journey over to this part of the island took us about an hour through the hills, winding through valleys and along cliff edges, the car was pretty good but I was gagging for a manual. (Giggidy.) At least you weren’t driving with Richard. As much as I trust that he can drive, I don’t quite trust Atos Prime to be driven in the same way as his car at home!
The views were beautiful, terraced farmland over massive areas and views over coastal towns and the sea. Truly wonderful. (It is very pretty. Up in the hills, you feel as though you can see the entire island sloping away from you down to the sea, which is quite breathtaking. This was tempered somewhat by the fact that I felt at times as if I meant end up sloping down the hill to join it, such was Rich’s excitement at driving on the winding hill roads.)
My right arm got sunburned after 30 minutes of driving and I think it is a lot more tanned than my left, I might have to let other peoples drive from now on to even it out.
We arrived at the baths for about noon. We were not overly impressed with the baths when we were here last time, but somehow the midges were gone and the water was a little clearer. There were still eels in the pool which made Anna’s day to see the little critters. (I had been told that the pool was all stinky, and eel-infested. It actually smelled fresh, and I saw two eels. Had we seen none at all, I would have doubted everything I’ve ever been told in my life, so that was quite lucky, really. It was a bit disappointing, mainly because I’d expected the place to be a kind of writhing mass of black, as the slippery creatures fought for food and shade and whatever it is that turns eels on, but no. It was all very sedate. The walk up to the pool was invigorating though.)
Godly whined about only bringing flip flops but that is his own fault really. The gift shop had not changed at all, it still sold all of the crap that you get everywhere, snorkels, caps, postcards and fake lace.
(Apparently Andy has decided not to tell you what we did for lunch, so I’ll fill you in. We went into Polis (“Latchi”, actually…) ‘town’ (I use the term loosely) into a nice little restaurant that did all kinds of fish. Now, I can’t remember what everyone had, but I do know that they completely forgot my order of whitebait, so I had to wait a few extra minutes. Everyone else proved that they had been brought up heathens by just tucking in before everyone at the table had their food, except Rich who asked politely first if he could start. As I’m a kind soul, I naturally said yes. Anyway, they eventually brought my dinner out, which, as it had just been cooked, was hotter than the sun. It was also far and away the most entertaining food anyone had bought. We gave each little fish a name and a backstory before he was devoured – I feel more connected to my food if I know where he’s come from first. Some of the stories were quite sad. Andy also dissected some of the fish that I couldn’t finish. That was gross. (I had Red Snapper fillet, Rich had Swordfish, Anna had Dolmades and salad, Laura had a Greek Salad with Lamb and I can’t remember what Goldy had. Oh yeah, Cannelloni.)
After lunch we walked down the harbour, and got excited about a possible boat trip. I spotted a squid in the shallows of the harbour, although we decided it may have been a cuttlefish. Either way, we didn’t catch it for its juices (which is a shame, for both ink and sepia would, I’m sure, have come in handy at some point.) Anna and I decided he was called Christopher, and gave him a very sad story about his wife having left him to wait there three days ago while she went shopping. And there he waited, vainly hoping she and the kids would soon return, while secretly knowing that, in fact, she’d probably run away with Jeremy. There, however, he would remain, until she returned, or he was killed, a death he would embrace in his melancholy. It was clearly a big day for anthropomorphising.
There was also a big boat which was all cool and broken. Have no idea how they got it to sit on its little concrete feet. It was quite a way from the water and it didn’t have legs. It was a boat after all. And there was a kitty with mange.Laura and I then bought a snorkel set from a shop which stocked hardcore pornography at child eye level. (That was unusual.)
Oh and Rich has booked a boat hire for Monday! Yay! BOAT!
The ‘best beach’ is just that. It is a nice fine stony beach that goes as far as the eye can see in both directions. It has a Taverna (that was totally empty and did not look like it was open at all) and beach loungers with brolleys’ to rent.
We got the old snorkels out again and went hunting fishes. Richard brought out his underwater disposable camera and we got some cracking pictures, we hope. (Andy is obviously far too blasé about snorkelling to get excited about how cool this was. I’m not.
The sea was, at first, really cold. However, by the time I was in up to my chest, and my lungs were doing that whole ‘Oh my God! Raggedy breaths ‘cos it’s so cold!’ thing, my legs were just going, ‘Hey, what’s wrong with you? This is lovely!’ And it really was. In fact, it was actually quite warm, which is not a word I would usually associate with large bodies of water. The first thing I noticed was how clean the water is. Being used to British waters, it was actually difficult to process the fact that I was actually in the sea, so the first mouthful of salt came as a real surprise. Goldy was amazed at the cleanliness too – he said it was like a swimming pool, and he was right – just a massive one, with plants and things.
Ah, those things. I’ve always been a bit weirded out by sea swimming, because the idea of anything brushing against me while I’m in the water makes me shiver. Also, having seen David Attenborough programmes, I’m fairly certain that I’m going to end up standing on a stonefish, or one of those tiny, evil octopuses or something. Going in in sandals stopped any of those worries, not that I actually had any, as, as soon as I was in there, all I was interested in was swimming about, and looking at the serene underwater world.
I still firmly remain in the weirded out by sea swimming camp. Especially when I can see through the snorkel that there’s not a hope in hell that I’m gonna be able to touch the bottom. But there was a nice reef that had rocks on so I spent most of my time trying to stay on them, Wasn’t too impressed when I looked up and saw that they’d all swam off and abandoned me though. But anyway, once I got closer to shore and realised that I wasn’t going to drown, it was really lovely to watch all the fishies.
The fish seemed totally unfazed by our presence, and were completely happy to just swim around our feet, enjoying the spring sunshine (if they can actually feel it under there. Or, indeed, if they care.) There were so many different types, mostly in the 4-6inches region, just shoaling around as if they didn’t have a care in the world. It was so relaxing, just lying face down in the water, watching the little fish exploring the grasses and rocks below the waves. Occasionally, I’d spot a slightly larger fish just hanging around closer to the bottom, doing no harm to anyone, and, a little further out, we saw some rays, which was extremely cool. I love seeing whole fish, as they’re always really vibrant colours, which I remember being really surprised about the first time I ever saw them – I assumed they came in that uniform white colour that their flesh is, I suppose. Here, though, were green fish, purple fish, striped fish, all kinds of fish.
We went out for probably about 45 minutes, before coming back in. On the way in, I was trying to see how close to shore the fish came, and about five metres out, at a depth where I could still stand up, they were all still swimming around me. Going out that far was a complete waste of time. Bloody things could have had the common decency to let me know. Anyway, next time, I’m going to catch one. That’ll teach them to hide when I’m swimming in, so I think I have to go miles when just a few metres would do it. Ah well. They were still quite funky. I think I like fish.
Fishies! There was several kinds of wrasses, a big green one with a purple and blue face, a stripey black and white one and a brown mottled-like-a-giraffe one. There were lots of a little slivery silvery fish with a black dot on its tail and some other little ones here and there. I also saw something that was probably a sea slug or some-such, but by the time Rich had given me the camera he’d hidden in a bush. I also saw a rock that looked a bit like a turtle and have brought home some pretty little stones from the beach.
At the end of our time on the beach, I have burned feet (a now annual tradition) and am feeling a little warm all over. Anna has a bit of ear ache so after a bit of grub back at the ranch, we decided to have an evening in with Sean for Scrabble, chocolate and tea whilst the others are out and about getting lashed at the local karaoke bar. We also made Coke Floats, YUM!
Scrabble scores for the evening:
Sean 200
Anna 176
Andy 124
I did not lose! And I used the word Kudu and Bok! I rok!
Hehehe.
A night in with tea and Scrabble makes us old. It also makes us very sensible, better off than we would have been if we’d gone, and with the knowledge that kudu and bok are legitimate Scrabble words (bok is apparently NOT a legitimate word. When I wrote it just there <- it came up red underlined. Strange, as when we did the same to check if we would allow Anna to use it, it was ok. Maybe because it was capitalised). I won mainly thanks to my tactic of saving up letters to
make one big word finally paying off, when, after four straight two letter word goes, I pulled out ‘promise’ to use up all my letters for a 50 point bonus. I also finished up with ‘cajole,’ for a total of 200 points. My best ever, although, to be fair, I am pretty rubbish at it. I had a really good night, and I’m fairly sure I had a better time than if I’d gone out. Boring I may be, but I honestly can’t face going out every night. Well, unless there’s somewhere to sit, and it’s quiet enough that I can talk at a normal level. (So old!) Oh, to counteract that oldness, we had Coke floats – they went volcanic. It was ace. The karaoke party followed Godly to a bar where there was karaoke on unsurprisingly. To be honest, that bar was the karaoke equivalent of Eastbourne; where karaoke singers go to live out their days before being granted the sweet relief of death. By walking in the door, I think we may have lowered the average age of the room by at least 10 years. Minimum. But the football was on, and Godly was wowing the crowd and it didn’t turn out quite as bad as the first impression would have suggested.
After they got back, we chatted for a bit before going to bed. It’s a leisurely start in the morning to visit Pafos’ markets.
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