Back to the quotidian

And so the holiday was over. A bit of an anticlimax: a backpack of clothes to launder, long fingernails and a list of resolutions some of which I would falter in. Then again it would be good to eat regular meals again and not sweat in humidity. Perhaps I should go later in the season; Malta and Cyprus could be winter destinations for the Australian heatwave and bushfire season.

I never felt that my belongings were inadequate; I travel light, my backpack weighed 11 kg at maximum and I could have taken that down 2 kg. It's eye-opening how much one can do really do without in life. We tie ourselves down with routines and possessions, but life needs far far less. A dictum that I like from recent research on happiness states: Collect experiences, not things. But the planner in me wonders how to go about converting chattel to experiences.

Although I read guide books when planning and had copies of pages on my Kindle, I hardly used those, instead consulting websites on my smartphone or netbook. Many decisions were taken on the spur of the moment. The Internet has surely transformed travel. I'm actually rather conservative here; I know other travellers are using the Internet in even more immediate ways. I still like to sift the day's happenings before posting. Next trip I will buy mobile data instead of leeching off free WiFi APs as it's very handy to pull up maps and search for information on the move.

Though it may be unessential to the imagination, travel is necessary to an understanding of men. — Freya Stark

With gratitude to E and P.

October 2015

Nicosia

Nicosia (Lefkoşa), the divided capital of the divided island, is about an hour by bus from Larnaca. There was a large crowd waiting at the Finikoudes stop, but fortunately there were enough seats. The bus driver was kind to a woman who had arrived a minute too late for the Limassol bus, which had just departed. He called the other driver on his mobile and asked him to wait at the last common stop within Larnaca city, then told the woman to get on. Then again, this ad-hockery meant that the passengers on the other bus were delayed by a few minutes. This incident seemed to exemplify the difference between north and south Europe: rules versus flexibility, efficiency versus humanity. Is it not possible to have both?

The bus had to turn away passengers at intermediate stops. I was surprised how many of them were Asian. They looked like Filipinas. I was even more surprised when I saw hordes of then at the bus station and nearby streets. I guessed they were working as housemaids for the numerous holiday and retirement apartments. (This was confirmed by some Burmese fishermen I bumped into at the marina that night.) There were shops selling Asian goods or specialising in money transfer and shipping.

Ledra Street is the main shopping thoroughfare and is shaded by sails. All the usual shops and eateries one would expect are present.

There was however a surprise for me up ahead. I was suddenly confronted with a border checkpoint. It's as if you were doing your normal shopping on a mall and bang you discover the next row of shops is in a different country. It's almost forgotten, but years after the fall of the Berlin Wall there is sadly still a divided capital in Europe. I didn't cross because I didn't have my passport and anyway had no interest in the other half of Nicosia.

It seemed as if every Cypriot family was out having Sunday brunch at the numerous restaurants in the old city. The newer areas of Nicosia, all deserted because it was not a work day, were by contrast, full of modern buildings and felt very business-like to the holiday atmosphere of Larnaca.

By chance I stumbled upon the Shacolas Tower, The lower floors house a department store. The 11th floor has an observatory containing informational displays and overlooking Nicosia. I paid 2€ to enter and it was worth it to see the city from up high. Unlike many other European capitals, Nicosia has no recognisable skyline, just a collection of buildings. From here I could see Northern Nicosia. Note the Northern Cyprus flag emblazoned on a hillside in the distance.

In the coffee shop I had a Cypriot coffee (grounds boiled to death), a savoury pastry containing olive paste and a couple of red figs I had bought in a supermarket. I had intended to lunch in Nicosia but I didn't feel hungry in the warm weather, so decided to skip lunch and take an earlier bus, all the better to avoid the housemaids returning from their Sunday outing.

I siestaed away the rest of the afternoon as part of my Flip method for dealing with the large timezone jump coming back from Europe. 

I had more Euro than when I started. I can use them for the next trip and they are probably a good investment anyway given the trajectory of the Aussie dollar. But I could have a slap-up meal to burn some of them. Eventually I selected a seafood restaurant and ordered a platter of fish, mussels, calamari, and splayed prawns. It came with too much rice which I had to leave. Maybe I shouldn't have ordered the grilled halloumi starter. But I finished everything save for the aforementioned rice and the bread.

I discovered a jetty at Finikoudes Marina and walked the length of it. From the end I could look back on the promenade. It was quiet away from the hubbub of the diners. In the light breeze I reflected on the trip. Cyprus didn't grab my heart like Malta, or even the Netherlands, did, saying come back! I think it felt a bit like Southeast Asia: the atmosphere is partly manufactured for tourism, for sure you can have fun but a sense of history and continuity is lacking or rather obscured by the daily activities of the locals.

I had a coffee before returning to pack and update the blog.

Famagusta and Salamis

Note to self: Bring a nail clipper for any trip of more than two weeks. I thought I could get through this trip without one but my thumbnail has split, and it catches on fabric, e.g. when I reach into my pocket. Grrr.

I actually wanted the Best of the Island tour, but it was all booked out when Vasillis rang on my behalf, so I settled for this one. At least I will get to experience crossing into Turkish Northern Cyprus. Only Turkey recognises this self-proclaimed state, the rest of the world regards it as part of Cyprus. It is in fact part of the EU due to Cyprus being in it, but the EU acquis are considered suspended there for the time being.

The coastal strip from Larnaca until the border is filled with resorts and holiday rental accommodation, and new housing is being built. I even saw Chinese advertising on one sign. Prices seemed low compared to further north in Europe; I guess Cyprus is trying to attract investment.

The engine in the picture was the first one on the island, between Nicosia and Famagusta.

At the border crossing, which is adjacent to a British base, they took our passports for scanning but didn't stamp anything in it. The same procedure was done leaving.

I didn't notice much difference in the urban landscape of the two parts of Cyprus except for the signage. Incidentally because I had done a couple of terms of Turkish in preparation for my trip in 2000, I found that I could read more in Turkish than Greek.

As part of the tour, the bus drove past Varosha, the "ghost town" of Famagusta. This was an area that was bombarded by the Turks in 1974 causing the inhabitants to flee. They fenced it off and entry is prohibited, so there are only crumbling houses and buildings.

The bus dropped off some people in the historic walled city of Famagusta and took the rest of us to an optional part of the excursion, a visit to the ruins of the ancient Greek city of Salamis.

By the way one of the suggested etymologies of Cyprus is an old word for copper, from large deposits found on the island.

Depicted is the gymnasium of Salamis.

And the amphitheatre.

Salamis was abandoned after an earthquake and the inhabitants moved inland to Famagusta. The walled city there also provided better protection from invaders from the sea.

Next a visit to the church of St. Barnabas, who is regarded as the founder of the Cypriot church.

Then we returned to Famagusta for lunch and shopping by the keen.

Northern Cyprus has its own currency but purchases can be paid in Euro. Our guide advised us to ensure that any change we received was also in Euro.

I couldn't resist buying pomegranate juice from this vendor. He had a press to squeeze the juice from halves. He would have used the same press on oranges. It tasted tangy, as expected, but a little bitter due to the rind also being crushed. I got a paper cup containing of the juice of two pomegranates for 2.5€ which I regarded as a bargain.

Finally we were taken for an optional swim on a beach adjoining a "touristic ghost town", meaning that the beach was backed in places by crumbling hotels abandoned since 1974. I had a dip in the Mediterranean, my only time this trip. (I normally regard sea bathing as too much hassle.) It was surreal, swimming on a beach with these bombed out buildings behind it.

And that was the last bit of the excursion. I would have preferred to see natural sights; history is not my cup of tea, but it filled up the day.

Back in Larnaca, I napped then sought dinner. The strip was bustling with Saturday night diners. I despaired of finding anything I hadn't tried already when I spotted Buffalo wings on the TGIF menu. The waitress was a bit surprised I wanted only this starter and bruschetta. I wish they hadn't grilled the bruschetta, usually I get it at room temperature. The wings were alright; but the sauce could have been more tangy and spicier, and the wings could have been more deeply fried. I guess I'll have to go to the US to get the real thing.

A cup of frozen yogurt with toppings and an espresso completed the evening.

Larnaca

Yes, ok, I missed a day. I was too busy tangoing in Paris.

Actually there isn't any interesting to write about a day spent moving from Malta to Cyprus, bus, check-in, plane, customs, taxi, ad nauseum. I arrived about 2000, was so tired and also had been fed on the plane so I didn't bother to look for dinner. Then there were the small annoyances; I was dealing with Greeks here after all. I couldn't figure out to turn on the air-conditioner. Luckily it wasn't a sultry night. In the morning it turned out that the window must be closed to enable a magnetic switch. So I will start with the first full day. This is one end of Finikoudes, a beach with a palm tree lined promenade. And rental umbrellas.

For lack of moxie to choose something I went to the old castle in Larnaca to join a free walking tour of the artists' district. The tour guide was personable and knowledgeable, but the group was large and it was hard to hear what she said. Anyway there was a bit of history of the castle and the Turkish invasion in 1974 and subsequent partition of the island. The situation remains unresolved. Where the artists are concerned a few have returned to their ancestral properties in Larnaca.

The first workshop we visited was a statuette maker using moulds, cast from the original object or from a scaled down copy of some archeological find, followed by a maker of, well, pretty objects. You can see that I don't know much about artistic methods, though I like admiring pretty objects.

Here is a potter and the tour guide. One of the things he made was the clever Pythagorean Cup. A couple of people bought one from his showroom.

The tour ended shortly thereafter. The guide suggested eating on the back streets rather than the more expensive seafront and bade us farewell. I realised that with all our wandering in the artists' district we had come full circle. Larnaca's streets are not rectilinear but are descended from its fishing village days.

I was ravenous at this point. Ruling out any place offering any kind of foreign breakfast, I picked a kebab restaurant. This proved to be a good choice and my main was preceded by mezes of pickled vegetables, olives, tzatziki and fresh bread.

Feeling uncommonly tired, I siestaed the afternoon away.

In the evening, I obtained the help of Vasillis, the exceeding helpful concierge, to book a tour to Famagusta the next day. I wanted to do a Segway tour of Nicosia on Sunday but that was their day of rest. As I say they are Greek here. So I'll have to do a walking tour.

I explored the promenade and surrounding streets. There are a lot of upmarket stores here catering for the tourists. Lots of waterfront apartments.

And food and drink establishments all  along the promenade. Tuck Inn, haha, I bet the owner was chuffed when he thought up the name.

Dinner was just outside this Church of St. Lazarus. But when I asked for the calamari, they said no fish today. What's with that? Was it because of Friday? I'll find out some day.

I tried some honey puff pastry from this street vendor.

Theme from Last Tango In Paris

But speaking of Last Tango In Paris, the theme from the eponymous film is another piece that I want to learn to play, but it won't sound as sinuous and sleazy as Argentinian composer Gato Barbieri on tenor saxophone. (Go for the live performance from the Latin Quarter, not the Oliver Nelson orchestral version.) But Philip Sear shows that a piano arrangement can sound lovely too.

The nihilistic lyrics by Dory Previn, written later to be sung by Andy Williams, who is usually wrongly credited, are also a perfect match to theme of the film. The best vocal I've heard is the version by Marlena Shaw, which oozes cynicism.

Another favourite of mine is the cool version by Gotan Project.

Last Gelato in Valletta

No, I don't think they will make a film of it.

So, it was my last evening on Malta and again I caught the bus to Valletta. Buses on the waterfront road are so packed during rush hours that I had to wait until about 1900 to set out. Unlike the night before, which was warm, sultry and without breeze, it was pleasantly cool and breezy tonight.

The problem though was that the culinary offerings were 50% Italian, 30% Maltese, and 20% something else, and I was sick of the first two. For the rest: fast food, no; Indian and Chinese, there are better in Australia; Greek, I'll be in Cyprus tomorrow night. In the end I settled for some crumbed plaice with salad and chips.

Hearing an electric mandolinist launch into pop oldies such at the Beatles' All You Need Is Love, Here There and Everywhere, and other standards like Hotel California, I decided to have a last gelato from Amorino's while listening. And so endeth the evening, and my sojourn in Malta.

St. John's Co-Cathedral

This was the only major sight left to see. In fact I had a glimpse of it during Sunday services, but photographs were not allowed then. I debated with myself whether I wanted to pay to view and take pictures. In the end I decided to because an audio guide was included in the admission.

Why is St. John's a Co-Cathedral you ask, as did I. Well, in short it means the bishop's seat is shared between two cathedrals, in this case the other one is in Mdina.

By the way St. John's is not the one that has the dome in skyline photos of Valletta. That's the Basilica next to the Anglican St. Paul's Pro-Cathedral.

But before that I attended the noontime firing of the Saluting Battery near the Upper Barrakka Gardens. One can pay to view from closer but it's otherwise free.

After lunch the crowds were thinner at the entrance. As it turned out, the long queue was for groups. As an individual I walked right up to the ticket counter.

The interior was very impressive, though I can't say that I like Baroque.

There was so much detail that if there were a dictionary entry for High Baroque, it would be a picture of the interior of St. John's.

In the foreground are the elaborately decorated tombstones of the Knights.

If Baroque is your sort of thing, then ask me to show you the numerous other photos I took of the nave and side chapels. It would take more than a blog entry to do St. John's justice.