My parents haven’t travelled overseas a lot in their lives so when their youngest child ventures to all parts of the globe they understandably get nervous of the unknown. When I’m on holidays there is an unbreakable rule that says I must remain in mobile or internet contact every one to two days or at least update my facebook status to let my parents know I’m still alive & kicking and always stay somewhere safe. Well at my first destination what do you think was the fastest way to freak my parents out? Just tell them I’m staying in the military buffer zone of course!
After dropping off our things and taking a well needed shower we set out to see the town. Now all I knew about the place we were visiting is that it was where Scott had once lived and worked. That should be safe enough right? Before no time at all we had entered the buffer zone and are confronted with a sign prohibiting photography. I think to myself ‘Just great, now how am I meant to get holiday photos?’ Thinking I can be sneaky about it I pull out my camera and try to use my ninja stealth moves to get a few shots. I’m caught by Scott of course and he then shows me the Turkish watch tower on the hill in front of us. Even this far away I can feel him looking at me through his rifle scope. The camera was promptly put away.
Our first stop was to go and see some of Scott’s mates. What this really means is that my first official site seeing place on my adventure was the UN Police Station. It was only a quick stop but in the process I met the Police Commander, a couple of Aussie police men and women and saw some Hungarian Police. Pretty cool actually and if I didn’t feel safe in the Buffer zone now I never would. It was a Sunday so at this time most of the town was closed. After seeing the first of many ruins in the town centre we went to a small cafe to have a well earned Keo Beer (local of course) and something to eat. Here we come across Helena, our waitress, who for the course of the trip was referred to as Scott’s Romanian wife. I had no idea about the number of Eastern Europeans that had migrated to Southern Cyprus. There are Romanians, Russians, Georgians and so many more moving there to work and live. Helena was one such individual. She was your quintessential Eastern European women with long legs and a figure to envy. But with the limited sleep I had had on my journey thus far I was not in the mood for her flirtatious, visa hunting ways with the male at my table so I promptly asked for the bill.
On our walk back to the place we were staying I hear something familiar. A sound that reminded me of fun times had. Scott couldn’t hear anything so he followed me blindly down a deserted street. Low and behold we come across a beer garden with the most people I’d seen all day and one Greek man playing the Zorba! I fell in love with the place instantly and got my 10th wind for the day and stayed for a few more Keo beers. After an afternoon nap it was time to crack open the Duty Free champers and meet the guy who was graciously letting us crash his pad who is a great mate of mine now - Josh.
Anyone who knows me knows that I’m a keen scuba diver. I learnt how to dive when I moved to Vanuatu and got certified. I had dived all of my dives in Vanuatu so I was super keen to dive in the Mediterranean and it didn't disappoint! I dived the Zenobia which is a 178m long ferry that sunk off the coast of Cyprus in 1980 when the balancing system of the boat broke down. Everyone got off safely except the cattle whose bones I found on one of the decks! There are trucks still chained to the boat & crane while others have fallen off and lay on the sea bed as the boat now lies on its side. The visibility here was easily 20-25 metres. This experience was amazing for me and just fuels my thirst for more diving trips around the globe.
We decide to hire a car off this grumpy dodgy looking Russian man for a couple of days. We set off for the Alps (yes that’s correct Cyprus has Alps) and begin a long yet glorious day of exploration. Needing our daily fix we first stop off at our now regular Starbucks to get the essentials, have Adele’s ‘Someone like you’ blaring from the speakers and only then are we officially set to go. Our drive takes us to many more ruins, castles, little seaside towns, deserted look outs and past a few too many hunters. Just to clarify it was hunting season when I was visiting so the Cypriot men were out in droves hunting anything they could find. Not surprisingly I’m told they don’t find much anymore which has less to do with the fact that the animals have all been eaten and more to do with the florescent orange vests they wear when they are trying to ‘hide’ in the bushes. Truth be told hunters have shot each other many times before so it’s a case of been seen and not shot than to stay camouflaged.
We come across a quaint little hillside town and decide to have a rest, a drink and enjoy the glorious views. To say the streets were a tight fit doesn't even come close to what we experienced. We basically stopped in the street to let a car just scrap by. It was clear we were novices at the tight squeeze thing as no one else seemed to care much. We found a little bar and upon entering found a group of elder Greek gents playing a card game on the porch while the women sat inside. Oh how it reminded me of my childhood. We take up a window seat and enjoy the breathtaking cliffside view. My Vodka & Orange is delivered and it’s a ‘make it yourself’ drink similar to what I experienced in Russia. So I go to pour in the Orange Juice only to find my glass is rather full already. Before Scott and I can stop to think about it the little old waitress comes over and in the thickest Greek accent says to me ‘Your drink is strong’. I’m still laughing!
We stop off at a few wineries on our way back to Larnaka and I fall in love with this old Greek couple at our 2nd winery. They take us in and I feel at home. After too much cheese, and bottles in tow, we set off for the next one. Everywhere we went we were always asked where we were from. Vanuatu simply doesn’t exist to people on the other side of the world so I started to say Brisbane (because let’s face it if they don’t know about Vanuatu they’re not going to know South Johnstone!) After a few failed attempts Scott and I agreed we both were from ‘The village of Sydney’. This was understood and accepted by most and became the response from then on.As our time came to an end I was very happy with what I had seen and done. I was able to see, touch and experience ancient ruins, eat as much haloumi cheese as humanly possible and dive in the magic blue waters of the Mediterranean. Scott walked away from our trip with 3 Eastern European wives named Helena, Ola & Olga. All in all I had a fantastic time with only one thing on the list not crossed off..... seeing a Cypriot donkey. Oh well I’ll just have to go back one day!
