Mostly Fun Facts About Cyprus

Welcome to my random musings about the world, on a weekly-to-occasional basis.

Where we are: We’re still in Cyprus, not doing much other than daily bakery visits and the occasional wander through an ancient Roman ruin, or maybe a mall.

Mostly Fun Facts About Cyprus

Some observed, some read.

—Cyprus is a large island in the eastern Mediterranean. Officially the Republic of Cyprus, the country is part of the EU, but has not yet been admitted to the open-border Schengen Agreement. Because the island is divided between the Turkish-majority north, and the Greek-majority south, I suspect that will take a while.

—There’s a line (known as the Green Line) across the middle of the country, separating the north from the south; peace is maintained by United Nations forces. You can look up the history (which goes back either 2000 years, or 51 years, depending on your level of interest)—Wikipedia is helpful—but in short, the capital of Nicosia is the last divided capital in Europe. Our rental car will not be insured if we cross the Green Line; we were strongly warned not to violate that rule. We can walk across, or take a tour.

—On Easter Sunday, families in our village gathered in huge groups to cook in traditional outdoor clay ovens—most homes have one—and eat at long tables. They all waved as I passed on my morning walk.

—We’ve seen more Greek flags flying than Cypriot flags.

—Driving is on the left-hand side, British-style.

—The most popular Easter pastry, of which we sampled exactly two (the second only because it was a gift, homemade by our host’s mother-in-law), is called flaouna. It’s sort of a quick bread, wrapped in a half-shell of dry-ish pie dough and baked in a clay oven. The bread is flavored with oregano, local sheep cheese, a tiny bit of anise, and raisins. It is something of an acquired taste, I think, which I have not acquired.

—I was expecting Greek-adjacent food, which is accurate, but to my surprise and great delight, the island turns out to also be in what I fondly call the tahini zone. The most ubiquitous pastry is a giant cinnamon-roll-ish thing called tahini pie. The mezze that I insist on eating as often as possible is a small bowl of lemony, olive-oil-slicked tahini. Thus far, the only word I can pick out in Greek is tahini.

—Apparently there’s a pretty hard-core party scene somewhere, but our little village seems about as energetic as the local cats, snoozing under trees and benches in the midday sun.

—Oranges are in season—some of the best we’ve ever tasted—and they’re everywhere. I joked yesterday that instead of buying them, we could just stop and pick some up off the street. We didn’t, but totally could have.

—Cyprus is the tenth sunniest country in the world. I’m feeling quite grateful for my excessive sunscreen collection at the moment.

—It’s one of those Levantine/Middle Eastern cultures in which food is the language of love, of welcome, of hospitality, of graciousness, of everyday life. People keep feeding us more than we can eat (and portions are huge). Every meal comes with something unexpected—a little glass of digestif, a few olives, an extra dip, a couple of oranges fresh off the tree, a slab of cake. Coffee comes with a cookie. Our Airbnb host left us oranges, wine, 3 kinds of crackers, halva, jam. So much generosity makes it feel like a land of true abundance, no matter what the economy looks like.

—Cyprus was the first country in the world to eliminate malaria. On the other hand, there are venomous vipers, and I keep inadvertently reading about people ending up in the ICU from snake bites (like, several since we arrived). I am disinclined to venture into the hills.

—It takes us 2.5 hours to get to the airport from our little village. From there, it’s a 15 minute flight to Israel. I am told that if Israelis ever need to evacuate in a hurry, this is where they’ll head to.

—At the moment, most of the maritime shipments of humanitarian aid to Gaza are staged here, which is known as the Amalthea Initiative.

—There’s apparently a mountain at the other end of the island from which you can see Syria at sunset.

—Everyone we’ve interacted with speaks excellent English, without exception. There are loads of British tourists, and plenty of British pubs next door to Greek tavernas.

—ABBA got their start here, quasi-spontaneously performing for UN troops in the early 1970s. The Mamma Mia vibe is real.

—I will want to return.

Take care,

Lisa

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