The Year Round Island

Cyprus is called by advertisers – well, their tourist board, anyway – “The Year Round Island”.  Bit early to confirm that, given that I’ve only had a couple of weeks here, but so far it’s ok.

As with most places, the journey is a bit of an epic from Warsaw.  There are direct flights, but not every day, and those that do fly leave at something like 11:00 p.m., arriving in Larnaca at about 2:30 the next morning.  Since it’s a further hour in a taxi along to Limassol (or to give it it’s local name, Lemessos) that means arriving at my hotel at maybe 4:00 a.m…..not ideal before work.  The best alternative is a flight at about 7:45 a.m. daily to Vienna, a quick charge between terminals (changing flights is never easy) and then a 3 ½ hour flight arriving about 2:30 in the afternoon.  With luck I can get a couple of hours on site.    The home trip is as good – leave the office about 2:00 in the afternoon, again through Vienna, getting me home by 9:00 in the evening.

So off I went.  Decent flights, reasonable food, and in-flight entertainment consisting of some tourist films saying how wonderful a place Austria is, and a bunch of old Tom & Jerry cartoons.  Thank God for the iPod!

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The place reminded me of Crete, when I arrived.  The island is at the extreme eastern end of the Mediterranean, south of Turkey and about 60 miles offshore from Syria.  Throughout its history the population has been a mix of Greek Cypriots and Turkish Cypriots, with both countries claiming ownership at various times.  It all blew up back in the mid-1970s into a brief, full blown and bloody conflict, courtesy of a Turkish invasion, that ended with UN intervention.  The island is now divided into a northerly Turkish part and a southerly Greek part, with the border (the so-called Green Line) running through the capital Nicosia.  There are still UN forces based here, and there is a substantial British base close to Limassol, and occasionally tensions still flare up.  Despite this, the island is a full member of the EU, and has even adopted the euro as its currency (God help them!). Travelling between the two zones is easy now, I’m told: you basically present your passport at a border post, fill in a form and they let you through, without even a stamp on your passport.

Anyway, back to the Crete similarity.  I remember when we went there for our holiday about 4 years ago.  We flew in under a perfect blue cloudless sky, over a parched looking landscape dotted with groves of trees, and winding dusty looking roads.  There were mountains, or at least quite high hills, looking equally starved of refreshment.  Here and there small villages of sandy coloured or dusty, white painted houses could be seen.  Cyprus looked identical to this, except the mountains seemed higher and were to the north of the island rather than, as in Crete, more southerly.

It was hot, too.  We visited Crete in late September and the temperature was mid- to high 20s.  Now, in late August (so roughly a month earlier) Cyprus is basking in the low 30s, a parched dry heat – no steaming up of the glasses whenever I step out of doors here.

At the airport in Larnaca, as at Chania in Crete, all the signs are in both English and Greek characters.  The advertisements are for mostly ailing Greek banks and apparently prosperous local banks, and of course property developers, trying to sell their latest beach side condominium.  Plus the usual mobile phone operators and car-hire companies (Avis, Hertz – the usual suspects).  All typical Mediterranean holiday isle.

I passed through Larnaca a couple of years ago, en route from Beirut to Athens for an interview, and remember being very surprised at what a crap terminal building supported the main airport on one of the main holiday destinations.  I remember it being small and dirty, lacking much in the way of duty free shopping and food outlets, not much better than Belgrade, which as I’ve written on here before is an absolute tip.  Since then, a new building has opened and it’s a cracker.  Well signed, a wide array of shopping facilities and food shops, very clean, spacious, light and airy, and efficient check-in and security facilities.  It could not be a bigger contrast to what was there before.  The only downside was, as I found out when I went home last week, the Star Alliance Lounge only admits Gold card holders, so I have no idea whether it is as good as the rest of the facilities – from the little I saw as they turned me politely away from Reception it very probably is.  Still, a chicken tikka wrap, lemon muffin and grande latte at the Costa Coffee outlet (total cost EUR8) put a smile back on my face.

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There the similarities with Crete ended. 

That island is part of Greece, so is very European – left hand drive cars on the “wrong” side of the road.  Impoverished looking businesses scattered alongside the roads linking hotels and beach resorts.  A single two lane highway linking Chania in the west to Iraklion in the east (although I have to say it’s a nice drive, running as it does right alongside the northern coast, with the mountains rising on the other side of the road to the south).  Crete basically survives on its tourist trade, and like the rest of Greece is suffering badly this year as the Government successfully bankrupts itself and brings the entire Euro-zone to the brink of collapse.

By way of contrast, as an ex-British possession, Cyprus remains a very British island.  The cars are right-hand drive, and drive on the left.  The power plugs are the standard British 3 pin variety.  In the supermarkets you can buy pork pies, and custard creams and jaffa cakes and marmite and PG Tips.  The restaurants serve good British fare like cottage pie and chips, bangers and mash, corned beef sandwiches and (of course) curry and chips.  The Sun and the Daily Mail are available on the newsstands (not that I bothered).  The Premier League, courtesy of Sky Sports, is shown live in bars all over town on big screen tv’s – just as it is in Britain. English is widely spoken.   I feel very much at home here.

As a tax haven and maritime centre, with a major port here in Limassol (the aid convoy for Gaza that was attacked by Israeli troops last year with loss of life and international condemnation sailed from here) as well as smaller facilities along the coast at Larnaca), Cyprus does not have to rely on its tourist trade to prosper.  Shipping contributes significantly to its economy, as does the offshore banking industry.  It has also led to a big Russian influence: around the island, and especially around Limassol, there are Russian enclaves, with shops and restaurants catering to a large and growing Russian community and its tourists.  The bank I’m working at is an offshore subsidiary of one of the biggest “new” Russian financial powerhouses, and I would not be surprised at all if some of its activities were not aimed at, shall we say, less than scrupulously honest oligarchs…..

There is a marked difference in the traffic too.  Most of the cars and trucks and buses I remember from Crete were, apart from the hire cars, a little worn-looking, as if they had survived a long and hard life.  New cars were few and far between, and luxury cars a rarity.  There are many such vehicles here of course, but there are also a good proportion of high end cars too – Porsche, Mercedes, Audi and BMW are common, I’ve also seen a couple of Ferarris, a Lamborghini and at least one Rolls Royce.  But the icing on the cake, so to speak, is a top of the range Bentley, clearly brand new, that I see most lunchtimes cruising along the highway by the beach in Limassol.  It is chrome.  Not just the bumpers and wheels, but the entire bodywork is chrome plated and polished like a mirror.  The driver and any passengers are totally invisible behind blackened windows.  God only knows how much it cost to build, nor how much it costs to insure and run nor what its obviously prosperous owner does for a living…..  I’ve never seen anything remotely like it in all my travels.

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My taxi ride from the airport was pleasant enough.  The taxi driver was a big guy with a magnificent black moustache and throughout the drive he had a Blackberry clamped to his ear as he argued with a selection of people in a wonderfully deep and mellifluous voice that rose and fell operatically with the rhythm of the conversations – it suited his bulky frame perfectly.

There was little traffic on the road at all, so the drive only took about half an hour to cover the 66km from the airport to the hotel, and again the similarity between Crete and Cyprus was evident in the parched landscape.  But the air-conditioned Merc was comfortable and the conversation (when he wasn’t arguing) was good – his English was excellent.  He drove me to the airport on my way home last Friday and picked me up again Monday, so I assume I’ll get to know him quite well.  Nice guy.

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At the weekend I decided to hit the beach.  There are beaches in Limassol that look quite good, sandy with umbrellas and sun-beds and gently sloping into a clear and warm sea.  At this time of year they don’t seem too crowded, but I didn’t want to spend the weekend looking out at the half dozen bulk carriers moored in the bay, waiting their turn at the docks to unload.  Someone recommended a place called Governor’s Beach to me, about 30 km east of Limassol, roughly half way to Larnaca according to the map.  The hotel told me to catch a number 30 bus as far as the Meridien Hotel, about half way, then change to a 31. Sounds like fun….so off I went, early Saturday morning.  Of course, no-one at the hotel had a timetable so it was turn up and wait until one came along, but the bus stop was by the beach so it was ok.  I waited nearly an hour before a 30 came along.  I boarded it with a collection of Russian ladies heading off to work at various shops and hotels along the route, and stood looking out of the window at the sea while we headed out along the highway to the hotel.  It took about half an hour.  I asked the driver where to catch the number 31.  Helpfully he had no idea.  I walked back up to the highway, and about a kilometer back to the last stop, that was signed 31 – Governor’s Beach: happy days.  And I waited.

For an hour and a half.  No 31.  I was told by the drivers of three number 30s that it was “on the way” and would be about “10 minutes”.  I never did find a 31 – in the end, I flagged down a cab and paid EUR15 to take me to the beach.

It was a little disappointing, to be honest.  It’s quite small, maybe 400m end to end, and no more than 20m deep.  There were loungers and umbrellas all along it, and also placed on lawns behind the beach where trees provided plenty of additional shelter.  It was also very crowded.  Those of you who have read this blog before will know that crowded beaches aren’t my favourite thing on God’s green Earth, and that goes whether I’m with the family or on my own.  So I struck out westerly just to see what was there.

A footpath runs along the low cliff top and I followed this.  After maybe half a kilometer all shade disappeared and I found myself trudging through a desert landscape, kicking up clouds of dust with every step.  Every few hundred metres a small bay would present itself at the bottom of the cliff, but frequently there was no way down.  The few that had access usually had a few people there, and were generally pebbly affairs, with rocks at the water’s edge and beyond.  All along were also huge white rocky outcrops, not chalk but something of a more solid consistency, but with little or no access to the sea.  Some of them, the ones where with difficulty you could get into the water, had sunbathers sprawled out on beach towels.  Eventually, after maybe 2km, I found my way down a narrow path onto a small strip of deserted pebbly beach, stripped off and dived into the water for a swim.  It was delightful.

I spent a good day after that, wandering from cove to cove, having the odd swim to cool off, and just lazing in the sun.  There was absolutely no shelter on any of the beaches, so by about 3:00 I’d had enough and wandered back to Governor’s.  Next problem: how the hell do I get back to Limassol?  I still had no clue really as to where I was, or where to catch the mythical number 31 or for that matter a taxi.  I enquired in a restaurant by the beach, and the guy spouted off a bunch of directions, waving his arms around for emphasis, and of course I understood not one word of it.  Anyway, I headed off in the direction he had vaguely indicated and found myself by a road – next question, left or right?  On the basis there were some buildings to my left and bugger all to my right, I turned left.  Almost immediately, I saw, about half a kilometer ahead, what looked like a blue minibus turning off the road.  I stepped up my pace (no mean feat: I was absolutely knackered and sweating copiously) and hastened after it.  I found it in a dusty old car park, with a lady of maybe 70 sitting on the step.

She turned out to be the driver, and the bus was indeed bound for Limassol.  I had time to duck into a shop and buy another bottle of water before we headed off.  The fare was a ludicrous one euro (that’s EUR1….) and as there were no other passengers it’s clearly a loss making service.  No matter: it got me back to my hotel in about 40 minutes.

So really it was a good day – but next weekend I will not rely on public transport, but hire a car, the cheapest one I can find……

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I’ve eaten well here.  As well as standard English grub, there is a good selection of international cuisine close to the office (a Syrian place serves a particularly good – and cheap – lunch), as well as international chains like McDonalds and TGI Fridays and good old Starbucks.  There is a micro-brewery a ten minute cab ride away from the hotel that, as well as serving its own excellent lagers, also provides good food in the most ridiculous quantities imaginable.  I’ve visited it twice, and both times failed dismally to finish the plates put before me…..very rare indeed!  The hotel breakfast menu is good as well – English fry up, Continental rolls and croissants, cooked meats and cheeses, cereals, fresh fruit salad and yoghurt.  So in the two weeks I’ve been here, I’ve put back on with interest the weight I sweated of in Abu Dhabi recently.

The hotel, the Curium Palace, is actually quite good, though it has to be said not as good as it presents itself on-line and in its brochures.  But the beds are comfortable enough, the rooms clean and light and all with balconies or shared terraces.  There is a very nice pool and sun terrace with a good bar that I relaxed in for a while last weekend – comfortable sofas and good local beer.  The tv’s aren’t so hot, old fashioned and with relatively small screens, not the big flat screen jobs that are increasingly popular in hotels the world over, and the choice of channels is pretty restricted, but they’re adequate for all that.  I have both BBC World and Sky News in English, and a couple of other channels broadcast English language movies so again it’s ok for the couple of hours a day I get to view.  No Sky Sports though….  Last week my room had a particularly small bathroom with a ceiling so low I cracked my head on it getting in and out of the little shower stall, and I had to virtually kneel down to get under the shower, but this week is better – bigger bathroom and higher ceiling.  Offsetting this is the fact that this week’s room is at the front of the hotel, so facing the main road and hence quite noisy (though no worse than home), whereas last week’s was at the back and overlooking the pool area, with a huge shared terrace.

Ah, well, you win some you lose some….

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So those are my first impressions.

I’m back now for another couple of weeks, and will be travelling here on and off for at least the next couple of months, and probably longer.  I hope to bring mon famille down for a week or so holiday in October, and will for sure be hiring cars and seeing more of the island as I get the chance.

Watch this space…..