Nicosia Escapade

In our month of living in Limassol, Cyprus, Laurissa and I had plenty of adventures (when we weren't studying for our TEFL course, that is). The "intensive one-month course" that I had read about online translated in island lingo to two and a half hours of class starting at 3pm during the week. Needless to say we had adequate time to cause trouble.

One of my favorite escapades was when we visited Nicosia, the divided capital city. I had been hoping for a crazy, possibly illegal mini-adventure (preferably with guns and pretty soldiers ;). Well, we did see a few busloads of soldiers (not to worry, I got about 5 pictures of them - subtly of course), but they looked like they were sightseeing. No shooting or guns involved; just uniforms. That’s really the best part anyway, right?

We started around 10am, when our delightfully unlovable school director Antonis dropped us off at one end of the old city. We headed straight to the dividing wall between the Greek Cyprus and the unrecognized Turkish occupied side. We followed our little map through these dingy back roads and eventually found the fence, which was made up of plastic water barrels strapped together and barbed wire on the top. As far as intimidating barriers go, this wasn’t at the top of my list. I guess it did the trick, though. We followed it for a few blocks, looking for an entrance. There were signs up saying things like “Danger! No trespassing or photography!” Of course, that only made me want to take a picture even more. Just when I went to pull out the camera I noticed that a guard sitting in a rickety tower was watching us like a hawk. He could probably tell that I was the criminal type; I might have infiltrated their water barrel defense system if left to my own devices.

Since my dastardly plan was foiled, we decided to head back into civilization to get some lunch. Right away we ran into a big, arrow-shaped stone wall. There was a monument on top (no idea what for, as ushe). We finally figured out that it was part of the old town wall, which went in a circle around both the Turkish and Greek sides of the old city. It was pretty cool: the circle had arrows pointing out of it about every few hundred feet. Between two of them was a soccer field. Yep, still in Europe. I love the endless ways that the old is blended with the new here; it seems like every time you go around a corner you see an ancient monument next to a quintessentially modern object (like a Prius).

Well, we were having no luck finding a good place to eat, so, to my utter embarrassment we ended up going to a Chili’s chain restaurant. This is especially sad because as soon as we had sat down and ordered we discovered that there was a nice little Greek restaurant attached to it. Ah, well, that’s how it always goes. We were sitting right outside on the patio, and this older man came up and asked us if anyone had been there. I was totally confused at first, then I figured out that he was asking if we had been helped yet. We told him yes, we had, but he ended up sticking around to chat anyway. It turns out that he was the restaurant owner. He owned the Chili’s and the Greek restaurant next door. Over the next 20 minutes he not only told us his life story, but his father’s and grandfather’s as well. Damn, these Cypriots are chatty! He was very sweet, though, and entertaining. Apparently one of his sons went to college in Washington DC, and the other in Minnesota. And his wife worked at a souvenir shop down the road. (I know you were curious). We took pictures with him, then at his request went and showed them to his wife. She looked mildly amused, but like she had played this game before a time or two.

Then we headed back toward the occupied side, which apparently was a cinch to get into if you just followed the main road that we were originally on. So we continued down it, then came to a small sign that said “the last divided city”. We went past, and got in line to enter the Turkish side. I noticed that there wasn't a water barrel in sight. They had totally classed-up the public parts of the dividing wall with actual cement walls. No wonder they didn't want pictures of the rest of the fence-I'd be embarrassed too.

Anyway, after about 15 minutes we were all stamped and approved to go in. We wandered down a colorful alley full of candid little shops. Now, Laurissa and I are both avid fans of the sport of shopping, so we are easily distracted in these situations. We quickly realized that the shopping there was way cheaper than on the other side of the border, which made it even more impossible to resist the call of the materialist. Eventually we made our way to a little café, so we decided to sit down and have some Turkish coffee. We sat by a group of older gentleman, who told us which coffee was the best type to get there (the Turkish coffee, obvi). The waitress brought out two small shot glasses of coffee with two cups of water. I had no idea how to handle this, so I looked at the old men for guidance. They said to take a sip, then add a little water to the cup. I thought that sounded a tad strange, but I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth when he's offering coffee advice. I needn't have worried about watered-down coffee; this stuff was good and strong, without any of the usual trappings. One shot was definitely enough.

We started talking to our neighbors, who were all quite nice. Right away I could tell that they were regulars, since they knew everyone who walked in, and most of the people walking by. They were all around 60-70 years old, so it was like hanging out with my grandpa. When I was done with my shot, one of them (Costas was his name, like practically every other Greek male) came over and told me that he could read my fortune from my coffee cup. The coffee grinds were at the bottom still, so he told me to put the saucer over the coffee, then flip it over. After a little while he flipped it back over, then looked into the cup. It reminded me of reading fortunes from tea leaves, which I have never bought into, but it was all good fun so I went along with it.

Well, this fortune took at least 20 minutes for him to read. Needless to say the man was longwinded. He talked about how I needed to let someone go, and how I will look at a map of the world and randomly choose where I head to next. This is a definite possibility at the rate I’m going. Then he read Laurissa's coffee grinds, and (what do you know?) her fortune was much the same as mine had been, and just as long. I think his fortune-telling skills would be more effective if delivered one at a time, so people don't see how similar they all are. All the same, it was entertaining.

Anyway, after coffee they invited us to join them. At first we declined, saying that we wanted to go see some sights first. We checked out a cool-looking mosque near the café, then dabbled in a few more shops. Eventually we did meet up with the Turks again, at a little restaurant on the main street. It was different kinds of Turkish and Lebanese food. My fave was what they called a Turkish pizza, which was flat bread with minced meat, garlic, and diced tomatoes. Yum! Of course, we had just eaten about an hour earlier, so we were planning on only getting something to drink, but they would have none of that! We were given the whole extended meal, complete with Baclava and Turkish beer. I enjoyed the bottles, which were squat and fat. We finally had to leave and meet up with dear Antonis, but they insisted on paying for everything. How's that for hospitality?

So, as far as danger and excitement go, Nicosia was a definite bust. But the people were amazingly nice and generous on both sides of the border. Of course, it doesn't hurt that Laurissa is thin, tan, and could be a supermodel if she wanted to. This tends to make people a lot more friendly than they would otherwise be (i.e. when I am by myself). In any case, I will definitely have to go back there someday.