Cyprus

January 13, 2013

The ferry boat ride to Northern Cyprus. We were told to get into line with our van at 10:00 pm as the boat was due to leave at midnight. Seemed like a long wait to us but we have learned to trust and do what we are told. Right away, I am asked to get out of the car and go through the passenger gate. I am not liking this...a bit beyond my comfort zone. I stand and wait with the rest of the passengers...no English, and most of the women in traditional Muslim clothing. Kids are going nuts, they are usually in bed at this time, but they run in all directions playing hide and seek between us, screaming in fits of laughter. Some of these families are actually immigrating to Cyprus, a country unto itself (well sort of, more later). The amount and sizes and shapes of bags, old suitcases, cardboard boxes, pillows and blankets is tremendous. How will these folks get them on and off the ferry themselves?

When we are finally started through the gate, I ask if I can join my husband in the van. Yes that is okay, but you need to pay us 25 TL harbor tax. What?! I have no money with me so a helpful employee goes to fetch David who pays my way through and again I can join him. He is parked off to the side with two other cars...the rest of the cargo are trucks, big semis. We start a long wait, thankful that everything we need is with us inside the camper.

But all those other passengers. They come through slowly, family by family. All their bags with them. Some have found a push cart. Others run from boat to dock and back, over and over. It is about 2:00 am when finally everybody is on the boat. The cars and trucks also. Fitting us all in the enclosed deck is an amazing puzzle led by a wiry energetic man who is yelling at the drivers constantly. He must have known the size of every truck. He slowly fits them together, the drivers knowing their order in line before loading. Did he pre-draw a plan​? There was not room for another vehicle...one of the cars up front, two of us in the back...we were the last car on. The doors close. There really is not room for us to get through between the trucks, at least I can not see any passageway. Well, maybe if I squeezed and sucked it all in, coming through at the end with filthy clothes. Against our usual rules, we opt to pull out the bed and go to sleep, hoping that this old vessel will not sink while we are dreaming! A seven hour trip.

So, that is the easy part. We still have customs and police to see when we reach the port of Girne (Girn-ea). We need to buy car insurance. This is the first country that does not accept the 'green card'...third party insurance. We buy more, I think 100TN for one month. Our credit card is not acceptable. We must pay cash so off we go to find a cash machine. It is back and forth through the same doors several times. But finally we have it all together and are welcomed to Northern Cyprus with a friendly warning to DRIVE ON THE LEFTHAND SIDE OF THE ROAD. It is morning. We are hungry. Let's have a Full English Breakfast! We find what we are looking for after asking English folks who live here. Bacon, sausage, eggs, toast, jam, cooked tomato and baked beans...and a huge mug of coffee.

A bit of background history about Cyprus. Most of you my age will remember the troubles here. It became The Republic of Cyprus in 1960...Turkey, Britain and Greece all signing petitions to guarantee the integrity of the territory of the New Republic...all gaining the right to have military contingents on the island. In 1963 things started to go wrong once again. The Christmas Clashes. The fighting was nasty and lasted many years. Many died. In 1974 a Greek military junta in Athens carried out a coup d'etat in Cyprus, with the goal being to join the Island to the country of Greece. (Not the wishes of the government of Greece.) Five days later the country of Turkey jumped in (invited by the Cypriots)...The Turkish Peace Operation. This moved the Turkish Cypriots to the North and the Greek Cypriots to the south.

In 1983 the Turks in the north decided to govern themselves and named their part of the country The Republic of Northern Cyprus (which is only recognized by Turkey). In 2004, The United Nations with Kofi Annan in the lead, introduced a plan to unite the 'sides'. There was a vote put to the people to decide. The Turks voted 65% YES and the Greeks voted 76% NO. So life proceeds as is. At this time it is pretty peaceful and the borders are open...but, there is still dissension. Cyprus is still a country divided.

Up to the time I am writing, we have been only in Northern Cyprus. It is relaxing and quiet and very beautiful. Beaches, mountains and azure blue waters. Turkish Cypriots are the friendliest! And the ex-pats; the English, the Germans and other peoples such as African and Philippino. It is a fine place to live and visit.

It is quite impressive to be floating out here on an Island in the middle of the Mediterranean. We anchor ourselves inGirne. After our big breakfast we walk in the Old Bazaar and down to the harbor where we stop for a beer in the sunshine at the Harbour Cafe. A parrot is squawking and talking to the customers. The British are on this island in high numbers, some of them enjoying a meal at the same cafe. They have escaped the UK grey drizzle to a winter of cool sunny days. Many live here all year round and scoot home for Christmas or other important events. Young Turkish boys are enjoying a water pipe at their table, a traditional offering from the restaurant. An elderly English lady asks about the pipe. “Would you like to try it?” says one of the boys politely, pushing it in her direction. “Oh, no no no no! I was wondering what was in the pipe and if it was very good for you.”

Our first evening we explored the town for a place to spend the night. It was dark and very quiet in a small parking strip. It seemed a school or other institution was across the street. And something like a field behind us. So we settled in, hunkered down and slept well.

In the morning we find there is a fence around the 'institution'. It is a military establishment. And behind us is a square for parades with a bust of Ataturk and flags of Northern Cyprus and Turkey flying at half mast. Soldiers were about us hustling to clean up the streets. The guard across the way had an eye on our American vehicle. A few other soldiers were individually slowly marching and circling the building. Each time one of them would pass by a certain window he would salute. Hmmm. Maybe someone important is in there? Three chairs and a table were brought out to the grass in the sunshine, almost directly across from us. A commander and two officers arrive and seat themselves, looking forward to tea time in the outdoors overlooking Ataturk!

In the afternoon David walked the seawall and visited the castle which was right below our parking spot. The Shipwreck Museum is housed within its walls. The second oldest (Hellenistic Period, 2,300 years old) recovered sunken ship is of the most interest. It was discovered by a sponge diver in 1965. The ship was 80 years old when it sank. 14 meter long Aleppo pine hull, full of 413 jugs once full of wine and olives. It has been established that it sailed along the Aegean coast and the Mediterranean and was operated by a crew of four.

THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:

> Singing! Lots of singing as people walk!

> This time of year we will miss the flamingos and migrating birds and the summer flowers. Also we will miss the sea turtles coming to lay their eggs, thousands on many of the beaches.

> David and I really need each other to make this trip work. We think both our brains make up one good one.

January 16

Billapais. In French, Belle Paix...A monastery, 'Abbey of Peace' which is the very best example of French Gothic style in the Middle East, built in the 13^th Century by Augustinian monks. It is situated in the hills above us and from sea level it is imposing.

We ask directions to Billapais, but make a wrong turn so we just keep on the roads that wind uphill and finally see we are across a ravine from it. We curl around the top of the ravine and follow tiny roads leading through the upper village, down steeply past some shops and bars to the monastery. There are tourists here in the winter, most of them on tour buses. German. Chinese. And a few like us, travelers who are curious about this place. It is interesting to climb narrow stone stairs to upper walkways, read the posted signs... this is the room where a classroom was, where the monks' beds were in the dormitory, their study and common room and the kitchen...the cloister.

One large room is still being used for concerts in the summer. A grand piano on the stage. Cool stone walls for relief from the hot days. Splendid views through archways to the garden or through glassless windows over the hills, a white town and the sparkling sea. All interesting, but it is the ambiance of the hill village itself that impresses us. The monastery is the icing on the cake, the gorgeous anchor for the town.

Billapais is built steeply up and up on the mountain side. We start at the bottom with the shops. Lovely scarves, flowing clothing and painted plates! Fabulous plates. Hundreds of them on display. We take our time in the pottery shop, then walk up the main street to the top through old homes lived in by Turkish families and expats who cannot help but live here...this place is just too beautiful not to stay.

We look for the former home of the author of 'Bitter Lemons', Lawrence Durrell. His book is about buying the property, fixing it up, living in the village and the Cypriot political scene which he became part of. We find the home, it has the name BITTER LEMONS on the thick plastered outer wall. Here we chat with two women. One German and one French. They have been friends since they met at a peace camp when they were 16 years old. I think they are in their early sixties now. Often they travel together. We would have liked to sit and have a cup of tea with them, to hear more of their stories but they had to rush off before their bus left them behind. We continued on, making a loop back down the hill. That night we slept next to the lighted monastery...lit up like soft alpen glow.

January 17

We are quite comfortable now, 'wild camping'. It is almost expected of us as there are no auto camps on the island. There are no caravans or RVs to take advantage of a campground. Just pick your place and everyone will understand!

We have decided to attend a Thursday Service at 100 year old St. Andrews Anglican Church in the old town. Though we are not accustomed to the liturgy and form of this church, it was very easy to follow. The sermon was interesting and thought provoking, a very good experience in all. After the service we went to coffee with some of the members, who make it their after church tradition. We sat outside on the square and got to know everyone. Mavis, Maureen, Gillian, John and Tom, a few of the names I can remember.

From here David and I walk down to the harbor with a list of questions for the Tourist Information office. Where can we copy and scan documents?/ Where is the Open Market and what day?/ Where is the laundromat?/ Where do we buy more auto insurance if we should decide to stay another month?/ Where are we likely to find reasonably priced real traditional Turkish food?

January 18

Slow start this morning. Another head cold for me. We drop our laundry off at the Cleaners. It is just so much easier than spending a morning in the laundromat (there isn't one anyway!). We have better things to do! David asks when they will be ready. The answer is, “It depends on the weather.” My gosh, even the commercial laundry hangs the wet clothes outside on a line!

We want to check out the mountain roads today. There is a rock top called Five Fingers which also defines this mountain area. It looks like a hand and can be seen from most places we have been so far. The roads are lovely. Vistas of the ocean white surf far away, can be seen through the pines and rock thrusts, pinnacles and Madrona trees. Luscious ground covers, including something that looks fern-like... fennel? White-grey rock stained red from the iron rich earth that seems to seep around and into the rock. Some of the stone peaks are rounded at the top and layered, like misty Japanese watercolors. It all feels semi-tropical. Robust tulip leaves are everywhere, though no red indigenous flower in bloom yet. What must that look like? Wild tulips everywhere!

The road we choose leads us around Five Fingers. We pass a herder with his dog and goats. He smiles and waves. So genuine and warm. I love the ways of these people. Around another corner a woman is hiking with her dog. She is munching on a big red apple. And another corner...a man with three dogs. He picks up the little one in his arms to keep him safe. And yet another shepherd with a beautiful smile. They must find peace and contentment in this job of taking care of animals in this natural world of woods and hills.

We are so enjoying ourselves. Looking at everything. Talking about everything we see....that we forget where we are. And that is....happily driving on the wrong side of the road! And yes, a car came around the corner on the same side as we. David made a very quick adjustment and we received a signal that meant....”No problem, happens all the time.” We enter a village as we take a road leading downward. It seems barely hanging on to life...though like everywhere, boys are playing ball. We glimpse a beach below us and now our goal is to find it.

A dry mud road with deep ruts leads us down to a grassy field and stoney beach. A sandstone reef juts out into the sea at our left. A natural breakwater. It is just about dark. We are alone in paradise, but not so alone that the call of prayer cannot reach us across the bay. But, David says, “With Paradise, comes flies.” Yes, they rush in as we open the sliding side door. He swats them with his hat until just a few are left.

Dinner time. We make a chicken stir-fry over egg noodles. We think it is wonderful. Good thing no one else can hear us complimenting each other on our cooking! And the darkness and the skies! The Big Dipper seems tipped to empty and the half moon is brightly resting on its belly sending its shimmering path over the sea to us.

In the morning we open the blinds to view a fisherman out on the reef. He has an extra long white pole without reel. He does not cast. He throws his line into the sea. He seems a nervous sort...running up and down looking for a better place, or squatting for awhile at one. I think there is a natural saltwater pool on the reef where he keeps his bait. He runs to it, grabs the bait, and throws some into the sea. (David calls this chumming.) The thought being that the fish will come for all that bait and surely one of them will run into his line. I am not sure exactly what kind of fish he is after but they must swim close to reefs where the water is deep. He is our entertainment as we eat our breakfast.

The sea this morning is Mediterranean blue with patches of dark where clouds cast shadows. A sweet little egret is wandering among the grasses. White with a fairly large yellow bill. Her shape and her walk is just like our large blue herons. She is alone. Maybe she is nesting. A black and white cow has been let out to munch on the grass in the field behind us. An English couple arrive to enjoy the sun and sea; to walk, read and snooze.

David is reading about the Turkish people. He reads me a line he has come across. “The Turks give unassuming friendship.” We have certainly found that to be true. Also, he reads, “Camping in Turkey, you will find that most property owners will be happy to let you stay on their land.” The vehicle we are traveling in has proven to be a wise choice. It is white and it is smallish. It looks like many other white vans in the work force. We just fade into the background.

When the fisherman leaves his post, we follow his worn path to the reef and back along the beach. I find a bunker from the latest wars. A small one that requires a soldier to crawl into it and set up his gun at the horizontal slit of an opening. The beach stones and seashells are worth inspecting and bringing some home to the van.

Two more fishermen arrive. They have the same gear as the first. A long pole without reel. A bucket. A plastic bag full of something...and a pack on their backs. I name them 'long pole' fishermen and have decided that they choose a spot that is deep and hang their poles above them. It seems there is a bobber.

As we leave this perfect spot, a pretty woman directs us to another road as she is herding both sheep and cows home on the one we came in on.

Sunday, January 20

We are back at St. Andrews mingling with all the lovely Brits! The church is full to the brim. Marvin is the minister today. He is normally the 'Chaplain of the Seafarers', in the Greek part of the island. A lovely man who also comes to coffee at the Square. When not in his robes he is wearing his collar, a blue Jerusalem University sweat shirt and a long green scarf, like a clergy shawl. He and David have much to say to each other.

John and Gillian invite us to come along to lunch. We are a group of six. Our new friend Tom rounding out the number. And where do we go? To the golf club! A huge variety of food to choose from, buffet style. As usual, I overdid it. But I missed the prickly pears! I shall be on the lookout for more. A must taste!

Gillian has been gathering information on Cyprus highlights for us so we follow back to their home to pick them up. A cup of tea and a tour of the cozy house, including the pool in the back garden. (That must be fun for visiting family. It can be 110o and humid in the summer months.) She has some beautiful Turkish rugs and wall hangings but most of their furniture was brought from England...from their sold home there. The question for the Hodgsons: How is it that you came to Cyprus to live? They had holidayed here twice. When John's father died, in England, there was really no reason for them to stay there. What should we do now? Let's go to Cyprus! They dug out some sales pamphlets from their last trip and bought their home ,long distance, with that information. They love it and so do 12,000 other British on North Cyprus!

Tom. Tom is Nigerian. He has been a student here for the past eight years. His studies are in shipping, specifically oil shipping, and he wants a position in management. He is about 6'4” in height. Good looking, with an African face and smile, and I think maybe that is where his humor comes from, for he is always making jokes. He and John hand it back and forth to each other. Tom would like to go to Sweden or Dubai to work. I think he would like to 'shine' as a black man. Make a mark. No wife til he reaches his goal! He is bright and he has goals. Two of his brothers are here in Cyprus also. Tom is the boss. He is the oldest. He solves the family problems. They were born in France where their parents were working. At a certain point the parents wanted their children to have the Nigerian experience so they were sent to Nigeria to live with their 'grandmum'. We are happy to know him and listen to his dreams.

That night we stayed in the field next to the Hermitage...where the Vicar and his wife live. They are off on a holiday so we have a lovely quiet spot in nature. It is a thoughtful offer from John, Gillian and Tom. Bill, the church Warden is called and he makes sure we are comfortable. You know, most people on this earth are good souls, I am convinced!

January 21

We are in need of propane for our stove and our refrigerator. It will cramp our style to be without! But, there is not a gas station that carries it, at least not out of a hose, which we need. Bill suggests to us that we go down to the harbor as he is sure that some of the boats need propane delivered in the same way. Good idea! But this turns out not to be the case. They point us toward Inter Gaz, a company that fills and delivers containers and trucks with propane. Surely they have come up against this problem. We drive to the outskirts of another city. Yes, they will do it...though they are not quite sure how. Several men gather to discuss and follow through. Yikes...some gas escapes! They just keep trying, find the right adapter and... success! Jim has been the leader of the gang. He invites us for tea or coffee at the outdoor break picnic table. One of the fellows brings us Nescafe... it is such a kind and sweet gesture and it gives us time to know each other a bit better. He has come to work here from Istanbul... which he misses! No 'honky tonk' here. It is very quiet. He is quite astounded to find out our ages.

From here we head out to the Karpaz peninsula. We want to drive to the end of it. We get as far as a deserted resort area for the night. We are next to a river where it enters the sea, walled in by nice brick and stone work. Across from us there is the Parthenon! And several other Greek buildings that comprise a hotel and a casino! Lots of Greek statues on roof tops and columns. All evening buses and cars enter a gate to the casino. I cannot imagine where these folks are driven from as we are quite out of the main population.

In the morning, we continue up the coast, looking for Panaghia Kanakarya Church. Our tour book says...“The church apse, which dates to the Middle Byzantine period, was adorned with sixth century mosaics...considered to be some of the few surviving masterpieces of Early Christian mosaics in the entire world.” Masterpieces! Entire world! But when we find it, the doors are locked up tight for the winter.

But, the day is a masterpiece. Purple to lavender windflowers bobbing in balmy breezes. Gentle hills with big views. Valleys and meadows, spring green, enjoyed today by sheep, shepherds and their dogs. And donkeys on the loose! Scrubby low bush. Yellow flowers. Short full dense trees. Sheep-cropped grass fields, like a manicured golf course. Magpies and Jackdaws and pretty little song birds. A place to quiet one's soul...as often an island can be.

Before we head out to the beaches and solitude, we need water in our fresh water tank. David sees a multi-tap fountain in a school yard. He finds a teacher to ask if we may help ourselves. School children are interested. Two girls walk by and wave and wave...and giggle. Pretty soon we have gathered a crowd of kids...all saying, “Hello. Hello. Hello.” They know that word. Smiles. More shy giggles. Gestures of help from the boys. They peer into the camper windows. We have such fun with them. Of course we take photos. “Hee Hee Heeee” they laugh as they point at each other in the picture on screen. “Bye bye! Bye bye! Gule! Gule!”

We make a last stop for bread at a small family store. And we are off up the coast. Agriculture out here on the peninsula, tractors on the road. North Cypriot Flags on many hills. Cliffs of sandstone layers. Mist from the sea is seeping into the cracks and canyons of the land. Large rounded boulders of sandstone shaped by wind, weather and sea, lay at the bottom of precipices on the shoreline. Sometimes the salt water must come over the road. The bottoms of the bushes are reddish and dry.

At 3:00 we stop. The ocean races in from the south onto a sandstone reef and a sandy crescent beach. Why not stay here? Next to us, a man is working on his small wood-frame house. David asks if we can stay the night where we are. Of course the answer is yes, it always is. He is heading out anyway, and we will be alone. We make an early dinner of grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches and go for a long walk. The sandstone on the shore lays out before us like a road, easy walking. We come to a wood cabin resort and snoop around. It is getting dark. Out of that darkness a man appears! Hand outstretched for handshakes for both of us. He is aware that he might scare us but he is just checking us out...maybe we appeared on a camera screen or a warning light? We try to talk but he has no English, so we turn to leave to take the road home. Another handshake for David...and for me...a hand on his heart.

January 23

I start the day with a few pages of Jack Keroak's, On the Road. We are on a bit different road than he writes about, but still we are looking for the same things... new stuff to “dig”. A road for older guys...but we find the same things. Beauty. Soft and helpful new friends. Plants and flowers of many hues, brand new flora varieties for us to enjoy and contemplate. Turquoise seas. Different cultures, food and drink. Jack and his friends used substances to get the most out of their experiences. With this book, he defined the Beat Generation...which I loved to pretend to be part of in my college days...coffee houses, smoking (no drugs on campus yet), long serious discussions, the dark clothing of the generation...and art. I loved those days...but I love these best...on this road we are 'high' enough.

As I write this in my ring binder my bare feet are drying from a walk into the sea. The surf sounds like my precious Klee Wyck ocean waves so far away on Canada's west coast. Here, there is cyclamen growing wild next to the sand.

We head further east to the St. Andrew's Monastery. The Apostle Andrew is said to have brought forth healing waters here. It is still a multi-faith pilgrimage spot. But when we get there it is in the throws of rehabilitation. Junk, unkempt buildings, bulldozed dirt roads...Not an inspiring or pretty picture, so we choose not to explore.

But the donkeys are around us! They like it where people are, especially if they think there is a treat awaiting them. A few times we had a big funny donkey head poking into our car window. These sweet guys are feral. They are no longer needed by Cypriot families to carry olives from the groves or cereals from the fields. In 1974 the donkeys were turned loose on the Karpas and it has proved to provide for them in their wild state. They are doing well, and there are now 1,000 donkeys! They travel in small groups. A family consists of a mother and two or three young ones. The end of the Karpaz peninsula has become a wildlife protection park, Dipkarpaz Mili Park.

We head back, westward again. Sand dunes with juniper and a salal-like plant holding the sand in place. Outer islands. We lunch on a small crescent beach, some sand but again the long stretching sandstone roadways. They go parallel to the shore but where they meet the sea they form fingers with the sea in between. To our right, is a rock promontory jutting high. Bright yellow-green striped fields climb up the backside until the juniper takes over. I suppose many a child has climbed to the top, I know I would if I spent time here playing on this beach as a youth. A grey waist-coated jackdaw and a gull are fighting as they fly. The gull loses and heads off. The jackdaw continues to brave the waves and comes up with a catch in his beak. We are drawn into the lullaby of the waves and hang out... nothing we have to do. Just look and listen and dream.

Later we walk the sandstone. Easy and fun walking and jumping and lots to see. Strong bamboo walking sticks picked up on the beach, help us over the rough stuff. There are warn places on the soft rock. Most of them look like footprints, big and small. Others look like dishes, also big and small...about ready to pop away from the mother stone and spin out to sea. In the sand between we find what looks like cat paw tracks...too big for a cat. A mother and her young size. We decide that it must be otters. The tracks are fresh everyday, so it must be a daily early morning search along the shore. David spies a goat up on the sandstone cliffs! Brownish tan with an almost black muzzle. Her long ears are floppy and flippy at the sides of her head, looking like a 1950s hair-do. She has shortish black horns. The back legs and thighs are well developed. But wait a minute, there are two darker brown babies. She watches their every move. She knows we are watching but does not seem worried. The young ones are amazing on their feet already, jumping and nosing into everything on the side of a steep cliff. Are these goats feral also? They are certainly not part of a herd. It was an exciting find. We also see tracks like deer, but decide they probably belong to goats. The dry sand does not hold a clear image. We stay the night..and move down the coast a tiny bit in the morning to find our last camp spot.

Ahhhh, what a view. We are higher than usual above a sand beach. It is a picnic area, but no one is here for long...except for short walks on the beach. Fishermen try casting from the beach for an hour then get into their truck to move on to better fishing grounds I guess. Sometimes I think they do not care as much about fishing as just the act of it. Impatience seems an ingredient also!

It is so lovely here. Not far from the main Karpaz road. Regulars on this road are beginning to honk and wave at us. They are happy to see us again...enjoying our van. Top up, breezy and airy. I sleep up there during the day. Now I have the flu. (I just remembered that I did not get my flu shot this year...If I don't get the shot, I always get the flu!) One complaint about the island. Garbage on the beach. Plastic bags and bottles, shoes of all types, fishing stuff from boats like floats and net pieces. Pieces of plastic crates. David takes a big bag along the beach to fill it full but it hardly makes a dent. A Cypriot who cares and understands needs to start a clean-up campaign and the schools need a program to change the mindset of the communities. We have watched garbage being thrown from cars and boats.

We would like to check into St. Andrews Church tomorrow so we head back towards Girne. 'Gule gule' to the beaches and lazy days. But on the way back there is plenty to hold our attention. One vignette being, a goat in a yard, eating the laundry on the line! I've heard of that but never actually seen it! Another highlight is a huge tree with six inch blossoms, yellow with dark red markings. An Imperial? In the village of Sipahi, we stop by the Ayios Trias Basilica to look at the mosaics that are still on the floors, no walls or ceilings to protect them. They are still very beautiful if not faded and missing tiles. This is all that remains of the ancient Phoenician port of Karpasia. There are prayers hanging in the remaining standing stone structures. They are written on anything...scraps of paper, napkins, toilet paper. It is unsightly to me, but to those who have come here as a pilgrimage it is serious stuff. There are many fishermen along the rocky shores. Again, mostly the 'long pole' fellows standing on ledges. Windflowers (Anenomes) are most prominent, white to red-purple.

Sunday. Church (inspiring), coffee, and Sunday lunch with the usual folks. This time an Irish couple has joined us, Chris and Heather. This is their second vacation here in Girne. He is an accountant and farmer, as he married a farm girl. They live outside Dublin. We make another friend, a woman from North Carolina who is an English professor at the American University. She has two boys who are in church also. She sings in the choir here and also a city choir. But the most fun for me was sparring with Tom over coffee!

I asked him about his job that he keeps while he studies. “Oh. Not good. I don't mind the job but I have a LadyBoss!!!! I cannot work under a LadyBoss! And she is younger than I am. Next time I apply for a job and they tell me my boss is a woman I will say...bye bye...not for me!” “But Tom, I thought that you believed that all people are equal. And what if you are climbing the ladder to your dream job and you are given a LadyBoss (That is how he says it, all one word). I think you better work on that one!” We go round and round, laughing all the way...but it is serious. When he finds out that both Gillian and I were LadyBosses he cannot believe it. “I just cannot work under a LadyBoss!” Of course the whole table is listening...and probably a few other tables.

After lunch we shop for groceries, put them all away in their assigned places, then drop laundry off. We are set for another weeks adventure.

Monday. A special treat awaits. The St. Hilarion Castle. We are charmed by what we can see from Girne. A walled castle perched on a craggy mountain. It was built in the 7^th century as a protection from attacking Arabs. We drive up small winding roads to get to it...and it does not disappoint! It is said that Walt Disney used this castle as inspiration for the castle in Sleeping Beauty. It is a Fairytale Royal Castle to be sure...built up the steep mountainside to the top...The Gate House, the Queen's Window, the Barbican, the Royal Apartments, the Cistern, the Kitchens, the Belvedere, Prince John's Tower and the Byzantine Church. Absolutely wonderful! We climb and snoop around and take pictures. Flowers: a purple low tight primrose, daffodils that seem less papery than I am used to, Azalea and lots of tall Cypress trees.

From here we head west through the mountains on a high road, past barbed wired military areas. There are plenty of these around. I would guess, just making sure that a repeat performance of a Turkish/Greek skirmish does not happen again. The tension is still here. But up here, those struggles seem a myth...the mountain beauty, glimpses of the city of Girne and the ocean, through canyon trees, rain, mist, fog and clouds. Scotch broom (gorse), lavender anenomes, dandelions and daisies. And wild goats again! I love to see them. And their young kids. It feels much like a picture out of the movie, Mannin of the Spring (I am not sure I have that name right). That movie is so delicious in its capture of nature and life in the hills. It is really a good example of what we are driving through, villages included.

Then we stop to view an army tank that is now a sort of memorial. A Turkish tank that went over the road edge, in the hills, in the woods. It changes our mood for those minutes as we contemplate those times of fighting. It seems another example of the human inability to let people be...to let go of grudges. A country that could be one, broken in two. Lingering anger of the mother countries, not so much the island Cypriots of Greek and Turkish origins, though in time even their easy way of living together was messed with and a division caused. Lies and stories about the opposite peoples...which continues to be taught from childhood. It reminds me to practice tolerance and forgiveness in my daily life. To remember that we really are not so different from one another. I hear it in the laughter of Turkish friends, or see it in the relationships of Greek families, or on the faces of people of all ethnic backgrounds showing the elements of surprise (eyes wide open) or focus (Stick that tongue out!) or kindness (a gentle smile). We all do the same things...we are human beings given the same equipment to work with.

Tuesday. We are up late and walk into Girne. We lunch in the towns Old Bazaar, hungry for donors (gyros) and french fries. And a yogurt drink comes with it. We have been hearing about a small very old Gothic town a bit below St. Hilarion Castle, 1000 ft. above sea level. Karaman or Karmi. We have had difficulty pinpointing the road to find it. Our GPS does not work on this island so we have to rely on ourselves and maps. Not an easy task as signage is not the best. So we visit the Tourist Information office to get good directions.

Even with the directions we get lost but we persevere and find ourselves in another world. A community unto itself, started in the Bronze age, and today...it is a village of people from all over the world; English, Swedish, German, American, Canadian. The town was deteriorating. The Minister of Interior and Housing decided to lease the buildings to foreigners (25 yr. leases), people who loved the village and had money to restore the homes. The responsibility then moved to the Minister of Tourism who saw that Karmi received help with roads, water and electricity. Originally the houses first floor belonged to the owner's donkeys, still called the 'donkey room'. The heat from the animals would rise to the upper levels. There are 160 houses lived in full or part time, small, stacked, attached, built along tiny twisting roads...and cared for beautifully. A Greek Orthodox church is in the tiny town square, probably kept in its original function, at least in looks. This town was also built on the mountainside to watch for the attacking Arabs. Today only local builders and architects can be hired. We talked with an English grocer, who was just putting his store together, to open a few days hence. He said the community is amazing, a very interesting place to live. There are other shops and restaurants tucked away but all closed for the winter. The names of the streets are English quaint! If this little place were not so far away from our Pacific Northwest it could be a home for us! Close by there are chambered tombs to explore, carved out of the rock.

We are ready to explore the west of North Cyprus. We start out with only a short time of daylight. When we settle in for the night, I can't help be cheered by our little home on wheels. Shelves of books, a candle glow on the orange and red bowls filled with hot chicken soup... memorabilia and art on the walls.

Wednesday, January 30

Continuing west on a rainy day. Scotch Broom abounds, reminding me that I missed the celebration of Robbie Burns Birthday on the 25^th....and the anniversary of my father's death...who taught our family to love Haggis! And the magic whine of the Scottish pipes.

We enjoy exploring the small dirt roads that lead down to the sea and we see a lovely beach that calls us, so a quick turn to the right, and we are stuck in the wet clay-like mud! Try as we might, we are not able to free ourselves. An angel from nowhere in a truck, stops at the top of the road. In Turkish-English he says, “Let me have the wheel. I can get her out!” He was so sure of himself that we stood back and gave it over. He 'took the bull by the horns' and in two tries he had us back on the main road. We have met so many angels...appearing when we are in need. Handshakes and smiles and we leave this angel to find his next earthly folks in trouble.

The next beach we find has a paved road right down to the sea. Straight as an arrow through a small group of summer villas to the natural beach area. All is quiet here. And safe. And no mud! A lovely brown and white spaniel is so happy that people have arrived and she runs and plays as we walk the grassy roads and find interesting sandy beaches hidden away. The terrain is of a sand-dirt mix of reddish sienna, rather Arizona-like. Among the grasses are round lumps of prickly bushes which soon becomes a great boot cleaner as my boots have mud glued to them, in some places an inch thick.

Rain starts up again. Heavy rain that threatens to stay awhile. We make for the cover of the van where we can still be part of our surroundings. Our dog friend lies part way under the car. We watch the gentle surf break on the sand and big fast drops hit the calm water. Dusk is coming. Clouds are dark above with hints of a lighter setting sun on the horizon. Rain drops on the roof make me sleepy and, oh so content.

Thursday. Buffeting winds all night but in the morning it is so clear that we can see straight north to Turkey, with snow still on the mountains. We decide right then that we will stay here another month. So much left to see, mostly sunny spring-like days and beaches! Last nights rain caused water to roar down the pavement and off into the soil and plants at the roadside causing rivulets to the sea. I see through a child's eye...a mini-scene of a little river twisting through canyons, around rocks, passing by beaches and cliffs and hills. I imagine playing cars and trucks there with the 'dinky toy' of choice (dump trucks, diggers, Morris Minors, motor cycles), building towns and dams and roads to the 'outback'. Remember that?! And talking to your play partner in your best 'Mr. Man' voice, “Hey Joe, I'm heading to the quarry. Do you want to meet me at the gas station?!”

We drive through more sweet little villages. “Hey, Washington”, they point. Big smiles and waves...makes my heart twinge with the joy that emanates from them. We have been told there is a good beach beyond the village of Akdeniz. After several attempts to find the right road we stop to ask a young man who is working on a car. He speaks perfect English and we soon find out that he works in Istanbul, teaching English. He is home for a few days as his father's car needed attention. He hails a truck and asks the white-headed, tanned-faced driver to lead us there. His truck is full of produce. We are out in the 'boonies' on very bumpy dirt roads...myriads of roads...through deciduous forests. Sometimes it feels like we are in Africa. Finally he points out the window...”Take this one!” We drive to its end. The sun is low over a long rocky beach and ocean. A long-legged dog is racing up and down...so happy for the space to stretch. We go for a beach walk. What an island this is!

Our overnight spot is in the city of Guzelyurt in a central park. A bunch of guys arrive in separate vehicles. They stand around and talk. A meeting place...but for what? It soon becomes clear when a large truck arrives to pick up goat or sheep milk. These are the shepherds. They hand over the full milk containers and get back empties. The truck driver keeps track of the amounts and sample tests each container. No money passes between hands here.

Friday, February 1

This morning another milk pick-up. A maintenance person starts up the sprinkler system for the first time this year. Must be officially spring in these parts. There is a UN (yes, United Nations) truck parked near us. A big black UN painted on the side of a white heavy-duty truck, rather generic looking. Inside are the fellows with the light blue berets. They watch us, simply out of curiosity I think. Another UN truck arrives to pick them up and they are off to duty. Some non-violent duty. Protectors. Observers in peaceful blue hats.

Orange trees everywhere. Loaded. David remarks that the green leaf is the perfect color to go with the orange. (I think a tinge of the orange pigment sneaked into the green of the leaf.) Red geraniums have taken hold as the leader here. Cherry trees are in bloom. Hellebore. A tall Poinsettia bush in full bloom!

Today we visit the ancient city of Soli, traced back to the 11^th century BC. The site was chosen for its beauty and harbor. The Church floor mosaics are the most amazing to me. It is one of the first churches on Cyprus, a coin found dates back to the 4^th century AD. There has been careful attention to the unearthing of this church and its mosaics. The whole area is covered by a strong metal roof. Walkways have been built above and around the floor with signs informing us of what we are looking at. The mosaics belong to two different periods. The small pieces of stone (Tesserea) belonging to the 4^thcentury AD, decorative patterns as well as animal figures; birds and bulls and most beautiful, a swan among patterned vines. There are also geometric figures. The other period is the 6^th century AD which is fashioned in geometric cut stone pieces. The church was destroyed in the 7^th century by attacking Arabs.

We also wandered in the Soli theater. Originally seating 4000 people. It is Roman built on top of Greek, dating to the 2^ndand 3^rd centuries AD. As we have seen before, the half circle faces toward the sea. (I guess the Columbia River 'Gorge' was not the first of its kind!)

We are nearing Yesilimak, the border between the North and South of Cyprus. The intention was not to travel there on this outing but somehow we were drawn to see the differences for ourselves. There are military areas here. We can hear gun practice close by. AK47s. Soldiers at gates and guard stations as we drive by. These would be Turkish soldiers. We stop at the Turk border crossing. Easy. They give us an official piece of paper that is stamped with the date. A bit further and we stop at the Greek Cypriot border. They really do not know what to do with us, the American license plates throw them. After much discussion and time, we are given a piece of paper that allows us to stay one week. We must hand this document in at the same border crossing when we return. Two very nice women, wanting to make our stay work for us. “You are very welcome here.”

The crossing is at a high point in the far west mountains. The views and foreground scenery is out of this world. David says it is the Garden of Eden. He is so right. The road leads around the tight valleys between each mountain or hill, and in these valleys are pines and cypress, wild flowers and cherry trees amongst the clipped green 'lawns'. It is goat haven. Wild or feral. The young ones already have strong little back legs as they scurry out of our way across the roads... after mama...up steep banks. Adorable!

The earth is red. The pines are both bull pines and fluffy round ones stretching into beautiful shapes like a Japanese painting. Curvy roads showing glimpses of the ocean. The opposite vertical hills of thick grass are patterned by the goat paths...zig zag, criss-cross switchbacks like green on green gingham. Steep low- gear roads. We are slowly making our way down to the sea through this magnificent land. When we reach the bottom it is 5:10 and the sun is setting. No mosques here. They are replaced by Greek Orthodox Churches which also use the soft but powerful shape of the dome in their architecture. Dogwood trees are in bloom. Red Hibiscus. Then finally the sun hits the water. It is the color of the oranges on the trees. We have a Greek Cypriot beach to ourselves tonight.

Saturday. Ground Hog Day. My friend Jean's birthday and she has caught up to me! It is a big one. One with a zero attached to it. We are awakened by bells, liturgy, music from the church above. A gentle day, soft wind, sea lapping at the brown-grey sand. A quiet little dirt road leads from one end of the beach to the other, through beach-side vegetation dominated by a yellow flower looking a bit like nicotiana. What a lovely private playground for those lucky enough to live here.

Now that we are in the south, our WIFI apparatus does not work. We decide to head back up into the mountains where there is a Turkish Cypriot military base separated from from the rest of North Cyprus. Perhaps we can get WIFI access there. It proves to be a good idea. WIFI is available. We need to let our friends in North Cyprus know where we are and also my camera does not work anymore. It died a final death, not to be repaired. David intends to order a new one for me. While we are there a 'policeman' stops to ask us what we are doing. We are told that it would be best if we left.

So, of course we left! Our next find is a perfect little fishing port. Guys fishing with long poles. Greek colors of blue and white fishing boats, a comfy different style. They are mostly old boats but they are all freshly painted and neatly supplied and stacked with gear. We park next to the harbor wall for lunch.

A long drive along the coast today. The van windows are open to the sound of the waves and the feel of the sea breezes. The sun warms the inside of the car. Blue plastic bags cover the banana bunches on the trees... banana growing country. There are small lonely villages scattered between the long stretches of untouched coastline. All by itself, a totally Greek house...white with blue trim and a blue and white awning flapping with happiness! So fresh!

Old folks on a motor cycle pass by...black clothing, she is riding side-saddle. On the other side of them is a whole field of orange Birds of Paradise! We see a sign to BATHS OF APHRODITE. Let's see what that is about. But it is too commercial. Bus tour groups are somewhere inside. Taking baths?

This area is populated by well-built villa complexes and a few resorts. The main town is Latchi. It is not new. It provides the romance for all the newly built areas. We enjoy the harbor and its many boats...old and comfy, new and snazzy. There are restaurants and shops along the harbor walk. While passing a large fishing vessel in dry-dock we hear a noise on the seawall behind. A fellow has snared an octopus and is killing it by whacking its head against the stone, over and over again. Rather disturbing, though I do remember, as a kid, hitting fresh caught fish on the head with a club to put them out of their misery.

Sunday. We stay the night in Latchi (or Latzi) and breakfast at one of the harbor-side restaurants. Fishing boats are slipping into the calm water behind the jetty, moving slowly and lazily. No hurry, a mornings work in the hold. It seems this is their attitude. We finish our English breakfast and watch the harbor action with our coffees in hand. Instant Nescafe which arrived in packets, along with very hot water and hot milk. Really, it is not bad! Beautiful Greek women sit near us at large tables with their families. The large classic Greek nose is featured in South Cyprus ...like statues and mosaics, somehow they make a face stunning!

On the road again, we leave the fast highway and head to the city of Pafos. Small new shrines of beautiful mosaics decorate each town. Goats are led along the side of the road by a woman with a white apron over her pretty dress and white scarf covering her head, switch in hand. She calls out a Greek greeting. We are in high grape growing country. Old vines and new, leading us through many villages with unbelievable overviews in all directions, then through Peyia, built steeply down a hillside that faces the southern shore... on into Pafos.

Many British live here in the Greek area of Southern Cyprus...permanently, far more than those in the north. 30,000. You can tell the tourists from the expats and locals. They are wearing their summer clothing. No jackets, short sleeved shirts and the men in knee length shorts (at least they got rid of those knee socks!). It is not warm but the vacationers are going to wear those summer duds anyway! Actually, it may be warm to them, getting rid of that damp English winter cold to a Cyprus sunny spring. But David and I still need several layers of sweaters and jackets to be comfortable.

McDonalds and Kentucky Fried have made it here. Fish and Chips. Flannigans. Clarks Shoes. The Rose Pub. Pizza Hut. Starbucks. The Wild Horse Pub. And then we see a sign for SUNBOW RESTAURANT. (Some of my buddies will laugh at that.)

We find a beach to camp on and watch the sunset. The sun is a red ball in the purple fog. Simple. Smashing!

February 4

We walk in town and find it has much to offer. There is more demand here for the latest shopping. We are looking for a book store when we see the little fishies in the tanks. This is the shop that provides a certain kind of fish to swim around and eat the dead skin off your feet! I have come across this a few other times. Once an Asian man was sitting in a shop window, seated with his legs hanging in the tank, a big smile on his face as the tickling fish swarmed about his feet. Okay, I am going to try this! Can you imagine letting fish nibble at you?! Just to have smooth soft feet! I climb to the seat above. My helper assures me that it will feel like the fish are kissing me. She turns me slowly and before I know it my legs are in the water! Swoosh! They are on me. I am shocked. Such a weird feeling. I don't know if I can stick with it. I am silently screaming! I am short of breath. The attendant has her hands on my knees, talking to me gently. I finally calm down, but never really get used to it. For 10 minutes I squirm. Yes, but in the end my feet are really nice. We both got something out of it...the fish and I.

Still looking for a good book store. We find one but he does not have the book we want. 'Bitter Lemons'. They are out of print. He calls his store in a larger town and finds a solitary book and puts it on hold. In thanks, we buy two others: The Cypress Tree; Kamin Mohammadi, and The Cypriot; Andreas Koumi, then grocery shop in a well stocked, large variety, modern store. A fancy meat market provides lunch on the go; English sausage rolls and Cypriot spinach & feta boreks.

Tonight we find another beach with a pier jutting out, big enough to drive on, with places for folks to fish from and a boat ramp. We think maybe we will stay on it overnight. No one is here. The sunset is brilliant and long lasting once again. It is well worth sitting through the whole show. But here comes a couple of trucks pulling inflatable boats. We need to give them room so we go back to the land and nestle in the trees. These guys have been waiting for dusk. Their boats are not in the water until it is dark. Night fishermen with night lights to attract the fish. We can see the lights bobbing as they move slowly away from the pier. They have gone when we wake in the morning, quietly moving past us with their catch, maybe on their way to the fish markets.

Off we go to Lemesos to pick up that last copy of 'Bitter Lemons'. It takes about an hour on the highway and following the booksellers map, we miraculously park in front of the Lemesos book store. With book safely in our hands we immediately head back to Pafos, but this time along the shore cliff road. The lunch stop overlooks a spectacular sight of a long pebble beach leading to a point where a massive white rock and others of varying sizes scatter out into the turquoise sea. This is Aphrodites birth place...a sign reads.

A talkative Englishman comes to chat. “Are you really from America? Where are you staying? North Cyprus?! Well, that is where all the naughty English go... the scallywags. I have no use for that side of the border.” I reply, “Actually, I prefer scallywags.”

February 6

A weather front moves in. Rain. Thunder and lightening. Dark skies. Unfortunate for the sun-seeking vacationers. We are off to North Cyprus to be with the scallywags. The way back is a repeat through the mountains and the Garden of Eden. More cherry trees in bloom down in the glades. If I could see this scene every day I would be a better person! Funny, it is inside a military zone! Opposites attract. A little bird belts out an exuberent 'tweet-oh tweet-oh tweet-oh tweet!”

Still in the Greek side, we lunch beside a quiet harbor, again filled with blue and white boats. Their hulls have been designed over the centuries, favoring a high bow that cuts back. Over the top, sun (or rain) shades. Decorated Greek folksy. Many boats are double-enders, softly rounded. The breakwater is made of big chunks of the local stone. It is a white stone that seems to have copper contents as it turns green after it is quarried and stacked in the weather.

The next day we check in with our church friends, then hurry off to find a beach for a few days of bliss. And we find a new one. Open fields riddled with fishermen roads. It is a good long view.

A beautiful morning. We start it with music...downloaded from the computer. Joni Mitchell's 'Clouds' or 'Both Sides Now' sung by many performers. The more we hear it, the more we “get” the meaning, but perhaps we form a meaning we need to hear. She is a genius.

We find new bamboo walking sticks and go for a long trek, finding short primroses, red poppies and little melons among the roadside grasses. Much of my time I am engaged in scouting out more beach stones for painting inspiration. I am addicted. They are such precious gems. But where to put them in the camper? I go on picking them up anyway. Worry about that later. We follow the road up to a group of villas...then find another road that leads back down to the flats. Around a promontory is a lonely little half-domed chapel in pretty good shape but with sad battered icons placed around.

In the evening we listen to Nana Mouskouri, James Taylor, Carty Rae Jepsen, Judy Collins and Herbie Hancock's 'River album, The Joni Letters'. We spend another day in this soft hazy spot.

Sunday. More spring shows up...a little speckled brown bird with a top-knotch. A tiny yellow butterfly. After church our group of ten, in a caravan of cars, rides for about 45 minutes to the west and the top of a ridge in the mountains where there is a special Cypriot meal to be experienced. Main dish, goat and ½ potato in a clear gravy. Many small dishes are set before us. Bread, cabbage salad, olives, humus, yogurt and a good red wine. For dessert there is homemade lemon cake. The goat was delicious, falling off the bone...no fat. It was cooked with the potato in a clay pot in an outside barbecue oven. Lots of laughter and talk at our table. This restaurant is known for its mountain setting and good food. It is rustic and outdoorsy. A cool spot on hot summer days. The owner went down into a ravine to gather herb bouquets for the women, a gift as we were leaving...sage, oregano, thyme.

Tuesday. We awake to shouts of soldiers at early morning war exercises...in the deep quiet contrast of what seems like California's Palm Springs. We stayed in the field at the Anglican Hermitage where the Vicar Richard and his wife Jill live. Richard comes out to the camper and hands David a bottle of champagne. What a nice gesture. But he has some bad news, just told to him. His best friend has died suddenly. Heart. Richard is pretty broken up with the shock of it. It might have helped him to tell us, but we feel helpless to ease his pain. A best friend can go ahead of you, but not without leaving behind what you loved about them...to surface again and again.

Wild flowers cover the field, dotting yellow on green. Red Crocosmia is tucked along the edge, between the trees and bushes. Hollyhocks! It interests me to see what grows here...the plants I recognize and those I don't. Jill offers us showers!

We will head across the Five Finger Mountain range today, to Famagusta. Before we do, we go to Emigration to make sure we can stay here longer. We still have a couple of months left he assures us. The last few days we have been spending on questions and answers to car insurance. We need to buy another months worth of Cyprus insurance, and we have gone beyond our year of EU insurance. The former we solve, so we drive a couple of hours to the old city of Famagusta. On the way, we find ourselves in the wrong lane in a roundabout...Honk. Honk. Hawnnnnnk! It's embarrassing! Can't you see we are foreigners?! It is just the Cypriot way and we are, by now, very used to it.

It is dark when we turn into a parking lot inside the walled town. There are many taxis here. Perhaps we should ask them if we need to pay. “Oh, no! It's free! This is Cyprus!” They are interested in our welfare but do not speak much English. Two taxi fellows come over to the van. “James. Do you know James?” NO “Is this your first time here?” YES. “James, he is from South Africa,” as he rubs his two fore-fingers together intimating that the United States and South Africa were side by side...big grin... but meaning the commonality is the English language. So James is brought to us. James owns a restaurant, the back door facing the parking lot. He married a Cypriot, has been here 16 years. We ask how he likes it. “Safe. Easy. Even my daughter can walk here anytime, day or night. South Africa is dangerous. Killings still going on.”

Wednesday. The taxi fellows checked on us all night. While we explored the city the next morning, a taxi would drive by, a grin and a wave from the driver. The St. Nicholas Cathedral is at the hub, now a mosque. All the Christian statues and emblems have been removed and a minaret attached, but the building is still monumental. Inside the floor is completely covered by carpeting...in a 'prayer rug' pattern...hence the rugs are in place, ready to be used. The original alter faced north. All has been changed to face east. There are beautiful examples of Islamic calligraphy, some framed, some painted on the walls. A high-staired dais is at the middle of the east wall for the teacher, the sermon giver. Imam. A simple meaningful space amidst the vaulted cathedral ceilings.

Outside the mosque, in the courtyard, is a wonderful old tree, as old as St. Nicholas Cathedral(now mosque). I rub my hand over the rough bark...sort of a love pat, an acknowledgment of her age and wiseness. A huge Ficus Sycamorus. Fat round trunk and hefty graceful limbs with leaves that shade most of the square.

We walked a bit of the city wall, looking over it to the newer town spread beyond and the former water-filled mote, now grassy wandering trails deep within. There are stone cannon balls laying about the city. Real ones that were shot from a cannon. It seems impossible but they could be shot a mile!

The double church was interesting. Double because of two Christian orders acting along the same lines; one being the Templar Nights (Shields of white with red crosses of the Crusades) and the other the Hospitaller Knights (Shields of black with a white cross). The latter order lasted and is still active today. Though both were formed to protect the Christians, the Hospitallers were more of a humanitarian emphasis while the Crusaders were military.

A Franciscan church is in the heart of town also. The ruins of the church are the only part left of an entire monastery. It was built during the lifetime of St. Francis. Next to it, and maybe part of the monastery, are domed baths. A beautiful little cluster of domes with polka dots of windows letting in the light. The usual interesting little shops line some of the streets. Finished exploring, we stopped at an outdoor cafe for a beer in the warm sunshine. Our waiter looked so much like our nephew Caley, it was astounding...and nice to visit with his double for awhile!

Back in the parking lot, the taxi guys gather around as we borrow their tap to fill our water tank. “Are you happy?” one of them asked me. It does seem unnatural for a woman (especially an older woman) to travel for so long in such a small space. My answer, “I love it.” He has been to Germany and Turkey and that is quite enough for him. “Too busy. All the hustle and noise. It is sunny here, quiet, friendly and beautiful...the sea, the mountains and the Karpaz peninsula.”

Water tank full, with their help, we say our goodbyes. Next stop, the Salamis Ruins. An ancient city ten kilometers away. We reached there about 3:00, parked by the sea and walked down the road to the ticket office. We had two hours to see it all. So in we go to the first ruins...the gymnasium. Just enough structure left to imagine the activity...the exercise rooms and baths. Standing columns at the entry, and a big sunken pool or fountain in the center, statues of men and women in flowing draped clothing in many corners and nooks, white marble, headless, to be glimpsed through arches and hallways. Across the way there are many columns, soldiers tall and white standing in a walled field of wildflowers, protecting the memory of this place.

This ancient city is a nice surprise, the ruins are so walkable, everything casual. Winding paths and dirt roads among the trees and fields. It makes for an exploration of excitement, as if you were the one who came across them for the first time. The theater in its tiered half circle, the amphitheater a rounded end rectangle, and other buildings and homes/villas inviting investigation. A few bits of mosaics here and there. Marble and mosaic floors. A fresco hidden under a half dome. Water systems. Broken and whole earthen pipes and conduits that brought water on a 50 kilometer aqua-duct. A market place (Agora) has little left for the imagination. A temple of Zeus. Salamis used to have a harbor, we walk a little bit on 'Harbour Street” which is lined with columns, many still standing, underfoot wonky pushed up paving stones and vegetation. Today, and since 300 AD there is no harbor, it has been silted up. Through the sand dunes you can walk many overgrown trails to the sandy beach.

We do not have time to see everything. Maybe the ticket man will let us come back tomorrow on the same ticket? We ask as we leave the gate. No English conversation, but we understand...if we pay this old fellow something for his own pocket he will see to it that we get in. So, we will pay him when we go through in the morning.

Salamis goes back to the 11^th century BC and history says it was an important trading center in the 8^th century. The first coins were minted in the 6^th century BC. That information is just too difficult to fathom! Making coins and using them for money so long ago. And we are still doing the same! Most of what we are seeing here is Roman, built on other civilizations.

In the evening, just before sunset, we are treated to a photo session. A model, her assistant and two male photographers. It is fun and funny. How does a girl know how to strike those poses?! The guys are pretty good at telling her what to do, giving her suggestions (Maybe they told her to make love to the park bench, she's doing a good job!). She laughs all the way through and gives them what they want. We are in the van, unnoticed. Chalk it up on our list of unexpected experiences.

Okay, next morning (Valentines Day), ready to 'tip' the ticket man, we find instead two women in the gate office who decide that it is fine for us to use yesterdays tickets (We would not have payed for a second day). So today it is a long hike down dusty country roads to one of the basilicas. It is a warm bird-chirping halcyon spring day and we take our time to enjoy every moment. We stop to see the olive oil press inside the ruins of the facility. There is still a large stone basin and a few stone wheels laying at its side. An axle would have been laid across the top of the basin, threaded through the stone wheels, which now become the grinders that press out the olive oil. Two men would take the ends of the axle and walk around in a circle turning the wheels inside. The olives would have been reduced to skin, pits and oil. Nothing gave us a hint as how they might have then separated them. Maybe a sieve? Impressive. This operation took place in one special half circle section of the house and there are many small stone rooms for storage.

The basilica is the treat at the end of the road. Kampanopetra Basilica. It faces the sea, south. No vaulted ceilings of course, just blue sky, but some archways stand alone, open windows to the sea beyond. They are the first things I see as we approach, first through a large courtyard surrounded by columns and an ablution pool in the center. From here, through a used-to-be door, we enter the basilica and walk on the grass carpet to the front alter area. Here the floors are beautifully tiled in geometric fashion. I sketch some of the patterns. All the colors are natural stone hues cut to fit the pattern. Behind the church, on the ocean side, there is another smaller courtyard. David is ahead of me. He calls me to see something he has found in the bush. A floor of swirling multicolored mosaic pieces, dancing dizzily around a yellow sun. Is this some type of sundial? Or a mandala of a forgotten god? Or an early Christian symbol of celebration? It is about 12 feet in diameter and in remarkable shape.

While we are exploring we notice a man in a red shirt carrying a sack, hunting and poking with a stick. First we thought he had a metal detector but our paths finally crossed so we asked him what he was harvesting. Inside his bag was a goodly amount of chantrel mushrooms! He said, “I'm old. I have to do something to keep my legs working. How old do you think I am?” We guessed 70. I think he was disappointed. We should have said 60! (He was 70)

There was more to see but it would take us another day and we want to be back over the mountains to the north before nightfall. Our route took us by St. Barnabas monastery. 12th to 16th century BC, early to late bronze age. Inside the old church were wall paintings and an icon collection. The rooms around the monastery’s inner courtyard held artifacts. An amazing collection! My favorites are always the pots, the jugs, the plates. Wonderful delicious designs. Geometric to archaic periods. Birds and animals. Reds, whites and blacks. Another favorite; woman’s handwork items like spindles and whorls and needles.

Close by, there is a small tomb that memorializes St. Barnabas. Its size and perfect proportions sitting at the end of a tree lined trail are so classic and lovely. The inside is heavily weighted with candles and red velvet and sad icons and paintings...different than the simple lines of the outside structure. Saint Paul had come here to visit his friend Saint Barnabas, but there is a story that some rift came between them and they never saw each other again. Saint Barnabas monastery was well worth the time spent.

Saturday 16th

Back at our first beach (I'll call it First Beach from now on), a couple comes hiking over the rise next to us, each carrying something, as you would a bouquet. David stops them as they pass. “What do you have there?” He is given a Turkish name. It is wild asparagus. The season for picking has begun.

A day like this beckons for a walk. We start up a rocky steep hillside and when I see the scramble that is before me near the top, I opt out. David goes ahead and I sit down where I am, high enough to observe the whole 'neighborhood'... Five cows are in the meadows near our van, each tied to their own territory. Periodically, a man comes to bring them water and leads each cow to another area...Cars are coming and going on hidden roads that I had not known were there. It is a larger village than I thought...A woman in a red sweater leaves her house near the sea, walks up the road, down into a field and disappears behind trees. Oh, there she is again, up on the main road walking to a farm. It is time to bring her cows in to a corral. She brings them bales of hay and buckets of water...Two ladies come to the lower meadow to bring home one cow. Switches in hand. Long skirts and white headscarves. Are they bringing her home to milk? What about the other lady cows?

Back at 'home' we are entertained by watching two serious fishermen. Half way along the bay they have launched a small open boat and are heading out to the inside of the reef. One fellow operates the outboard motor while the other stands at the bow, on a small platform not much bigger than a man's two feet. It is his job to lay out the nets into the water. The man at the stern steers the boat back and forth in fairly tight long zig zags. The net seems never-ending. They leave the nets in the sea over night, themselves in a trailer that is permanently there for this purpose. Helpers have joined them. There is a bonfire going, something cooking ...and the music gets louder and louder.

Sunday. The nets have been pulled in as we were sleeping. The guys are all pulling the fish out of the nets and sorting. Again a bonfire is going. We are off to church, coffee and lunch once again. Such a treat to have this Sunday tradition. Today the restaurant is Bo Thai. The dessert! Bread pudding sitting in custard. Oh my gosh.

In the late afternoon we drive back into the mountains to find a good spot to spend the night. We are facing Five Fingers and west along this range. The sun sets in the color of a Cyprus orange once again.

Monday. The hike to Buffavento castle which is way above us. The trail is not bad, switchbacks on cement path. It takes us about an hour. This castle was also built to look out for the Turkish raiders. Its foundation, an extension of the rocky mountain. I suppose the Royalty and supplies were brought up the steep path by horses and donkeys. Inside the first gate there is a proud sign that tells the achievement of a Turkish Cypriot special troop that made a successful surprise attack on the Greek gorilla fighters that were holding it. These old castles are wonderful sites. Nature has found growing space in some of the rooms and hallways... up the stone walls. Natural mountain rock gardens with succulents, tiny flowers. Variegated green prickly vegetation. Junipers full of little cones and interesting round cracked seed pods. Goats have been here often, nibbling away to make velvet hilly lawns. From here we can see both sides of the mountain range. North and South. A satisfying morning.

Our drive out to the main road is lovely, still at a high altitude, looking at the fields and ocean of the south of North Cypriot. A rusty colored bird is flying faster than we are driving, at the same height. Grouse run across the road in twos and threes. Hellebore at the roadside. Below us are many rock quarries. We watch soldiers, just finished with shooting practice, make their way through a forest....just like a war movie.

We find a spot for the night on a flat promontory that sticks out into the sea...giving us a grand wide view. Dik Point. My evening entertainment...sorting and throwing travel brochures.

Tuesday. Slow sweet morning. Side door open, laying in bed with soft breezes wafting across us. Boats are on the horizon...maybe a ferry from Turkey. We don't see many ships pass here. A downhill walk to the beach then off to find some propane in Lefcosa. By the main highway, road-building equipment is parked, and the road team is having lunch...a cook fire going with a round black pot on it, the men leaning over in anticipation. No bologna sandwich for them!

We have the propane tank filled once again at InterGaz and decide to make our way back across a mountain pass we have not been through. So first we travel through small towns and villages on the flats and foothills, stopping in one for the night. At dawn we watch the community wake up in a slow quiet way (David says this town reminds him of an old Arizona back-country town)...old trucks parked by the center square. Flags flying, trees and a statue as usual, but the grass is in need of the sheep (or a lawnmower). It is in a sad state. No one is up yet. A gentle wind pushes a lone piece of crumpled paper along the street accompanied by that paper 'scrape and bounce' sound. Roosters and dogs sound the alarm to get up, along with the quieter quails and doves. A bus rolls in and parks. Waiting for what? A shopkeeper sweeps the sidewalk. A portly early riser peeks into every shop, calling out morning greetings as he makes his way down the main drag. A grocer, an ice cream shop, barber, doctor, cafe advertising kebobs and drinks. The city offices on the other side of the square. Produce, bank and another grocer, pharmacy. The houses need paint. The pot holed roads need help. The men are gathering for backgammon. Dogs and cats are wandering. The portly man returns with three loaves of fresh bakery bread.

Time to head out and into the mountains. Through Cinarli, mud wall houses. A black hen scurries through a garden fence. Cherry trees, almond trees. It is spring! Delicious! Donkeys pull fresh new hay in the cart behind. This is the epitome of 'salt of the earth'. Makes my heart ache with the simple truth of it all. Sheep move over pastoral hill and dale. Olive trees. Carob. Evergreens, not crowding one another. Everything happily wild. The point of a minaret pokes up over a hill. We must be coming to Agillar. The mosque is immaculate in its fresh silver and white. We know that somewhere above us there is a monastery. Bulusia. The van climbs the dirt road. What a trooper. The wind in the trees by our side sounds like rushing water. The road becomes dangerous. Deep ruts/ditches caused by water run-off. Not enough good road to straddle the bad so we turn around. We would walk, but the monastery could still be miles away.

The flowers! In fields, roadside, forests. They have been awakening, each day a new little beauty joins the others.

We drop down into Altinova... a bit lost. No signs. Bad roads. We know that we want to visit the town of Topcukoy next. A shepherdess squints at our car license. “America,”we say. “Ah!”...with a smile and nod. She gets us going on the road to Topcukoy. I would not have chosen to follow this bumpy rocky path. We move aside for an oncoming tractor. Spread out at our sides, wheat fields separated by trees and bush growing along streams. The grasses hiss as the wind presses through. Cyclamen and anenomes, close to the ground, shake and jiggle. Blackbirds dip and dive over plowed fields. A small hawk hovers in place, pushing against the wind, until he dives into a valley. All nature is exuberant!

At Topcukoy we see a sign to Kantara, the final mountain castle on this range. We stop for lunch at a high point, facing the SE...looking toward Syria, a waring hot spot, 60 miles away. Oleander is all around us, planted here, to stop erosion. (In North Cyprus, in places where there isn't rock, the ground makeup seems soft and easily broken down with rain run-off.) More uphill driving. More signs to Kantara and we find that, unlike the other two castles, reached by steep climbs by foot, the road leads to its front door!

Back down on the north side of the mountain range we begin our search for a new beach to spend the night. The one lane old 'highway', takes us along the coast past many dreamy clear aqua coves and winding bays...but one has to be willing to transfer to badly rutted dirt roads to get to them. Tonight our beach is a sand-pebble mix with a sandstone platform so familiar here. We snuggle in. A storm. Forceful, slanted rain pushes the sea away from us, the huge drops make music on our roof.

February 21

In the early morning darkness a small truck sneaks past us. Later we find that our neighbor is a soldier with some time off. He spends most of the day fishing (and a little sleeping). Now, that is a great way to get some good down-time. The day is clear and peaceful. The sea is kind... he catches a fish! Maybe that will take the edge off soldiering. We walk from one beach to another...beach stones...beautiful Cyprus stones. My pockets are loaded. Above us are cliffs with rock garden creases between. Birds chatter. Animal prints in the sand. We climb to the clifftops. Magnificent scenery. And at our level, fields of wheat and little valleys squished with spring plants...all thick green or dainty flowery. Wild pea and Cyclamen, the latter spread thick like daisies, red stems, variegated leaves and thin petals that let the light through. Stunning. We are gone two hours. The soldier is leaving. Beep beep and a wave. David naps in the upper bed to the sound of the waves. A stone pocket (blow hole) catches the waves, shooting up white lacy water and smacking out a hollow boom.

February 22

Stormy morning. Great waves buck up to a crest, break and race to the shore. The action mesmerizes us. The rhythm like breathing. We dreamed of finding places like this on this journey...and here we are. An island with beaches. Welcoming. Safe. Soothing.

Wild asparagus season. The locals know where to go, with their bags to fill, a knife, and a stick to poke around with. These green spears are short and skinny and less loaded than our garden varieties, but they are popular. The Cypriots have a special way to prepare them, mixed with egg.

The next day is Saturday. More action around us. More fishermen, asparagus harvesters and a diver with boat and spear. And today we are surprised by the first showing of wild, short small blue irises. So sweet. David finds three of them. When finished, the couple who has gathered asparagus, start a fire and cook them up immediately! A couple of guys push their boat into the water, jump in and they are off to set their nets. The diver comes back...he takes his cooler to the waters edge to clean his catch. A good catch. An octopus and ten fish, various sizes. He gets a thumbs up from me.

This evening I stand under the almost full moon. It casts a grey light over a coastal shore and sea, constant waves moving up to meet round pebbles making a growl of movement that triggers memories... powerful elements within me from a childhood of roaming beaches on a summer island. More recently, an annual paddle to a wild ocean beach on the west coast of Vancouver Island. A remote crescent surf beach with headlands at each end. This shore today is similar in many ways. Ocean surf spraying high as it hits the headland rocks. But this beach feels soft and safe and if there is trouble we can drive out. In Canada, our beach is reached by kayak. No roads lead in or out. There are bears and wolves, and more than likely a few wildcats watching us. Here we see no wildlife except jackdaws, a few seagulls and song birds. The only four legged creatures are lizards. And I have seen one very very large snake. Evidently there are vipers and adders.

Sunday. Church at 10:00 then coffee at 'Georges' on the square close by. A large table of folks today. New characters. New life stories. Colin and Ingrid. Both artists, Colin a retired Anglican vicar. John Theodore. Nigerian student and young television host sporting fashionable duds. One would say he is “stylin'”. He is sad, choked up, as he tells me his girlfriend has left him...because he is a 'nice guy'. His goal; to become a diplomat.

Sunday lunch...a Cypriot meal in the foothills and after that, coffee and conversation at Mike and Josanne's in their lovely villa (rented for the months they are here each year)...with a shower thrown in to the mix, for David and I. Conversation at one point was about all the different toilets we had all experienced in our travels. It was agreed that the one in 'Slum Dog Millionaire' could not be beat for its nastiness. A great day with lovely people.

PAINTING WEEK, Monday through Saturday!!!

We have shopped. The refrigerator and cupboards are loaded. We have a full tank of propane and also water. A few bottles of wine in our cellar (a cardboard box). We will stay here for a week, in one spot. A lovely little beach off by itself but attached to a very long beach and field. We hike and explore and read in the sunshine. But for me, most of my time is spent painting these lovely Cyprus stones. I set up my easel outside. A tray on the folding toilet seat makes a great table for my oil pastels and tools! This arrangement lasts only for a day as the wind comes up and plays with my 'stuff', so I retreat to the van and turn the front seats into my studio. I am so surprised at how well it works. The glove compartment door drops down to form an easel. Everything I need is close at hand. I tape my gessoed board to a drawing board, choose a stone and the colors I will use, and begin. Holding the Cyprus stone in my left hand I visually enlarge the stone surface patterns I see, first by doing a minimal pencil drawing for placement, then by layering colors, blending with my fingers or a tool and scratching into the pigment with whatever I can find. I love texture. Squiggles and dots and smears. Whatever it takes to enlarge the essence of this stone on to my board. I am relearning all the techniques I have found for this medium. Pretty soon I am in the zone! I work for hours until the sun sets, everyday for six days...thrilling!

In the meantime there are goats with bells at their necks, passing by. Every day there seems a new wildflower species amongst the grasses. Bats race around at night. The pop-top is up and we sleep in our lofty hideaway, windows open wide in the mornings to watch this breathy-fresh piece of paradise. A dream-telling morning while the breezes play across us. It seems that my mind is empty of responsibilities and chores leaving it open to receive something else. Dreams and memories float into the emptiness. Long walks with lovely bamboo walking sticks. David picks up beach garbage to take out to a garbage bin, but keeps the shoes he finds. He has a project in mind. The lost shoes end up walking a trail on the top of some stickery bushes. Boots, flip flops, slip-ons, high heels, jeweled sandals, tennis shoes, bright slippers, toddler shoes; all stepping along with a step of new life...50 of them, one after the other..., on a winding trail...turning garbage into art. Another time, on a hike, David comes face to face with a big nasty spider with a red headband marking. Nothing he has seen before.

Have you ever slept under a VW pop-top? It is a bit weird. The ceiling is at a slant, the lowest area at the back of the van, so you climb the ladder and get your feet in first to slide your legs down toward the low slant. It is not easy to do, especially if you are the second person getting into bed! (That is usually me). The head room is just okay. Twice David has been dreaming and is in a fight or chasing someone, and bam!, he is up and hits his head. However, the mattress is perfect. We sleep like babies. Of course we can only sleep here when the situation is right for it. On a city street we leave the top down and sleep on the pull-out bed 'downstairs'.

We were visited by a young boy and his golden retriever one afternoon. A Turkish Cypriot, he knew only a tiny bit of English and we made signs with our hands. Sweet boy. A few days later he was back...just sort of hanging out. Sometimes reading a book, or rock climbing or stepping stones at the shoreline. Finally I called hello and he came dashing toward me. “How are you?” he said. Ah! He had learned that just for me! He showed me his book, proudly announcing, “Harry Potter”. I show him my painting. His face shows that he does not understand what it is. I put the beach stone up to the painting and he smiles. Then he puts some lead into my hands. Something he had found on the rocks. I think he thought they might be bullets or something. I imitated casting with a fishing pole. Lead weights. He turned a reel on his pretend pole and we both nodded yes.

For a few days it has been very stormy. A show for us to watch. Waves have brought seaweed up on to the beach, piled quite high. But our last day is calm. A wild asparagus picker comes by with a smile and a good morning. Tall boots, a Nike jacket, cotton bag slung over his shoulder and walking stick. He makes his way up the hill slowly. The bag is soon bulging.

I have completed 4 paintings. In the morning we will say goodbye (gule gule) to this home beach of ours.

March 3

Whew! What a Sunday. To start with, the Vicar gave a great sermon. Some good ideas to work with. Our friend John has caught a cold so he and Gillian are not in church. We go to lunch with dear Mavis and her friend Roley. Mavis has the job of greeting everyone as they arrive at the church door. She is a beauty who has held her lovely looks in her 'older' age. Roley (Roland) is a Sunday lunch regular but has been looking after someone's dogs so we have not met before. A great face and sense of humor. He had suggestions for us to look into. A Saturday market, a good museum and an ancient city site. Then we take showers at Mike and Josanne's and receive an invitation to supper. Josanne whipped together a delicious meal saying it was easy. She had four children to feed!

March 4

A search for a monastery high in the hills. We drive as far as we can and then walk the dusty old road, then on to a narrowly trod rocky path between long grasses, rambling up to the front entrance. This is Sinai Monastery. That is all the history we know but you can see the remnants of the lives of this community of monks. Leveled garden spaces, orchards, rooms of stone without roofs except the small chapel. The dome structure is strong and everlasting it seems. The rock mountain at its rear is awesome. The tinkling of bells tell us that goats are high above us and we see them foraging on steep goat trails. Nearby two large flags wave straight out to proudly show the Turkish and the North Cyprus designs.

We stay the night above a marina. A ship is anchored off shore, its lights a comfort. The monastery is far, far above us.

Next day. An oil change. We go to the 'Pit Stop'. Great experience. A Cypriot manager is a little magic man and very social. We read our books as we wait and later, fill our water tank from their hose.

I pop into the Pharmacy. I am getting low on my cholesterol pills. On Cyprus I do not need to see a doctor first and I can get as much as I want (Because I am paying out of my pocket). So I stock up for nine months, but it costs about $500. Will try to get reimbursed when we get home (If we get home!).

A short drive up to Ozankoy to track down a secondhand book store. I am looking for a small wildflower ID handbook. All these native flowers around us are needing names and stories! Ozankoy is not easy to find, maybe we are coming in the back way. It is quietly hidden and a lovely village to wander. Not commercial...just a few small establishments to meet the necessities of the locals. The book store is tucked away in a comfy alcove. It is full of raggedy books but I find a new North Cyprus Wildflower book. We also purchase a fat James Michener novel, 'The Source'. Each used book is sold for $5 and if you bring it back when you are finished you will get $2 in return. It is a fun place. Upon leaving we pass by a group of women sitting at a round table in the sunshine. “Is this a book club?”, I ask. Answer... “Well, we read books and we try to discuss them but because we are women of a certain age, we end up listening to our own fascinating stories!” “Hah! If I lived here, I would be sitting at this table with you!”

Soup tonight...Onion base, shredded cabbage, red pepper, onions, sausage chunks, basil and a bit of chili powder.

Friday March 7

Today we have lunch with new friends, Colin and Ingrid. Ingid has made us such a meal! She has spent much time preparing many dishes, one being a quiche loaded with cheese and onion. We finished it off!... Delicious. They are two very warm and giving people... a teasing banter going on between them. Both artists, we are shown some of their work. Ingrid's love is drawing. Colin; oils and collage. They have a sunny studio upstairs in their villa. We are also treated to a tour of their garden, another love of Colin's. Like everyone else here they have a good sized swimming pool. The garden is arranged around it. I sat with Colin at a special hidden bench. This would be a favorite place for me, both sunny and shady and private. The four of us walk to the van when the visit is over. Colin has dreamed of traveling in a camper-van. Maybe we have inspired Ingrid. She quite liked it!

In the evening we attend a concert and lecture in the church hall. Michael Raine is a local Englishman who has had an acting career. His talk is about Glyndbourne, an opera house at the rural John Christie estate. Michael was an understudy there in 1962...when he wasn't playing croquette on the garden greens. His talk was humorous and informational. Members of the church choir sang songs from various operas. Our tickets included wine at our tables and a variety of cheeses and breads at the conclusion. This is the first of musical events scheduled to celebrate the centenary of St. Andrew's.

Saturday Market. We rode round and round trying to locate it. “Look for a hotel with a castle-like rampart around the top, just off the road.” We could see it but we just couldn't get to it. Finally we see two friends walking down the street, on their way to market. Sisters Rosalie and Charmaine. Hop in! That's how we got to the market. The hotel is no longer functioning in its original purpose but it makes a great market area. This is not a farmer's market. There is clothing, both new and used. Art of all kinds including paintings and jewelry. Shoes. Scarves. Handbags. Tools. Fresh bread. Homemade pates and jams. Sausage rolls and pork pies. Charmaine bought a treat to share. Round flat dough grilled on top of a domed hot plate and rolled inside it, your choice...we had cheese and spinach. We spent the afternoon at their home, perched on a hill above. Plenty of space for Charmaine's garden...a cactus collection, rock specimens, fruit trees, flowers lining the walkway...and sheep next door. We had tea on the front patio, under a roof held up by big archways. Shade. When summer comes it is hot! Before leaving we all took pictures of one-another. Charmaine and Rosalie using their new Ipads, gifts from a nephew. A lovely visit with these adorable sisters.

Close-by we find Lambousa. It is an ancient site thought to have first been inhabited in 6000- 2500 BC. From a beach we walk west, through a damaged wire fence, scramble down a rocky cliff and over rough tough terrain. This cannot be the common way to get to it? We see some open stone graves. We must be getting close. A group of photographers are coming our way from a different direction. They know where they are going so we follow. One young woman is excited to hear we are from Seattle. She spent a year at school in Lynwood and loved Washington State. She is back on Cyprus and has children now. But here she is today, practicing the art of photography.

We follow to the fish tanks. These are huge hotel size pools carved out of the sandstone rock. Intake and out-take channels keep the water fresh. Waves spill over from the sea. There are smaller pools also. The most popular belief is that these pools received the live fish catch, keeping them fresh for market. The other is the thought that they were resort baths. The ancient city was Roman built on top of Greek. It was a trade center because of its harbor. I read that the Apostles Mark, Barnabas and Paul passed through here. That statement brings the past closer...right to the spot I am standing on.

We wander up to a place of caves which look neolithic. Stone Age abodes. But they are called tombs. Rock cut tombs. Some of the rooms are very large, with 'beds' against the walls attached to other large room-caves. The scene is striking. Huge holes carved into the rock cliffs. Fields of waving grass and flowers bumping up to their doors.

In the late 19^th Century, archeologists found evidence of people around 3000 BC. Priceless pieces were discovered in excavating...reliefs, decorated silver vases, pots and spoons with animal motifs which are now in the British Museum. In 1902, a presumably hidden urn was found, packed full of gold. This is in the Nicosia museum in Cyprus. Also found in a wall at this time, in a secret compartment, were jewelry and silver plates. Sounds like another exodus of people running from invaders, hoping to come back to their homes someday.

Sunday. Mothering Sunday. (Mothers' Day) Children bring small flower bouquets to all the women in church. Somebody has been very busy with all these beautiful cut flowers carefully bundled in damp wrappings and aluminum. Rosalie finds us and gifts us with a jar of her citrus-ginger jelly. Great combination. Another fun Golf Club lunch. This journey of ours finds us in many different places! You would not find us in a golf club at home! Off to a new beach for another week of painting.

March 11 – 16 PAINT WEEK AGAIN!

Another lovely shoreline. Fishermen and divers like it here, too. A boy herds cows on his bike but sometimes has to dismount and run with a switch to get a stray back into the group. Miniature irises are so plentiful. They open late morning, waiting for the sunny air to reach a warmth that triggers the opening of each flower.

The propane is low so we use a Coleman stove outside on our table.
A unit of folding legs provides the support and a board from our bed is laid on top...makes a sturdy cooking or picnic table.

As I paint in my cockpit studio, I notice a man walking toward us. He is scratching his head and looking at the van quizzically. He comes over to my window. “Is it a caravan?” Cars drive up just to take a closer look. This VW pop-top camper van is rare in these parts...maybe it's the only one. To view a van like this for the first time, with the roof raised at an angle must seem pretty weird. The curious man's children arrived later on their bikes (one of them the cow-herder). Dad must have told them to come and have a look so we gave them a tour!

Another full Sunday. The church is packed as it is Richard, the vicar’s, last day. We are invited to our pew-mate's home for lunch. James. We hear that his wife Carol really knows how to please her guests. Richard is also a guest and another friend, Roger. The table is laden. “Ham or roast chicken or both? Chicken or ham gravy?” Serving dishes of garden grown potatoes, broccoli, carrots, and more! Bread and butter. Dessert of your choice. “Ice cream with your strawberries?(huge, fat and ripe)... or would you like Christmas pudding?” “I'll take all three, please.” James shows us a picture of ourselves in the local newspaper...at the music event! How funny! (It's pasted into my scrap/writing book.)

Monday David has an appointment with the skin doctor in the city about an hour away. While we are there we decide to go over the border to the south side. We have broken a chair and need to replace it at IKEA. We are whisked through the border, no questions. This is the capital city of Cyprus, which is Lefkosia/Nicosia... Turkish/Greek. The border goes somewhere down the middle. Does it have one city council? One mayor? I have yet to sort all this out. We buy new chairs. No Swedish meatballs at this IKEA!

March 19 – 21 Beach time!

Writing and painting for me. David picks up more stray shoes. He repairs a stone wall. AND he finds enough nerve to go for a swim in the sea. I snap a few pictures of his bare backside. We take several hikes. One along a goat trail to a plateau of low green growth, then out onto rock formations seemingly of another planet. Like a frothy sea gone still in rock. Large pieces of the sea cliff have sloughed off leaving crevices and hollows. A few yards back there are cracks zig zagging along the surface two to four inches deep. The next sections to let go? Another day we walk in the other direction along the stony beach. David picks up still more shoes, we count the five sections that he has set in walking succession. 275 shoes! My pockets are so full of stones I have to take off my jacket and sling it over my shoulder. Today the new show of flowers are purple/lavender Morning Glory running along the ground, and statis.

THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:

>Ocean waves bring garbage into the beach and drop it as they recede, to the watery song...Here, you can have it back...we do not want it.

>Our sturdy camper-van is taking good care of us, holding it's own. But the sliding door is giving us fits and the problem worsens. It is getting harder and harder to open and close, until one day we are caught inside, unable to make it budge. Okay, I guess we will have to take it to the Pit Stop, the garage along the highway. The mechanic is friendly, capable and business-like. He grabs a can of WD40 and the door is back to new. Hmm. Is that all?!

>A note from Royal Bank (Canada). 'If you don't call us right away we will have to charge you a $20 fee for not using your account for 3 to 5 years!' What nonsense is that!? After involving our niece Donna and my brother Drew and many emails back and forth, we finally write a very strong email to the bank manager. Result: NO CHARGE.

>The Turkish men can be intimidating, handsome as they are. Darkish skin, black hair, clean black mustaches, some beard growth, dark eyes. Serious. Ah, but when their hair turns white, their eyes and their smiles sparkle. Not so serious anymore. Life has given them peace.

>Here on Cyprus and in Turkey, both men and women are affectionate with others of their own sex. Kisses, warm hugs, arms interlocked...the love shows.

March 22

Such winds! Hurricane-like. Electricity is out everywhere around us. We are in the middle of the Hermitage field...untouchable. But the van shakes. A tree is down, fallen over a rock wall from the military side. The trunk rests on the broken wall. Oh dear, we have invited friends to a Thank You Picnic tomorrow...a visit to the Saturday market, picnic and a hike to the remains of Lambousca. We drive to the sites to check them out. We dodge a large flying branch and are hit by a big cardboard box. At the Market trees are down in the parking lot and over the front door, blocking the entrance. Well, I think the Market won't be functioning. At the hiking path there are puddles and mud. Maybe this is not a good idea. We send off an email to cancel the event.

March 23

Winds all night. Rain. We are awake. “I guess we made the right decision.” “That's for sure.”

In the morning though, the calm. Sun straining to get through the dust in the air. We originally told our guests to meet us here at the Hermitage. Yikes! They arrive! Two couples did not get their emails...no power. One couple did and do not arrive. Our friends are ready. Sturdy boots and hiking sticks. While they have coffee I quickly make two big salads. We caravan to the store first, where we pick up olives and humus and good bread. Dessert also. We have all brought wine and drinks. So we continue on to the parking lot and by popular vote, we hike before lunch. The trail is okay. It is a new spot for our friends... the ancient fish tanks and area of tombs. Back at the lot we bring our cars together like Conestoga wagons in the wilderness...a shield from the wind, and turn the space into an outside room. Our makeshift table with colorful tablecloth, food placed on top. Our camper plastic dishes handed out...an array of cutlery in a tall coffee mug. Plastic wine glasses. We all have brought chairs. At the end, we give them gifts of small oil pastel beach inspired stone paintings...along with the stones.

At 4:00, when the outing is over, Colin takes us to visit their friend Margaret, who is an artist. She is American, born in Connecticut, is married to a Brit and has lived much of her life away in exotic lands with her teaching and her husband's engineer jobs. They have retired to Northern Cyprus. We exchange viewings of our art. I love her work. They are painted stories from her imagination. Watercolor. A bit primitive and folk-like. They are just the sort of images I love but cannot seem to create myself. An image on a card is pasted to the van wall, and a larger print she made for me, is put away safely in my leather portfolio. Their home is a piece of art also. Rooms unexpectedly around this corner, or down stairs, or outside to another door. Turkish carpets, baskets, decorated boxes, tables. And a very nice garden.

March 24

Sunday. Church, coffee, lunch. How lucky we have been to make such lovely friends.

March 25

The agenda today, find the post office and reserve space on the ferry for the 2^nd of April. The first goes smoothly. The second, we come away confused. Again, the language barrier. Well, we will just show up on the day of departure and see what happens.

In the evening, we take the picnic leftovers to Mike and Josanne and enjoy a meal together. Mike was a pilot in the Royal Air force. He has a strong and pleasing personality. Josanne was a teacher. She is joyful and capable and easy company. It seems we are there for hours. Our friends are yawning! Oh but we all are enjoying ourselves. Quick showers for us. A painting and a stone left behind as we make our way down the hill to the beach and settle in for the night.

Ah, but the police come by. All the way down to the beach. Just checking they say. Want to make sure that we are okay.

It is Easter week. The next day we go to hear Colin give a service (He is a retired vicar besides an artist). Support for a friend. Some good thoughts for us.

March 27

We drive over the mountains to Nicosia (Lefkosa). We have wanted to see the old town before we leave. Our first stop is the Mevlevi (tekke)Museum. Whirling Dervish. This order was founded by the poet Rumi, born in 1207 in Afghanistan. His parents immigrated to Southern Turkey, then northeast to Konya, where he became a professor of history, theology and jurisprudence. 'The mystical philosophy that he expressed in his poetry and bequeathed to the Mevlevi Order would spread east from Konya as far as India, and then throughout the entire Islamic world.' In 1954 the sacred dance performances of this order ended on Cyprus.

This tekke compound provided accommodation for 18 dervishes. A kitchen, orchards, contemplation courtyard, ancient well and reservoir and an octagonal fountain for ablutions.

Now it is a museum exhibiting calligraphy, imperial edicts and weapons, dervish costumes and tombstones. The performance place and the tombs of the sheiks who were the leaders, are all that remains. These are quite impressive.

In 2002, on December 17, the dervishes whirl once more. It is the anniversary of the 'wedding night' when Rumi died and was reunited with God. A precept of this order...'the lovers of God have no religion but God alone.' We managed to attend a performance in another building. It was beautiful. Slow to fast, with breaks in between. The hands are always held in the same position. Right hand facing up. Left palm down. Receiving from God, giving to man. The costumes add to the mystique. Long white robes with heavy hems that twirl in waves. Tall hats that give another unworldly feel. Filled with spirit. Quiet. Serious.

Close by a Catholic church, turned mosque. Our shoes kicked off at the door. A silent wandering through two religions.

Down the street... a workshop of folk art gave a good variety of what traditional pieces are still made. Mostly pieces of wood carving and fabric handwork. But we bought a fancy corded belt in another shop that satisfied our need for folk art. Many strands of graduated length with pieces of flat colorful chips tied to it.

Well, we are in position to cross the border south again and visit new territory... let's go. We are never sure if the road is taking us in a direction we want, but we made it to Larnaka and up the east coast. A rather benign little trip, often lost and having to ask for directions. Greek, no English spoken here. We crossed back to the north at the Famagusta border and made it back 'home', to the familiarity of Girne and the comfort of the Hermitage field.

March 29

Another Easter event, and treat, as it turns out. Our friend Ingrid reads from a book written by Elizabeth Goodge ( author of Green Dolphin Street). She reads the story of Easter...up until the crucifixion. The author retells the story in such a fashion that we hear and understand more of this event than ever before. This interval with Ingrid turns out to be our meaningful Easter observance. We will follow the tradition of Ingrid and Colin and read from this book each Easter. The book: For God So Loved the World.

We are back to a beach for a few days, this time on a flat grassy wildflower spot, hidden away from civilization. Except of course, the animals. Cows find us and munch their way around us...swatting the side of the van with their tails, putting their runny noses to the windows and leaving steaming pies behind. We enjoy their company, such funny slow and curious animals. I am making GOODBYE and THANK YOU cards for our friends. Color pencil renderings of stones and wildflowers.

March 31, Easter

We start the morning cozy in bed, remembering other Easters. Our family traditions. For both of us church. For me, the usual basket of cream-filled chocolate eggs , big hollow chocolate bunnies and jelly beans. Little yellow fuzzy chicks. Times with niece Donna's family...making special painted eggs with their names...to indicate where to sit at our laden Easter table. Hiding eggs in the garden (and finding some years later, all faded and rotten). Easter with David's mom, Marie, in Seattle, his father in the hospital recovering from heart surgery. A large Easter service at a venue in the center of town and lunch out at a nice restaurant. Today we spend it with new friends. We are an hour late for the service! Daylight saving has kicked in the night before...we are not very connected to this type of knowledge while we are in this travel mode. We sit outside, inside is packed with Easter church-goers. Coffee and lunch follow, our last. A happy and sad day.

April 1 No fools here!

Our last day on a beach of North Cyprus. Mike and Josanne bring their 'adopted' house sitting dogs for their morning walk and find us in our little corner. We are thrilled that they found us, for a little bit of time together. David puts the coffee on and they get a taste of what our camping lives on the beach have been. Tess, one of the dogs, runs to us, proudly showing us that she has enjoyed a roll in the cow pies, or pats, as Mike calls them. She gets dunked with sea water with a promise of a serious bath at home. The time is too short. We say our goodbyes with hugs and kisses and promises to meet in the UK during the summer.

April 2

Ferry to Turkey today. We arrive at the entrance at 9:00 and wait til 11:00 for the gates to open and a line to form. Ah, but once again we have a glitch. It seems that we were supposed to register our car each month, not just purchase car insurance monthly. We have to pay a fine. We don't have enough Turkish lira so David is off to see what he can do. He trades some euros at a tobacco store. Also, on top of that we are charged 50tl for a harbor tax. We are now allowed to drive onto the ship where we find a spot to sit in the passenger cabin for the duration, nine hours. We leave Girne harbor at 2:30 in the afternoon, the large screen TV blaring...a 'soap opera' and a soccer game. I am not pulled in as I do not understand the language. It is white noise.

I have learned much about being patient on this long journey. Letting go of expectations and finding a new path of enjoyment. Reading and knitting. And people watching. With a bit of napping here and there. We spend time with a Dutch couple, Robert and Willimena (I think that is her name). This makes the time pass more pleasantly. They are a delightful twosome, interesting and energetic, traveling in a wonderful old Renault with a tent for sleeping. An email address exchange before we lose touch, we will be in the Netherlands again. It is 11:00 pm when we dock. More paperwork to show and fees to pay. We are the last car out the gate. No searching for an overnight 'harbor' at 1:00 am, we have been here before. Our spot is waiting and sleep soon finds us.