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Cyprus travelogue, Friday 22. April 2005.

It is cloudy, but hot and humid. Despite the heat there is nobody by the pool. We have no specific plans and head for the harbour hoping for a sea breeze.

Flower festival in the Agia Kyriaki Church

On the way Helle finds a blouse in need of a good home, and we visit the church, where there are flower decorations everywhere. They symbolize various parables. Helle buys a program to support the cause, whatever it might be.

One decoration has real bread, but considering the heat it is wise to use plastic fishes. I look in vain for a decoration about the wedding, where Jesus turned water to wine.

I think it is organized by the local English church - there's a buzz of village-like activity with tea, cream cakes, charity, "Hello Dear, how nice…!" and "Thank you Love!".

The fort and the last shopping

We inspect the fort by the harbour. There isn't much to see and as it starts to rain we seek shelter at a restaurant and order Cyp-coffee. Quite a few Brits follow our example although they prefer other beverages.

The rain isn't serious though; the drops are scattered and dry quickly. But it is good to sit - we are not in shape and still feel the long walk yesterday.

Click for larger image

Thus recovered we return by the sea front. There is a breeze now, and heavy waves beat the wharf and send foam onto the pavement. A young Brit wants to give us something for free; it is probably a lottery ticket where the instant "prize" is an offer to buy timeshare.

We have heard about this scam, and I decline without stopping. He keeps up and asks persistently where we come from. When the scum has walked about 50 metres in greedy pursuit, I finally say: "Denmark". He exclaims: "Oh, piss off!", angry to have wasted his time. Brits are the only victims of interest because of the special Commonwealth laws.

It is Friday so I buy the new Cyprus Weekly for later reading on the balcony. We also buy two leather belts and a bottle of ouzo for summer days back home.

At the supermarket we get some fruit for lunch, which must be light because we have made a reservation at Seven St. Georges for tonight. We also buy three small halloumi cheeses to bring back home.

Meze at Seven St. Georges Tavern

At a quarter to eight the reception is in chaos because a group of Germans are checking in. Instead of waiting we walk to Mayfair Taxi's office by the corner, and we are at Seven St. Georges Tavern in no time.

George is there to welcome the guests and the meal starts almost immediately. Some of the dishes are the same as the other day, but many are new like slices of lamb with a sultana paste that smells of (we think) cinnamon, violets and lemon.

Sometimes it is difficult to identify the spices, because the food is spiced so delicately. Other new dishes are vine leaves, that taste like spinach, and an airy mixture of tomatoes and eggs.

After some 18-22 dishes we must say "Stop!", and cake is served as dessert. Helle sees an opportunity to dig out a kitten from the clay pot. The kittens have grown visibly since Tuesday, but Harriet (the mother) is not comfortable, so Junior is carefully replaced in the pot, where he gets a thorough cleaning.

The waiter remembers that I want black coffee and Helle medium sugar. Having paid the bill (30 £) we get a taxi home.

Going home

Saturday 23. April 2005

There is no hot water this morning - brrrr! It returns after breakfast, but that is a bit late. We pack and kill time on the balcony until the bus arrives at 11:30.

The trip home is uneventful and we land precisely at 17:20 in Aalborg airport.