Cigs, cigs and more cigs...

And so the law decreed, I shall puff away until my last breath!This is what I feel like saying to a smoker sometimes. I always find something almost manic in smokers, hooked on their daily dose of nicotine, unable to let it go. Their eyes grow bulbous as they inhale and blow out contently. It's like a kind of release from worries, from anything that's bothering or angering them. In short it is a habit, albeit an unpleasant one and an easy way to let out steam.

This brings us to the question of why people smoke. Is it a social thing? Many friends have told me they are social smokers, lighting up at social events, possibly when they are a little bored. To young people it's a type of initiation. You won't be fully accepted in the group unless you smoke and so peer pressure starts a spiral of youngsters hooked on the stuff, thinking it is cool and attractive.

Since smoking was banned in public places many do follow the law, only allowing smokers to smoke outside the premises. A recent development now, which I find a little amusing is the electric cigarette for those who are just unable to quit. It is a battery operated device and  you get to choose different flavours of smoke. I suppose it's one alternative to not having to go outside every half an hour to light up, which can be a little anti-social to your non-smoking friends.

There are however those who blatantly ignore the law. On a recent outing to a music venue, the waiters and waitresses handed out small plastic cups with water for the smokers. My clothes and hair reeked of cigarettes when I went home. In a cafe in Larnaca there were non-smoking signs inside and people were still smoking. When I asked the waitress why people were smoking and pointed to the non-smoking sign, she explained unabashed that the sign was only for the tables at the back! Typical. I assumed the owner did not want to lose his regular customers and had given them free rein! The non-smoking sign seemed to look pleadingly at the smokers, notice me, notice me, I'm here. The tourists sitting in the fumed interior of the cafe at the time, did not look at all happy.

The statistics say it all. In a recent survey, Cypriots are the heaviest smokers in the EU smoking 20.5 cigs daily. Most shockingly however is the statistics on young people. One in three secondary school students in Cyprus are smokers compelling the health ministry and police to launch an anti-smoking campaign. It's a classic Cypriot mentality to enforce laws and campaigns when things are already out of control and more difficult to deal with. If this was addressed earlier then maybe these statistics would never have appeared. We just have to wait and see what outcomes if any will be reached following this supposed anti-smoking campaign.

To Health and Happiness...

It is coming up to harvest time now in Cyprus, when the grape picking begins and old people remember that many years ago it also coincided with the gathering of wood and the beginning of winter. The wine festival in Limassol as every year brought people flocking to the town for some wine drinking and merrymaking.

 A couple of weeks ago the family decided to go on a day trip, attracted by the thought of some more winedrinking or rather winetasting, so on a sultry Sunday afternoon we found ourselves meandering on the foothills of the Paphian mountains passing vineyards and little villages, our destination a little vague but in the end we chanced upon it.

Imagine a place high up in the Paphian hilltops when all you hear is an odd tractor going pass, where the view is breathtaking and the air fresh and cool. This is where we ended up on a late Sunday afternoon, the name of the winery, Vouni Panayia. The owner Kyrios Andreas greeted us with the warmth and hospitality of a true Cypriot, offering us freshly cut grapes and pears, all grown on his land. With our Greek coffees we were given "shoushouko," a sweet delicacy made from the grape juice which is boiled with a little flour until it is a thick liquid. On pieces of string, almonds are threaded and then dipped several times into the mixture, left to dry, and then you have shoushouko. It is a pleasant snack, accompanied with a coffee.

Then came the winetasting. The winery is a popular destination for many tourists who taste the wines and are given a tour of the winery and the procedure for making the wine.We tried most of the wines, liking especially the dry white Alina wine and the Pampela rose wine all washed down with traditionally made cheese.In the meantime Kyrie Andreas' sister prepared a bucketful of grapes to take back with us.

 Next came the grand tour accompanied by Danny the labrador who had delighted us already with his enthusiasm. Danny followed us round the winery, as Kyrie Andrea explained the fermenting and bottling processes and poignantly showed us the old and battered wine press he had used when he first started out "when all we had were our dreams," he said. His winery is a success story. He had a vision, a clear idea of what he wanted to create and he succeeded in carrying it out despite the odds. The winery has become well-known and popular with both Cypriots and tourists and the peace that surrounds the place is what a lot of people notice, including ourselves. This  humourously led Kyrie Andrea to say that when he goes into Paphos town and sees the traffic lights, he knows that he's gone too far into the concrete jungle, and he heads home.

 It was with a heavy heart when it drew to evening and we had to leave, back to the motorways, cars and noise, back to reality. Sometimes I think we have all forgotten what life is all about. Everyone is so preoccupied with image and money with keeping up appearances. Visiting this little winery was a refreshing and much needed change away at least for a few hours from the chaos that seems to envelope our lives on a daily basis. I recommend this little winery, when you need a break and a reminder of what's really important. You can visit their website www.vounipanayiawinery.com for more information.

To Park or Not to Park?

 I've never been much of an easy-going driver, especially in Cyprus where danger lurks in every corner of road and pavement and parking these days seems to be my nightmare. It's not enough that we don't have enough parking and I think it is safe to say this is the case in all towns, there are the traffic wardens to deal with, who have no understanding of the stress that an average driver has to deal with in their efforts to find parking. Traffic wardens relish  in dishing out fines to the whole line of cars clandestinely positioned in and around town.

The weekend is a battle, especially in the summer when everyone is out and about. As far as I'm concerned you've got to plan where you will park and if you are Cypriot you will try and find the nearest possible parking, because quite frankly we don't like to walk. You will see cars parked on pavements, some haphazardly parked in a diagonal fashion as there wasn't enough space to fit the car properly. If there is a designated parking area it will be jam packed and judging from the prices you wouldn't want to put it there anyway because you have to pay a higher price, but you give in because there is no other choice. Parking attendants grab this opportunity to up their price, playing with local desperation.

In Limassol the castle area is always hectic, especially at the weekend. I just wonder what chaos will fall upon us when the Limassol Marina is finished. Logically there will be enough parking. It remains to be seen. I always think what a difference it would make if people used public transport more and with that I mean the buses. Bus services have become a regular thing now with stops in and around town. Cypriots never really use buses, preferring their cars. You will only see Sri-Lankan maids using the buses or old pensioners with no other means of transport. If only Cyprus could be like other European countries where people take buses to work where all the echelons of the population have something in common. God forbid a Cypriot gives up his or her air-conditioned luxury and door-to-door convenience. A Cypriot on a bus? Not in this lifetime. I really think the mayors of the main towns should make more effort to promote the buses. It's a shame they are not reaching their full potential.

In the meantime you just have to deal with the problem of too many cars looking for a space to park, most of which are also looking for the nearest place to park, even if it means creating havoc and congestion in the centre of town. On a Saturday night I often find myself driving around in frustration with all the other poor souls in a similar situation. It's so frustrating at times that I start to wonder, do I keep looking or do I go home and call it an evening?

Autumnal Reveries...

Autumn to me is the first downpour on a late October afternoon. If I was in London it would mean the leaves falling from the trees, of light cardigans being exchanged for winter coats and the central heating being turned back on.

Autumn in Cyprus means the heat still persists even into late November. Little school children half-heartedly give up their summer pastimes for the dull schoolroom, immersed in books and their new bags and stationary. The same old ads will come on inviting mothers to shop school items at affordable prices. The minister of education will make a rare appearance, reassuring the public that books will arrive from Greece on time, this time.

As a teacher to me it is the beginning of the new academic year, a fresh start, a clean slate, new students, new books and a new classroom. For another year I ponder the same ancient questions. Am I doing the right thing? Am I in the right place? Should I be somewhere else? The leaves falling in London with its dull but funnily comforting weather beckons again. Should I really be there? I must admit I haven't yet found my quiet niche, the place I feel at home in, my space, my peace. I'm still struggling with all that and so I wonder am I wrong to live here? Why haven't I settled all these years? Why hasn't my life settled me?

Worryingly there are many young professionals in Cyprus who are posing the same questions. With unemployment soaring many are thinking of moving away where there is more opportunity in their field of work. Unfortunately Cyprus doesn't always cater for all professions, being such a small island and some have no choice but to leave and work elsewhere.

For me Cyprus is paradise but at times can also feel like a prison. Gone are the years when all I saw was through pink-tinted glasses, when with a heavy heart I found myself shopping shiny pencils and colourful rubbers in Woolworth (now Debenhams), preparing myself to go back to England and face the music in my bog-standard comprehensive in North Finchley. Then the picture was a little different to what it is now. Now I have lived here and seen the ugly side, if it must be called that, of social inequality, small-mindedness, unemployment queues, soaring crime rates and ranting politicians, offering us nothing but dead ends.

So, what happened to my dream? To travel the world, hop on a train and travel round Italy? Routine has made me forget what I need. I suppose I can use Cyprus as a base and do all these things.Perhaps. My impulsive side will say get on the first plane and go to England now. Then there's the little voice which says, stick to where you are, things will turn out okay in the end. It's worrying to see however that wherever I turn, young people are choosing to leave the island. Some say things are going to get even worse. Therefore I find myself this autumn in a bit of a mix -up wondering what my next step will be. Do I stick it out here or do I run? Do I leave my island for a new adventurous one? Time will only tell.

All Under the Moon...

 A few blog entries ago I spoke about Greece and how her woes always seem to run parallel with our own. It can't be any clearer now that this is true as we too are now asking Europe for money. The government assures its citizens that things will not be as bad  for us as our neighbours. On the other hand there is the hope that China or Russia will give us money. Where will that stand us? It all sounds a little too dubious to me.

This shadow is cast over our heads as we begin the presidency of the EU. Embarrassingly we are the first country to go down in history as assuming presidency and at the same time applying for bailout. How did we come to this? It's no secret that we couldn't have predicted things to go so disastrously wrong five years ago with a relatively strong economy. Okay our banks relied a lot on Greece but I can't help thinking that this is only part of the problem, the other part is internal. Internal politics and manouvres and cash funnelling out of the state coffers. One thing's for sure that presidential jet has made a lot of trips recently and our president's belly looks as round as ever.

The ceremony held on Thursday to officially begin our presidency was at Curium Amphitheatre near Limassol. It tried to remind us of all that is great about this island, what we can be proud of and what we can offer Europe during our six month stint. There was melodic classical music which I can only imagine sounded beautiful against the sea breeze. There were traditional folkloric songs and dancers and a spine tingling rendition of Mikis Theodorakis' song dedicated to the island. Together with the speeches it covered a one and a half hour performance. In the crowd I caught a glimpse of a guest checking his i-phone, another snoozing away and European Commission president Jose Manuel Barroso looking a bit uncomfortable sitting on the stony seats of the Curium Amphitheatre.

So, Cyprus takes on the responsibility of EU presidency and a bailout and anything else that is thrown at us, with an opening ceremony under a red auspicious moon. If it is indeed auspicious, it remains to be proven.

Troodos-Kykkos Monastery-Pedoulas

     The heat is now reaching an oppressive height with temperatures inland soaring during midday and so more and more people are heading to anywhere where there is cool refreshing water, to the beach or swimming pools, or in my case the mountains.
     Our destination Troodos, Kykkos Monastery and Pedoulas village. On our way we pass Trimiklini. There is a restaurant there which seems to have been there an age still decorated with multi-coloured lights and a small fountain with lights inside which I used to marvel at as a child. I remember there were arcade games inside the reataurant and we used to make our grandfather give us change to play. The restaurant seems different as I pass it now as if it has stood the test of time, but empty.
     We go by Trimiklini and the little markets selling local produce. An old lady stands making loukoumades (honey balls), another sells dried fruit and fresh seasonal fruit-cherries, nectarines, mouthwatering watermelon. As we head higher the air grows cooler and fresher. We pass little sign postings showing the way to waterfalls and nature trails. In fact if you look closely there are so many of these nature trails where you can walk or even take a bike and spend the afternoon rambling and winding round the beautiful natural paths and countryside.
     I notice the trees are sloping downwards due to the heavy snow we had this year, but their scent is still there. There is the rhythmic music of birds and a species of yellow butterfly flitting about.We soon reach Troodos square with its cafes and restaurants but don't stop. A coach load of pensioners sit and eat at one of the restaurants. Some tourists shop around for the cheapest souvenirs and postcards.
     The road becomes long and windy up to Kykkos Monastery but we reach it in the end. There is a solemn silence of reverence as we arrive and walk into the inner courtyard and are welcomed by an orchestra of birds. The monastery was founded in 1100 and it owns one of the three surviving icons ascribed to St. Luke. Archbishop Makarios served as a novice in the monastery and is buried at his own wish at Throni, three kilometres west of the monastery.
    The monastery is still, not many visitors today and the beautiful icons stand stoically, ready to be kissed and to hear the worshipper's silent prayer. A group of Russian women headscarved, listen to the priest chant a hymn and are blessed by him. In another room you can see holy relics of various saints, bits of bone and skin encased in gold-trimmed boxes. I find it a bit spine-chilling to be honest.
     We leave the monastery and decide to go for a quick coffee to Pedoula village famous for its cherry trees and nine historic churches which are included in UNESCO's World Heritage list. I swallow down a Greek coffee with crisp and cool mountain water. We sit at a cafe overlooking a majestic view of quaint little houses by the mountain, reminding us of somewhere in Italy. A white cat sits cosily at my feet and my mother recalls stories when my great uncle Yianni used to bring her to stay in Pedoula for the summer with the family. They used to spy his car coming from Nicosia from miles away as he beeped the horn and made his way down the winding roads, cars at that time being a novelty. When I was old enough to remember and he recognised my deep love for this island, he would always say to me, "There is no place like Cyprus," with his kind smile and twinkling eyes. As I sit and write this, I can even hear his voice saying those words.
     Cypriots rush to board the plane to another country paying ridiculous amounts of money on stereotyped package holidays which never live up to expectations when there is so much to see here. All you need to do is open up a book on the island and see for yourself. What I have described is nothing compared to what is on offer, hidden near steep mountain slopes and pines or near the sea but for a calm, laid-back Sunday it was all you could ask for and more.

It's time for Euro...

With Sweden's 'Euphoria' still swimming in our heads after the great Eurovision party we are now embraced with Euro 2012. Countries are competing with professionalism for the great trophy presenting their best and most talented players and even those not usually interested in football will be transfixed to their screens.

In Cyprus the Euro is eagerly awaited and pubs and cafeterias decorated with multi-coloured flags will gain the money they lost in the dead winter season, beer, dishes and dips being consumed with delight. Since Cyprus didn't qualify, all our eyes will be turned to Greece which has attracted more than its fair share of world attention in the past year. Last night's game between Greece and Poland was an eventful and promising one which could have ended in a mini celebration. It was unlucky.

Flashback. Euro 2004. Eight years ago. It was a great year for Greece as she won the Euro 2004 and was preparing to host the Olympic Games. Cyprus was taken along in the excitement. After Greece winning the Euro 2004, in a patriotic gesture Cypriots lined the streets and waved the Greek flag with pride. Truck drivers honked their loud horns down the coastal road in Limassol brimming with people in a state of delirium. I remember because I was in the centre of it all and took part in the celebrating.

The Euro 2012 now comes at a pivotal time for Greece.On the brink of disaster, Greece faces a long and dark road which may also be a very lonely one.Elections are to be held next Sunday. What will be the outcome? Nobody truly knows, but everyone is bracing themselves for the worst, a possible return to the drahma. In this time of turmoil, there is no mood left for patriotic flag waving as we saw back in Euro 2004 confidences being deflated. It is so strange how things change, how a nation can go from greatness and glory to rock bottom. Many throughout history have tasted that bitter defeat, Germany being one.

Greece.Our histories, struggles and our joys have always been so closely intertwined and the hot and stultifying breeze of discontent and economic upheaval has already reached our shores. In the midst of football celebration and expectant flag waving all with good intention, Greece goes to vote once again and faces cumbersome decision making where it must choose whether it really is time for Euro.

Britain...From Colonialism to Friendship

 On obtaining Cyprus in 1878 Queen Victoria received the news with delight exclaiming, "Oh Dizzy, you are so full of surprises!" Dizzy referring to Benjamin Disraeli, the prime minister at the time. The news it could be argued was received with as much delight by the locals, being a welcome break from the stifling oppression of Ottoman rule.

The British found the island in disarray and tried in their traditional fashion to restore some semblance of order, creating roads and buildings and an infrastructure which we can be grateful for today. It was a generally peaceful time, only until civil unrest broke out when Cypriots began to demand their independence. 

A group of freedom fighters sprang up named EOKA, made up of intellectuals and also common men who wished for union with Greece. It got ugly and some of these men died heroically in their struggle to free their island from what they called their oppressors. It shouldn't have cost lives and in fact there were many Cypriots who wanted it to be done peacefully, as is characterized so beautifully in Lawrence Durrell's Bitter Lemons of Cyprus, his award-winning book about that troublesome time when despite the conflicts he made so many good friends. Forced to leave the island at the end and some of the locals turning against him, he finds a ray of hope in the words of 60 year old Andreas whose son won a scholarship to study in London and did not join EOKA. Quoting a village proverb which reflects hope for the future, old Andreas says  "Next year's wine is the sweetest." With a heavy heart Durrell leaves the island yet chooses to add the words of the taxi driver who takes him to the airport, who tells him "even Dighenis, though he fights the British, really loves them."

Durrell's words run deep and after the years which followed the Turkish invasion in 1974 the British became our friends again, offering homes to the thousands who left the island for Britain. I recall a story my father used to tell when there was anyone who condemned the Brits. He would say his friend who left after the invasion for Britain was given a house "but also furniture and a TV. The Greeks only gave my brother-in-law coupons.What does that tell you?!" It just comes to show that those you perceive as your enemies may become your closest friends and allies and vice versa.

 Today the British come to Cyprus not as colonizers but as eager tourists. They sit and enjoy a full English breakfast at a reasonable price at the many English style pubs dotted in towns across the island. The beer too is just as good and all under the sun. For a Brit you can't get better than that. I've always admired the ease and simplicity of the Briton when on holiday and their delight in the simplest of pleasures.

Since English is the second official language, there is no problem in communicating, road signs are in English, we drive on the same side, a lot is in fact English which makes it a popular place to move to. You can find many British living in Paphos but also in Limassol and the surrounding villages.

 The United Kingdom still boasts sovereign bases on the island where those living there generally keep to themselves. Pompous politicians who want to spill out cheap nationalistic garbage make their infrequent complaints about this foreign presence but are secretly glad to have a safety net of bases on the island. Who else do you turn to when there is a forest fire you can't control? It's always been the British.

 Cypriots take delight in sending their children to the best British universities, a symbol of success and affluence. Over the years there has grown a strong bond of friendship between Britain and Cyprus and which still continues today.

After reading Lawrence Durrell's book I had a strong desire to ask him what he thought of present Cyprus.Would he feel saddened at what we have become? Would he like many, long for the carefree times and authenticity of the past? In his brief time in Cyprus he grew to love the island very much and this is reflected in his writing. He writes and descibes the natural beauty which doesn't change despite the troubled, dark times and which is intermingled with human interraction and feeling. I end with a piece taken from his book, describing a scene near Bellapaix Abbey, Kyrenia:

"And the Abbey itself was there, fading in the last magnetic flush from the horizon, with its quiet groups of coffee-drinkers and card-players under the Tree of Idleness. At full moon we dined there, barefooted on the dark grass, to watch the lights winking away along the fretted coast...Here in the striped darkness, dotted with pools of luminous moonlight, we walked and talked, the smell of roses and wine and cigars mingling with the humbler scent of the limes, or the whiffs of bruised sage coming to us from the face of the mountain behind where Buffavento rose slowly to meet the moon, like a mailed fist." His words illustrate an Englishman's love and admiration for an island, seeing beyond the harsh politics.

Reflections...Waiting for the Future...

When the borders opened in the North back in 2003, I was curious like many to go and have a look. I remember the queues of cars waiting to be "checked-in" as such. Occupied Cyprus was altogether unknown to me in reality. It was always a mythical place from the stories I had heard in my childhood by my grandparents, uncles and aunts and parents of course. It was a land faraway, a land of the past, a past better than the present where people were younger, happier and healthier, where there were only celebrations, great friendships and a better, more genuine life. In none of the stories did I get a sense of bitterness and conflict, only of nostalgia, nostalgia which was accompanied by a deep and mournful sigh at the end of each story for something that was dearly missed.

On a hot day in May my grandparents, parents and I packed ourselves in the car on a journey that would change us. Morphou was our first destination. I'll never forget my mother's grief-stricken tears when she saw her house, lying alone and abandoned, although there were people living in it at the time. My mother's tears were tears which someone sheds when meeting a long lost friend after many years. The house represented her childhood, the hours spent in the garden, the good times and the laughter. One could only imagine it. The jasmine had gone, the white concrete pillars of the front porch had disappeared only left with harsh metal poles to keep it standing. 

Inside only little improvements had been made.The young couple who occupied the house at the time were quite poor, the husband living on pittance by working in one of many casinos which had mushroomed up from nowhere in Kyrenia and the wife sold clothes. I remember they had a young son. They welcomed us nevertheless into the house and offered us refreshment. We sat and had a chat but my grandparents couldn't bear to stay long, the sight of their old home was too painful.

My most memorable experience of that day remains the visit to my mother's old primary school. Parking outside to eat our sandwiches, we were approached by a group of school children attending their afternoon lessons. They came running up to us, enthusiastically introducing themselves. They suddenly took my mother's hand and led her to her old playground. That moment  I witnessed my mother's beaming face of surprise as she was led by the children and transported to the childhood innocence of her school years. I keep a photograph of that moment, me surrounded by those young smiling faces, faces bright and intelligent, willing to learn and to embrace the future. I was reluctant to leave them.

We left Morphou and headed off to see Kyrenia, the only developed part of occupied Cyprus. We sat at the harbour watching the crowded yachts bobbing up and down and the lazy waiters trying to communicate in English. We all sat there in deep thought. The day had brought anticipation, shock and then a sort of relief in finally seeing the reality of it all. Those young smiling faces had been the only pleasure. The future, that flitting grey future.

A lot has happened since that day, nine years have passed and those young faces staring back at me now in the photograph have reached young adulthood. What has become of them I wonder? What shape have their young minds taken? They are the new generation of Turkish -Cypriots now, just like the new generation of Greek- Cypriots prodding along, fighting to be heard trying to survive. Cyprus lives like everyone else in an era of economic unrest and unemployment, of political upheaval where nothing is certain, of i-phones and Facebook and mediocre politicians with their bombast pleads and demands. Yet one thing remains, cut up and knotted up and put into little neat agendas, but still glaringly obvious: The Cyprus Problem.

It seems it will be a legacy left to be solved by this younger generation and what a heavy burden of a legacy that will be. I still have an inkling of hope however, like many among me and as they say, hope is always the last thing to die.
   

At my grandma's...

My grandmother's house is more than a house, it is a haven where we run to in times of trouble. It is a meeting point for all the family.

 After leaving their homes in 1974 my grandparents settled in the house built for them by the government. Over the years they made that place their new home, my grandfather a carpenter by trade, making the furniture for the house and my grandmother a seamstress making curtains and cushions. They planted lemon and mandorin trees in the front of the house and a jasmine tree to remind them of the home they had left behind. I would spend my summers in that house which has become a second home. We would sit on the front porch sipping lemonade as my grandmother patiently made necklaces for us out of jasmine petals with a thread and a needle which as a seamstress had once been her sole pastime.

Over the years the house has changed, one could say for the better but also for the worst. My grandparents once had a back yard where they grew vegetables and herbs. It is now a monstrosity of a building for car manufacture, a symbol of the ugly reality. On my yearly visits to the island we would sit in the back yard eating freshly picked figs and prickly pears with halloumi cheese and village bread. Now my grandfather has to buy them. It is his pastime, driving his little moped down to the town's market, bringing back fresh produce which my grandmother has written on the list for him in her calligraphic letters.

Despite their meagre pension there is always something to eat whether it's fresh fruit or my grandmother's homemade delicacies. Fresh olive bread hot from the oven or her famous "daktila" sticky fingers made with pastry which is fried and covered with syrup or "pourekia," filo pastry filled with halloumi or cream. When we were in London we would get our yearly box full of Cypriot food including my grandmother's treats.

My grandmother's house is a stoical example of survival against all the odds. There is always something to offer guests, there is always generosity. I have written before about my grandparents' great dinners. There is a warmth in all that they do for others, bringing back memories when they were younger and more well off, but they have created other memories in that little house with grandchildren who attentively listen to stories of days gone by. All is left are the pictures and two old blankets taken hastily yet a mind full of reflection.

I Spy With My Little Eye...

I was in a deep and pleasant sleep the other morning when suddenly a strange pungent smell entered my dream. Was there a fire burning? I woke up to find that it was only my mother warding off evil spirits with the "kapnistiri", a small clay cup used to burn charcoal and leaves and bless the home. I was relieved at least that I didn't need to call the fire brigade. I should explain that this is a Greek custom which is also used in weddings to bless the bride and groom. All this is done in the hope of warding off all evil and bless and protect.

 There is a strong tradition of superstition in Cyprus and this also involves to a great degree the belief in the Evil Eye. The Evil Eye is the belief that others have the ability to curse you and your life. After all why do grandparents spit on their grandchildren often viewed with confusion by foreigners? Because it is to protect them against any harm coming to them through a compliment such as 'Wow you have beautiful eyes,' which can only be viewed dubiously. 'Why did they say that? Are they envious of my granddaughter's eyes?' Jealousy in fact has got to do a lot with the Evil Eye. It is said that it is someone's envy that creates it.

 There are various ways to protect yourself which can supposedly turn the harm away. A blue eye for example worn by many as necklaces and bracelets is one example. There is actually an interesting history behind this. It is said that the tradition of the eye as protection dates back to the 6th Century BC in Greece where the eye symbol was used on drinking cups.

 The question is, does this belief carry any weight or is it a figure of the imagination? Does an individual person really have the power to curse you with an evil eye? In my view you get what you give out. There are those who brag and boast about how much money they have and what they have achieved which can make someone envy you and in turn cast an evil eye upon you. Why not be modest? It also has to do with how you view things. For example many are convinced that black cats are bad luck. In my eyes they are beautiful mysterious creatures which can only be lucky. At the end of the day it is all about whether you see the cup half full or half empty.

Saying this however cannot convince the majority of us in Cyprus in taking a compliment with a degree of doubt, whispering a prayer from many around which can work in uncursing you. The belief in the Evil Eye is fixed too deeply in our tradition to be got rid off that easily. It is in our blood, a legacy from older generations. So next time you give a compliment, don't be surprised to receive a sharp look of apprehension.

What's in a Name?

Name days have always been and will always be a big thing in Cyprus, at some point and arguably still, bigger than birthdays. It is an opportunity to invite people round for dinner or coffee and take part in "kerasma," which is treating people to something usually of the sweet kind. Friends and relatives in return will wish you "xronia polla" (a wish to live many years) with a smile and a kiss. Flower shops and confectionaries have a field day especially when it is a very common name like Andreas or Maria.

 The strong tradition of naming children after their grandparents has meant that certain names stay in the family and this has also meant that some names are more common than others. I get flashbacks of the scene in 'Big Fat Greek Wedding' when the "xeno" (foreigner) Ian is comically introduced to all the Nikos' of the family. This is an example of how deep the tradition of names is and how it has always been viewed that naming a child after a grandparent is a way of honouring and thanking that person for all they have done and is a blessing in return.

It is also the tradition to name children after saints if they are born on the saint's day or near that day. I have heard stories of expectant mothers seeing visions in their sleep of a particular saint and this has led them to name their child after them. It is an expression of thanks and gratitude.

 My grandmother, a woman who like many of her generation has a deep religious faith always writes our names in church to be chanted by the priest as a sort of blessing on our particular name days. When my grandmother is celebrating her own name day, she makes homemade bread and takes it to church to be shared out to the congregation at the end of the service. It always tastes good and sometimes I am present when she is baking it and the sweet smell fills the entire house.

I'm always interested in what name days are coming up and I have my favourites. Ayios Georgios (St. George) is one of them, probably because he is the patron saint of England and a symbol of bravery and defender against all evil in the symbolic slaying of the dragon. St. Catherines's story too has its own message. She was a princess who became a Christian at fourteen, managed to convert people to Christianity and was martyred.

 It is always the case that if you look into where names come from, it is not unusual to find an exceptional story behind it. I think of the friends and family around me and their names and I sometimes wonder what if they were named something else? The truth is a name often grows on you and begins to represent who you are. It is more than just a mere name, it is your identity and wherever it derives from it does not cease to be a blessing.

Limassol With a Vibe...

I had the pleasure of welcoming an old university friend and her husband and little boy to Cyprus recently. They were staying in Paphos but visited Limassol for a day. I decided to give them a tour of old Limassol and the castle before driving down the tourist road. I must say they were greatly impressed with the town and made me realise that I live in a beautiful place (I did know this, but sometimes need reminding). As we sat in a cafe overlooking the picturesque castle, chatting away, my friend's husband turned around and pensively said, "This town has a vibe, I can feel it." I was flattered, as you would be by a foreigner stating such a lovely fact. And truly it is a fact.

The town tonight is in full swing with the carnival mood affecting even the most introverted of us. I went down with family to watch the carnival serenaders singing old songs and getting everyone in the party mood. Wearing hats, feathers and masks people sang and danced to the nostalgic songs bringing back to memory the good old times. A father and daughter danced, as the mother took a photo. As if by a miracle the old woman beggar from Starbucks gave up her pastime and danced away with a Romanian man. It was all quite pleasant until the Romanian man's friend started spraying bystanders with foam and peeved people off, a moment which can be viewed in a comic light, according to my father.

I was reluctant to leave, but Papa Johns pizza was waiting for us to pick up our delivery. It was a magical night, lit up by a new moon reflecting new hopes and new beginnings, in a town that really does have a vibe.

All things Classy...

There is nothing better, for me at least, then to dine at a restaurant which has good food and wine and a friendly atmosphere. It is a simple act yet one which has been embraced more emphatically by Cypriots on the island. Cypriots have always enjoyed food, wine and company in their own homes, now they like to enjoy it out with friends. If a restaurant has good quality food at reasonable prices it will fill up with eager eaters and drinkers. There are numerous restaurants on the island which are an example of this. Together with the food there must be an atmosphere which makes dining comfortable and desirable, whether it be warm and cosy or more upmarket and stylish. I think it is safe to say that the island's eateries now have the ability to cater for all tastes, whether that be a craving for steak and chips or sushi. A good steak or a good sushi for that matter must be accompanied by a good wine, the mingling of the tastes being quite magical. There are now a good collection of quality Cypriot wines which are consumed with delight by restaurant goers. The Cypriot wine tradition and industry goes back many years and local wine is now bottled and labelled to suit a more demanding clientale. I like to enjoy my wine at the theatre too, during the intermission with a light discussion on the performance or anything else that comes to mind.

The theatre. The cultural development on the island does not stop at gastronomy. There is now a growing appreciation of a good performance whether it be a play, or a classical or jazz concert. The Cyprus Theatre Organistation (THOC) recently celebrated actors and actresses who have contributed to theatre in Cyprus. There is a lot of talent out there and theatre has given that talent an opportunity to shine. There has evolved an appreciation for this talent and this has made all the hard work of these budding actors and actresses worthwhile.

In truth cultural events are flourishing at the moment all over the island with towns like Limassol, Paphos and Nicosia all competing to be Cultural Capital of Europe in 2017. It's exciting times really. Cultural appreciation creates new ideas and opens up minds to something new and different. Whether it's dining out or catching the latest performance at the theatre or listening to a little jazz with a fine wine, this can only lead to an awareness of better things.