Blossoms and Baking...

Following an age long tradition on Thursday, I went to my grandparents to make  flaounes, savoury delights made with cheese, eggs, flour and raisins. It was a lengthy process beginning on Wednesday night, breaking eggs to put in the cheese mixture and making the dough, leaving it overnight to be ready for the following morning.

In the morning I went to the bakery and bought some tachinopites, a sweet made especially for fasting and which goes well with a cup of coffee. At my grandmother's the garden smelt of orange blossoms early in the morning, a scent I always associate with Easter. After making sure the dough and cheesy mixture was ready we began making the flaounes. These savoury delights will be eaten after fasting has ended on Saturday morning after Holy Communion. I nibbled on a piece of tachinopitta as I watched my grandmother carefully roll the dough into a thin round shape and my aunt fill it with the cheesy mixture, ready on a tray to be baked. I took my share home and baked it, brushing beaten egg and sesame on each individual flaouna before popping them in the oven for an hour. The house smelt sweetly as the flaounes cooked merrily in the oven.

Thursday night at church was the reenactment of the Crucifiction and it is the custom to wear black. The bells chimed mournfully, the icons covered in black cloth. Yesterday was the Epitaph. We went to Sfalaggotissa Monastery where nuns chant the verses in unison. The Epitaph was decorated with white roses and candles, the scent of the roses mingling with incense and the slow burning of the candles on the Epitaph. When it was time the Epitaph was lifted and taken round the chapel. You are supposed to go under it as it goes round.

 

This morning's service was the first Resurrection. I had gone from six in the morning, the chapel still with the nuns' silent prayer. The morning was overcast with the chance of rain, when the nuns lifted the black cloth from the icons and banged the wooden seats announcing the Resurrection. It was touching, bringing a tear to the eye, the small chapel packed with people, waiting to take Holy Communion.

 

Tonight is the Resurrection when everyone goes to church at midnight and holds a candle to announce that Christ has risen from the dead. Afterwards we eat egg lemon soup with chicken and crack red eggs which we have painted. Thus the fasting and baking ends and everyone has the opportunity to enjoy a good souvla on Easter Sunday.

This year's Easter  was especially moving as a church in Famagusta was allowed to have a service after fifty years. Cypriots flocked to take part giving a much needed ray of hope to those waiting for a miracle of peace and reconciliation in Cyprus.

At the Kafeneion...

My grandfather turned eighty-six last week and I paid him a visit. He seems to take pride when he has his grandchildren surrounding him. My grandfather was a carpenter by trade. Before the invasion he had his own carpenting business in Morphou. Following the invasion he lost eveything but still managed to keep up his trade in the small refugee quarter of Linopetra, making furniture for the families of the neighbourhood. I even remember him coming to England and redecorating our kitchen and when we repatriated back to Cyprus, he made my mother three coffee tables, mirror frames and a large cabinet to keep the good china in.

All that was a long time ago. Now my grandfather is fully retired and every morning he drives his little moped down to the local market and buys whatever my grandmother has written on the list, fruits, vegetables, meat and fish. Another pastime which he sticks loyally to is going to the kafeneion, the local coffee shop. Men of his age assemble there and gossip, talk politics and sport and anything else of interest and play cards and backgammon. They can watch television and drink their tasty Greek coffees.The kafeneion for my grandfather is a place where he can socialise and belong and as he has explained to me, it also has a hidden political agenda. Each kafeneion in the Linopetra area and elsewhere is affiliated to different political parties. So a right winger will never go to a left wing kafeneion. It seems surprising that such a small and divided island would have such strong political ties, which would run into daily life but such is the case.

You would think that these small, quaint kafeneions are beginning to die out. In fact they are re-inventing themselves into more modern equivalents in the old parts of the towns. Young people now enjoy playing cards and backgammon and gossiping while drinking their frappes or sticking to tradition and having a Greek coffee. However they will never have the same feeling as the kafeneion of old with its local charm and its uniqueness. The old kafeneion will always represent a bygone era of Cypriot history. So much discussion has gone on in the kafeneions of old. World wars, coups and invasions have been announced and recorded and spoken of again and again. Young men are now old, like my grandfather and they sit pensively in their affiliated kafeneion remembering the past, a past with both joy and sorrow, a past of struggle and a hope for reconciliation.

What's in a Castle?

As we veer towards Spring, what better way to spend your time than a jaunt to one of the castles in the Limassol area? There are two, the Limassol Medieval Castle which has become a museum, right in the centre of town and Kolossi Castle, a 15 to 20 minute drive outside Limassol.

I am fascinated by castles as I look into their great eventful histories reminding us that this little island is immersed in history. We've had earthquakes and occupations throughout our eventful history and the castles are a witness to that.

Arriving in the centre of Limassol by the old port, the Limassol Medieval Castle stands stoically among shops and cafes. It is shaded by age old trees, a cool respite in the heights of summer. According to the tourist leaflet "the thickness of its walls is two metres" and has a "large underground vault." It has been destroyed many times through raids and earthquakes. The castle today  houses artifacts from the Early Christian period right until the period of Ottoman rule. It even has a coat of armour and beautifully engraved stone slabs. The castle is a labyrinth of floors and small rooms each showing artifacts from different periods in history. The castle was even used as a prison until 1950, which you could imagine was a dark period in its history.

What the castle is most famous for however is that it was the sight of a royal wedding between Richard the Lionheart and Berengaria of Navarre who was crowned Queen in 1191. It was the only coronation which was not held in England and it is a story which has fascinated romantics and historians alike. 

If you reach the top of the castle there's a chance to see spectacular views of old  Limassol and the port. It is a breathtaking view and one which you will remember.

Leaving Limassol and heading to Kolossi Castle you will see another type of landscape, that of vineyards. Kolossi castle was built by the Hospitaliers (the Order of St John of Jerusalem) who were given land in 1210 and the castle was used as their residence. Here is where the sweet wine Commandaria was produced which is one of the oldest wines in the world. The castle is a spectacular example of craftmanship with beautifully large rooms overlooking the open spaces of land below. They must have lived a lovely life in that castle, accepted guests and cooked great feasts for them, round roaring fires, serving their Commandaria wine and getting a little tipsy from it. That's how I would imagine it anyway.

So what's in a castle? Much it would seem and there are more than two castles to look at in Cyprus but I've focused on just two. History was made within the walls of both these spectacular castles. Books and articles have been written surrounding the events in these castles and as they grow older they continue to inspire.
   

Churches and Dictators, Politics and Papers...

 It looks as if the world is going through the Day of Judgement as war and terrorism still prevail, revolutions of peoples create havoc in streets and squares and floods, earthquakes and volcano eruptions batter this planet. Cyprus, this tiny divided island is dealing with its own issues. There is political unrest and discontent however much we try to hide it behind carnival masks and costumes and a nonchalant mood. In truth I don't blame people since they still strongly feel the urge to have fun and forget for a while, lightening their hearts and minds.

In the background politicians are at loggerheads and there are protests on the streets. The conflicts which are evident carry the populace with them with no solutions given to the average homeowner and businessman about how they will get themselves out of economic trouble. There is too much talk, too much disagreement and too little action. Instead of joining forces our Cypriot politicians pick on little details instead of looking at the big picture, the future. Those in power always seem to forget the little people, families dealing with unemployment, getting by as best they can, the young generation revolting because they are not heard, with an education system which is failing them. The older generation unable to get by with their meagre pensions.

Authoritative establishments need to reevaluate and I think this will slowly happen because of pressure from the people, the masses. Their voices will grow, louder and stronger out of the need to survive. I think of what is happening in the Ukraine, the revolt of the masses against a government that does not represent them. Our government I believe is moving in the right direction with foreign media claiming that a miracle has happened and Cyprus is back from the dead and proving to be recovering quicker than anticipated. The opposition, as an opposition is trying to find any fault they can and Diko the centre- right in the government threatening to leave. Why can't politicians look beyond their petty differences and their ulterior motives and unite for the common good? It's as if they want their nation to remain penniless and divided. I can't help but think of a song by Elton John which prophesies the breakdown of all those establishments which create more harm than good, as it says "Churches and dictators, politics and papers everything crumbles sooner or later...I believe in love." According to the song 'Believe' establishments will crumble including politicians and a new era will emerge where only good and love prevail. The "Day of Judgement" may even have a promising ending after all if only politicians stop bickering, look up, listen and take action.

Cypriot Valentine Extravaganza!

The teddy bears and Valentine heart cushions are out on roadside shops mingling with carnival masks and costumes. The radio stations are humming lovey-dovey tunes in an attempt to get everyone in the mood and also promising giveaway prizes like a two-night stay in a glitzy five-star hotel for the lucky couple.

 Wives will wait in anticipation for a bouquet of flowers or a naughty item of lingerie, probably the only present they will get from their husbands this year. Teenagers will secretly send a Valentine card or text message to the person they are besotted with, hoping for a response and looking starry-eyed in the classroom when they realize the feeling is mutual and down in the dumps for the rest of the year if it is young, careless unrequited love after all. Even the third generation will get carried away with the fun, buying the misses a box of chocolates or just an extra two cartons of washing powder, that is how far their love goes.In general it is a day to get carried away in a bubble of love, however deep or shallow that love may be.

Valentine's Day is tomorrow, on a Friday this year which means couples will make the most of it and for those who are single a chance to go out anyway. I can't help but think about the scene in the recent film Valentine's Day when all the singles get together for the 'I hate Valentine's Day' dinner at the local Indian which proves to be a great night, but the real message I got from that film is how big and tragic the day is made by all those who are single but also what a consumer heaven Valentine's Day is. It's all about the spending, how carried away you can get and that's how the Cypriot version has become too.

Modern love or cyber love is so different to love as it was in St. Valentine's time, the third century Roman saint associated with tomorrow's day. In those days it was all about courtly love, a secret exchange of love between members of the nobility, where the man tries to prove his worthiness to his mistress by acting bravely and honorably and by doing what the mistress desires and surprisingly in the end, sex  was not the goal or end result.There was something subtle and substantial about courtly love which ran deeper than a box of chocolates or a heart shaped cushion. It was real love, a binding contract with no small script at the bottom. If only we could take a piece from the original message that St. Valentine wanted to spread and add it to our 21st Century version, what a big difference that would make. Until then it's just another Cypriot Valentine extravaganza!

Famagusta...A Ghost Town Amongst Us

When I was at university I chanced across a series of pictures on the Web taken of Famagusta in 1973, one year before the invasion. It was the first time I had seen pictures of the town which brought it alive for me. Up to then I had only heard stories. They showed a town bustling with activity, people going to and fro with their business, shops and roads of impeccable nature looking like Limassol is today. There is no doubt that Famagusta in 1973 was ahead of its time in comparison to other towns.

I was so moved by the pictures that I contacted the photographer who replied that he wished Famagusta would relive those years of glory and development again. That was more than a decade ago and we are still waiting for that day to come. The town sits, eerily quiet, grass growing inside it and wants to be a town once again.

I have visited the ghost town myself and I always go away haunted by its memory. Part of the town is shut away with barbed wire, houses and churches boarded up. Down at the coastline there is a bit of beach and then barbed wire from which you see the town, with its long stretch of hotels, derelict and empty, a Turkish officer sitting wearily in his observation box killing time. Time has indeed stood still. I imagine how it would now be in the town, the coffee cups lying on the tables unwashed in the cafeterias, the morning papers in the kiosk sitting there waiting to be read, the housewives' washing still hanging up to dry, left there in the rush to leave.

There is a thought, a theory we could say that if the inhabitants of Famagusta hadn't panicked and left, the town wouldn't have been taken. In truth why has its main quarter remained a ghost town with the entire strip of coastline left in disarray? It is a pawn politicians are playing with. There is potential there, there is the smell of money. There will be prosperity if there is a solution and it is handed over.

Recently Greek and Turkish Cypriots living in the United Kingdom signed a petition asking for the return of Famagusta to its inhabitants. It was indeed refreshing to see both Greek and Turkish Cypriot voices walking to Downing Street together and handing over the petition to the British Prime Minister. It showed solidarity. There is a voice of protest, a voice which urges to be heard but there must be more than petitions.

My father is from Famagusta and we have been to visit the family house where he grew up and where a Turkish family live now. I have heard about the childhood memories surrounding that family home which resonates with laughter of days gone by. There is no denying that you go away with a feeling of resignation and melancholy.

One summer a Welsh couple staying  in a hotel in Protaras, a holiday resort quite near Famagusta, asked my aunt and uncle why they were staying in a hotel since they had a house in Famagusta. They were baffled by the response, indeed many are equally confused when they hear the story of Famagusta. Let's just hope 2014 is lucky for the ghost town we live amongst.