Cyprus
2007-10-07

Kate won a vacation to Cyprus through work a couple weeks ago. It was for three nights in a 5 star hotel and flights on (oh my god) BRITISH AIRWAYS. No fucking Ryanair baggage nazi bullshit this time.

I was excited. I had never even heard of Cyprus before, when my old neighbour (the one in the Chinese family’s house before they moved in) told me he was a Cypriot one day when we were chatting over the fence, I just nodded. He might as well said he was from Mars. Oh, Cypriot, right, yeah... cool. “Oh, right, yeah, cool” is Canadian for “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I don’t want to look dumb by asking”. I say that a lot.

Even though I had no idea where we were going, I was excited anyway. I have never been in 5 star accommodation of any kind, and I was told that it would be hot.

I looked it up on the internet and found out it is a stone’s throw from Syria, Israel and freakin Lebanon AND that it has a UN monitored buffer zone slicing through the center of it because in 1974 it was invaded by the Turks. Oh, right, yeah, cool. Does the package come with complementary flak jacket and M80?

Kate was over the moon. It had been a long time since we’ve travelled anywhere hot and her solar batteries were fading. Every day she would come home from work singing “11 days ‘til Cyprus... 10 days til Cyprus...” 10 days until our kidnapping and beheading more like, can’t wait! Kate hated it when I said that.

Oh well, at least the flight will be good, we’re flying with BRITISH AIRWAYS, dahling. This is the company that built the Concorde. I know we won’t be breaking the sound barrier on our particular flight, but at least we’ll flying in style.

Wrong

Before we got on the flight, I looked at the people waiting to get on the plane. Chavs everywhere. Surely they must be waiting for a Ryanair flight? There is a grown man wearing an Everton shirt, for chrissakes, there is no way he could afford a BA plane ticket. Surely.

We get on the plane and sit down (Everton fan sat in the seat in front of us). No pillows, no blankets, but oh wait, what’s this, a menu? We get to choose our own meals?! How posh! Wait, why are there prices beside them? And why is it only sandwiches or fish and chips?

Once in the air, the stewardesses are concerned more with trying to sell us stuff than worry about our safety. They even drink specials. Yeah, that’s a good idea on a plane full of Brits. Drunken scouser, shit food, Manc stewardess shouting specials over the intercom and two for one red wine, it was like flying in a giant bingo hall. I half expected Peter Kay to jump out of the toilet.

I got off the plane thinking no one could’ve cared less about passenger safety than the BA stewardesses. Then I met Cypriot Passport control. The dude stands there waving through everybody giving our passports only a passing glance. Until he sees mine.

“You, go in there.” He nods his head toward a small room behind him, points at me and says “Terrorist” to the other passengers. Scooping the shit out of my pants, I look up at him and he laughs. Yeah, ha ha ha motherfucker. I heard the Greeks were more relaxed than the rest of the planet, but DAMN.

After we go into the other room to get my passport stamped, we get to the baggage turntable where we are greeted by pictures of naked chicks spinning around instead of our baggage. Double DAMN. Any more relaxed and these people would be in a coma.

Until you ask them about the Turkish invasion that is... If you're thinking about visiting, it's best to skirt the subject with the locals...

Troodos mountains:

 

Nicosia, the only divided capital in the world. These are of the walk across the buffer zone. You're not supposed to take photos, but I did anyway cuz I is well 'ard!

 

Famagusta, the deserted city. After the turks moved in, the city was abandoned. It is still empty to this day (33 years later). This is as close as tourists are supposed to go. Some go closer, but I didn't cuz I is not that well 'ard. Turks with guns = scary dudes.