A cracking day on the beach – remote western Cyprus near Lara Bay (where the turtles hatch).
It may look remote, but suddenly these places can become very crowded with all sorts of riff-raff.
(click the picture for a closer look)
Even my brother Gareth put in an appearance.
Home made burgers cooked on the barbie.
How’s that burger Helene……?
I guess it must be pretty good….
We’ve been looked after very well since arriving in Cyprus.
Staying in Caroline & Phil’s apartment in Anarita, we’ve been out for drinks and dinner a couple of times with Ann & Stu (a local couple who look after a number of properties out here for a varied bunch of ex-pats).
Ann’s clearly the brains of the outfit – but can be a bit of a nut-cracker as far as Stu is concerned.
Above, she’s trying to crush Pecan nuts in her fists at Mike’s Bar in the village. Mike grows them at home and the standing bet is that if you can open one in one hand (un-aided) the drinks are free.
None of us could. (The trick is to put 2 into your hand and crush one against the other.)
Stu, on the other hand does a lot of small building / maintenance projects around the Anarita area. He has ambitions to take on some larger scale schemes and has recently (quite vocally) expressed some interest in a local road-building / roundabout scheme that he believes would benefit from his experience.
We had a really good day with them recently up in the Troodhos Mountains at a small monastery town called Omodhos.
If you had Easter-eggs in the UK on 30th March, you could have doubled-up today in Cyprus.
Today is Easter Sunday in Cyprus (5 weeks after Easter in the UK!).
Any idiot knows when Easter is each year.
The Council of Nicaea (now Turkey) decided in 325AD that it’s…
…. the first Sunday on (or after)
…. the first full moon, on (or after)
…. the Vernal (Spring, you idiots) equinox.
Simplzzzz.
Any idiot knows that. Now you (and I) know it too.
Except……
…. western Christians use the Gregorian Callander, and Eastern (‘Orthodox’) Christians use the less accurate Julian calendar (which has a different opinion regarding when the first full moon after the equinox appears).
THEREFORE, our Easters’ coincide every few years, but most years are at least are a few weeks out.
The next years they will coincide are 2014, 2017 & 2034.
The next time they will be so far apart in the ‘Orthodox’ world will be 2024.
So, between now and then, enjoy Easter in the UK and then get your arse out to Greece / Turkey / etc and double-up on the eggs a week (or four) later!
Having run the gauntlet of getting out of Turkey we were tired, but pleased, to arrive in the south-western tip of the island, at Paphos – a coastal town, set up for tourists (mostly Brits), but pleasant, Suddenly we feel as if we’re on familiar ground.
‘Familiar ground‘ is not what this trip is about – but it does give us a place to complete our planning for Africa while we scratch the days on the wall of Phil & Caroline’s apartment until their wedding here in mid June.
It also gives us a semi-permanent base where can catch up with friends and family (after leaving the UK in a bit of a rush due to renting the house out faster than we anticipated).
Over the next 4 weeks brother Gareth (graphics wizard for the car & website), Judith & Paul (other half of ‘The Stumblebums‘) and Charlie & her boyfriend will be coming out to see us – can’t wait!
Paphos has everything you’d want from a holiday resort.
However, we’re staying in Anarita (about 10 miles outside Paphos and about 5 miles inland). It has nothing you want in a holiday resort – which is everything we look for when we travel: only 3 small bar / restaurants, 2 small shops, a church, a pool and a view of the sea from the balcony.
Just what the doctor ordered.
Highlight of the village is Mike’s Bar. Nothing to look at, but a warm welcome and cheap beer. Mike’s a retired detective who spent many years travelling with Archbishop Makarios III (first president of The Republic of Cyprus) as one of his bodyguards.
He makes a mean Cypriot coffee – and showed Helene how to do it.
Water is heated in the horizontal tank at the top of the ‘still‘ and then tapped-off into an egg-cup sized pan with a long handle that is half filled with coffee grounds that look like gravel. The little pan is then heated by pushing it around a deep tray of red-hot sand (‘don’t worry if some of the sand gets into the little pan’) until it’s boiling fiercely.
You need asbestos fingers for that part.
Then the boiling coffee grounds (& any miscellaneous grains of sand) are tipped into a small glass cup, doubled in volume with water from the top tank, and offered to you for downing like a Tequila shot.
That’ll put hairs on your chest!
Finally managed to get the door mirror refitted (about the full extent of my mechanical prowess) and fitted the ‘haa..ha‘ horn.
Helene ‘liberated’ it from Callum when we were up in Scotland visiting family and attending the Wilderness Medical Training course at Aviemore, just before Christmas.
Fortunately we’ve not needed the medical training yet, but Helene’s had the opportunity to inflict the horn on the natives in Cyprus (generally due to their unorthodox driving style).
What a day.
We had made it to South Eastern Turkey and even got a chance to relax a bit before heading out for the ferry to Northern Cyprus. We knew it would be a long 36 hours, but first thing in the morning we had no idea how stressful it was to become later!
Although we were up about 8am, our boat wasn’t until midnight so we had a few hours to kill at the port.
We were treated to a cracking sunset…..
….. and then an even more beautiful ‘moon-rise’…..
At first it looked like the sun had risen again at 8pm – the moon was like a sunflower head over the sea.
Only 30 minutes later it had turned from a sunflower head to a silver dollar. Beautiful.
We made our way round to the port gates around 9pm for the boat and presented our car documents and papers. No problem there, except we were told that Helene couldn’t enter through the cargo point with the car and I would have to drop her at the personnel gate, 2 miles away at the other end of the port. Neither of us were particularly happy about being split up, but it would only be for a short time. After we found the right gate (typically – no signs, no instructions) I found my way back to the cargo entrance to get the car through. I was a little apprehensive as we’d not had much luck with ports so far and every time we’d encountered difficulties it had been Helene’s winning smile that had finally charmed the staff into getting us through. I didn’t fancy my chances much on my own.
However, it was a breeze – 40 minutes later I was in the port and found my way to the main terminal to look for Helene.
Unfortunately, Turkish port regulations in Tasucu meant that cargo traffic (me) wasn’t able to mix with any of the people traffic (Helene). The best we could do was chat through the security gate from 10pm (after we found each other and worked out the regulations) until the boat was due to sail at midnight. Not very welcoming.
The sailing time of midnight came and went and we were still separated, as all the containers were still being put on board. Finally, around 1 in the morning Helene was told go to passport control and to board. We agreed that whoever got on first would find chairs for the two of us for the 9-hour crossing (no cabins, restaurants, bar, showers etc on this tub!).
By about 1.30am all the trucks had been loaded and I was brought a note from Helene by the ship’s Chief Electrical Engineer to say that he’d found us some seats and that he’d given her a tour of the ship and made her a cup of tea.
All going well, my concerns were obviously unfounded.
I was told to load the car on the end of the deck amongst the trucks and we’d sail immediately. As I got to the top of the ramp an officer checked my papers one last time (another pointless formality I thought), then blew his whistle like a trumpet and told me to get the car off the boat as my papers were not in order and lacked a particular Police stamp. I tried to explain that my wife was on board but their English was even less useful than my Turkish.
Helene’s pal (the Chief Engineer) was called and said I’d have to remove the car, get the stamps and sail on tomorrow’s boat. I wrote a note for Helene which he said he’d deliver and bring her down to me at the Police office.
Bugger!
By the time we both met up again, the Turkish Authorities had worked out which stamp I was missing and things seemed to calm down again. Helene was told she must re-board the boat as her documents were already stamped and I was told to drive over to the Customs hall for a check.
Neither of us were particularly happy, but she was ushered onto the boat by the Engineer. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said ‘I’ll be with you once they’ve checked the car‘.
The Engineer came with me as I raced the car up to the Customs Hall, jumped out, left the engine running & the door open and ran in to get my papers stamped. The Customs officer spent 10 minutes looking surly, scrutinising my papers and then said I couldn’t travel and would need to sail tomorrow. I explained that my wife had been put back on the boat and that all my papers had been checked and stamped previously.
The Engineer argued with him in Turkish for about 5 minutes. The Customs man stared at me like I’d got a condom full of cocaine stuck up my arse then said aggressively ‘You come‘.
I went through his office and met with what, I hoped, was a plain-clothed Police man: T-shirt and jeans, gun on his hip. I was led through a side door but, instead of finding another office, he and his pal put me into a Police car and told me we had to go to the police!
We drove about 8 miles into the town and to the main Police Station (deserted at 2am), where we went through a maze of grey corridors and finally stood in front of the local Chief of Police. From what I could gather, my ‘kidnapper’ explained to him that this idiot Englishman did not have the right papers and, after about 10 minutes of the Chief studying me, he finally took a rubber stamp of his desk and thumped it into my passport.
Did you ever see the film ‘Midnight Express’?………
I wasn’t sure if that was a ‘Guilty – 10 years hard-labour‘ stamp or a ‘Bloody Idiot – get him back to the port‘ stamp.
Fortunately it was the latter. Back to the port (blue lights blazing on the Police car) and the Land Rover was exactly where I’d left it – still running, door open, lights on.
By this time, I was really worried but resigned to Helene having sailed off without money, a phone or any idea where I was while she was stuck in Turkish Cyprus until I found a way to get over there, hopefully 24 hours later.
Somehow, over two hours after it was ready to sail (3 hours late) the boat was still there. I quickly pulled the car up onto the ramp, wedged it on the end between the trucks, went up the ladders through the cargo holds (not even staircases on this boat – let alone a cafe) and was shown by the Chief Engineer to where he’d found chairs for Helene.
The chairs looked like they’d come from a 1940’s Aeroflot plane that must have crashed somewhere and been sold for scrap but, after the nonsense of the last 5 hours they were a welcome sight.
I only slept for about 90 minutes of the crossing as I still seemed to be full of adrenaline and when we arrived mid morning only got the briefest moment to chat with Peytre (our saviour, the ship’s Chief Engineer) who it seems had managed to convince the Customs Office to take me to the Police Chief for the passport stamp, then delayed the ship till I got back.
What a great guy. So typical of the mix we’ve found in Turkey – ridiculous, aggressive, confusing, uninformative bureaucratic ‘Officials’: and yet friendly, helpful and welcoming people everywhere else.
Peytre, 2nd from the left below (only able to grab a quick snap as we disembarked since we were perched on the end of the ship, holding up the unloading).
The rest of the day was a breeze (by comparison). 2 more hours of Customs clearance and buying insurance in Girne (Turkish Cyprus). A bargain at only $200 combined – even though we were only going to be there 1 day. Then we drove to Nicosia where there is a crossing point through the United Nations controlled ‘no-man’s-land’ between Turkish and Greek Cyprus.
This was established after the 1974 fighting and seizure / occupation of the north of the island by Turkey and is still taken seriously (although relationships between the 2 countries are much better these days).
Took us 2 hours to find the crossing point and 2 more hours of numerous document checks, rubber stamps and queues to get through – very swift by Turkish standards.
When we got through the Turkish Cypriot border, we were waved down by the Greek Cypriot Customs. Here we go again we thought, 39 hours of this crap and we’re still not done.
‘Come into my office‘ said the Cypriot Customs official, ‘Would you like a seat and some water. I just need to check your documents and will only keep you 5 minutes – we don’t go in for any of that Turkish nonsense here‘. And he was right. Couldn’t have been more different. Marvellous.
The Turkish coastline gets more interesting (and less touristy) as you go east.
The road can’t always follow the coast due to the sheerness of the cliffs in places……
But that doesn’t make it any less attractive. We even drove past Mount Olympus and got a chance to see the top peaking through a very timely gap in the clouds (although we did find out later that Turkey & Greece seem to disagree about who actually has THE Mount Olympus).
Mind you, you need to keep your eyes on the road as much as possible. They’re liable to just collapse! You can still see the white lines on the ‘old road’ in the bottom of this picture. Not sure even the Land Rover would deal with that sort of off-roading very well.
Due to it’s position as a crossroad between East and West, Turkey has seen itself as a pivotal point in most empires since the Romans. As a result it’s had to do a fair amount of defending itself from both invaders and pirates. There are castles or forts in many towns, and some of the old towns themselves are basically walled-in villages.
The castle below was actually on the turtle beach in the Dragon campsite we stayed at in Alanya. It’s seen better days. Built in the 15th Century it was ruined in a siege by local warlords fighting over who would control this stretch of coastline.
Many of the castles are owned by the Turkish Government and still used for semi-military purposes (mostly administration, rather than as garrisons) and unfortunately not all are able to be visited. A lot still fly the Turkish flag – in fact, it’s not till you see a huge flag flying on some of them that you get a sense of how large they actually are.
Another great view from the ‘Penthouse’ at around 8am in Eastern Turkey.
Inland / Eastern Turkey is quite different from the beach-resorts that dominate in the west and the south. More rugged, more mountainous and more unspoilt.
And more snow!
There’s precious little to do here for tourists, but somehow that makes the place more interesting and more attractive – whether it’s the cliffside coastline, covered in switchback roads (there are no main roads as such) and huge terraces of banana plantations…..
….the inland pastures where everything is still done on a small-holding scale……
…..or the coastal ports where it seems only the occasional Turkish tourists visit and most of the locals’ livelihood still comes from the sea.
I guess the only occasional blight is either one or two tourist resorts or, as you come round various rocky headlands, what looks at first sight to be a flooded plain. As you near it though, it turns out to be mile after mile of polly-tunnels where one valley will be dedicated to tomato growing, the next will be cucumber, the next strawberries, etc. I guess Sainsbury have to get their low-cost veg from somewhere!
A really attractive part of Turkey (other than the ‘Sea of Plastic‘), where the people are friendly, the food is good (and cheap) and the countryside is largely undeveloped.
Another great, fresh and simple meal for 2 people for less than the cost of a gallon of diesel – hot pickled chillies, skewered lamb & chicken, pickled cabbage, fantastic Tzatziki (yoghurt and cucumber), rice and fresh flatbreads. You can’t beat that easily.
Some campsites are more sophisticated than others.
You can get better showers…..
You’ll probably find more sophisticated washing-up and laundry facilities…..
But you won’t find nicer people….
This is Pervin, ‘mumma’, and their pal who have run the campsite for 40 years. A little haven, called Dragon Mocamp, on a dusty road east through Turkey.
We couldn’t have been made more welcome.
What a cracking site. What at first looked a bit ramshackle, turned out to be a bit of an Eco-oasis.
We were invited to pick vegetables from the garden and made ourselves a great salad of wild onions, parsley, rocket and mint. Then helped ourselves to oranges straight off the tree.
If you’ve never picked ripe oranges and eaten them immediately, then you’ve never really tasted an orange!
Although we were a bit early in the year, the beach is known as Turtle Beach for the hundreds of turtles that lay eggs here every year from early May till mid August.
Well worth going back for – even more so because of the hospitality and welcome we received.
A night’s camping and a really chilled couple of days: £10.
No, not the favourite magazine of teenage boys when I was a lad. The view from our tent window when waking up at 7.30am at one of our Turkish campsites.
Not bad at all.
After packing up our Ephesus camp, we left the coast road and had to cut inland, heading east.
There are few major roads going east once you pass Antalya.
However, other than the tourist resorts and hotels, every now and again you come across small towns that may have a roadside restaurant.
From the road, the smell of the grill draws you towards them. The guys standing in the middle of the road, manically waving down passing cars to get them to stop and eat also tends to force you to slow down anyway!
Fortunately the food was excellent (both quality and value).
£13 for a mezze of salads and a variety of kebabs for 2 people.
That price included having the car washed by a couple of the local ‘entrepreneurs’ hanging around in front of the restaurant.
Bargain.