Country #117: Cyprus: The BOGO of Countries
Can't decide between a weekend getaway to Greece or Turkey? Want to do both but are limited on time? I've got the place for you: Cyprus. The southern half is culturally Greek, although not a part of Greece itself. The northern part is under Turkish control and is sometimes referred to as the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus. It is essentially two countries for the price of one. In the span of one city block, you can go from a borek to a gyro, from Euro to Turkish Lira, from Efes to Mythos.
Just don't think that this is a harmonious relationship. Far from it. There are a lot of geopolitical sticking points with the arrangement, none of which I am well-versed enough to discuss. I can only speak to the practical issues. For one, my Cypriot map- the nice official one that I had picked up at the tourist office in Larnaca- effectively ends when you reach Nicosia. Anything north of the dividing line could just as well be the Mediterranean Sea. There are no cities marked, no landmarks, τίποτα! For cartological purposes, nothing of note exists north of the line.
Nonetheless, during my four day visit, I got to experience a little of both. I started out in Larnaca, on the south side, in a beachside town that has a little bit of everything going for it.
There is history, as in the Church of St Lazarus. Short version of the story, Lazarus died. Jesus resurrected Lazarus. Lazarus fled to Cyprus where he died...again. His buddy was not around to bring him back a second time, so he was buried in Larnaca. In 890 CE, a sarcophagus was found that said "Lazarus, Four days dead, Friend of Christ". The Orthodox church swooped into town, swiped the remains and took them to Constantinople. As a "sorry we took your relics" gesture, Emperor Leo VI had a church built in Larnaca, which still stands today.
All the other stuff that can usually be found in seaside towns is here too. Plenty of waterfront restaurants, tacky tourist shops on the main drag, cool little artisans shops in the alley, lively nightlife the moment the sun sets...
But there was one thing in particular that had drawn me to Larnaca. The MS Zenobia. Another quick story. 1980: A Swedish-made Roll-on/ Roll-off Ferry- the Zenobia- is on her second voyage, en route to Syria. Only, she never makes it. By the time she gets to Cyprus, she's in bad shape, listing to one side and taking on excess ballast water. The Cypriots, worried that this problem barge is going to sink and block their port, have her moved out to sea. Two days later, glug glug glug. She went down with £200 million of cargo aboard (mainly tractor-trailers). The cause of the sinking was either (a) a faulty computer (b) an inside insurance job or (c) sabotage by Mossad agent who thought she was carrying arms for the Palestinians. All three possibilities are touched upon in this short documentary.
Whatever the cause, the Zenobia now sits 42 meters below the sea level and is considered one of the world's top wreck dives. I wanted to have a look.
As a new-ish diver, I had to get an additional certification to go down to 30 meters, which in practical terms, just meant I had to pay a bit more. I agreed to do so because I wanted to have access to the inside of the ship.
On the first dive, we just went around the top of this ship, which because of how she landed is actually its side.
It was surreal to see something that large and that out of place. It was also surprising to me how quickly you go through your air at the depth.
On our second dive, we did the exact same thing. What was supposed to be our penetration dive had zero penetration.
I complained to the owner of the dive shop, who I won't name but if you watched that documentary, that was him. To his credit, he looked into it and found out that the dive master had aborted that portion of the dive because there was a guy who kept going off on his own and stressing her out. (Note: Although there were no casualties when the ship sank, there have been a number of deaths since then. Divers have gone inside the wreck, probably gotten disoriented and been unable to get out).
As a consolation, I was offered a discounted dive the next day. This messed up my schedule a bit since I had planned on leaving Larnaca that night but I was determined to go inside the Zen (2 dives in, I felt I could call her the Zen).
First dive, second day: same thing, swimming around the top/ side of the ferry but I now had a better handle on my oxygen consumption. When we got back on the dive boat, there was a guy who was freaked out over how much air he had used and refused to do the second dive. It was then decided that since he wasn't going back down and this was now my 4th Zen dive, I should use his BCD (or buoyancy control device aka the inflatable vest divers wear) which was the wing-style BCD. It is supposed be more streamlined and better for technical dives.
Life is all about learning new things. That day I learned that it is a really bad idea to jump into the most difficult dive I'd done to date with a piece of equipment that I was totally unfamiliar with. I could not find the release and inflation valves and thus could not control my buoyancy for shit which is kind of a problem when you are trying to stay within the walls of a sunken ship's cafeteria. If you go to the 11:50 mark , you can see how things were supposed to play out. I, on the other hand, was pinging off from one surface to another like a drunken plinko ball. It was a clusterfuck of epic proportions.
It was so bad that I considered sticking around for another day to try it again. I was not about to be defeated by a ship that couldn't even make it to her 3rd voyage.
But I had places to be so this would be my final Zen dive...for now.
In this flustered state, I was trying to make conversation with my dive buddy, a soft-spoken British guy. I asked him what he did for a living and he surprised me by saying he was Prince Charming. Nothing about this guy screamed "shit talker" so I asked him to repeat himself. Prince Charming. Ok, that's how it's going to be, so I said something along the lines of "Wow, I'm surprised you found the time to go diving" And suddenly he was part to the normal guy I'd met, telling me about a two week break from work and his plans in Cyprus. Something was amiss. I had to interrupt. "I'm sorry, I'm pretty sure I'm not hearing you right. Could you please tell me- slowly-what it is that you do." (In a thick English accent) "I'm...in...the...British...Army." I blame the cursed winged BCD.
Post dive, I had just enough time to grab some lunch before boarding a bus to Nicosia. I'd vacillated between going west to Paphos, a popular party beach or north to Nicosia, the capital city divided between two countries. I'd just spent almost four months in Fiji- land of perfect beaches- so nice as I'm sure Paphos is, the beach was bound to disappoint me. Plus the two country thing intrigued me, so Nicosia it was.
I'd been warned that there was nothing to do in Nicosia. The first sign I saw when exiting the bus said otherwise.
Sure, it was mainly all Greek to me but the Hofbrau logo and little beer mug didn't lie. I was there is time for the beer fest.
After settling in at the super friendly Nex Hostel, I set off to explore this divided city. On the Greek side, it was a typical bustling town with an animated shopping area and some impressive street art.
This is because on the other side, the Turkish side, you are struck by two things: a different, more middle-eastern architectural style and a million and one stores selling knock-off Gucci purses. Only one of those things interested me.
The Turkish side, while decidedly more run down, had so much more charm than its more modern neighbor.
I ended up staying on this side until evening, when everything began to shut down. It was time to go back to (not) Greece and it's happening beer festival.
It was nice. There was a limited but quality selection of beer, reasonable prices and lots of families out enjoying a chill evening.
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| Don't be fooled by the empty tables. This pic was early on in the evening. Within an hour, every seat was taken. |
The surprise came when the headlining band took the stage. They were talented, no doubt about it, but my question was: what event planner, who surely knew that he was booking the stage for a free city-sponsored event, one that would draw everyone from toddlers to grandmas, listened to all the musical submissions and decided: You know what, I think I'm going to go with this super-heavy Metal Greek band.
I sat in open-mouthed amazement as the pony-tailed lead singer hit one Rob Halford-esque falsetto wail after another. So did the grandmas, many of whom grabbed their beer mugs and high-tailed it out of there. Less surprising was the guitar player, who kept walking off the stage mid-song, to make out with a young girl sitting at the same table as I was. It was a glorious shit show.
The following day, I had a late flight home out of Larnaca. This gave me some time to explore the Turkish region a bit more. I took a bus to one of Cyprus' prettiest towns, Girne (or Kyrenia is you are using the Greek name).
It is a lovely little harbour town that reminded me immediately of the Greek islands. This could be because the Greek presence goes back to 10th century BCE when the Mycenaeans first invaded. The town was then Roman, then British, then part of independent Cyprus and is now Turkish.
Girne was a perfect summation to this quick multicultural outing. It took a little bit of this and a little bit of that and despite some messiness, made it all work somehow.
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