Exploring Cyprus

CYPRUS

Day 1

Arrived in Larnarca, Cyprus shortly before 4:30am half asleep and extremely anxious about this solo trip to another country. I have thought about taking this trip for over a month, but put it on the back-burner when civil war erupted in Libya. The two countries aren’t terribly close, but they both border the Mediterranean, so I thought there may be some problem. I was going to settle for a UAE adventure tour. I booked a flat in Dubai for 6 nights and had intentions of going on desert safari, visiting the famous Atlantis Hotel, and Palm Island. I was going to do some shopping and skiing in one of the many malls in the city and also planned on going horseback riding (English saddle) and taking a deep sea fishing trip. Sounds thrilling doesn’t it? But something kept drawing me to Cyprus. I don’t know what, but I couldn’t surrender the idea of going. So on the morning I had scheduled to go to Dubai I booked my flight and hotel to Cyprus and called the apartment manager and canceled my booking (wouldn’t have done that if I had paid already, but I was to pay when I got there).

My flight was scheduled for 11:25 pm out of Dubai airport with a connecting flight in Bahrain. I noticed there were a few Americans going to Cyprus as well, but strangely enough we didn’t speak to one another. I attempted to strike up a conversation with one lady in the airport bathroom after we landed in Cyprus, but she didn’t even respond to my comment—so I guess she’s either hard of hearing or just not interested in meeting anyone. Cool. I can do this thing alone. I think.

Rather than catch a taxi to my hotel, I decided to get a rental. I read of many places to visit where catching a taxi would be extremely expensive and, since I don’t expect to have anyone to share the fares, I opted for the rental. And that’s where the real adventure begins.

It took me a full 30 minutes to find the vehicle in the dark amid a sea of rental cars from various rental companies. Once I found it I clicked the door to unlock it and opened the driver’s side door. Hmm. No steering wheel. “What the..who the…” I stammered. There it was—on the right side of the car—like they drive in England. But this was a Ford Fusion, how could they? So I laughed at the idea, threw my bags in the car and checked out this odd vehicle. Not only was the steering wheel on the wrong side, the car was a stick shift. “Oh my goodness, this truly is going to be an adventure.” I was really tickled. I checked out all the remaining operating mechanisms and proceeded to drive away. I figured I could drive around the airport parking lot for a while till I got the hang of it. I felt comfortable and kept reassuring myself “I can do this”.

Along the road to my hotel I saw many signs warning drivers to stay on the left side, and only 5 times so far did I actually drive on the right side of the road; and of those 5 times there were only 3 occasions where there was oncoming traffic. :-)

I got so lost—again and again. At one point I was on a narrow alley/street, crowded with cars and house built out onto the street. If I had heeded the foreshadowing that occurred only 30 minutes earlier when I tagged a man’s mirror with my left mirror—causing no damage, thank God, I would have known what was to come and been more cautious.

Alas, I did not see how close I was to the pole when I smacked it so hard that it ripped my left mirror clean off the car and scraped the left side of the car. “Dooooooh!" I quickly stopped the car, hopped out and ran around to assess the damage. The mirror was lying a few meters back on the side of the street. “Dammit.” And I had told the rental lady that I wouldn’t need any additional insurance—I would be fine I told her (that was of course before I learned I would be driving on the wrong side of the car and on the wrong side of the road).

Well, everything happens for a reason. Now the worst is out of the way and I can begin to enjoy the rest of my vacation, I thought. I tried to embrace a positive mental attitude, said a prayer, picked up the mirror and threw it into the back seat. And on I went—I had a hotel to find.

I reached my hotel around 7:30 am—yea it took me that long when I arrived of course I was too early to check in, so I filled out the necessary paperwork and headed out to check out the scenery.

My eyes were heavy and I hadn’t had my ritualistic cup of coffee yet. I had no euros (the exchange booth was closed when I arrived at the airport) and I was a little hungry. I drove back to town to find an ATM. After circling around the same round-about four times, I found several banks: one wouldn’t accept my card, one was out of service, one I couldn’t reach due to the pitiful parking opportunities. I finally found one which accepted my card, and gave me some euros. Ok. Good, I have cash.

By now I’m more than a little hungry, but none of the restaurants were open and I knew the hotel would charge a mint for breakfast (it’s included in the room, but remember, I’m not in my room yet) so I went to a small grocery store and bought some cheese, bread, and a bottle of water. I took my victuals with me to the beach and made a plain cheese sandwich—I had my own little seaside picnic.

As the waves lapped gently onto the shore I marveled at God's artistry in His design of this deep blue sapphire sea.

I learned that Cyprus is an island for lovers. Aphrodite--the goddess of love--is the "patron goddess" of this country. She was said to have been born from the sea--emerged from the foam (in mythology of course). So everything has a kind of lover's vibe to it. The waves don't just lap onto the shore--they tenderly kiss the shore--softly--like a lover.

Still, though I am alone, this is kind of nice.