by Giuseppe Raudino
I’m trying to ignore the vibrations and keep my belt well fastened. The pilot is cruising at a speed I’ve never thought it was possible to reach with a 737. He should’ve slowed down consistently a while ago, in the initial approach phase, and I can’t believe we are about to land at a high speed on an airport that officially doesn’t exist.
When my paper about cyber bullying was accepted at this conference in Cyprus I was amazed. Naturally I applied because a conference about “Cultural Difference and Social Solidarity” is among my academic interests, although some malicious dudes may think that I wanted to go there because the sea is extremely beautiful in July and the rooms are spacious and air-conditioned.
I believe the title of that conference couldn’t have been more appropriate and topical. The island of Cyprus is divided into two parts, despite the international community does not approve this division. The north has been occupied by the Turkish army in the Seventies, and since then there is a government that totally depends on Ankara.
On my way to the campus I chat with the taxi driver, a pure Turkish-Cypriot who, after having spent many years in Europe, has decided to go back to his homeland for the love of his country. I heard it was better not to talk about the complicated political situation, unless you are invited to by a local. The guy, though, didn’t wait too long before he addressed politics. Cyprus is his country, and he feels as Cypriot as anybody else who lives in the south of the island. I dare to say that the Turkish North and the Greek South have a huge number of things in common, way more numerous than differences, and the day all Cypriots will focus only on the common things the island will be again one and united.
It’s undeniable that 70 per-cent of the population has a Greek background and the rest has a strong link with Turkey, but all of them used to be part of a mingled and vivid society, before the Greek Regime of the Colonels claimed the entire island and decided it was time have it back supporting a coup d’état that should have replaced the then president with another leader who was much more in favor of a reunification with Greece. Understandably Turkey sent over their soldiers to protect the population of Turkish origin, but before the conflict escalated the British government put the nose again (yes, they had ruled the island until 1960) and drew a line, the so-called Green Line: a buffer zone controlled by an international force to keep the Turkish and the Greeks separated. Whenever a cultural problem occurs, it seems to me that Westerners tend to solve it by making barriers and walls rather than attempting the road of dialogue and mediation.
Later on, the south of the island gained its independence but Turkey never gave up the northern territories despite the international community condemned the occupation. That’s why no international flights are scheduled to Northern Cyprus (complete name: Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus) and Ercan Airport is not listed in any official document that regulates the international air traffic. All the flights to Ercan originate from Turkey and, according to the international law, they technically invade the air space of a sovereign country (the Republic of Cyprus, member of the European Union) and land there illegally.
Even the postal service represents an exception: all the letters sent to North Cyprus must be addressed to Turkey, because this unrecognized country has never been given a postal code either.
The campus that hosted the conference belongs to a prestigious Turkish educational institution, the Middle East Technical University. It’s modern, neat, comfortable, international and… desert. Yeah, only a few students are still there in July, because the majority of them are already through with the exams and have flown back into their countries of origin.
Early in the morning I walk from the guesthouse to the conference center. At eight o’clock it is already warm and the valley which extends beneath the campus towards the south seemed a strip of desert painted in watercolors that gently merged with the Troodos mountains. To the west, the deep blue of the Mediterranean Sea pops up from a remarkable distance. The sunbeams reflected by its surface must have looked exactly the same way 10.000 years earlier when human settlements were already spread throughout the island, making it one of the oldest signs of civilization.
An ancient atmosphere has indeed surrounded Cyprus for millennia. From the foam of its waters, according to the Greek mythology, was born Aphrodite, and the very same shores narrated by that myth had been touched by plenty of ships from different peoples and cultures, sometimes peacefully sometimes threateningly, always sailing from Europe to Asia and the other way around: Mycenaean, Assyrians, Phoenicians, Egyptians, Persians, Romans, Byzantines, Arabs, Venetians, Ottomans… The list can be longer and so could be the plot of the stories that wrapped this island with fascination and magic, from crusaders like the Knights Templars and Knights Hospitallers to slaves and prisoners, from superb castles and inaccessible monasteries to sovereigns like Alexander the Great and Richard the Lionheart.
Kyrenia
Kyrenia is probably the Cypriot town that better shows this extraordinary heritage at once. On the initial slope of the mountains located right on its back, an imposing Gothic structure known as Bellapais Abbey offers a 3 miles view over an unexpectedly luxuriant vegetation, white villas and turquoise sea. Bellapais is also famous because it’s linked to the British novelist Lawrence Durrell, who lived in that village for some years while he wrote an autobiographical work titled Bitter Lemons of Cyprus.
The pearl of Kyrenia, though, remains the castle. This great defensive construction has a Fifteenth Century looking although its inner architecture is the precious result of stratifications and diverse styles conceived in previous historical contexts. The ground level is a maze of tangled corridors that sometimes give access to dark underground areas, like the dungeons where several enemies of the kings of Cyprus (Lusignan dynasty) had been imprisoned and tortured, or to a Byzantine church that once used to be outside the defensive structure but that was subsequently incorporated within the new and wider perimeter walls built under the Venetian period.
The inner courtyard of Kyrenia castle is vast and adorned by blossoming plants and palm trees, which grow at the margin of a dusty field. Somewhere, in a privileged position, it is possible to spot two imposing loggias with lancet arch from which the king and the queen used to watch the games organized on this big open space. The first level of the castle hosts the living quarters, a shipwreck museum and some amazing rooms that offer an authentic medieval atmosphere. Finally, from the circular bastion on the upper level it is possible to admire the picturesque harbor, usually full of ships docked next to the terraces of many bars and restaurants. It’s a lively image of people and colors, hectic tourists walking back and forth or lazy patrons sprawled on wicker chairs sipping cocktails in the mid-afternoon.
The incomparable richness of Cyprus’ history and the fascination of this timeless island are reflected in the environment. Besides the warm temperatures and the pleasantly sunny days, which are typical of any country with a Mediterranean climate. The difference here is that it’s impossible to scuba dive in its transparent waters without thinking of the ancient amphorae and ship from the 4th century BC that sank just a few miles off the shore. As well, as a walk through the olive groves in the neighborhood of Kapouti is unavoidably evocative of the primeval time, when olive trees began to be cultivated. Some of them are still standing after a thousand years for everyone to see, touch the knotty bark or smell the juicy olives.
Once the conference was over, it was time for me to fly back home. The taxi drove along the motorway through the countryside. The dominant color was due to the yellowish vegetation; the light outside was blinding even despite the tinted glasses of the car. I passed the security check and boarded. The plane took off and climbed out of Ercan’s runway. I tried to spot from that height the campus, the castle and olive groves but something else caught my attention instead: a pair of giant flags drawn on the mountains. The drawings depicted the Turkish flag on the left and, next to it, a rectangle with reversed colors that has been adopted by the Northern Cyprus as their national symbol. A motto accompanied the flags: Ne mutlu Türküm diyene (“How happy is the one who says I am Turkish”).
With my eyes still full of beauty and the images of many treasures still vivid in my memory, a veil of melancholy crossed my mind. I hoped for these nice people that their land would become blessed by harmony again soon.
NORTHERN CYPRUS IN A NUTSHELL from Kyrenia
If You Go:
Middle East Technical University, North Cyprus
Ercan Airport, North Cyprus
About the author:
Giuseppe Raudino is a lecturer in Media Theory and Media Skills at the Hanze University of Applied Sciences “Hanzehogeschool Groningen” (the Netherlands). He also works as a freelance writer. You can find him on www.facebook.com/raudinomediatheory or on Twitter @GiuseppeRaudino
All photos by Guiseppe Raudino:
Panorama from Bellapais Abbey
Harbor from Kyrenia Castle
Harbor from Kyrenia Castle
The Campus Conference Center
Kyrenia Castle
Panorama of Kyrenia Castle courtyard
Northern Cyprus Flag drawn on mountains
The Tour will start near Leeds Town Hall, built between 1853-1858 to the design of the Paris-trained Hull-born architect Cuthbert Broderick. The 225-feet high building was the tallest in Leeds for nearly a century. It was opened by Queen Victoria, and copied across Britain and the British Empire.
The museum is housed in the old Mechanics’ Institute, which was also designed by Broderick. The City Museum dates from 1821, but moved and closed several times, before reopening in its current home in 2008. It has free entrance.
Returning to the city centre, the Corn Exchange is another Broderick-designed building. It is one of only three Victorian corn exchanges still being used for retail, with stylish shops and restaurants now trading under the oval glass roof.
Leeds races fundraising in honour of Jane Tomlinson usually pass down Briggate. Her athletic achievements and fundraising efforts while battling cancer between 2000 and 2006 raised the profile of Leeds endurance events, and along with several Leeds and Yorkshire medallists at London 2012, helped bring the Tour de France to Leeds. Leeds is also home to the Yorkshire cricket team, with the English and Welsh league formatted around counties. Yorkshire has won the most county championships in the league’s history. The last was in 2001.
There is now a Brownlee triathlon in support of Macmillan cancer support at Harewood House, and this is an example of how nature and sport go hand in hand together in Leeds and Yorkshire.
Our trip began with a short walk from the bus stop at Saint-Jean-du-Gard, treading the bridge over the historic Gardon River, to the the small square abutting the quaint train station. Our locomotive was already huffing and puffing in anticipation; its passengers choosing their carriages with puzzled analysis. Chatter proved easy between travellers and we struck up conversation with a gentleman from a small town in England who popped down to the south for a brief one week junket as he was wont to do on occasion.
Slowly we ground to a halt for the Bambouseriae (Bamboo Garden) where those wishing to do so disembarked for a tour of this unique jungle that pulls in 150,000 visitors per year. The 10 hectare walk can eat up an hour and half easily so a visit takes some planning and scheduling. Fortunately the return trip comes through two hours later. From our perch high above the park we could espy the tangled canopy and winding trails.
We were catching the bus back to Nimes from Anduze and so had leisurely time to explore this historical gateway to the Cevennes. For those taking the train back they had time for at least a quick stroll about town. Home to a population of 3000, down from its formative years, the Anduze area has evidence of habitation from prehistoric times and was a Gallo-Roman settlement. Here, in the 10th century, the Siegneurie of Anduze was established.
Anduze and its area was long a Protestant holdout during the terrible religious wars of France and suffered for it.
The rich history of Málaga goes as far back as the 8th century BCE when the Phoenicians founded the trade settlement here they named Malacca. The name is derived from the Punic, malac meaning ‘salt’, as Málaga was founded as a fish-salting settlement. The Phoenicians, Greeks, Romans, Visigoths, and Moors all left their mark here and throughout the centuries, Málaga continued to thrive as a chief settlement and established harbor. Today, the port of Málaga stands as the second largest in Spain after Barcelona.
The first time I landed at the Pablo Picasso International Airport, I was pleasantly surprised by the display of reproductions of the Málaga-born artist that adorned the walls of the corridor of Terminal T2 known as Pablo Ruiz Picasso. Art-lovers can visit the Museo Picasso Málaga located in the city center dedicated to exhibiting over 200 of his works. At the nearby Plaza de la Merced, stands the birthplace or Casa Natal where the famous artist was born in 1881. Just over a century later, it was declared an official heritage site and today, it stands as a foundation promoting his works.
Although, I am not a fan of the sport, I decided to visit at a time when no bullfights were scheduled. I ventured out into the vast bullring and I have to admit that it was quite impressive and strangely peaceful. After a few minutes, I noticed two young boys in the middle of the ring who were practicing or training to become bullfighters or matadors. The boys had cleverly attached what looked like set of horns to a type of cart that was wheeled by one boy as he constantly rammed his way towards the other who was gracefully dodging and darting his way, almost as if dancing, while maneuvering his cape. I smiled and thought to myself that I much rather preferred to have seen this than an actual bullfight!
The wine museum is housed in an 18th century building where guided tours teach you about the history and culture of the wines made in the province. The 5€ entrance fee covers the cost of two wine samples of the more than 100 different varieties available. Wine-tasting tours to the wineries on the outskirts of town can also be arranged. Amusingly, a particular chain of bodegas situated in the province of Málaga are named Quitapenas, or “sorrow-removers”.
A 10-minute walk from the wine museum will take you to the magnificent Roman and Moorish vestiges located in the eastern part of the city. The Moorish structures include the 11th century fortress or Alcazába and the 14th century Gibralfaro Castle; both built by the Moors over Roman ruins upon a hill overlooking the city and harbor. The Alcazába is considered as one of the best preserved Moorish fortresses in the country. The fortress once stood as the royal residence of Sultans and today stands as a true landmark of the city adorned with Caliphal arches, majestic courtyards, tiled patios, look-out towers, and jasmine-scented gardens. Ornamental fountains and pools decorate the tranquil grounds leaving one with a sense of peace from the soothing sounds of trickling water that can be heard throughout the grounds as is customary to Muslim tradition.
The Gibralfaro Castle is actually older than the Alcazába as it dates to the 10th century, however, it was during the 14th century when it was rebuilt and enlarged in order to protect the Alcazába that was otherwise vulnerable to attacks approaching from the hills. During the days of Muslim rule, the sea reached all the way to what once were the lower ramparts. Today, spectacular views of the city, bullring, and port can be appreciated from the Gibralfaro Castle.
I am amused and entertained by the wooing of passersby that ensues, the waltz of gestures and pivots, the come-hither looks. Economic casualty aside, I presume the pride of owning an un-Burberry outweighs the pesky oppression of jail. Yesterday, I watched as they installed themselves in front of the Prada store, selling fake Prada bags. Some laugh, some applaud, I cringe.
Rashid tells me he came from Marrakesh a couple of years ago. He is 25 and comes every day to the Palazzo Vecchio to surreptitiously sell cheap posters depicting iconic artworks hanging in Italian museums. With knitted brow and eyes cast to the clouds, he proceeds to say that on a good day he’ll sell 10 or 20 at five euros each. He leans in closer and whispers to me, proudly, his biggest seller is Botticelli’s ‘Primavera’.
I learn the real David, though housed in a quiet museum, has been attacked a few times, recently by a hammer-wielding fanatic. It was repaired by marble restorers, so is it disqualified from being truly real?
