I ended my stay in Cyprus on the remote Karpaz (also known as Karpas, Karpass, Karpasia, Kırpaşa, and a few more) Peninsula, the island’s panhandle. Isolated by geography, the fifty-mile-long peninsula is within the occupied territory of northern Cyprus. Karpaz is home to wild donkeys, loggerhead turtles, and hidden churches.

A few weeks earlier, my daughter Allie and I ventured to Karpaz to climb to the top of Kantara Castle and explore the ruins of Salamis. (Please see a previous post, “The other side.”) I returned to dig a little deeper. Continue reading →

Perhaps no where is the rift between the Republic of Cyprus and Turkish-occupied northern Cyprus more obvious than in Lefkosia, the only divided capital in the world. (Turkish-Cypriots call the city Lefkoşa. Many call it Nicosia, thanks to the French-speaking Crusaders.) Its population is 340,000.

In 1963 the city was split in half, after continuing violence between the two communities. The boundary is called the Green Line, due to the color of the crayon used on a military map by a British officer. Greek-Cypriots to the south; Turkish-Cypriots to the north. Barricades went up, blocking north-south through-streets. Barbed wire was strung.

Watchtowers were erected. The Turkish invasion of the island in 1974 cemented the division. An area called the buffer zone was cleared and is patrolled by the UN. Lefkosia is Cold War Berlin.

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But that is what islands are for; they are places where different destinies can meet and intersect in the full isolation of time.

lawrence durrell, bitter lemons of cyprus

Traveling alone has both advantages and disadvantages, the greatest disadvantage being separation from family and friends. Therefore, I was thrilled to spend a week with my daughter, Allie, during her spring break from graduate school. I had already planned my itinerary before learning she would join me, so it was happenstance that our time together was spent in northern Cyprus, the Turkish-occupied sector of the island.

A note about place names: While touring within the occupied territory (Please see a previous post, “That state up north.”), I couldn’t very well call it that. The territory has declared itself the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus, although only the invading country, Turkey, recognizes it as such. The international position is that the territory is illegally occupied. For the purposes of this blog, I will call it northern Cyprus, small n.

Following the invasion, the Turkish Cypriots changed the Greek place names in northern Cyprus to Turkish, so that every location has at least two identifiers. When referring to places in northern Cyprus, I will use the Turkish name, followed by the Greek name in first usage. This is not to validate the name changes, only to help me with the directional signage!

The city of Girne (also known as Keryneia and Kyrenia) in northern Cyprus was extremely crowded when I arrived—narrow one-way streets, lots of pedestrians, cars at a standstill. After an hour’s worth of gridlock, I parked and searched for the hotel on foot. Once I found it, I knew Allie would love the view over the historic harbor and the castle on the far side. Founded by Achaeans after the Trojan War, Girne (GEAR nah) today is a popular tourist destination.

After dinner, I took the Kibhas shuttle bus to the Ercan (AIR zhahn) airport and arrived just before Allie. It was wonderful to see her. We caught the bus back to Girne and relaxed at the hotel, Allie adjusting to the seven-hour difference in time zones.

Day One: Loudspeakers from the Agha Cafer Pasha Mosque call the devout to prayer five times each day, starting at 4:30 a.m. (as we learned this morning). The breakfast at the hotel consists of boiled eggs, sausage, cheese, tomatoes, cucumbers, toast, and either coffee or tea. Afterward we walked around the Old Town to get our bearings. Bought gifts at the restored Lusignan-era Round Tower, once part of the city wall, including a talisman for my son, Nate, to ward off the evil eye.

Enjoyed fresh-squeezed orange juice at a sidewalk café. On side streets, we found ancient Greco-Roman rock tombs and the ruins of the Church of Khryssopolítissa, built in the fourteenth century.

Along the promenade is the newly developed resort and casino area. We passed a statue of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, the founder and first president of the Republic of Turkey. Statues of him are common in northern Cyprus.

We climbed the ramparts of Girne Castle for the view over the harbor. The Romans built its foundations in the first century. King Richard the Lionheart of England captured it on his way to the Third Crusade. A Genoese attack in 1373 almost destroyed it. The longest of its sieges, in the 1400s, lasted nearly four years and reduced the defenders to eating rats.

A hall off of the castle’s courtyard contains the Shipwreck Museum, exhibiting the remains of a Greek merchant ship from 300 BCE, one of the oldest vessels ever to be recovered. In 1965 a diver discovered the ship, still carrying its cargo, mostly amphorae of wine. It was sailing to Cyprus when a storm wrecked it outside the harbor.

We ate dinner at a restaurant on the harbor. Allie enjoyed vegetarian meze, a selection of small plates served at the beginning of every meal. Another favorite is halloumi, a salty cheese made from goat’s and sheep’s milk. I had sheftelia (lamb sausage).

Day Two: I bought a northern Cyprus SIM card for my phone and we set off for Saint Hilarion Castle, Allie navigating. Up a steep road and past a military post. The castle clings to the top of a mountain peak in the Beşparmak (also known as Pentadaktylos and Keryneia) range, overlooking Girne and the roads running inland over the saddles. Its yellow stone blends with the rocky mountainside, so as to be barely visible. There are three rambling connected compounds, the lowest for the soldiers, servants, and animals, the second for the church, and the highest for the royals. The climb to the top is steep and rocky and the views up and down the coast stunning.

Saint Hilarion was named after a hermit monk who lived there. In the 900s, a monastery and church were built. In the 1000s, the Byzantines fortified the site in order to defend the coast against Arab pirates. In the 1300s, Prince John, brother of the king of Cyprus, suspected his Bulgarian guards were plotting against him. One by one, he invited them to his rooms on the top of the mountain and threw them over the side to their deaths. We chose a different route down. The design of the castle in Disney’s Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs was inspired by precarious-looking, ramshackle Saint Hilarion.

Next we toured Bellapais Abbey (the Abbey of Peace), the ruin of a monastery built in the 1200s. Author Lawrence Durrell wrote Bitter Lemons Of Cyprus about his years in the small village of Bellapais in the 1950s.

As we strolled along Girne’s harbor in the evenings, maitre di’s relentlessly canvassed us to patronize their cafés.

Every night we enjoyed live music drifting from a restaurant below our balcony window—guitar, hammered dulcimer, shepherd’s flute, and bongo. Allie calls it gypsy jazz. We fall asleep to it every night.

Day Three: I received an enewsletter from my health plan, entitled “Try the Mediterranean Lifestyle for Better Health.” And further, “Eat Like the Greeks.” Woke up to rain—a museum day. We decided to drive to Lefkoşa (also known as Lefkosia and Nicosia), cross to the Greek-Cypriot side of the divided capital city, and visit the Cyprus Archaeological Museum.

Each day of traveling solo is, for me, like assembling a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle, involving challenges with driving, wayfinding, language, currency, the metric system, menus, bathroom fixtures, and more. Even with Allie navigating, it was a jigsaw of a day.

We drove through a downpour from Girne to Lefkoşa. Navigating through the Turkish Old Town was difficult—tight, twisting one-way streets. However, we finally found a parking lot and stepped into the courtyard of Büyük Han (Great Inn). Built by the Ottomans in 1572, it was the largest roadside inn on Cyprus. In the center of the open court is a mosque with a fountain. The British used it as a prison. Now, after restoration, it houses art galleries, workshops, and cafés.

At the Ledra Street pedestrian crossing from the Turkish to the Greek side, we learned we were not allowed to pass without bringing our rental car along. It was rented in the south and I’m guessing they don’t want them abandoned on the north side of the buffer zone. We were told we must drive our car through a different checkpoint, if we wanted to visit.

We retrieved our car but went to the wrong crossing, the one reserved for UN and military personnel, where we were redirected to the Kermia (also known as Agios Dometios and Metehan) crossing.

After circling and asking for directions, we found it, passed through and parked near the museum. Then I realized we didn’t have euros for the pay-and-display machine. Only Turkish liras. Found an ATM, went into a shop to convert euro bills to coins, and finally made it to the museum. See? A jigsaw.

Fortunately, the Cyprus Archaeological Museum was worth the trouble. The museum houses treasures from island digs, including pottery, jewelry, coins, and sculptures, dating from the 700s BCE through the Bronze and Iron ages and into the Greco-Roman periods. Some of the items on display had been excavated from the sites of ancient cities I had already visited—Kition and Kourion.

Back in Girne, we dashed through the rain to a nearby restaurant and huddled beneath the under the awning next to a propane heater. The staff were consumed with battening the hatches against the drizzle. The waiter brought platters of fresh fish to the table for me to examine before choosing. I ate three small seabass, grilled and served whole, and Allie and I shared a veggie meze.

Day Four: Sunny again. We headed east to visit the Karpaz (also known as Karpas, Karpass, Karpasia, and Kırpaşa) Peninsula, about two hours out of Girne. In Büyükkonuk we stopped to visit a traditional olive-oil mill. The village is surrounded by old orchards and the district is a large oil producer. Picking season starts at the end of September and continues until the end of December. In the museum, Allie and I each took a turn at pushing the large millstone around the stone basin as if we were crushing olives.

We drove a back road, single-lane, to Sazliköy, where we found a dirt road to a small Byzantine church, Panagia Kyra. Supposedly, the ruins of an ancient city surround the church but, as with most historical sites in northern Cyprus, it is unmarked and poorly maintained.

Backtracking toward Girne, we turned off at Kaplica, headed up the switchbacks, and enjoyed expansive views of the coast. We stopped for sandwiches before finishing the climb up the mountain to Kantara Castle. A UN van full of young men (off-duty soldiers?) joined us for the hike. The castle was built by the Byzantines in the 900s as a watchtower. At twenty-one hundred feet above sea level, the site was well positioned to monitor sea traffic on both sides of the peninsula.

On the way back to Girne, we stopped along the Old Coast Road near abandoned carob warehouses, so that Allie could dip her toes in the Mediterranean Sea. Carob used to be a major export of Cyprus. The carob tree produces edible pods that are ground to powder and used as a substitute for cocoa.

Day Five: We drove east again, this time to the ruins of the ancient city-state of Salamis on the coast. Salamis was supposedly founded by Teucer, son of Telamon, who dared not return home after the Trojan war because he had failed to avenge the death of his brother, Ajax. (Telamon, mentioned in the Illiad, was an Argonaut, one of Jason’s crew.)

The earliest archaeological finds are from the 1000s BCE. The copper mines in the area established Salamis as an important stop on early trade routes. Like Cyprus in general, the city-state changed hands many times over the centuries.

Before the Turkish invasion of Cyprus, the site was being actively excavated. Since the invasion, an international embargo has stopped the digs. Allie and I strolled the site, visiting the different excavations.

• The gymnasium, surrounded on all four sides by standing columns. Prior to the invasion, numerous headless statues, were displayed here.
• The public baths, adjoining the gymnasium, with remaining mosaics
• The theater, which seated up to fifteen thousand spectators
• The amphitheater
• The agora, lined with the bases of columns, but now overgrown and unnavigable
• Temple of Zeus, same
• Basilica of Saint Epiphanos Epiphanius, dating to 400 CE
• Basilica of Kampanopetra
• Roman villa
• Various walls, cisterns, and a colonnaded, paved street

After sandwiches and coffee, we explored the nearby Necropolis of Salamis. The tombs have been looted over the years but, in the small museum, we got an idea of the treasures buried with the deceased.

The so-called Royal Tombs or Tombs of the Kings, as large as houses, were more likely the final resting places of the wealthy. Some of the rich were buried along with their horses and chariots. The bones of the horses are still visible in the vaults.

Commoners were buried instead at the nearby Necropolis of Cellarka, where steps were hewn into the rock leading down to small hollowed vaults. One hundred and fourteen tombs have been excavated to date.

According to the New Testament, Paul the Apostle preached in the synagogues of Salamis.

The Cypriot-born Barnabas began working with Paul in 45 CE to spread Christianity. He was stoned to death at Salamis around 61 CE. His followers buried him secretly with a copy of the Book of Matthew. Centuries later, when the tomb was found and opened, the manuscript was still there. The Saint Barnabas Monastery and Church were built near the tomb in 477 CE.

Allie and I visited the church, renamed by the Turkish Cypriots the Saint Barnabas Icon Museum. Politics! The monastery now displays archaeological treasures from the Stone Age through the Byzantine Period. At the chapel built over the tomb of Saint Barnabas we climbed down into the vault and saw the tapestry-covered sarcophagus. It is unclear whether his remains are still there.

Day Six: Allie’s last day. We slept in and enjoyed a leisurely stroll around town, stopping for Turkish coffee. We bought some dried fruit, almonds, and bananas, and ate a picnic lunch along the promenade.

Over dinner, we celebrated Allie’s trip with another Mediterranean feast. At the end the restaurant manager served us complimentary glasses of brandy. Along the waterfront, we stopped to listen to one of the bands we’ve been hearing from our balcony all week. While they played and sang, young people danced, waving their arms and shaking their shoulders, the men dancing with the men and the women dancing with the women.

Earlier in the day, a stray dog befriended us and followed us around. Strays are everywhere in Turkish-controlled northern Cyprus, freely roaming the streets, sleeping on sidewalks and begging for treats. They are friendly and their ears are tagged, suggesting they have perhaps been neutered. We passed a homemade outdoor dog shelter near a café, with crates, cardboard boxes, blankets, and newspapers available for sleeping quarters.

South of the buffer zone, I didn’t see a single stray dog during my six-week stay. Instead, feral cats were everywhere. Countless colonies of them lazed in the sun and sniffed for scraps under the café tables. As I walked to my hotel in Lefkosia one night, I counted forty of them within three blocks. They appear well fed, but are scruffy, their fur matted, their faces scarred from fighting.

Feral cats in the south. Stray dogs in the north. A world apart.

The city of Pafos is also known as Paphos. And Baf. And Gazibaf. And Ktima. And Kasaba. Every place on Cyprus, it seems, has two or more names.

A crossing point I used between Cyprus and northern Cyprus is known as Zohdia, Astromeritis, Morpho, Morfu, Güzelyurt, Omorfo, and Morfou. Seven names for one place.

Some places (Ktima, for example) retain their ancient names. Some have locally known names that are still honored. In northern Cyprus, place names were changed from Greek to Turkish, following the 1974 invasion by Turkey, and are known by both.

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During football season, Buckeye fans in central Ohio sometimes refer to the state to the north as, well, “that state up north.” A much more serious version of this intentional slight is playing out on the island of Cyprus. On the plane to Larnaka, I sat next to a Cypriot woman who taught me a few Greek words. Hello, thank-you, and so on. She asked where on the island I was planning to visit. When I mentioned a couple of towns in the north, her face darkened. “You mean the occupied territory.”

Cyprus is a small island, roughly 150 miles from east to west and sixty miles from north to south. It is strategically situated at the far east of the Mediterranean Sea at the crossroads between Europe, Africa, and Asia. (Only sixty-five miles from Syria!) As a result of its central location, Cyprus was fought over and ruled by nearly every great empire—the Assyrians, Persians, Greeks, Phoenicians, Athenians, Egyptians, Romans, Byzantines, Knights of Templar, Franks, Venetians, Ottomans, and British—and I’m likely leaving a few out.

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