My Time in Paphos Continues

 

Christmas morning started out bright and sunny, but it didn’t last long.  Before 11 am it began to get rainy and rumbly.  Bummer.  I really wanted to go outside for a walk by the sea. 

Fortunately, the weather did clear up enough later in the afternoon for me to take that walk.  The picture up top was taken on 12/25/24 as I wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to miss the opportunity to walk along the Mediterranean on Christmas. 

It is deathly quiet in Paphos.  Unless you’re walking along the main street, you would think the place is almost deserted.  I don’t know if that’s because it’s the off season or what, but it’s a little strange.

The sun also sets early on the island.  I’ll barely be finished with lunch and it’s already getting dark. 

I’ve expressed numerous times on the blog how it fascinates me to see so many living malls across Europe.  Cyprus is no exception.  The King’s Avenue Mall in about a mile away from the apartment and is amazingly vibrant.  I don’t think I even spotted a dead store anywhere in it and the grocery store on the bottom floor is always hopping.  Even when I visited just after Christmas, the place was crowded. 

Again, America, because everything is in walking distance, because there is a grocery store, and because this third place (a meeting place that isn’t school/work or home) is vital to the community, these malls manage to survive.  They continue to thrive even after the pandemic, even with the rise of Amazon and food/grocery delivery services.  When it’s easy to access a place, even for kids and teens, people will go to that place.  It’s not rocket science. 

As much as I like the apartment, there were some issues I could do without.  I’ve mentioned multiple times that I hate corner showers.  Not only is there one in the apartment, but the hot water is solar powered.  And we’ve had some rain, as I mentioned.  The shower was never cold, but it didn’t always get as hot as I would have liked.  I couldn’t even take a shower on my last night there because the water never heated up and I was too tired to fuss with it.

Then, there’s the bed.  It’s thin mattresses like this one that really make me long for my own familiar bed.  That thing and I were fighting every night as it ended up bothering my lower back, my left shoulder, and my right hip.

Oy.  I’m getting old.

After two weeks, it was time to move on.  I wasn’t ready to board another bus, so I found another place in Paphos, about 2 miles from the first place.  There is no Uber on the island, so I decided to haul all my crap to the diner for breakfast and hope to catch a cab on the main street afterwards.

Well, that plan was a bust.  I didn’t spot a single cab as I ate breakfast so I had to trudge up the road a bit to get to a taxi stand.  The man who picked me up kept calling me “My Lovely” in a British accent, making me think he was British.  Then he spoke Greek to the other guy in the car, so I was confused.  Was he a Brit who learned Greek or a Greek who learn English from a Brit?  Just part of the swirly culture on Cyprus.

While the new host sent me pictures to enter the building, it was still confusing.  And dark.  And wet.  Yes, the day was mercifully sunny, but there were still puddles everywhere from the rainy day before.  The asphalt around the building isn’t in great shape and the building could really use some more lighting, especially for newbies like me. 

I finally got to the floor … and it was still dark.  I couldn’t find the light switch …  because it was dark!  I turned on the flashlight on my phone, but couldn’t figure out which door I needed.  There was a woman sitting in the hall who helped me tremendously by hitting the light switch and guiding me to the right door.  Thank you, mysterious lady hanging out in the hall.

The new place is … fine.  I liked the old place more, but it was booked up.  The place uses its space well, is simply decorated, and, like a lot of places I’ve encountered on this journey, a lot nicer on the inside than you would guess from the outside.

But, alas, there were some issues.

The apartment is cold.  I don’t know if it’s because it’s an older building or what, but I know that the temp didn’t drop that dramatically from the day before.  It’s still around the low to mid 60’s on the days it’s not raining, but inside … yeesh.  I was in the place only a couple of hours before my hands started to freeze. 

It didn’t help that I couldn’t figure out the A/C.  There is a wall mounted unit in the living room and another in the bedroom, both run by remote control.  I’ve grown accustomed to that.  But when I tried the remote on either unit, I got nothing.  The remote would light up, but the units would not respond. 

I also couldn’t get the oven to work.  Cyprus is big on switches to turn off the fuses and individual outlets.  I was used to that as well.  I switched on the one for the cooker, getting power to yet another induction cooktop, but the oven would not work.  I spent the first night in the place freezing and starving with a plan to contact the host in the morning.

Remember that ‘deathly quiet’ I mentioned earlier?  Well, apparently that only applied to the old neighborhood.  The new place is much noisier.  That’s to be expected since the windows face the street as opposed to my last view of the deserted pools and the occasional cat striding by. The neighbors are way too loud as well, providing yet another reason for me to miss the last place. 

After a decent night’s sleep, I was determined to figure out the appliances and stave off contacting the host.  Morning is wiser than the evening, I always remind myself.  And Eureka!  I realized that, yes, even the power for the A/C units need to be switched on before you even get to the remote.  Once I found the one in the bedroom, I knew to search for the one in the living room.  And … heat!  Glorious heat!

I would really need a warm apartment because it was time again for my hair-washing ritual.  Already a time-consuming effort was made even more of a challenge thanks to Cyprus power again.  Like the last apartment, the water heater runs on solar power.  I was last in Cyprus in May, so sunshine was not a problem then.  But now it’s December.  And, as I’ve mentioned, we’ve had a lot of rain.  This will be fun.

There is a boost on the water heater on the chance that there is not enough hot water.  Didn’t help much.  I have a lot of hair, it takes a lot of water to wash, and when the water barely gets lukewarm, I’m not happy.  I did manage to get my hair clean, but did not look forward to battle with the hot water again.

As I was stuck inside with wet hair, I was again determined to figure out the oven.  I had already bought groceries with plans to use it and that frozen pizza I’d bought for lunch was not going to fit in the microwave (not that I’d try).  After scouring the entire kitchen, making sure every power switch was turned on, I focused on the oven itself.  I starting pressing some buttons and Voila!  Yet another cooking device made way more complicated than it needed to be.

I ate my pizza nice and hot from the oven.

The Scenic Route to Paphos, Cyprus

 

                                                               Outside of Athens Airport

Ah.  The joys of a middle seat when you have 3-foot-long legs and are already tired of sitting on planes.  Yes, that was the fun I experienced on the flight out of the U.S.  I’m usually kinda jazzed to once again be leaving the country, but this time I’m just tired.

That fatigue worked in my favor as I slept during most of the overnight flight.  Landed in Heathrow for a bit of a layover and then it was onto security.  My 20-minute ordeal with security trying to find a .66 mil container of lotion in my computer bag during my last trip through the airport was still fresh in my mind but, mercifully, there was no issue this time.  The flight back to Lisbon was just as uneventful.

I’d flown to the states this time on a round-trip fare from Portugal as it was cheaper.  It also put me in a decent position to fly to my next destination.  I spent another night in VIP Picoas and headed back to the airport the next day.

This is where my issue with taxis really comes into play.  I’d taken an Uber from Lisbon airport to this same hotel when I travelled in from Faro and it was about 11 euros.  That same trip by taxi, depending on the time of day, costs anywhere from 13-30 euros.  The last guy also complained that I didn’t tip him (he’d also complained earlier about having back issues and not being able to help with my bags – seriously?  And you still want a tip?).  The convenience of having the cab waiting in front of the airport is usually not even worth the extra expense.  You’d think I’d learn that lesson by now, but I’m still stubborn like that. 

Just as an aside; I’m still using esims for my phone since Google Fi cut me off from international travel (still works perfectly fine in the states).  For some reason, the last couple of sims I used in Portugal would just randomly stop working.  This is part of the reason I was so quick to hop a cab as my connection to Uber was often spotty.

Another plane, another country.  It’s a four-hour flight from Lisbon to Greece.  I’d taken this same flight way back in the beginning of my journey and I was even less eager to leave Portugal now than I was then.  At least this time I wasn’t staying in Greece.  The Athens airport was just a means of getting back to Cyprus.

Except … why do the departure signs in the airport show that there is another airport on the island?  I’m flying into Larnaca, the airport I’m familiar with, and yet my accommodation in located in Paphos.  Are you telling me that Paphos airport is a short bus ride from my Airbnb while the airport I’m actually flying into is two hours away?

Really?

Oy.

I made this same mistake when flying into Montenegro.  I flew into Podgorica when I should have flown into Tivat and had to pay for that exorbitant taxi ride between the two cities.  How was I to know at the time?  When I searched for flights to the country, I just assumed the first airport that came up was the main (if only) airport in the area.  Sigh.  Another live and learn moment.

I’d already be arriving in Larnaca after 11 pm.  I could not face the idea of a 2-hour taxi ride from there to Paphos (which would cost about 130 euros!) followed by an exhausted fumbling for keys to get into the new place, in the dark, while lugging all my crap.  Couldn’t do it.

I booked a one-night stay in a hotel in Larnaca and figured I’d sort out getting to my apartment when I was fresh the next morning.  After arriving even later on Cyprus than planned (the flight was delayed), waiting far too long for my bags, and having to hail a cab to the hotel (that still cost 20 euros – it’s 2 miles away, my dude!), I still had to fumble for keys in the dark.  The reception desk had been abandoned by the time I got there, so the owners sent me pictures and instructions to get in.

It was a clean enough place.  There was a bed.  I slept.

The next morning, I scouted for some breakfast before trying to figure out the bus routes on the island.  Oh.  Yeah.  The sun on the Mediterranean.  Can’t beat it.  It’s why I chose to spend the next three months of exile from Portugal on the island.  I don’t have the bandwidth for anywhere new and, as I learned last year, my dear Istanbul is way too cold and rainy this time of year.  Cyprus remains sunny and warm at around 65 degrees F.

Still miss Portimão, though.

While sitting at breakfast in a seaside cafe, basking in the sun, I had a moment to think.  The last few days had been rough with all the travel and I still had another day of land travel before settling in my new home.   I was tired, anxious about my employment situation and my dwindling bank account, and uncertain about how the rest of the day would go.  But I was in Cyprus, a place I liked, and it was beautiful.

And this is my life at the end of 2024. I had breakfast while watching the sunrise in Lisbon and the next day, I watched the sun set in Paphos.  I may be ready to return to being a cat lady/hermit with a boring desk job in Portugal, but I can still appreciate the amazing moments I’ve had on this journey.

Meal done, I went back to the hotel to check out.  The nice lady at the desk showed me how to catch the city bus into the center of Larnaca.  A short walk from there took me to the boardwalk along Finikoudes Beach, a place that was already familiar to me.  From there I caught the bus from Larnaca to Limassol.  Once there, I caught another bus to Paphos.

So, just to see some numbers, 20 euros for the cab ride from the airport, 53 euros for the hotel room, 2.40 for the city bus, 4 euros a piece for each of the intercity buses, and 13 euros for yet another cab from the bus station to the apartment.  Altogether, that totals 96.40.  Would taking a cab for the entire journey be easier?  Yes.  But since I am really tired of paying for overpriced cabs, I think saving 30-40 euros made all the transfers and waiting more than worth it.

The apartment turned out to be worth the trouble as well.  It’s a spacious place with a huge bedroom and a direct view of the pool.

The ocean is about a mile away while the city center is a mile in the other direction.  I’ll be here for two weeks, the longest I could stay as the place is booked up.  After that I might make my way to Limassol on the way back to Larnaca.  I don't know yet.  After the last week, I’m really not in the mood to make any more arrangements for a while.

My first morning in Paphos, I went to a local pub for breakfast.  And yes, I want food and not a beer at 10:30 in the morning like the people at the table near me (no shade on them, I just can’t get with the ‘every hour is beer hour’ attitude of the Brits/Irish).  As I’ve mentioned before, Cyprus is crazy with Brits as this place can attest.  It’s a British pub playing British music and featuring screens showing football (American soccer).  There were ads on the radio for relocation services for Brits looking to move to Cyprus.    

As I ate my big English breakfast, the genial Irish guy who ran the place asked where I was from.  When I told him the U.S., Georgia, he immediately responded with “that’s too bad”.  It made me laugh, but when he added that it was like adding a lift to a toilet, I only laughed harder.  Unasked, he then proceeded to give me all these tips for getting around the island, including a warning about the crazy prices of the cab drivers.  Good food, good atmosphere, and good tips.  Can’t ask for more as a tourist in a new city.

Oh yeah.  And cats.  Don’t forget the cats.

Too Many Planes, Too Many Airports

 

Yeah.  I knew that time was coming again.

You would think that I wouldn’t want to go through the separation anxiety of leaving Portugal ever again, so I just wouldn’t keep coming back.   But I’m not that bright.  Can’t stay away from the country, have yet to secure a bag to remain, so … gotta leave again.

This sucks.  Hard.

I was very happy in my pink palace in Portimão.  I didn’t do anything terribly exciting, hence not posting to this blog in a month.  I worked on my online store, tried to get some of my other writing done, and basically chilled.  Total all, I had two glorious months of not having to get on a plane, two months of regular walks along a gorgeous beach, two months of not having to plan my next moves.  It was lovely.

And did I mention that the hosts sent their cleaning lady, a nice woman from Brazil, to clean the place twice during my stay?  Can I tell you how much I loved that?  I’ve never hired a maid in my life, but I might have to consider it the occasional special treat once I find my new place.

That last week or so was a bit on the taxing side, emotionally.  Not only was it the stress of leaving my most recent comfy home, but I came to the harsh realization that two years out of work has done a serious number on my bank account.  There is still no hope on the job front.  Just news of more layoffs and the confirmation that ageism is alive and well in this horrible job market.  My online shop has been open for a couple of months with zero sales.  I’ve gotten plenty of phishing emails and people looking to scrape more money out of my pocket in consultancy fees, but that’s about it.  It’s all been very demoralizing.

Adding to that stress, I was faced with yet another trip across the pond.  More fun.  I figured one last trip to the U.S. before January and the return of the orange regime. 

It’s just gonna get worse, people.

Anyway, there was nothing I could do about leaving Portugal as my Schengen days were coming to an end.  Sadly, I packed up and prepared to leave. Remembering that horribly expensive taxi ride into the city, I took a far cheaper Uber back to Faro Airport (more about the stupid expense of taxis in a later post). After one of the longest ½ hour flights I have ever had (why are children … children?), I was back to the VIP Executive Picoas in Lisbon.  I do love that hotel.  So comfy.  I booked my stay for two nights (including breakfast, which I still recommend) before the flight back to the states.

My short stay in Lisbon was enjoyable as always.  The city was all lit up for Christmas and full of tourists, even if the weather was a good 15 degrees cooler than in Portimão (I miss it so much!).  There was a Christmas Market in the park with carnival rides and an ice rink (seriously?  How?  It wasn’t that cold.).

I visited my favorite Hard Rock Café and was stunned to find that one of the waiters recognized me.  What?  The last time I went to that restaurant was six months earlier – the reason I remember that is because it was Easter Sunday and stupidly packed.  Weird, though, that I didn’t remember the dude.  I’m sure I’ll remember him if he’s still working there the next time I visit (he was definitely a cutie).

Way too soon, it was back to Lisbon Airport.  The flight to the U.S. was marked by having to switch my aisle seat in the very back of the plane to a seat near the flight attendant’s sitting area.  Not sure why the switch, but at least I had leg room for days.  A quick layover in Philly and then it was back to the ATL.

I hate that airport.  I didn’t used to before starting this journey.  Now it makes me itch every time I see it.  Still, the transition from plane to baggage claim to tram to car rental went smoothly enough.  Then it was off to an Airbnb I visited in January.

Still as cozy as ever, I did the standard things there during my short stay.  Mail pickup (including retrieving samples of the very t-shirts I had designed – very pleased with them, I must say), reupping on supplies, and dying my hair again.

I met the host on the way out of the place and we had a nice chat.  I filled him in on some of the places I’d visited since last seeing him and encouraged him to make his own way to Europe.  He said I was killing him with all these travel stories.  I told him I was killing myself as I’d hoped to be housed in Portugal months ago.  I confirmed his opinion that the Portuguese are a laid-back people living lives that aren't consumed by all the daily crap that Americans deal with.  That's just one of the reasons I'm still trying to get back there.  But for now …

Back to the airport.  Yeah.  I can’t keep doing this whole transatlantic hopping thing anymore.  The money, the butt-numbing time on uncomfortable planes, the stress – can’t keep doing it.  I was on the plane to the states when I realized that I need to do this as little as possible in the coming year.  I just can’t handle it anymore.  Screw dying my hair, screw getting the mail, and, as I had no income in 2024, screw having to fly back to do my taxes.  I need to remain in Europe for as long as I possibly can.