Winter Calls in Cyprus

 

Time’s up. 

Still haven’t figured out my finances and must flee Portugal again.  My bone-deep weariness deepens.

My current malaise only uncreased when I found out that Portugal has changed its immigration policies.  Under the new system, it now takes 10 years instead of 5 to attain residency.  All the people in the current process of citizenship are in limbo with the new system. 

The country was already known for its insanely slow bureaucratic process and now the new system is leaving everyone confused about how to proceed.  A YouTuber I follow (Dave in Portugal) who’s been in the country for 5-7 years said that if he were faced with trying to immigrate now, he’s not sure he would do it.  The new system has made the whole process too difficult.

Great.

The goal of moving to the country just seems to get further and further out of my reach.  With the ever-worsening news coming out of the U.S., I know there’s no way in hell I’d ever want to go back there to live.  I’d rather be nomadic forever (and I really don’t want to do that).

Weird things are also happening in my second choice of country, Türkiye.  It’s bad enough that the lira has devalued a lot in the last year, causing many immigrants to move out, but there was an incident recently that was really alarming.  A German family of tourists, two kids and their parents, all died due to some kind of chemical being sprayed in their hotel. Earlier this year there were also reports of tourists being drugged or dying from food or alcohol in the city.  With everything getting more expensive there, it’s thought that merchants are skimping on ingredients and putting people at risk.

Yikes.  I hate hearing all that about the country.  I can only hope things get better for the Turks. 

As for my number 3 immigration candidate, Cyprus, I decided to spend the winter there.  Just like last winter.  Boy, am I ready to be housed.

But I remain grateful.  I’m not completely broke (yet), I still have the freedom to move about as I chose, and, most importantly, I’m not in the states.  Things are much worse for a lot of folks there and they are always on my mind.

Anyway, enough with the gloom and doom.  I took the usual route of taking an Uber to Faro Airport.  From there it was a quick flight to Lisbon for a 4-hour layover until my next flight. That was the easy part. 

The part that concerned me was the flight from Lisbon on an unfamiliar carrier.  I still vividly remember getting robbed by Ryanair coming into Portugal and didn’t want the same thing to happen with Sky Express.

The guy checking me in asked me to also check the weight of my smaller bag.  He then gently warned me that the clearance was usually 8 kg and my bag was overweight at 14 kg (this was because I was trying to lessen the weight of the big bag which still ended up being heavy).  I started reaching for my purse when he shook his head and said he’d let it pass this time.

What?  You mean I’m not about to be robbed?  Seriously?  I thought for sure I’d end up shelling out another 50 euros just to be able to secure my seat.  I discovered later that the plane was barely half full so it was easier for him to overlook the weight limit.  I also think that it helped that my name is Daphne.

It’s one of the things I do enjoy about traveling to Greece or Cyprus.  If ever I tell anyone my name, they are sure to remember.  Oh.  Tall, black, American woman – that’s Daphne.

Cool.

I didn’t even get pinched by any of the security in Greece or Portugal.  Truly the Travel Gods have smiled on me and I am grateful.

The flight from Lisbon was an overnight to Athens Airport.  A short layover there and I was back in Larnaca.  I managed to book my favorite place on the island (and one of the best of my entire journey) for a little under three weeks.  The place wouldn’t be ready for another day so I booked a night at a nearby hotel.

I took the city bus to Finikoudes Beach (a note again to anyone visiting the island: avoid the cabs.  The bus is cheaper and worth the wait.) then dragged my crap up the familiar road to the apartment …

Only to find that the whole area leading up to the apartment is to’ up from the flo’ up.  And I mean that literally.  The sidewalks and the street are completely gone, replaced with rocky dirt and construction vehicles.

Boy was it fun to transfer from the rough Cyprian sidewalks to no sidewalk at all! I wasn’t even sure I could get into the hotel because the workers were right in front of the door.  I managed to maneuver myself across rickety boards to the entrance only to find the door locked.  Sigh.

I called the number on the door, but found the line was disconnected.  Seriously!?  I wouldn’t have been able to get in if one of the construction workers didn’t come out a few minutes later.  I entered the empty reception area and quickly realized that there was no elevator in the ancient building, just a really long set of stairs.  Some more fun!

After ringing the bell and getting no response after 5 minutes, I went upstairs to find someone.  The lady running the place followed me downstairs and checked me in.  While she was doing that, the Asian cleaning lady came in.  She remarked on the construction and told me that they’d been working on the street for the last 6 months.  It was only now that the tiles were being placed for the new road and it would be another few months before everything was finished.   

The hotel was decent enough with each room named for the 9 muses of Greek mythology.  There was a rooftop bar (closed for the season) and a breakfast area just outside of my room.  I had a good night’s sleep (pretty much a guarantee after the rough night of sleeping on the plane) and woke to a hodgepodge breakfast of sliced meats, olives, toast, crepes, coffee and juice. 

It's unusually warm in Cyprus this year, with the temps hitting the low 80’s F.  I enjoyed the sunshine, ate my olives, and reveled at being back on the Mediterranean.