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.

My Last Days on the Mediterranean

 

My week in Paralimni was up and I decided to return to Larnaca.  While there was more to explore to the north (and the famous Mount Olympus in the central part of the island), getting around the island wasn’t always easy or cheap.  The bus system was still a bit tricky and the taxi ride getting between the two cities was already expensive enough. 

The son of the host of my next place met me on the street.  Leading me through the gate into a small courtyard crawling with a few wandering cats, he took me up to my new home for the week.  While the place matched the pictures, I was still lukewarm on the apartment.  The bed was comfortable enough and the place was a decent size, but there was a homeyness that was missing.

The floating oven was weird.  The window over the kitchen sink overlooks a cluttered alley.  I hated that the flooring was the same as that of the hallway.  Like most places in Europe, the power outlets were few and far between.  I had to wedge myself into the chair next to the hot refrigerator just to keep my computer plugged in.  

The bathtub was insanely tall – I have long legs and even I had trouble stepping into it.  It looked like it should have had jets and been a whirlpool tub, but no.  It was just a hazard getting in and out of that thing without breaking my neck.

But at least I was back in Larnaca.  I still like the area and, had I visited this island before Madeira, it might have been a candidate for a new home.  Pharmacies and grocery stores are easy to reach.  There's even a black hair care store nearby.  The airport is only 15 minutes away while the water is gorgeous as only the Mediterranean can be.  The vibes are that good.

Summertime is a bit of a challenge, though.  Temperatures hovered close to 100 degrees F for a couple of days with high UV rays.  You would think that would be a perfect time to hit the water, but that sun was a little too intense.  I would sequester myself inside into after 2 p.m. just to be on the safe side.

I was at dinner one night at one of the restaurants on the strip, a new one for me.  Their huge menu included Cyprus dishes as well as Italian, American, Chinese, and Indian.  I ordered some butter chicken (not as good as what I had in London) and ate while watching the endless line of cars cruising the strip.  I didn't usually go out at night, choosing to make dinners in the apartment, so I wasn't sure if that was a nightly occurrence or just the thing do for a fun Saturday night on the island.

A while after clearing my table, the waitress set down a plate with a slice of watermelon.  Okay.  That’s … odd.  It reminded me of the free pineapple they’d give you at the McDonald’s in Hawaii.  I don’t even like watermelon – or any melon for that matter – but I scarfed it down anyway.  Something about sitting in that restaurant eating a free slice of melon with the Mediterranean breeze wafting over me through the open roof was enough to make a core memory.  Unique in every aspect.

While I was enjoying the calm waters of the Mediterranean, I slowly started to feel like it was that time again.  Time to return to the land of cars and bad food.  Time to pick up my mail and plan my next destination.  

For so long, my dream was to be a nomadic traveler.  Now that I’ve done it and experienced the awesomeness, my new dream is to sign the lease for my apartment in Funchal.  I dream of going HAM on an Ikea for new furnishings, of welcoming my stuff to our new home once I liberate it from the storage unit.  I can’t wait to see the faces of my new feline companions (and try to remember all my training techniques from twenty years ago so the terror twins don’t destroy my new place).

I’m ready to be done with this.

I spent my last few days in Cyprus back in Demetris’ place.  I would have booked for a full week, but the place was only available for 4 nights.  Now this was the homey feeling I was missing from the other two places.  It was easily the best apartment I stayed in on the island and I would definitely return.

Cypriot Adventures Continue

 

Along with the Turkish and Greek influences I mentioned in the last post, Cyprus also has another big contributor to its culture:  the Brits.  Cypriots drive on the other side of the car on the other side of the road.  There are multiple pubs owned by Brits, English breakfast is served everywhere, and the outlets are in the U.K. style.  When I first arrived and did my standard outlet search, I stared at the plug a little too long trying to figure out the issue.  I’d been so accustomed to using the European adapters that I was surprised to have to whip out the ones I bought in Dublin.

Unsurprisingly, there are Brits everywhere.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:  the Brits get around and they are serious about it.  Their whole attitude is they grab a bag and a passport and they bounce.  They are pretty easy to spot too, even before I hear an accent.  The Brits have perfected the art of sitting in a pub/café with a beer on the table just staring at nothing.

There is a strange phenomenon that I have to mention exists on the island.  It seems to be a rip in the space/time continuum.  Time just slips by in Cyprus.  I’d wake up, have breakfast, go for a walk and lunch, come back for dinner then before I know it, it was time for bed.  It’s like every day was Sunday right before the beginning of another work week.

Before I knew it, my time at Demetris’ place was up.  I had arranged for another Airbnb further up the coast to allow me to see more of the island.  Uber doesn’t exist in Cyprus.  Instead, there are taxi stands sprinkled around the high tourist areas.  I hauled my stuff over to one and found someone to take me the roughly 40 miles to the city of Paralimni.

My new home for the week, while in a great location, came with a few issues.  The place is quite large for Europe with a decent sized bathroom (with a tub) and two sitting areas.  But I quickly discovered why the doors had been left open.  It wasn’t only to allow in the warm Mediterranean breeze – it was to let out some of the stench.  Even though it was empty on my first day, I quickly realized that the trashcan in the cabinet beneath the sink (and surprisingly not the bathroom) was stinking up the joint. Even after moving it to the balcony AND buying some air freshener, some mustiness remained (some of that coming from one of the sofas).

And that’s not all.  The cook top (yet another unfamiliar induction model) was cracked, which rendered it inoperable.  Like those things aren’t already a pain in the butt.  The internet would cut out at regular intervals.  When I used the microwave for more than 5 minutes, it would cause a power surge and shut off for several minutes.  The faucet leaked as well as the toilet when flushed. 

There was no shower gel (you spoiled me, Demetris!), the garbage trucks picked up at 2 a.m. (ask me how I know!), and there was no sensor on the light in the hallway.  The apartment may be very bright from all the windows, but you can't tell when you’re out in the hallway, fumbling to get the key in the lock while immersed in total darkness (yes, there is a light switch, but I insist that it should be motion detecting considering all the other issues in the apartment.)

Things somewhat improved when I got a visit from the host two days after my arrival.  I had messaged him about the issues on my first full day in the place.  He'd told me about the power surges but had no answer when I asked about the cooktop.  When my doorbell first rang, I ignored it thinking it was a mistake.  He messaged me after he left, alerting me to the bottle of wine he left by the door.  Dude should know to contact me first.  Why would I open the door of a rental when I’m still eating breakfast and was not expecting anyone?  He did make up for it by showing me that the stovetop does work.  I simply hadn’t flipped on the right power switch.  Those are a big thing in Cyprus as the cost of electricity is apparently very high.  I had to pay a separate bill for the power I used – something I haven’t had to do since Phuket last year.

But enough about the apartment.  First impressions of Paralimni – it made me miss Larnaca.  Don’t get me wrong, Paralimni is pretty, but it has a resort feel to it that was a bit jarring after Larnaca.  Where Larnaca was a bunch of waterfront shops along a boardwalk bordering the long stretch of Finikoudes Beach, Paralimni is a series of hotels, restaurants, and massage kiosks clustered around several small coves. 

Again, pretty, but I think I prefer the livelier capital city.

One of the main reasons I wanted to come to this place was its proximity to the island’s Hard Rock Café.  Yes, the quest is still on to buy more overpriced souvenirs.  My first attempt at getting a cab was fruitless (I still have no idea what the guy was saying, only that he turned me down). I tried to understand the extensive bus system on the island but was left very confused.  Too many buses with similar routes.  Finally, I messaged the host who was able to give me directions.

After a 20-minute bus ride for the low cost of 1.50 euros, I arrived in Ayia Napa.  This was another busy tourist hub focusing more on the shops and restaurants as the shoreline was a little too rocky for bathers.  I made a beeline for the café, bought my shirt and had some lunch.

Just a note:  if you ever see someone wearing a Hard Rock t-shirt from Cyprus, know that it’s a knockoff.  The shirts sold by the store say Ayia Napa not Cyprus.  Call me a purist, but I prefer to have the real thing, even if I have to travel out of my way for it.

Sigh.  Parasite alert:  Cyprus edition.

While in Ayia Napa, I was sitting on a bench, looking at the water and just enjoying the breeze when a man walking by on the trail said hello.  He introduced himself as Andreas and we started to chat.  Then he asked me if I wanted to walk with him while he hunted.  I had no idea what he meant as his accent was pretty thick.  Then he started to gesture towards the beach.  Still didn’t get it.  He said he wanted me to come with him so as to seem less suspicious.

It slowly started to dawn on me that ONCE AGAIN I had been minding my own business and became the target of a parasite.  He basically ruined my peace with the intent to use me to ruin the peace of younger hotter women.  I wished him luck and quickly left the area.  I still can’t believe his audacity.

Men really are gross.  I don’t know why I keep forgetting that.

I’m seriously thinking about getting a dummy wedding ring.  I suck at lying, so maybe seeing a ring will keep the vampires at bay.

A New Land to Explore

 

Sigh.

I mean really.  Sigh.

It’s time again.  Time to leave the country I love as I have yet to secure a paycheck to allow me to stay.  This just gets worse every time I do it.  My outlook is starting to dim.

Searching for a job continues to be a nightmare and I’m not the only one to notice.  YouTube is rife with videos of new graduates who can’t find jobs, multiple layoffs in the U.S. flooding the market with job-seekers, the presence of ghost jobs, and A.I. rejections of resumes in the dozens.  Videos on how the job search engines are broken, careers are dead, and employees refuse to hire even when they have the perfect candidates for positions that remain open.

I naively thought that the wave of layoffs that swept me out of a job in 2022 would eventually ebb.  I’d go on my sabbatical, take myself out of the job market for a year, and then everything would be better, right?  Right!?!

Then there’s the other side of this.  The clear and simple fact that I don’t want another soul-sucking corporate job.  I never wanted a boss to begin with and I certainly don’t want to fight to find one now.  I like having my time all to myself.  But, again, I have to have physical proof of employment for the Portuguese government to grant my visa, so the drudgery continues.

I’m trying to learn the programming language ‘R’ as part of my data analyst certificate and now brain leak out ears … hElp Me!!!

I’m sure there is a better way of getting this life thing done, but I’ll be damned if I can figure out what it is.  In the meantime … gotta flee the country again.  But where to?

Türkiye has become my automatic default, but I wanted to try something different.  After a little research, I realized I had an option that I thought was closed off to me. 

Cyprus is a weird little duck.  It’s an island that’s part Turkish and part Greek (mostly Greek) yet it belongs to neither country.  It’s not part of Schengen either though it has applied for entry.  I thought for sure the island would be accepted this year as had Romania and Bulgaria (Ireland is still waiting to get in), but that hasn’t happened yet for whatever reason.  So, it remains its own little free-standing country.  That means no visa requirements for U.S. citizens and a stamp in the passport allowing me to stay for 90 days as a tourist.  Sounds like a plan.

I had a 12:30 a.m. flight out of Lisbon that didn’t leave the airport until after 1 a.m.  They had a meal service about an hour later that I just slept through (seriously, I know a 4-hour flight usually includes a meal, but come on!  It’s 2 in the morning!  I just want to sleep!).

Because that flight was so late taking off, I had to race through Athens (ugh) Airport to make my next flight.  That included going through passport control as I was leaving the Schengen area.  After a long, sweaty sprint, I just managed to make my flight.

The plane landed early on a Sunday morning.  Already tired and a bit loopy from the flight, I can’t tell you how jarring it was to hear American music wafting through the airport.  Getting off the plane to hear The Village People blaring Y.M.C.A. from the duty-free shop was just …

My host, Demetris, offered to pick me up.  This is a rare offer from Airbnb hosts so it already made the new place stand out.  But as he drove me past the salt lake (the flamingos are there in the winter) through the streets of Larnaca, I started to have Athens flashbacks.  Not just because of the city, but it dawned on me that I hadn’t stayed in an Airbnb in Greece since that one night in that smelly dump.  I started thinking “oh crap.  This place is gonna be just like Athens.  And I don’t care how nice this guy is, I’m gonna have to bail.” 

The entrance to the place didn’t help with that perception.  Now, I’ve been on the road for over a year and I’ve learned that you can’t judge a book by the cover.  Shabby-looking or non-descript buildings usually have almost no bearing on the condition of the apartments. 

I was so relieved that this was one of those occasions.

To my utter shock, this is one of the most well-equipped apartments I have ever been in.  There are cough drops and Q-tips, water and juice in the fridge and fruit on the counter.  There’s a little lever on the kitchen faucet that filters drinkable water through a separate opening.  I’ve gotten used to buying a big jug of water whenever I hit a new place.  With the amount of water that I drink, better safe than sorry regarding the potability for Americans.  I can’t tell you how nice it is to just be able to drink from the tap again.

There’s still more!  This is the rare place that has a tissue box and paper towels.  There is enough shower gel and soap to have you smelling like anyone you like.  Demetris even provided me with toothpaste and a new toothbrush!  How did he know I needed one? 

I know it sounds like such an insignificant thing, but it’s providing little stuff like this that makes a host truly stand out.

Of course, everything couldn’t be perfect.  That first night (Sunday) there was a huge party or club or something nearby blaring music from 5 p.m. to well after midnight.  I still managed to sleep only because I was exhausted.  Toilet paper can’t be flushed (it’s Greece so I expected that).  The apartment comes equipped with yet another induction cooktop that I had to learn (seriously, I HATE those things!).  

And then when I tried to stay another week, I found the apartment was already booked so … there’s that.

As for the city of Larnaca – it’s got some good energy.  Yeah, it’s crawling with tourists and way too commercial.  There’s a TGI Friday’s right on the strip.  I don’t even think there are many of those left in the U.S., so it was very jarring seeing it on the other side of the world.  Of course, McDonalds, Burger King and Starbucks also have a hold on the island.

But despite all that, the place is lovely. It’s about 80 degrees F, sunny and dry on the island every day.  The apartment is just blocks away from the beach and a very stacked boardwalk with restaurants, pubs, and souvenir shops.

And then there’s the breeze.  I didn’t realize until now just how much I missed being near the Mediterranean. The cool air coming off that water is just so relaxing.  The whole vibe of the place says “chill out”.  I dig it.

It surprised me the number of people who speak fluent English.  The island is a big tourist spot because of course it is, it’s gorgeous.  But I’m still the foreigner on their soil.  Then I got to thinking.  Unless you were raised in Greece or are of Greek descent (or possibly a scholar), there is no way you just casually learn to speak Greek. Or read it.  You can find Americans who speak fluent Spanish, French, German – but not Greek.  The language may have been around forever, but few would even attempt to learn it.  I saw a t-shirt in an Athens flea market last year that read “I speak Greek.  What’s your superpower?”  So, yeah.  They know. 

                                                                (This is an Entry sign, btw)

I didn’t help my own situation by transferring directly from Portugal to Cyprus.  I kept wanting to say “Ola!  Bom dia!” (hello, good day) when I approached new people because it’s one of the few Portuguese phrases I’ve gotten down pat (and it’s fun to say!).  But then I have to stop myself, realizing that I don’t know the Greek greeting.  I do know ‘kalimera’ (good morning), but other than that (and my name) my Greek is sorely lacking.

Cyprus is truly amazing.  I think I can squat here a while.  Hopefully, I can pick up a bit more of the language without making my head explode.