Living In Nicosia Cyprus - An Expat's View
Published on 24 July 2007 at 05:50 pm
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Well, deary me – there we all were sitting down happily watching evil Stella bully poor little Ben on Eastenders when down came a spider to sit down beside me and off I ran screaming to the safety of the nearest chair on which I could perch and gesticulate frantically at himself who had no idea what was going on at all.
And meanwhile, Cheese, the big girl’s blouse that he is (masquerading as a big mean dog with a deep scary bark and fearsome teeth (well fearsome dog breath anyway)) jumps up from his bed on the floor and also legs it out of the way yelping in fright as the spider makes its merry way over to join him on his cushion…
Published on 22 July 2007 at 03:01 pm
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When you move about as much as we do there are certain constants that you need to keep in your life to stop you from going round the merry twist – for example, himself always needs a pot of Marmite in the cupboard and I always need access to some of the worst forms of English TV – we’re talking Eastenders preferably, Corrie if not and if we really have to scrape the barrel I’d even put up with repeats of The Two Ronnies…actually I wouldn’t, I’d get my mum to tape Enders and mail it to me, it’s been done before!
Now one of the other things that is essential and actually far easier to predict no matter where in the world you rock up next is that there will be an Irish pub in the vicinity…and this time I think we have just about hit the nail on the head, cracked it and, by jove, got it – a hole in one! It’s a straight line to the nearest Irish pub from my new house and the barmaid already knows my ‘usual.’
Published on 22 July 2007 at 02:59 pm
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Well it’s that time of year again when we move house. We’re basically gypsies I think because we can’t stay put in one country for more than three years or one house for more than twelve months! It’s not just me, he’s the same and as for the dog, well, wherever he lays his bone is his home so he’s alright!
We’ve sorted a property sale out on the one hand and found a new house on the other but to leave it at that would be to make a molehill out of a mountain because as I’m sure you’re aware, moving time means plenty of stress…for example how many times can you mop a floor of dog dribble in a week, smile at prospective buyers (read tyre kickers) and being seduced by your removal man?
Published on 22 July 2007 at 02:57 pm
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For my birthday (a while back now) we went to stay at the Hilton in Nicosia – we had a dog sitter for the weekend and we just turned the PCs and the phones off and went rumpetta rumpetta rumpetta off down the road to what from the outside looks like a nothing that special 1960’s hotel, but which on the inside is pretty damn fine indeed!
I’ve always had a thing for nice hotels – and there was I recently trying to convince someone I’m not high maintenance – anyway, I digress, the Nicosia Hilton is well nice, but instead of nipping off to the gym or to the spa, instead of jumping in the pool or indeed lazing by the pool or perhaps partaking of some other type of indulgence, we decided that actually we wanted an entire afternoon to just read lots and lots of English magazines and newspapers…who says I’m not normal?
Published on 22 July 2007 at 02:55 pm
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When is a Weimaraner not a Weimaraner – well, when it has a big ginger belly, manky yellow eyes, a bald pink chest, bingo lips, bingo chins, hovercraft hips and attitude, possibly? And that’s about as fair a description as I can give of my dog Cheese and I got him from a registered Weimaraner breeder in Cyprus and everything!
But he looks nothing like the Weims on my calendar and behaves nothing like the Weims I read about on the internet…so this is the story of Cheese, my Weimaraner who has gone mad in Nicosia…
Published on 17 April 2007 at 04:53 pm
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Heading away from Yayla off road and into the back of beyond where it’s totally deserted and on the way to the beach, we came across mile upon mile of huge pipes with a few men and a JCB industriously burying them – these pipes were easily wide enough for me to stand inside and jump up and down in (don’t ask me how I know) and they were coming out of the sea, across dry land and off somewhere into the distance in deepest darkest North Cyprus.
On the side of the pipes it said that they were made in China for the Turkish drinking water project for North Cyprus – could it be that this is the mythical water pipe from Turkey? Has it arrived without the Cyprus Today newspaper telling us about it – shock horror no, it cannot be, for the newspaper is the fountain of all new knowledge in North Cyprus, nothing gets past their roving reporters (I know cos Tom Roche reads my blog) – unless of course it’s a conspiracy or they’ve been sworn to secrecy or perhaps the pipeline is a mirage….so anyway, to stop the arguments we stopped and asked the man with the JCB what was going on.
Published on 17 April 2007 at 04:49 pm
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On Sunday a certain British friend of mine required our presence at lunch with her maybe-one-day-to-be Cypriot in-laws as she determined our combined Turkish language skills would be better pooled at such an occasion! So off we went to Yayla with her and her man.
The day was touched by the warmth and kindness of her man’s family, the heady scent of orange blossom, incoming grapefruit, an eight legged sheep, a three legged chicken, the patron saint of tax evaders and an incredible deserted beach – not to mention more puppies, wax babies and a secret grove of a thousand year old olive trees…that’s lots of trees which are 1 thousand year’s old, not one thousand trees which are 1 year old…
Published on 09 April 2007 at 02:43 pm
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This is an open letter to the irresponsible, cruel and incredibly ignorant people who watched me go out for a walk yesterday evening, who waited until I was out of sight and who them dumped a box full of wriggly little gorgeous puppies behind my house…one of which was dying, the rest of which were too young to be separated from their mother.
You were seen by the way - my neighbour watched you but wasn’t sure what you were up to – so, you think because I own a dog and am responsible for it that I’ll take on your unwanted dogs and look after them do you? How very clever of you to come up with that conclusion…but what you actually did was just give someone else the problem of getting rid of them - and now I have the guilt associated with giving them to KAR and KAR have the job of re-homing them or destroying them. Thank you so very much…it’s fair to say I hate you.
Published on 02 April 2007 at 07:39 pm
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‘Mañana, mañana’ has much the same meaning (not literal translation, I know) as ‘yavas, yavas’ or even ‘yarin, yarin’ which all of us expats living in North Cyprus are very familiar with. In fact, if you’re buying property here your builder will introduce you to the terminology and demonstrate the concept very early on!
Basically it means, ‘you’ll see me when you see me’ or ‘it’ll be done when I can be bothered’ and because the pace of life here is laid back and far less frenetic than most of us are used to coming from the UK, Germany or the US for example, we learn to accept it and love it - but when is ‘late’ too late? Let’s examine time keeping culture in North Cyprus.
Published on 22 March 2007 at 06:51 pm
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I know I should count myself lucky, and most of the time I really do – after all I live in a house that’s complete, pretty much perfect and which has stunning sea views and (thanks to Tolga the amazing gardener) which now has a beautiful garden full of plants (about which I know not a lot except that they have flowers and fruit on them sometimes)…oh and we have the best gravel ever – it’s all pink marble chips and shiny.
But there’s one thing that’s bothering me – driving me to distraction actually. And I think it’s a case of me having to have something to stress about rather than it being a big bad thing….but then maybe I haven’t lost all sense of perspective and it really is an issue? You see I have drainpipes without the pipes and this makes for a real mess when it rains and the water is driven down the wall of the house hitting the window on the way and drowning my geraniums as a result.
