One Lonely Caravan on a North Cyprus Beach – Sunday Part 2

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.

‘All I know mate’ he said (in Turkish of course) ‘is that these ‘ere pipes go all the way under the sea and come out in North Cyprus’ – now, I think he was winding us up…how can it be that a project that was predicted to take many years and cost millions of pounds has been and gone and arrived without us even being informed it was on the way?  It’s not right!  It’s interesting…but it’s not right!  I never believe anything unless the Cyprus Today tell me about it first.

So, ignoring the evidence we drove away and before us was mile upon mile of empty plain with the stunning sea in the near distance all wavy and blue and beautiful…and apart from the pipes there was nothing to spoil the view but one lonely caravan!  It’s true…a single solitary caravan with a sofa outside it and the most spectacular view in the world really.  So we decided it would make the perfect new home for my mate from Kent and that it needed photographing. 

We pulled up alongside it despite my friend’s protestations that honestly she was happy living in a villa and we got out to take a snap and all of a sudden from nowhere a fat old bitch comes waddling round the corner with five fat scruffy pups in tow…now she was all teeth and growls but being one never hoodwinked by such tom foolery I was soon playing with the scruffy pups before someone mentioned the fact (from inside the safety of the car) that they were all mangy fur and fleas…

So I was left to walk to the beach as I was not allowed back in the car until I’d washed…

In much the same way as the great Welsh orator saint Max Boyce once said…I see the sea and I need to pee so the next thing we know it’s hands washed, view enjoyed and back in the car to the museum in Guzelyurt ostensibly to have a wee but also because we needed to check out the eight legged sheep (come on, you would too wouldn’t you?). 

Now, it’s fair to say that the museum in Guzelyurt is a rather surprising place – I’ll leave it at that because you really need to understand that seeing (an eight legged sheep and a three legged chicken) is believing…

Behind the museum is St. Mammas’ Church – he’s the patron saint of tax evaders according to the guide who showed us round and kindly lifted what looked like a the toilet seat stuck on the side of the church for me to look inside.  Beneath said toilet seat is an oozing hole which oozes oil onto wax babies to cure ear ache apparently…now I’m not really big on religion so I don’t understand this stuff but suffice to say the wax heads, ears, eyes and legs alongside the hole were a bit odd.

The general consensus of opinion at this point was that it was time to leave and on the way back we took a mini detour at Kalkanli to see a grove of ancient olive trees before returning home to find Cheese had eaten my husband’s slippers…again.