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Mountains
of History.
There are few place where you
can feel closer to the past than the Island of Cyprus. Forsaking the frenetic rush of Limassol's traffic we went to ancient
Kourion to see what their ancestors had left behind.
We found ourselves marvelling at
the Amphitheatre where performances are still held  two thousand years
after its creation.
Behind
the stage was a beautiful view of the bay beyond, and we wondered if
if everyone concentrated on the show, and what audiences nibbled in
the days before popcorn and chocolates.
Much of Cyprus history seemed
to rise from the ground and we picnicked sitting on stones that were
from the ancient houses.
The people from a much earlier
civilisation might
not have witnessed, as we did,
a guy on a para-glider hovering over
the cliff top,
(unless of course Icarus had flown that way en-route to
his date with the sun and destiny.)
Troodos
Mountains
The Troodos Mountains have now
had their first fall of snow but in the last week of November the
leaves were turning all shades of gold, and brown in a symphony of
colour.
On our first stop before we gained the real heights was at the
little village of Lania, just 16
miles from Limassol.
The scent of Rosemary hung in the air as we
explored that beautiful community. It has been restored by artists who
exhibit and sell their paintings.
We found bits of history and
tradition, like the old wine press with its massive wooden beam and
the family who were taking turns stirring a vast cauldron of grape
juice and flour.
It took them four hours to make the covering for
almond centred sweet called
‘Soutzouko.’ The almond nuts were already festooned in garlands
outside their store.
There were olive trees
that were seven hundred years old and above us was Mount Olympus at 6,400
feet. I was not looking for a
Scottish connection in the mountains, but
there was a ‘Caledonian’ trail, when I
eventually found the signpost it was spelt ‘Kaledonia.’
It takes about an hour and a
half to walk it. You
start at 1.580m near the
Presidential Summer Residence at Troodos
and follow the Kryos River down past ‘Kaledonia Falls’
in the direction of Platres. A very pretty stroll it is too
with the gurgling waters, chirping birds, yellow butterflies and the
scent of pine.
At Amodos village we wandered
through a twisting maze of lanes around the whitewashed houses. It
seemed as though the town planner had been a donkey.
In reality it was. The village had grown up around the various
donkey tracks that meandered in from the mountains. It had a tree
lined central square that had been cobbled in rough stones.
A
coach load of tourist from a visiting ship swarmed through
the place exchanging green dollars for coffees and brandies.
For a
while they chatted around tables at the pavement cafes, browsed for
bargains and examined the intricate crochet work that the local ladies
made as they sat together in the sun.
(The hours of work involved in making the lacework seemed out
of proportion to the small prices asked.
£4 for a doily, taking two days to produce, £36 for a table cloth that took about three months to make.)
As suddenly as they came, the
visitors were gone and peace descended. Having given a jab of
prosperity to the local traders, they were away back to their ship and
fresh horizons.
Money when it comes is not
always spread evenly,
it never has been. We visited the local
monastery, which was gleaming with silver, and saw a fine mosaic on
the floor depicting the Byzantine emblem, a double headed eagle
looking towards both Europe and Asia.
It reminded us that the island
had experienced many occupying forces.
The Phoenicians, Romans,
Crusaders, had invaded, in all seventeen nations have all left their
mark. Independence from Britain came as late as 1960 after 82 years as
a crown colony.
The annexation of the northern part of the island by
the Turkish Army of occupation in 1974 still a causes grief as we
found when we visited Kakopetria, the oldest village in Cyprus.
As we climbed up past buildings made of mud bricks, a sprightly
old lady dressed in black overtook us. This was Eleni who invited us
in to take coffee in her a stone flo ored room. Amid the stream of
Greek chatter I managed to understand that the candle which burned in
the corner was for her son who was one of the ‘missing people.’
This followed the Turkish invasion in 1974 when 200,000 Greek
Cypriots were forcibly expelled from their homes.
When the Turks occupied the
northern 37% percent of the island the best resorts and beaches were
lost but in the 25 years that followed tourism development has boomed
in the south.
Limassol
has developed 10 miles of beaches with 110 hotels. Certainly the
British visitor feels very much at ease with it all. Driving is on the
left, household names line the high street and English seems to be
spoken widely. Add to this an average of 340 days of sunshine a year,
oranges ripening on the trees and you can readily see the appeal of
Cyprus.
Factfile
Cyprus Tourist Office
0172 73569 8800
Libra Holidays (flights from
Glasgow, Edinburgh, Aberdeen)
0181 275 0853
Amathus Holidays 0171 831 5050
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