What are the odds?

Back to Nikosia

Friday would be an early morning. I was scheduled to meet Themi at his house in Nicosia, that was about an hour away from where I was in Limassol. I left Limassol around 8am. Checkout is old school, there are no credit card keys or interactive televisions. After turning in the key at the front desk, the hotel owner mentioned he had lived in Chicago for some time. I guessed he knew where I was from – but he did not. He just assumed the United States. After some conversation I was on my way to Nicosia.

Catching up with Themi

I got to Themi’s about 20 minutes later than expected, so we immediately headed over to his office. Themi’s father (my grandmother’s brother, or my great uncle) is in the advertising business, which is the same career direction Themi took after college. After a couple of years of working with his father he would separate and create his own company with a college friend. The facility was very cool, consuming an entire floor of an office building.

Although there are many offices, all six or seven employees situate themselves in a common area because they like each other’s company. Things in Cyprus are very different than the sates. An employee who wants to smoke simply opens a window and hangs the cigarette out while he puffs. The staff at the office is very cool. Shortly after I arrive, Themi’s father stops by to meet me. He’s extremely friendly and speaks English fairly well. He asks if I remember him from years earlier. After a quick stop at Themi’s dentist, we tour Nicosia.  Thousands of protestors are everyone voicing protesting the indecision surrounding the banking crisis.

 

Protestors

American Academy

Although my mother was born in Tanganyika (present day Tanzania), she was sent to a boarding school called the American Academy in Nicosia, Cyprus. I had wanted to see the school. Themi’s father would be the tour guide, back when my mom went to school, it was he who had sole guardianship over her while she was in Cyprus. She had told me he was extremely good to him.

 

Mom's School in Cyprus

Touring the school was surreal. One of the administrative managers who worked there graduated about 10 years after my mom – so she remembered everything as it was back than. The woman was incredible. She introduced me to the staff and walked me around the facility. She had shown me a sample graduation announcement/program from the 60s she found the day earlier. Although it didn’t match the timeframe my mother went to school, I still glimpsed through it and was shocked to find a wedding announcement for my late aunt (who was also a graduate) and uncle. Crazy.

 

Mom's Dormitory

 

Wedding announcement for my aunt

Cyprus History Museum

Shortly after leaving the American Academy we head over to the headquarters of the Cyprus Church. We’d also walk by the Famagusta Gate of the Venetian Wall. Later, we’d walk around the shops of Ledras Street to and get a quick bite to eat. Some of the shops along the way were clients of Themi’s company. One in particular caught my eye, even before I knew it was his work. A toy shop on the strip had a huge Barbie display that was impossible to miss. It was all his companies work. There were probably half a dozen other different clients he would show me that were equally impressive. He had good reason to be proud of his work – it was really good. 

Green Line

Half way or so down Ledras street is the Green Line – the line where independent Cyprus begins and the Turkish occupied side begins. Present day, the checkpoints are manned by unarmed guards who check passports of the people passing through. Less than a decade earlier that would not be the case, the guards would have guns, fired shots and dead soldiers would not be an entirely uncommon occurrence. I didn’t have my passport on me, so I couldn’t cross. Not to mention I didn’t want to offend Themi. I did, however, take an honorary step over to the occupied side. My yia-yia is probably rolling over in her grave. 

 Graffiti

Green Line/Crossing Point

Touring Klirou

My yia-yia (grandmother) and papou (grandfather) were both born in a tiny village outside the capital of Cyprus. My mom had told me I should go visit Klirou to see where she came from. We swung by the house to meet Themis’ father and were bound for the village. Themi’s son, Mikaelis, wanted to come along but had not finish his homework. We spent about 20 minutes helping him finish and were on our way. Upon arrival, the village looked abandoned – in effect a ghost town. From a distance the houses look like they are made of brick – but they’re not.  What look to be bricks are actually mud and crop mixed together. Walking around I began to understand why many of my grandparents and many of their siblings left Cyprus for Africa. Conditions were primitive, even for the 1900s.  The actual house my grandmother was born in had been demolished a  year earlier. Themis had purchased it hoping to restore it to it’s original character. Unfortunately, the village insisted it be torn down because it was unsafe. It’s very unclear to me why the village took a specific interest in one property. Looking around, none of the buildings are occupied and almost all are dilapidated.  In any case, walking around and seeing what was once a thriving but poor village was very surreal. We stopped by to visit a different sibling of my grandmother’s and were on our way. We had to get Mikaelis back home for English language school (his primarily language is Greek).

 

Remains of my Papou's (grandfather) mud house

 

Great Aunt's house

 

 

Dinner at Katia’s

I’ll begin with a story. Two men are born in a tiny, poor, village called Klirou on an island called Cyprus in the Mediterranean. They live in houses constructed of mud and crop. On occasion they would ride a tandem bicycle together into the capital town, about 20 miles away. Over time one would move to the capital city and they would grow apart and loose touch.  The men would both go on to have children, specifically daughters. Fast forward 20 or so years to a college town in southern Illinois, about six thousand miles away.  The daughters of these two men would attend university there and become best friends. It wouldn't be until sometime later they would discover their fathers knew each other. 25 years later it makes one heck of a story to tell over dinner. What are the odds?

Anyhow, Katia’s little girl was turning 11 and the entire family was over to celebrate. There were probably about 25 people, about 8-10 of which were children, and it was a blast. The weather was poor (rain and a sandstorm moved in) so the original plan of grilling kebobs was out. Instead food was ordered in or made by Katia’s husband Dimitri. We must have stayed at dinner until past midnight. It reminded me so much of the Greek get-togethers I went to back when my yia-yia and thia were alive. A very warm and welcoming environment with family and friends that anyone from the outside would assume were all best of friends.  For the first time in my life I’d try grilled Halloumi cheese. Something, according to my mom,  my papou excelled at making. It was excellent. It’s difficult to explain how I could feel so welcome and part of a family of people I never met. But I did. It reminded me of how much fun I had at the big Greek dinner parties that literally went on all night.  If you've seen My Big Fat Greek Wedding years ago...it's pretty much all true.

 

Katia and her daugther!

Nighttime at Themi’s

Earlier, Themi had suggested I spend the night at their place so we could get an early start in the morning. We were heading to Themi’s vacation home for the weekend for more sight seeing. Monday was another bank holiday so most people were off. After an hour or so of burning the midnight oil chatting, it as time to get some rest for an early morning drive. Since they had a washing machine and I was spending the night...I had to at least ask if I could do some laundry. I now have clean cloths, courtesy of Maria!