6/15/08

Paphos was incredible. I had no idea I could see so much history in such a short period of time; in fact, some of it I hardly saw at all, but what I did see was just enough to make me want to go back at some point in my life.

The entire duration of our traveling time from Nicosia to Paphos was eye-opening. Between the audacity of our tour guide and the incomprehensibly short stops at amazing archaeological sites, I learned a lot about Cypriot culture. First of all, our guide began her presence on our bus by immediately taking a shot at our driver for not having the mic set up for her by the moment her foot first stepped on the vehicle. “How unprofessional!”, she quipped, “You must always set up the microphone when you know you are going to have a guide on your bus…how unprofessional!” Oh boy. We rolled our eyes. This was going to be a delightful couple hours, wasn’t it?

Then, a miracle occurred. The previously unconnected microphone, upon its proper setting up, failed to work! No annoying, pompous guide for us… traveling just the way I like it- quiet and observant. We road through the foothills of the Troodos mountains, passed through the coastal city of Limassol, and arrived at our first stop, Koloussi castle. The tour went a little like this:

“Here we are at historic Kolossi Castle, and ruined medieval fortress designed by monks, and which produced cane sugar on that old mill over to your right. You have twenty minutes to explore the castle and grounds and take pictures. Ready, go.”

So then about eighty college students engulfed the grounds of this modestly sized medieval castle, all trying to take pictures and climb the spiral staircase up to the second and third floors… basically chaos. But, despite all that, it was an amazing place- I can only imagine being a kid and going there. It would just be one giant playground. Actually, it still felt like one giant playground. There were all kinds of neat nooks and dormer windows, the spiral staircase was magnificent- tiny, carved stone, neverending….

Back on the bus. I’m not such a fan of the short amount of time that we spent at the sites on our tour, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love long bus rides. I do, I love long bus rides. The windows are so big, and you can see so much- and the roads we were on wound around just enough that I was able to see our surroundings from every angle. Taking pictures felt fruitless, though I took tons anyway, because no single picture could capture the immensity of the scene I was seeing, the veined look of the bare mountains and shrubs growing amid the dried up river beds… the sea peaking through Vs of valleys.

The second, and far superior, site we stopped at was Kourion, an incredibly excavated archaeological site from the time when Ancient Greek culture was adopted by Cyprus. Seeing the location of this city, I would want to build my city there too! On top of a couple of hills, it looks down onto a long stretch of Mediterranean coast and inland toward the mountains. The ancient baths still bear original mosaics, and an incredibly preserved amphitheater is stilled used to concerts today. The city apparently was destroyed in a volcanic eruption (a la Pompeii) and excavators found its citizens inside their homes, families huddled together protecting their children, and one girl was found in a stable with her horse.

This place was enormous. I could have spent a whole day there, walking around and seeing all the smaller sites dotting the hill adjacent to the baths and amphitheater. But, our twenty minutes didn’t allow for that kind of curiosity, so I guess I’ll just have to come back to Cyprus some day….

Back on the bus, again. Once in Paphos, we were able to spend some time at the harbor, which still has a medieval fort on its pier. The dock-side of the harbor is lined with seafood restaurants, each with its very own representative standing outside, just waiting for you to walk by and assault you with an invitation to experience their one-of-a-kind, best in Paphos dining experience. We, of course, chose probably the worst of these overpriced establishments- but it was food, and it wasn’t terrible. It was also four in the afternoon, which made almost any food not terrible.

Paphos is famous for its enormous and numerable archeological sites. The largest and most in-tact site is situation just behind the harbor, and has remains dating from as early as ancient times up through the Middle Ages, apparently not all of the same kind of city. The original city was ruined, and another city was built on top, and was ruined, and rebuilt… so basically there are a couple completely separate civilizations represented on the same site, mixed together and layered on top of one another.

Sunday was rightly dedicated to the exploration of religious sites in Paphos. A group of us got together and made a list of places to take our own self guided walking tour of, starting with St. Paul’s Pillar. St. Paul’s journey following the death of Christ led him first to Cyprus, and he set up his first “headquarters” in Paphos. This particular site is said to be the place where he was scourged thirty-nine times before converting his persecutor to Christianity. There are ruins of several old churches and bascilicas, and a completely undisturbed Byzantine style church toward the back of the site. That church turned out to be the most memorable place of that day, and maybe even this entire trip.

Outside the church, two nuns were running a small sale of handmade candles, images of St. Paul and Jesus, and prayer beads. We walked over to their table and looked their handicrafts, all beautifully painted and personal. Shortly down the sidewalk and across the ramp to the church, several people stood outside the entrance. Soon it was clear that music was coming from inside… and the organ accompaniment was the telltale sign; Catholic Mass. We got so excited! While only two of us are Catholic, the fact that this ridiculously old, obviously Byzantine building was being used for something so familiar to us made our day. We had to go in. But mass wasn’t over yet, and we didn’t just want to stand around outside with those other people, as it was obvious there was only 1 door to the church. So we bided our time buying gifts from the nuns, and when an umbrella started to fall over nearby, one of the nuns and I took on the arduous task on disassembling it. Such an awesome experience. She spoke no English, (maybe French?), and somehow we figured out how to communicate enough to unscrew this awkwardly anchored, wooden umbrella. Afterwards, I asked them where they were from and what they were raising money for. The English-speaking nun explained to me that they were the Sisters of Bethlehem, about 20km north of Jerusalem, and were trying to set up a community and monastery in Cyprus.

Finally Mass let out, and we worked our way through the crowd, like salmon swimming upstream, toward the entrance. The parishioners cleared out, and the priest was left standing at the door talking to a women, shaking hands and wishing everyone a good day. We approached him, and a friend of mine asked if there would be any more services that day… he explained that he had said a Latin mass at 9, a German and Polish mass at 10:30, and just finished the noon English mass. We were so disappointed! Then, just as nonchalantly as he had explained the multi-lingual mass schedule, he said “You are American?” We nodded. “Come, I will give you the Eucharist.” WHAT???

Rebecca and I couldn’t believe it. “Really? Did he just say that?” “He’s really going to give us communion. Really.” “How cool! He can do that?!” What a nice man. We followed him inside, into this amazing stone, Byzantine era church, past the alter and into a small chapel housing a statue of Mary, a kneeler, and apparently the tabernacle. A women was inside praying, and the three of us managed into the cramped space. Since mass had just ended, he took some of the remaining Eucharist, stood before us and reiterated the part of the mass right before communion. Then he gave us communion, and that was that! I have never experience something so personal. We thanked him, walked back into the main part of the church and just marveled at what had just happened.

It turns out that this church houses the only Catholic parish in Paphos, and has a very cool history. The parish, which is relatively young, is a member of the Patriarch (like Diocese) of Jerusalem, and restored the building, after it had fallen into disrepair, for its own use. They even have a kindergarten! I almost wish we could have stayed another day; I would have loved to see how a kindergarten is run in Cyprus.

Within walking distance of St. Paul’s Pillar are both a “catacomb”/ancient Christian place of worship which houses a spring and a network of caves that served as the tomb of the seven Maccabee brothers. The catacomb has an ancient ritual associated with the spring, and as a result hundreds of handkerchiefs have been tied to the tree growing on top of the underground facility. Beneath the unsuspecting grounds, several small rooms house candles, icons and statues of saints. Down one particularly dank corridor is the spring, impossble to see in the unlit hollow, and in a gated off room, my camera flash revealed early frescos, an alter, clearly a gathering room.

The day ended with a bus ride to the Tomb of the Kings, a site of hundreds of ancient burial places, some simple, some decorated with all the splendor of a king. It is unlikely that the people buried there were really kings, but probably just kind of rich people. The site bumps right up against the sea, and its size gave the feel of remoteness. It is so far my favorite place on the island, not to explore or for the history, but for the view.

6/13/08

What a change it is to be occupied with class all week! The first several days of our time here were full of exploring, going to the old city, figuring how to shop for groceries, and enjoying what have become our favorite establishments, Zorbas bakery and Papafilipou ice cream. Then Monday came around. Class started, a routine was established- and all that taxi-ing had left a dent in our pockets that was deep enough to keep us from returning to the old city for a while. One day, one day I will walk downtown. When is the question.

Classes have turned out to be… interesting. Still hard to judge for sure, but it seems like our Art History professor is barely older than most of us, and has never taught before. But, Art History is Art History, and we have a good textbook- I will learn Art History. Early Christian Thought is, well, hilarious. Not funny so much, or comical, but enjoyable to the point that I am amused. Our professor is of an unknown background, very obviously involved in work with the Orthodox Church, and incredibly passionate about history and religion. And typography…? The first day of class he walked in, put his worn academic briefcase on the table and asks, “Anyone here from Ohio State?”. Oh boy. Of course I got excited. Excited enough, actually, to preemptively shout, “me!”- followed by the truth. We chatted a little about the Blue Danube restaurant close to campus, and he told me a randomly personl story about the owner’s wife.

He has this indistinguishable accent, based in something very Eastern European, and sprinkled with Greek, English, and what I think was a bit of Scottish. He traveled all his life, studied in Athens and taught Byzantine and Slovak studies at OSU for several years in the ‘70s. Cyprus is his adopted homeland, from what I can tell, and although he complains of the heat and mentioned that Cyprus is no place to live (it is all tourism, he explained), he seems to love it, if only for its historical and religious antiquities and fascinations. Everything we talk about has a connection to this island, and every word we use “comes from the Greek words….” His favorite topic by far is monasticism. So we talk about monasticism A LOT; whether it relates to our lecture, or not.

On our very first class-free day of the week, today, a couple of my roommates and I embarked on our very first independent Cyprus travel adventure! Early this morning we boarded our service taxi at Papafilipou, and headed to Larnaca for a day at the beach (on the Mediterranean!!!). Service taxis are such an awesome concept. Instead of having to hire a private taxi and paying the metered rate, you can reserve a seat on a Travel Express “bus” (van), which picks you and any other passengers up and takes you to your destination in a common city for a flat, individual rate. In our case, Nicosia to Larnaca for seven euro. Compared to what we would have paid to split a taxi car, and the fact that the two cities are a good forty minutes apart without traffic, that is a steal!

As we drove into Larnaca, other passengers were dropped off in whatever geographical order the driver had planned out. We had no idea what was going on, because everyone else spoke some splintered version of Greek and English, but we trusted that we would get to the beach in one piece. The first stop was to let the guy sitting next to me off at what I assumed was his work… we had left around 8:30am, and we dropped him off at a store of some kind (ice cream maybe?); I was so relieved. He was kind of a bigger guy, maybe late thirties, and conveyed whatever his attitude was through his posture- taking up more than his share of my seat in addition to his and half holding onto his seatbelt like a rebellious teenager trying to be better than the safety rules. There were two signs in our van, no smoking and wear your seatbelt. This guy at least pretended to act like he knew he was supposed to; our driver smoked like a chimney.

Driving deeper into the city, we passed what must have been the turn off for the airport. I only know this because of the reaction of the passenger in the front seat. He raised his voice and his hands, motioning to the opposite side of the passed roundabout; “Why you not turn there! I go to airport, it only 3 km!”. He and our driver continued to argue, through the city, dropping two other passengers off and finally making our way to the airport. Its sounded like, after a couple phone calls and wristwatch checks, that he was late to meeting some other people, and was mad at the driver for not taking him there before the other stops. Finally, our driver said to him, “This is my job! You do not tell me how to do my job! If you need to be there at certain time, you call private taxi! This is service taxi, I chose where we go!” That was that, the passenger got out, and we were driven back to McKenzie beach, a couple miles back.

We’d been told that the Larnaca beaches are inferior to Ayia Napa beaches, but I absolutely loved where we went. The water was calm, but brought in waves, it was the Mediterranean, which in itself is a wonderful sight to behold, and the temperature was perfect. Hot air, cool water, clear water, boats and barges farther out and plenty of people walking the beach. We swam and swam, and let the sun dry us while we took naps. I hadn’t been far out in a body of water like that in a while, and was somehow giddy at the idea that I floated so well. Eventually I realized how the floating had affected my sun exposure when I wound up with a weird neck/chin burn- probably from my incessant goggle-less breaststroking between the waves. After too much sun we headed to one of the beach-side restaurants for fish and chips, and surprise complimentary watermelon. That fruit has never tasted so good. Naps usually follow sun and lunch, but we had a while before the service taxi would be returning. Great, we thought, we’d just find a bit of shade and lie down in the grass. Well. There are no big trees on the coast. Just palm trees. We ended up curling up in the narrow shadow of a palm trunk, adjusting our position with the setting sun. Nice nap though!

The day ended with a quiet ride back to Nicosia, sharing the taxi with several other girls in our program who we found at the beach that day. The sun wore us out, and it was early to bed, only to rise early the next morning for another road trip- this time to Paphos!

6/11/08

I am sitting outside right now, on the front porch of our apartment, soaking up a perfect mid-day sun and posing as an unknown audience to some skilled classical pianist practicing at the music school upstairs. Our neighborhood is quiet, but active. Musicians come and go, construction workers hammer away next door, cars drive up to, well, anywhere the please and park haphazardly, half on the sidewalk and facing no particular direction.

I like this place. The clean lines of the buildings and absence of yards feel unusually home-y - maybe it is just the fact that everything looks very lived in and taken care of. There are, despite a decided lack of rainfall in the last five years, lots of trees and bushes and flowers surrounding these houses. They must have figured out a way to derive water from dust.

Water. Now there is an interesting subject. Water has been a problem for Cyprus lately. I guess no rain in five years will do that to you.... So, consequently, water is only run to households every other day. Our apartment is on the Tuesday/Thursday/Saturday schedule. Six girls, one shower, laundry, dishes- we haven't had a problem until last night.

From somewhere in the apartment, some yelled, "Uh, I think we just ran out of water!". We were all surprised, until we realized that the gap between Saturday and Tuesday is a day longer than what we had been used to. We should get more water tonight, but it hasn't come yet. Hopefully we won't be too deprived of our much needed showers, as the heat during the day here has been rising into the 100s. I'm also desperately in need of clean clothes- I'll never learn to wash some before I wear them all out.

It's really amazing to think of the heat that comes to this area of Cyprus over the summer. In August, the temperature soars into the 130s... but apparently not according to the news weather sources, who report a lower temperature just to keep people calm and from maxing out the energy used by air conditioners. Of course, everyone here knows that they are lying, so the only good the whole scheme achieves is in the backwards way it reminds residents to keep careful watch on their A/C usage. What a mind game! All this low humidity and clear skies is wonderful, but I'm starting to miss rain, I think...

6/10/08

Update of extreme importance: I got my luggage...2 weeks ago. Though the idea of me not having luggage for the past 2 weeks is much more entertaining for all involved, I'm sure.

The internet here is in and out, and writing on here is far from a sure thing. I have, however, been keeping up (somewhat) with writing about what we've been experiencing here. Organizing it is another thing all together, but I will attempt to put together a chronologically appropriate account of the last few weeks. If I fail, the basics are: Class started, its pretty good, my Early Christianity professor is an awesome/mysterious/worldly/funny religious man, and I finally did my laundry today for the first time.

6/4/08
I got money today! We walked down to the main street a couple blocks away, called October 28 St. and found and ATM. My first Euros! Some of my roommates went to the grocery today...I would have gone too, but I was waiting for my luggage to arrive! The airport called me this morning and told me that they found it, and were sending it in a taxi. So around noon today, an older Cypriot man arrived at my door, didn't speak english, but kind of asked me if I was waiting for a bag and brought it in for me. UNDAMAGED. That is by far the best part. Now i just have to figure out a way to bring all the stuff I brought in 3 bags, home in 1 bag, or else I will need to buy another duffle of some kind. At least now I have clothes!


Nicosia (Lefkosia)- Such an interesting town. Well, city really, at about 165,000 inhabitants! Excluding stray cats, of course, of which there are surely 1 per capita.

Our excursions to the old city have been numerous in the first week, but Wednesday was particularly revealing.

Around noon the six of us living in Mark 7a made out first taxi phone call- and we all jumped at the chance to be the one to dial..Ha! Hardly. I think we were all a little nervous about talking to a strange, Cypriot taxi driver. I mean, I only recently got over my anxiety related to ordering pizza for delivery at home. I only beg someone else to do it about 70% of the time now...

Finally someone called... two taxis they said, for six people. A short time later, the taxis arrived, and we hopped in. "Where?", he asked us. "Eleftharia Square?" we said hesitantly. That is what we had been told to tell him by our program coordinator. "Eh?" he said. Oh dear. The rest of the conversation went about like this:
-Incomprehensible Cypriot
- "Eleftharia Square?"
-Incomprehensible Cypriot
-"Uh... El-left-thar-ia Square?"
-Incomprehensible Cypriot
-"downtown?"
-Ah! Something-in-Cypriot Square?
-"YES! sure!"
I can only imagine that he had just pronounced Eleftharia Square properly, because that's where we ended up.

The ride was our first glimpse of the city beyond our Makedonitissa neighborhood. and our first experience on the roads of Nicosia...Cypriots are crazy drivers! There may or may not be a speed limit, cars turn whenever they want, no signals, trying to beat the rest of oncoming trafffic. Why do I reel strangely comforted by that idea...? Oh! That's right. Its just like Pittburgh!

We turned left and right, and right and left, and through countless roundabouts...it was conveluted, butI could tell we were still headed toward the city center. I knew from the position of our apartment in realtion to the walled-city about how we might get there...and thena ll of a sudden, the UN was on my left and the road narrowed down, and a tan stone wall passed on my left and on my right- dead ahead was the blockade near the Paphos gate that I had so meticulously analyzed on my map at home. We had just entered the oldest part of the last divided capital in the world.

The blockade requires that incoming traffic turn right, hugging the inside of the Venetian wall- or what remains of it. Finally we arrived at Eleftharia Sqaure- the frontmost (southern) entrance to the city. We stepped onto the sidewalk, and someone says, "I thought we were supposed to go through a wall or soemthing! Is this where we are supposed to be?" Ok, so I guess our historic entrance was an isolated experience. I gave them the short story of where we were and how we had gotten there- and off we went to shop, or eat, or find a market... we didn't have too specific a purpose in our travels. I think we had initially intended to discover a quaint open air market that would provide us with yummy Cypriot fruits and vegetables... but that's another story.

We went into this little clothes store, and eventually talked to the woman who I assume owns it. She was so cute! A little older, Cypriot woman who spoke enough english to help us out, she pointed us down the street to a little streetside restaurant. Said they had great souvlaki. So we headed down there and there are like 6 really full tables on this narrow sidewalk and its a tiny place inside- the guy (who maybe runs it?) motioned for us to come in, but there wasn't room there either (there were 6 of us), so he told us "a couple minutes" and we waited. It was so awkward. Of course we look outrageously American, though not as bad as some of the people here, and as soon as we got there all the people outside kind of got closer and mumbled, and a couple girls definitely heard a distinct "American" from a couple different tables. Finally 2 tables freed up and we all sat down and ordered...kabobs. and he asked us if we wanted water (2!), salad (large!), and houlami. Houlami cheese is sooo good. Never had it before today, but I had read about it. This food was great though. Lots of chicken, dry cabbage and cilantro, 2 plates of pita, salad that was just cucumber, tomato and onion in vinagrette, and 2 enormous bottles of water. and houlami. holy cow, its like pan fried cheese, served hot. Lunch took all our time, of course, and we couldn't finish it all so we took the rest home. Idk if that's normal or not, but he gave us foild containers and didn't seem weird about it, so we have another meal out of it. For the 6 of us, it all cost 36 euro. Not bad.

After lunch, we went back to our apartment, and then met up with a bunch of other people for....a tour of downtown! We knew that it was kind of redundant to go there before our tour, but we got to do stuff that the tour wouldn't have let us. and without like 50 people. But it was neat to have a guide and hear the history of the city (which they call Lefkosia instead of Nicosia- Greek is the former and Latin alphabet produced the latter), and a firsthand description of the "Cyprus problem" which is the Turkish occupation of the North. I'm having a hard time figuring out exactly how terrible the current situation is. They gave us a pamphlet about it in our orientation packet, and while I don't assume the facts they present are inaccurate, I feel like there has to be a more objective story. Its hard though, because the people on this side of the city seem pretty bitter about it, understandably. We drove around the wall around the old city, and then went inside and walked around. We saw a cathedral, the Archbishop's residence, and then we started walking down these really deserted streets near the border of the division... it was like a ghost town. After a while, we arrived at the buffer zone- and saw the UN and Cypriot national guard. The national guard operates a lot like Israel's army... all men have to serve 25 months after secondary school and before college or getting a job. Some girls were taking pictures, which you aren't allowed to do, and we got yelled at by one guy- kind of scary actually. Ok, and after we got around the corner I took a picture too. Illegal, but I just wanted to remember it. So then we spent the rest of the time just walking around the busy and productive parts of the city- lots of neat shops and cafes and tavernas. And absolutely gorgeous.

6/1/2008-6/4/2008

I'm alive! All joking aside, I'm happy to report, as well as happy to be, in one piece after a very long but very fun journey from Columbus to Nicosia, Cyprus. My luggage has not experienced such good fortune, but that's a story for a later time.

After leaving home at 9:30am on Sunday, I arrived in Chicago at, well, 9:30am on Sunday. The hour I gained gave me nothing but extra time in the airport to wait for Katie to arrive. I had imagined that this time would be well spent eating what I remembered to be some fantastic Chicago airport food, making a few calls and reading. Nerves and excitement had kept my hunger that morning to a minimum, but by the time our landing gear hit the tarmac, I was starving. As I set foot inside the terminal, I was greeted by the unmistakable aroma of Cinnebon. I have not had Cinnebon in years, most likely in that very airport. I'm not sure I can explain the desperate need I felt to find that Cinnebon...but as I followed signs for baggage claim, I suddenly found myself outside security, and consequently outside any realm of edible satisfaction. O'Hare International Airport must not believe in post-baggage claim hunger, because they have 1 lonely Starbucks on the ground floor of terminal 3, and not a table in sight. Trust me, I searched. Boy, did I search. I went upstairs and my choices were: turn left, go outside; turn right, go through security. Meanwhile, my bags and only my bags arrived on the corral next to the Starbucks. I guess everyone else had connecting flights....?

So I decided not to wrestle with a backpack, a purse, 2 rolling bags with any kind of food or beverage, and opted to just wait until Katie arrived to eat. Three relatively quick hours rolled by with the help of $6.25 24hour internet service (worth it since we would be in the airport until 5:30pm) and Katie arrived in an similar state of hunger. Given the previously described circumstances, we headed for the train to the international terminal where we were certain to find at least a McDonalds. We found the terminal, checked our bags, received our British Airways boarding passes and were soon sending our carry-ons through an X-ray machine. As I took off my shoes and placed my quart sized plastic baggie full of no more than 3oz liquid containers on the conveyer belt, I noticed out of the corner of my eye the most appetizing array of international food in a food court across the way. Once on the other side of security, I noticed that we had missed it entirely, just by going through security. Fantastic luck. Surely there would be more food inside the terminal. That only made the most logical sense. But, of course, I should have learned that O'Hare International Airport does not plan for hunger logically. We settled for cold, pre-packed sandwiches from a kiosk conveniently located directly in front of a huge glass wall looking into, you guessed it, the food court. Now that is just mean.

Four hours later, we boarded our flight to London. This would officially be the start of my international travels, and was full of people speaking with British accents, and American high schoolers taking some kind of group trip. We sat next to and behind members of a very nice Indian looking British family. Katie had the window (though she promised I could lean over as much as I wanted to look!) and it looked like I would be between her and the dad of this family. As we went to sit down, some little switch happened, and I found my self next to his daughter instead. So cute, she looked to be about 6 or 7, and she was impeccably polite. I have a hunch she wanted to sit by the big girls (us), and her parents indulged her. I guess that means we look pretty wholesome!

The best thing about the flight was definitely the flight progress maps. At one point, I looked out the window, saw some coast, said to Katie, "I bet that's New England!", and then found out it was! So cool. It had been so long since I had been on a plane that big, and I was pleasantly surprised by the little tv screens for every seat, the blanket and pillow and socks and eyemask for sleeping, and the food! I had, impressively, salmon with hollandaise sauce, which tasted great but really did not agree with my stomach. I should have known better... but the salad was great!

After sleeping (kind of) and temporarily losing my glasses case (it was right next to me), we looked out the window to see bits of Ireland and finally England on the ground below. At the airport, we wound around Heathrow, zigged and zagged through a maze of hallways, trying to find our departing terminal. Since our next flight was on Cyprus Air, and British Airways had booked it for us (they canceled our original flight), we hoped to make it through security in the other terminal without boarding passes. Finally, we discovered the bus/shuttle, and our driver announced, "Terminals 1 and 2. Your journey will last 10 minutes". So excited, I had never been on a journey through an airport before. I loved his voice, and his word choice. It really made the whole ride so much more exciting when framed as a "journey".


Well we ended our journey at terminal 1 and commenced our second journey to conquer security! Luckily it seemed to be completely irrelevant that we had no boarding pass, and we finally found the Cyprus Air desk. A couple clicks on the computer and we were handed 2 vibrantly yellow tickets, set to leave again in about an hour. At this point, we were both outrageously exhausted. Heathrow, I graciously discovered, is an intelligently designed mecca of airport food options, among other shopping curiosities. My stomach, however was not agreeing with the idea of food, so instead I overpayed for a bottle of water. Katie purchased some delightfully creative orange juice, which in what I would consider a stereotypically British way was made from "the juice of 10 lovingly squeezed oranges". Awesome.

The rest of the day was pretty much a blur. We made it to our flight, and I without a window to peek my imagination now and then, I slept through the whole thing. Landing in Cyprus was an interesting experience, though, because as we looped around to land from the east (we came across the island from the west first), it looked like we were going to be getting pretty close to the sea before long. Like really close. As the plane got closer and closer to the tarmac, all I could see out the left-hand side of the plane was water. And more water. And closer water. Then I looked out the right side of the plane. All land. Whew.

Getting off the plane was surprising, and amazing. No indoor terminal in Larnaca! We stepped off the plane straight onto those neat rolly stairs, and were greeted by a panorama of the Mediterranean meeting flat, dry, dusty coast. The heat hit me like a brick, but it felt great. A quick shuttle ride to baggage claim (which looked more like a 1 story warehouse) led us through customs, where it seemed like simply having a passport with your picture on it was good enough to enter the country. No questions, no checking of bags, nothing. I like Cyprus!

Ok, so here is the bag story. I'm standing with Katie and our new friend Nicole at our baggage claim, a few people deep, waiting to see our luggage scoot by on the conveyor belt. I notice from the other side that someone's bag has been tied up in an industrial strength plastic bag- and then I realize that it's mine. Joy. Having no idea what that could mean, I decide to wait until it comes around again because it was impossible to fight through the crowd to reach once I realized it belonged to me. A couple minutes later, another, larger, similarly colored, similarly bagged piece of luggage arrives. Fantastic. So for some reason, both of my bags had met some sort of misfortune which required a second layer of protection to be added.... I could only imagine. Here comes the first bag again. I wiggled my way up to the corral, awkwardly picked up this giant piece of plastic with no handles, and realized that I could see the content of my bag through the plastic. Aka, it wasn't zipped. Whatever, I would deal with that later, I needed to watch for my other bag. So I watched, and looked, and looked and watched, and searched, and walked around, and asked some people...and never saw it again.

Now, how in the world does such an obvious piece of baggage just walk away from a situation like this? No one is going to accidentally take it, because its the kind of thing you definitely make sure is yours before walking away with it. Naturally, this would happen in the country where I speak absolutely nothing of the language, and while most people speak English, its kind of an awkward situation to explain. "Lost baggage?" Yes...but I saw it. "Saw it? It was here?" Yes. "But it is gone now?" Yes. Exactly. Pretty dumb, huh? "Ok, fill out this form. We will try to find, and send it to where you are staying." (imagine Greek accent, its so much more entertaining). "You stay in Nicosia?" Yes. "Where?" Uhhhh. Hold on. Of course I have no idea what my address is, but its on a sheet in my purse, and luckily the lady I was talking to knew better than to have me read it, so she just took it out of my hands and copied down the one I pointed to. Same with the phone number. "Ok, we will call you if we find it." Fantastic! That's what I was hoping for...

Off I go, one checked piece of luggage in tow, and embark with Katie and Nicole on a journey (that bus driver in London has no idea the impact he had on my vocabulary use) to find out how we are getting from Larnaca to Nicosia. Either there would be a group from our program waiting for us, a taxi with our key and phone waiting for us, or we would have to get our own taxi, and maybe figure out how to get to the GLS office before they close. Outside, we found GLS people! YAY!! We're the last to arrive, but they waited for us and we finally got on the bus and drove to Nicosia with about 30 other people.

Apartment! We were some of the last to get dropped off at our apartment, and 3 of the 4 other girls arrived with us. I had the key to get us inside, where we each had bags of orientation stuff, cell phones (!) and every one else's keys. It's a really nice place, seems very new and has just what we need. a living room with couches and tables, a table to eat on, a kitchen with an oven, microwave, fridge and washing maching (the clothes kind), 3 double rooms and one and a half baths. That's right, six girls, one shower...this should be fun! There is one very unique aspect to our apartment; above us is a music school. So around 10am piano lessons being, with some drums and voice thrown in there, continuously until about 10pm. The music is really comforting though, because during those quiet times of the day, we can usually hear scales and classical piano from upstairs.

That night (monday), we all met up at the university for some food and a little introduction from the program coordinators. I was expecting some great, light, Mediterranean food- but when we arrived I was really surprised and a little disappointed. A little slice (hehe) of home instead- Pizza Hut. I'm getting tired just remembering that day- we went home after dinner and crashed. Our bodies were exhausted and jet lagged. Oh yeah, and I didn't have any clothes, because they were all in my mysteriously missing bag.

Tuesday was spent getting familiar with the area and each other- our sixth roommate had arrived early in the morning and we met her when we woke up. First order of business- finding an ATM to take out Euros. We live in a really nice neighborhood, and the main street, October 28 St., is a couple blocks away. Katie and I took a little direction from some other girls who had been out earlier, and we finally found one. Success!

Next order of business: food. I was surprised to learn that supermarkets are more common here than small specialized markets, and we have a Carrefour right near the university. After a short nap, we ventured over there and picked up a few things. All I wanted was hummous, and of course in Cyprus it is one of the most normal things to eat- I could not locate it in the store for the life of me. Well, I finally found some at a bakery that night- a very cool bakery which is somehow classy AND open 24 hours a day. Couldn't ask for more...

Today I finally got to know the city a little bit! We had all really been wanting to find an open air market to buy fresh fruits and veggies, and hoped to go down to the old city and find one. Our university has this deal with one of the taxi companies that gets us a flat rate of 7 euro for a carfull ride down to the center city, so we gave them a call and showed up with 2 cars to shuttle the 6 of us down there. We were dropped off in Eleftheria square to find our way around!

Ok, first I need to explain Nicosia's city center. The quick run down is that the old town Nicosia is actually inside 16th century Venetian walls, and is just a maze of cobblestone streets and sidewalks, lined with old stores and new stores, tourist stops and authentic Cypriot businesses- and the UN buffer zone. We were dropped off just inside the wall, and had no idea where anything was. Adventure begins!

We headed to a neat, hole in the wall clothing store that a couple girls had seen as we drove to the square. We kind of cautiously looked through the shirts and other items on the racks, while the woman who I assume owned the place started to try to talk to us. Though probably not the best etiquette, we just kind of stared at her, not sure how to try to figure out if we could speak English. Eventually she says, "English?", to which we enthusiastically nodded our heads. She asked us where we were from, and why we were in the city, and how long we were going to stay... seven weeks, we said! "seven days...?" oh, no, weeks! "..weeks? weeks!". She was so nice, a very cute older Cypriot woman. We asked her if she knew where we could find a market, and where to eat- of course she told us about the supermarket first, and then guided us to a restaurant down the street a little ways for lunch.

There is far too much of the next bit to tell that I could not possibly add it with this first post, which is already outrageously long. My apologies for that! Tomorrow I can catch up more on today, since we won't be doing much outside the University and I can catch my adventurous breath.