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.
