Half a world away but as close as a heartbeat

What a month it’s been. It’s only now I think I’m beginning to get some understanding of Cyprus and the way things are done. It’s an alien life for me, having spent 54 years (almost) learning another way. Cyprus is a hard country to live in, physically, socially, culturally and personally, but for those who can see past its quirks, bitterness and betrayals to its charms, there is a real love of the place.
I came here, wanting to see Cyprus, but more than that, wanting to see my sister and to spend time with her. We hadn’t spent much time together since we were both in our early twenties. Over the past four weeks we have both been reminded of how warm and well meaning we can both be and how different we are from one another.
I have visited countless relatives and friends of Helen’s and know that she is in good hands when I return home. Her warmth, her honesty, her intelligence and her willingness to give rather than take has repaid her many times over with many hands, eyes and ears. All the same, it would be great to live closer, so we can use our complimentary skills to our mutual advantage.
I’m taking back to Australia a lot of things (relax Johnny, NOT items, memories…though there are just a few pairs of shoes squeezed into the hand luggage). I’m taking back some vivid impressions of palm fronds languidly stirring the air and blood-red bougainvillea bounding over the white-yellow stone of the local district. These seem to speak of life and beauty overcoming the harshness of life here. I’m taking back a memory of cousins, aunts and uncles, who until this trip were really no more than a confusion of names and two dimensional images. I’m taking back a near visceral feeling of the vastness of the deep blue sky and the clouds of lion-coloured dust that accompany any movement across the landscape. I’m taking back a real sense of confusion at the labyrinthine layout of streets and a love of the faded and crumbling neo colonial buildings that line them. I’m taking back some confirmation in my mind that I am very much an Australian, but that I am who I am because my roots grow deep and stretch across the globe to a little island dropped into the eastern part of the Mediterranean sea. I’m taking back an impression of a large and elegant house that once rang with the sounds of family and growing children, now fallen silent and shuttered. I’m taking back a vision of my sister, as a once foreign wife, who is at home now in both hemispheres of this earth and sadly, at least at this moment, not at “home” in either.
Helen, it’s been a lot of fun. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your hospitality. You haven’t let life kill the joy and love in your heart. See you in Melbourne in two months. We’ll continue the fun there. Very much love, Lily

Bunigiri at St Luka at Kolossi

There seems to be a sense of urgency in the air as this holiday comes to a close. We feel as if we can't afford just to lie around. By the time I'd woken, Helen had returned from the school run, checked email and it was up and out. Doxa, Chris and their family were off to the celebration of St Luka's day at a church close to their home.

I'm used to saints days being celebrated by people on the closest weekend, and didn't expect the huge throng that met us there on a work thursday. It was an unbearable sun that beat down on us and a great wave of deja-vu swept over me...Sunshine in Melbourne. The smoke, the crush of the crowd, the scents wafting out of the church.. it was all familiar. The only thing that seemed different was the endless stalls of china made tat that wound its way up the hill to the church.

We soon became separated and I kept a strong grip on Andrea, Doxa's youngest daughter. The local school must have declared a "curriculum day" as there was no shortage of small boys buying plastic pistols and assault machine guns, then launching raids on their peers (yes, very Christian). Some vendors were selling a variety of loukanika and other cured meats and dried fish. To my astonishment, there was not a refrigeration unit in sight. The local monastories are also into maximizing income selling icons, bracelets with various religios symbols etc in their street stalls. Still, the majority of the people were fixated on the idea of entering the church to say a prayer and light a candle, so the religious significance of the day was not lost on most of the people there. Police had used their vehicle to block off the entry to the street and a couple of young officers wandered from stall to stall, clipboard in hand looking as if their minds were more on cadging a snack than launching a prosecution.

It was an opportunity to learn the difference between authentic and fake soujouko. Some shysters add extra flour to the mix, so that they don't have to use as much of the grape juice. It's only stupid visitors like me that might be fooled. The locals just turn their nose up and go to the "right" stalls. By now you must know that I have very little control when it comes to food. Soon I was tucking into bourekia filled with a sweetened ricotta cheese and dusted with icing sugar.

The Bunigiri is an opportunity to catch up with friends, buy supplies, and bring out your aged and infirm for special prayers (probably in that order). Through the crowd walked people begging for a donation for various institutional or personal causes.
This celebration has been going on for a couple of days, but is expected to wind up tonight. Church/ religion plays a big part in the lives of people across the full spectrum of society. People are robust in their declaration of belief and positively enthusiastic in their following of ritual...however odd or unlikely some of the rituals seem. Still, it's all part of the rich fabric of human behaviour, and (at least in theory), I'm all for diversity.

The whole bunigiri show snakes up the hill between the houses. Those with houses along the main road hang out over the balconies with a proprietorial air. The door are open and passing friends and relatives just sweep in. Heaven help the "housewife" that hasn't cleaned the house within an inch of its life or can't turn on a feast at a knock on the door!

Weaving my way between the crowd, wearing my white cowboy hat and armed to the teeth with cameras, there was no disguising the fact that I was not a local. In a spooky recall of the Australian bunigiri experience I developed a blazing headache and took refuge in the kafenion, ordering a diet coke to wash down some panadol. Finally we caught sight of the rest of our party, and called Helen to come over. She'd made her way back up the hill to the car to look for us. We all felt a bit more human after a cold drink.

Oops, it was pick up time, so Helen dropped me off, cooked a pot-full of spaghetti and charged off into the traffic to bring Danae home.

I've done a trial pack and everything fits. I thought I might buy some BBQ fittings to bring back with me, but that might have to wait for my next visit. I don't think I'll be waiting another 20 years before I return.

Just before I close I have to post the news from OZ. Strange goings on...and they do come in threes

1. there has been yest another double tram crash on the same stretch of road on St kilda Rd (again)

2. Johnny was woken in his Shepparton motel room by something chewing on his leg and drawing blood. Apparently the bedsheets were splattered with blood. Once he was up and tearing at the sheets to see what it was, he couldn't find anything.

3. And this is the MOST peculiar...there has been a break-out of good humoured cooperation at 298, with Perry singing the Sesame Street co-operation song whilst volunteering to do the vacuuming, meals being provided, and civilized behaviour in general evidence. Maybe Johnny and I had better go away more often...NO! I'd miss you all TOO much.

We had one thing to do today. On the day I arrived, Helen's friend Dimitra went into hospital for radical cancer surgery. Over the last month she has been mending both physically and emotionally. Dimitra is a popular and much loved person and her friends have been clamouring for information, but what she needed was space and solitude. At last there was a phone call asking Helen to come over. We sat in her most beautiful baliese inspired garden, all banana plants, and fan palms, chatting about anything and everything, as the sun set. I'm not the only one that thinks Dimitra is an inspitration. She has been featured in a womens' magazine, in an article warning young women to regularly check for breast lumps. There is a full page picture of her looking as glam as any South Yarra mum ready to "do lunch". As well as having a bevy of diverse day jobs, she has taught herself how to paint icons, and now teaches other people how to paint in this intricate byzantine style.

Dimitra lit a small oil lamp amoungst the greenery and I was thinking as the darkness of the night closed in around us, that the little flicker of that light seemed vastly more powerful than the oppression of that dark blanket that was enveloping half the globe. Dimitra's vitality, optimism and open, loving nature was like that small flame; undiminished by the magnitude of the darkness that life had repeatedly thrust at her. I'll keep you posted, Love, Lily/ Mum

Bye bye Aunty Mary

By all accounts it was a good night at the 'bathing" last night and Helen arrived home with Danae late and with a container of sweets in hand.



I had my own kind of great time at home. Education had sent out an email about a range of new resources that help teachers to identify the reading levels at which kids are operating. There were 1-2 minute movies of students showing ability to read and answer associated questions. Often the trouble with this sort of thing is the download time. So with nothing better to do, I downloaded them all and burnt them to a CD for use over term 4. As entertainment, I had the Mr Bean movie (the one where he plays a James Bond character) in the background. Am I wrong or is that a direct rip-off of The Pink Panther? I was well off in cloud land by the time that Helen arrived home.
There was an early morning (Cyp time) call to Chris, just to keep in touch. It seems that it wasn't idle talk about getting a farm. The Leptos-Traffords are now landed gentry in the Kilmore district. The only question left, is is it vines or olives you will be cultivating? Chris, this is Helen reading the email you sent Helen. She keeps reading it and laughing. Thanks to Chris, Helen will be having a blazing Aussie Christmas this year. Chris has booked a flight through Heathrow, Narita and Sydney, to arrive in Melbourne on the 19th of December. At last we will be together for Christmas at Chris' again. If it runs true to form, the Traffords will be down from Brisbane, we will eat and drink too much and it will be an all-round blissful time. Helen still remembers Oz as green, but with water restrictions still operating. I think it will have a very similar hue to Cyprus. With any luck she'll get a chance to see the Kilmore property by then. Roll on December.

In High Spirits at the prospect of seeing Helen again soon after I get back to OZ, we went down to the tourist area to rub shoulders, take in the sights and while away a lazy couple of hours till lunch.

Hey Johnny. This is where old Vespas go when they die. I thought it was a museum, but it turns out to be a mechanic's workshop and used bike business.

Today is all about having lunch with Aunty Mary and Co and delivering them safely to the airport in Larnaca. The farewell lunch at Maro's and Antoni's, coincided with the school pick-up so Helen dropped me off at the pharmacy and I got a lift over with Antoni. Danae was in gym clothes and preferred to go home, so Helen just caught the tail end of lunch. All the familiar family crew were there, with the men drifting back to work after a couple of hours. At last I had a chance to meet Harris, Lefki's (dermatologist) husband. He is just back from an extended conference tour of Buenos Aires (yeah, all work and no play...pigs might fly). The women and Uncle Andrew stayed on till about 5pm when they set off for Larnaca airport. Helen's car was not needed, so we were saved the trip to the airport and back. It was good seeing everyone together so I could say my goodbyes as well.
There was a last minute change of mind about trying to take some Cyprian Turkish delight through customs and it was unpacked and left with Uncle Andrew. Much safer I think.Aussie customs officials can get a bit snarly when they are woken from their slumbers for the graveyard shift at Tulla. Helen is the same size as Dina so she has inherited a number of items of clothing, including a very fetching pair of purple trousers. We have also given refuge to jars of pickalilly, chutney, Vegemite, gliko and other assorted items. Who needs to shop with rellos like these?



With lots of kissing and emotion, the cars headed south for the dusty drive to Larnaca. This is the Google view of Helen's house. It's the one in the centre of the image. In a couple of hours Aunty Mary will catch sight of it before disappearing into the shimmering blue of the Cyprus sky. See you in Melbourne, Aunty.

Love to all. I'll keep you posted. Love, Lily

Looking forward to the return

The day began with a lazy wander around the garden. Bugger me if there wasn't a different car in the driveway. A small white job that normally lives here must have been loaned to someone and been returned. I felt very grateful not to be paying all the road taxes and insurances, fuel bills, mechanical repairs etc...for this driveway full of cars. And Hey.. where did all the bloody leaves and dust come from? I'd cleaned that driveway within an inch of its life yesterday, and now..."Just give up" I hear Helen say. She could be right.
And there are more, but they're on the road. Back in Melbourne with residents' parking permits all the go, just stopping the car outside the house would be an expensive enterpise for Helen's family

Planes, flights and return to normality are on everyone's mind today. Aunty Mary has done the first pack and discovered the effect that several visits to Festival Shoes has had on her luggage allowance, Ian is being very smug..having bought one pair of shoes, but returning to Oz one pair lighter as he is leaving 2 here for his next visit (700 days or so). Helen and Stella visited a number of neighbours to find one with a set of scales, but there was no luck. There were black mutterings about the woman from the local mixed business. She apparently had a set of scales, but has become very cool since Stella returned her empty CD case and demanded her money back. We left them all moaning on about how heavy the bags are... I guess that will be my fate as well in a couple of days.

I just wanted a bit of time to myself up at Trimiklini, so I got Helen to drop me off so I could wander about by myself. I walked through the car park outside the municpal offices, and down a track that led down a steep decline, to a series of pervolia (garden plots). I took a final few photos of the terracing to remember that mountain-side by. It was a good long walk in the heat. I said hello to people I saw driving past or working in the fields. and on getting thirsty, reached over a fence and plucked a red-ripe pommeganate to eat on the way back to the car. Helen picked me up and took me back to the clan at Aunty Mary's.

The next stop was Aunty Pola's. Helen helps her out by dying her hair for her. There seemed to be no useful role for me so I walked down into the city to get an up-close look of the neighbourhood. I'm sure I must have walked at least a couple of kilometres as I got as far as the huge Limassol Police Station near the water tower. In that short distance, there was a road crash and a truck lost its load of timber. I hear that things are similar in Melbourne, with 2 Melbourne trams careering into the back of other trams they were approaching.
Normal people just ring up and confirm their booking. Helen's friends call out to Helen's neighbour (she works for Emirates). The neighbour wanders over and takes a list of the people travelling, and it's all fixed up some time later. I'm not sure that I have a lot of faith in the Cyprian system, but lets give it a go and see.
It's siesta time, but not before I put away the plate-ful of fried haloumi, eggs and sausage that Helen's brought up to me. This afternoon the plan is to take Danae to the hairdresser and then there is the vague plan of attending "tha bathing of the baby". The baby in question is called Christoforo and the significance of this public act of washing has completly gone sailing over my head.

Opps, change of plan. Helen has just raced off with Danae. Still, it gives me a minute to save an image to the USB stick, and pop down the street to have a glossy printed. I thought it might be a nice way to say thank-you to Iliatha for last night's hospitality.
Love you all. Missing you all. Also missing my old routine...(at least the part that involves family and home). I'll keep you posted. Love, Lily