Honey Service Cyprus-Turkey

Honey Service Cyprus-Turkey

I.

Our trip to Cyprus has been a whirlwind. We have had highs and lows, mostly stemming from a lot of carrying our luggage further than we wanted to or needed to. That said, Cyprus has been a real honeymooner sopt for us. We were whisked out of the airport to downtown Larnaca in a late model Mercdes Sedan Limo-Taxi, our first night was spent in a untra modern very sleek hotel, and we have crisscrossed the island - meeting new friends all along the way. It is great.

The moments of agony sweating down charming streets carrying our heavy loads only to not find any ‘Panysions’ local guest house, will disappear and become positive memories. Our journey this year is to always be in service, though exchange and small actions, and, through this blog.

Cyprus was chosen by us not because it was a place we coveted visiting; but, more as a luxury weigh station on the way from Egypt to Turkey. We have picked up a much faster pace since leaving Africa as we are wanting to join our friend in Nice, France the third week of June.

So, how to be in service for such a brief visit to Cyprus?

We had arrived during the latest in a long string of peace conferences organized by the UN and various governments of Europe to try and reconcile the Greek/Turkish division which has taken place since 1974. So, our first idea was to talk peace, to bring an outside set of eyes and ideas to the island, and to promote Cypriot resolution in the context of the difficulties or successes we have found in other lands.

But, as I have said, we have had our own difficulties here. While it was so comforting to arrive in Cyprus at the brand new Larnaca airport; to glide along the walking escalators; to be greeted by gracious and efficient customs officials; to peer through windows of flat screen advertising in modern showy style; and, like I mentioned, tp take our first luxury limo ride as newlyweds (this was due to a 1a.m. arrival and not because of choosing this over our usual public transportation offerings); Cyprus soon grated on us. We were immediately discontent. My wife wondered aloud, ‘Is this what it is going to be like to be back in the USA? Surrounded by all of this stuff and disliking it? Have we become so accustomed to standards of living in poorer countries that the standards of our own culture repulse us?” It was a valid question.

In Cyprus, wealth is everywhere. It is an offshore banking capital for Europe, so there are banks and accounting firms. It is a resort island, so there are real estate offices selling condos in large new developments and waterfront towers. But I was not so sure it was only wealth, modernity, and the ugly side of ‘gold rush’ type Real Estate Development which was making us so ill at ease. We had been in Hong Kong, Shanghai, Tokyo, also gleaming and new, Filled with wealth, but somehow they had a different class, the value of money was not the predominate aesthetic. Here it was pervasive, unbalanced.

So, we left Larnaca. We woke up, walked around town, dipped our toes in the ocean (where there was a wonderful contrast, teenagers frolicking on break next to rows of empty umbrellas and chairs lined up facing the ocean - from the front row back with front row seat clearly the ideal spot) ; and, at the end of the town beach, and old man, clearly a long time resident, carrying bags of trash which he probably collects daily out from the beach. The old man, and the children’s play both lifted our spirits.

We checked the bus schedule, headed back to pack [our hotel had an interesting concept, nice modern rooms but no frills: 10 a.m. checkout, 8 Euro remote control use, 3 Euro bag check, 2 Euro towel, 5 Euro per hous internet, 10 Euro room clean etc]. instead of walking to the bus, we decided to give an effort at hitching. So, here begins our service journey in Cyprus…

II.

Our first ride came quickly, we had moved up the street from Hellenic Bank, where we finally retrieved enough Euros to feel we could get through a day or two. In front of a local fruit truck, almost immediately a pleasant single woman, Leza, in a brand new Volvo sedan pulled over - offering a smile and a lift. Her first sentence was something like, “Cypriots don’t see to much hitchhikers, but, I lived in England until I was 21 and I am happy to giver you a lift.” She was on her way to work, but went out of her way to bring us to the right intersection, and we departed with her telling us that if we did come back to Larnaca she would love to have us over for some wine or a dinner.Leza said that tourism made it more difficult to enjoy Cyprus; but that she especially liked Larnaca’s working town vibe; and that it still preserved much Cypriot way of life. We applauded her kindness and promised to stay in touch.
Brittany the hitchiker

Our next ride arrived even faster. Out the (right) driver side door popped a pregnant blond woman who motioned for us to load our stuff in her trunk where she would make space for us. Her name was Dorotha. She was from Poland, a singer, a salsa dancer and instructor, and an expectant mom and soon to be bride. We learned so much from Dorotha as she drove us half way across the island to the capital of Nicosia.

Since Dorotha, we have wanted to hitchhike only. We did catch public transport from just outside the great walled city to get to Kyrenia. We were in the process of trying to hitch when a humbler Mercedes pulled up and motioned for us to get in. As it turned out, this was a sky blue stretch vintage limousine now converted into a shared taxi. It filled up quickly and we were on our way.

South Cyprus (known as Turkish Occupied Cyprus in most of the western world) had preserved the charms of what Cyprus was probably like before the civil war. There were old buildings, people gathered in the street at parks and cafes, and the high end brand stores and skinny busty dress were not as much in vogue. I commented to Brittany that at one public square in North Cyprus close to the edge of the border, I felt a seemliness that reminded me of Thompson Square in the east village of NYC before it reached the high pace of gentrification. Prostitutes, old men, high end shoppers, immigrant laborers, punk teenagers, and flocks of oblivious tourists all were using the square mostly unaware or through ignoring each other.

We have been picked up by two Nottingham Knights (in current incarnations as plumbers) who brought us to our lovely camp site. They told us camping would be fine, just to keep an eye out for vipers. We were picked up in a big Mitsubishi work truck by a local Cypriot who picked us up and drove us slowly across the island occasionally explaining that his truck was ‘engine too hot’ and overheating. Then, we were whisked back too quickly from this far flung peninsula by a younger Turkish Cypriot who shared his own success in the rental car business as a parable for how business has boomed and busted since the 2004 opening of borders. When I enquired if he could draw a parallel for us between the conflict in Cyprus and the occupations in Palestine and other parts of the Middle East. He gave us a very dignified and reasonable answer, ‘I could not answer that question because I do not know what happens in Israel and Palestine. I do not live there,” he began, “But I am from here, and I can tell you that Cyprus has a conflict between peoples who are the same people - but we just cannot live together.” He went on to say that he did not think there would ever be a resolution, “I have seen so many presidents and governments,” he told us, “They are all the same, nothing changes and none of them offer new ideas or prospects of peace.” “The problem,” he told us, “Is that the Greek population is four times as big as the Turkish population. And, the Turkish populations hass always been poor, while the Greek population is rich. They have more than 4 million visitors a year while we have less than 150,000.” As with all the people we have met hitchhiking, we gave him our card, asked him to read and respond to our blog posts, and to come and visit us in one of the places we live (where maybe the view of our own conflicts in the Americas would give some insight into ways to bring peace to this small, historic and sentimental island). We all act to exchange good will.


So we have found service, again, in Cyprus: We outspokenly discuss the prospect of peace and prod all those we meet to give us the reasons why it is not occurring; we meet people who will pick up hitchhikers and describe our journey (while at the same time, we wave to those who smile but point that they are not going our way; and, perhaps, we help those who cannot pick up hitchhikers for fear of encountering the other to productively question themselves and what it is that prevents them from wanting to pick up a couple of bright-eyed smiling, ostensibly innocuous people such as us).


And, then we look for our service projects where we can create them. I am writing this blog from our campsite on metamorphic rock cliffs high above the setting sun and the Mediterranean. I spent part of the afternoon picking up plastic bags along the cliffs. I would like to pick up more trash in the crevasses below, but the cliffs are treacherous, the rocks sharp, and I can do more on top than below. Brittany too picked up trash at a remote beach we visited near Turtle Bay. She tossed industrial plastic containers up from the tidal edge and carried an enormous diesel oil filter left leaking on the sands out to the side of the road. We try not to leave much of a footprint. We still struggle to not be given bags at stores and to have our items packed together or more lightly, we ‘pack it in pack it out’ much probably to the chagrin of a beautiful large red Cyprus fox which just approached me as I typed this. [Later we saw his mate with her four beautiful ox cubs rollicking in the sands and carved sea rocks below our camp].

We have realized that our service is often not so much in direct action, or projects, as it is in the promotion of ideas, in the rousing aptitude for harmony with peoples, in our cultural ambassadorship. We can leave the world in small ways better than we found it. For this journey, it is a start, it must be enough.

In about 72 hours in Cyprus, we have seen a lot, greened our travel a little further, heightened our awareness of the problems of rampant and unmitigated consumption, and worked for peace. At this pace, Europe will have a lot to gain by our visit.




III.

Hitchhiking in Turkey has been easier than we thought. We had some delightful and long rides, usually accompanied by generous hospitality in forms of exchanges of fresh fruit and chai tea. Some highlights have included: Brittany’s first ride in a ‘big rig’ which she hooked for us singlehandedly while I had my back briefly turned; a charming Turkish ex-pat Memet living in Zurich who really struggled with us to use German to make sense of the world; and a kind petrol operator who drove us 300k. - each of whom never tried to use English, nor us Turkish, but we all used a combination of charades, repetitious phrases at obvious moments, and all kinds of smiles and friendly gestures. With new friend Memet - Turkish chai and cherries for a break

We did break out our ‘Point It’ travelers universal language book during chai breaks causing additional good feelings as we saw together that when travel is put into photo images our common language needs are much simpler than we imagined. How do we make a picture for “Thank you.” to send to the ’Point It’ guides?

For those people who want to ‘green’ their adventure trail and go local, I think that team hitchhiking is a valuable way to experience ambassadorship, local hospitality, and share messages of interconnectivity. While Americans have a view of hitchhiking a dangerous and vagrant it does not have to be this way; the best way too change this is to break the mold and change the status quo; if hitching were to become as comfortable as it appears to us in Europe, we could all help dissolve barriers and build new friendships between peoples. In the process, you will: fill empty seats reducing carbon usage, find unexpected locations, make friends, and be an ambassador for how you want to represent your country.