Brief cameos from May in Cyprus

Not only have I rather neglected this blog in the past few weeks, I've hardly used my camera, either. I'm not sure why. But here, for anyone interested, are a few brief updates from the past month, along with the rather paltry contents of my camera... 

Firstly, a scene that I thought very pretty when we drove past the Salt Lake one evening at sunset. We just stopped at some traffic lights so I didn't have time to try different settings on the camera. I didn't even keep it still enough to be sharp - but the silhouettes are quite attractive:

The Salt Lake is still very full, given that it's the end of May. We've had a couple of quite heavy rain showers this month, and even today there was a little rain. The long, relatively cool spring is very pleasant. While people in the UK are currently basking in (or complaining about) temperatures of 25-28C, I've acclimatised sufficiently to find similar temperatures in Cyprus pleasantly cool. 

The downside of a longer, wetter spring is that mosquitoes seem to have bred out of all proportion, and we've even had some 'no-see-um's' around, giving nasty bites that swell like those of biting spiders. Last night we made the mistake of having a couple of windows open after dark. This morning I found hundreds of little mosquitoes all over them. Apologies to animal activists... but I showed no mercy. 

The majority of May has been taken up with the closing down of the office about a kilometre away where Richard has been working for many years.  His colleagues are leaving, for various reasons, and the costs - particularly electricity bills - were becoming far too high. So the organisation has down-sized, and Richard will now be working from home. He was in the middle of the first sabbatical he had taken in over twenty years, so had to put that on hold for a while, to move equipment and furniture, and re-organise a couple of rooms in our house. He had already taken over what was Daniel's room as his study; he has now completely redesigned the 'studio' in our guest flat as a video editing suite. 

Ten days ago was the official closing date of the bigger office; we got together with the workers (past and present) and their families, and the trustees of the organisation in our home for a big lunch and party to celebrate the last twelve or so years. Change is not necessarily a bad thing, and it was good to catch up with so many people - but I didn't think of getting the camera out to record such a momentous occasion. Ah well.

Since then, Richard has worked hard to clear out the rest of the office, culminating in a skip last Friday. It will be handed back to the landlord at the end of the month. He would like to resume his sabbatical in June, but may have to spend some weeks on sorting out some technical things first. 

Although the office relocation has taken up almost all of Richard's time, and much of our emotion for the past month, life has continued as ever, spending time with friends, playing games, and so on. 

Earlier in the month, we attended a Greek Orthodox wedding for the first time. It was in a local church with magnificent paintings up high, and a large number of people in the congregation. The bride is the daughter of some of the people we have known longest in Cyprus. 

Then, last Friday evening, at the regular informal 'cell group' we belong to, Richard and our almost-ten-year-old friend Lukas had an enjoyable half hour experimenting with some old brass goblets which we had no use for (but Lukas loved), filling them with different amounts of water and testing the pitch. Richard's iPhone was able to tell them the approximate note, and Lukas eventually played a tune - of sorts. 

It was what we thought of as a typical 'home education' moment - I'm not sure if one would class it as physics or music, or just a bit of exploratory science, but it's the kind of thing that arises spontaneously and which we would miss, now we're empty-nesters, if it weren't for our nearby friends. 

Oh, and for anyone wondering about my broken toes... they seem to be mostly better. I made my first trip to a local shop on my own about a week ago, and even walked to the Anglican Church on my own yesterday (it being Pentecost Sunday in the Western calendar). But they're still not 100%, and my pace is a great deal slower than I like to walk. 

Our first Greek Orthodox Christening in Cyprus

We were invited, for the first time, to a Greek Orthodox Christening service, on Sunday. Like Anglicans, babies are baptized in the Greek Orthodox Church, although it usually seems to be when they are around six months old. It's much more of a big ceremony; in the Anglican Church, at least our traditions, dedications and baptisms of infants take place during regular morning services, to show that they are a part of the church family. The ceremony takes perhaps ten minutes. In the Greek Orthodox Church, however, the ceremony lasts an hour - and that without any congregational singing, nor even a sermon. So it's done as a special service, usually at 11am after the ordinary service has finished.

We'd been invited by text, to St Lazarus Church at 11am, with various reminders. We weren't sure what to wear, but decided that smart trousers for Richard would be better than jeans, and I thought that, since it was reasonably warm, I should dig out one of my skirts and a pair of sandals.

Thus arrayed, we arrived at St Lazarus Church at almost exactly 11am. We realised that most things don't start on time in Cyprus, but expected to see a few folk we knew...


People were just coming out. We saw someone we knew... but he wasn't connected with the christening. He said it had been a longer service than usual as the Bishop was there.

So we wandered about, peeping into the church every so often. It's quite a tourist attraction so there were visitors going in, looking around, and going out again.

Eventually we walked up the road to our friends' house, and Richard found them still there. Apparently the Christening was at 12, not 11... somewhere he had missed a text message.

So we went down to Alexander's on the sea-front, and had some coffee. At least, Richard did. I had my first frappé of the year. Very pleasant it was, too.

Then we headed back to St Lazarus, and got there about 11.50. This time the Christening party were there, so we went inside. Did we have to sit separately, we wondered? Apparently not. Were we allowed to take photos? Yes, no problem.

At 11.55 the service started. There were only about 15 people present including the family... but it was all quite informal. Other guests arrived around noon, or even later. By the time it ended, there were probably 30 or 35 people there.

The whole thing was in Greek - probably Ancient Greek, so we didn't expect to understand it. The mother isn't supposed to touch the baby at all; instead she's held by her godmother. The priest was reading something from a book, presumably some kind of liturgy.


At one point, the godmother had to give some responses - and I even caught a few words. They sounded similar to the promises made by Anglican godparents, although they were repeated three times rather than just once.


Up to this point, it all seemed fairly familiar despite being in a very ornate building in a language we didn't understand. Everyone was happy, and the baby was doing well.

Then she was taken away from the main area, and her clothes removed. Was she going to change into a special christening outfit...? No. Instead, the priest anointed her with some special oil. She was not impressed. She started crying... and the only person who was able to hold her was her godmother. Apparently, once this part of the ceremony begins, if her parents touch her she becomes unclean and the whole thing would have to start all over again. So they just had to watch and listen while their little one became more and more distressed. I'm not sure I could have gone through with it if it had been one of mine.

After the oil, the baby was immersed three times in water. She went in right up to her neck, and water was then splashed all over her head so that she was, basically, fully immersed. By this time she was screaming continually... and this is not a baby who usually cries much at all.


She was then dried, and while we couldn't see everything that was going on, I think there was more oil put on her, and more liturgy said. Then the priest cut off some of her curls. We asked afterwards why that was, and nobody knew. She was dressed in a pretty (but not very comfortable looking) Christening gown and hat, and gradually calmed down in her godmother's arms, although she started crying again whenever she caught sight of the priest. I'm sure he's a very nice man - he seemed friendly, and apparently apologised to the baby's father... but said it all had to be done properly.

Towards the end, a young lad carrying a candle accompanied the godmother and baby as they walked around the table while the priest swung some incense and said more liturgy. They stopped several times in different places; I've no idea what the significance was.


The whole thing took about an hour. It was an interesting experience for us, traumatic for the baby, and devastating for the baby's mother!

However, the baby was then taken home for a feed and a nap, after which she recovered fairly quickly, and the rest of us were given a sumptuous spread, prepared by some of the baby's relatives.

The sun shone, and it was pleasantly warm. Richard was getting over a nasty cough and I was getting over an unpleasant sinus infection, but we both felt much better as we sat and chatted with people we knew, and enjoyed the excellent food.

We left about 3pm, and when I got home it was chilly enough that I changed into jeans, socks and trainers pretty quickly!