Notice in our mailbox about Cyprus sewerage works...

A couple of days there was a piece of paper stuck in our mailbox that wasn't the usual junk mail. It was an A4 sheet headed "IACOVOU-ZEMCO JOINT VENTURE" with an address and other contact details underneath, all in English.

The rest was in Greek. And while I could probably have figured out what it said with the aid of a dictionary, I knew from previous experience that it would be a lengthy and tedious exercise, so I thought I'd try Google Translate, instead. It even allows phonetic typing, so I started by typing the words with their English equivalent letters, although after a couple of paragraphs I switched to typing in Greek as it was easier.

In a nutshell, the letter said that sewerage works were due to start in our street on June 29th, and could last up to three weeks. They apologised for the inconvenience, and asked that people move their cars and keep their children out of the way. Then there was a note that residents can't yet connect their own houses up to the new sewarage system.

However Greek still seems to be fairly formal when written, so that brief paragraph took up a whole sheet of paper. I was surprised at how readable the translation was. So for anyone else who happens to have received this piece of paper and wonders what it says, and for the sake of posterity, here's some of the translation - after the bit that simply tells us what date they're due to start working and how long it should take.

Conducting this work will cause some discomfort which we will try and minimise, and for which we apologise. Your co-operation and understanding are useful and necessary.

Please park your car away from the area of construction work for both the uninterrupted passage of machinery and safety of your vehicle. And to avoid delays in the execution of the work.

Great attention will be given to safeguarding your children, who should be kept away from the dances of the work and the handling of machines, to avoid accidents.

In case of error, please contact the responsible security person (name, number)

Please, at this stage, note that the network of sewerage and rain water is not in operation, so you must not connect your premises to the sewerage system without permission of the Larnaka Sewerage Council. They will inform you in due course.

Other than the 'dances' of the work (and the concept is rather appealing...) I thought the automatic translator handled it extremely well. And it was much quicker than sitting down with a dictionary to do it myself.

However...

Today is June 29th, and it's nearly 5.00pm. And other than some red dots being painted down the centre of our street, to mark where it will be dug up, nothing has happened so far...

Tomorrow... or 'avrio'?

It's over a week now since our dishwasher was taken away for repairs. I thought it would be, perhaps, a couple of days. On Friday, Richard phoned and spoke to George, the shop owner.

George said there was a thermostat problem. We'd rather guessed that, since the dishwasher was overheating so badly. He said the engineers were replacing that, and the main controller, and that it would cost €130. Ouch!

But, Richard pointed out, we had the main controller replaced at the end of June. It didn't seem unreasonable then, after four years of unstinting service. But surely it should last more than five months...?

Unfortunately, we had no paperwork. Some things are still very informal in Cyprus. We paid cash, and were not even given a receipt, let alone any kind of guarantee.

However, it IS Cyprus. Yesterday, having heard no more, Richard popped into the shop on his way back to work after lunch. George told him that yes, he had checked and we did indeed have a new controller in June, so we won't be charged for another new one. In fact, he said we won't have to pay much at all... though he didn't quote a figure.

So that's good.

Richard asked when we might get the dishwasher back again.

Well, George said, the engineers fixed the problem, they thought. So they ran it through a couple of cycles to make sure. And on the second one, it overheated dramatically again. So evidently they hadn't fixed the problem, and were doing some more tests.

'Tomorrow', he said.

However... the English word 'tomorrow' is translated into Greek as 'αυριο' (if that just looks like random symbols or squares because you don't have the correct Greek font on your computer, the transliteration is, roughly, 'avrio'). Unfortunately, it doesn't mean quite the same as 'tomorrow', which is a fairly specific word. It can.. but as far as we can determine, what it really means is, 'some time after today'.

Richard forgot to ask whether it would really be 'tomorrow' or 'αυριο'.. so I assumed the latter. Which is good, because it didn't arrive back today.

I'm almost getting used to washing dishes after meals, although I don't suppose I will ever like it.

Greek language in Cyprus

We've lived in Cyprus for thirteen years now. That's more than a quarter of my life. At eighteen, Tim had spent half of his life here.

The primary language in the main (southern) part of Cyprus is Greek, so we had assumed that we would need to learn the language when we moved here. I thought I had a head start, since I studied Ancient Greek to A-level when I was at high school. That meant that I could, at least, read the letters and had an idea of pronunciation and grammar. Pronunciation had to be adjusted radically, and grammar in modern Greek is rather simpler than it was a couple of thousand years ago. But still, I had some slight confidence that it wouldn't be too hard...

Armed with a Greek-English dictionary, we set to work to 'decode' (as the boys put it) labels on food, circulars that arrived in our mailbox, and other random Greek. We found a couple of beginner Greek books, and worked our way through the earliest exercises. We borrowed a Greek Linguaphone course, and started out with some enthusiasm. Unfortunately it was very dated, and we got bogged down in some of the conversations that were really not relevant to boys of 11 and 9... or, indeed, to me.

Then we discovered the Learn Greek course, produced originally for Cyprus radio. It's also rather dated, but was made in Cyprus, narrated by a friendly person who explains everything, and rather easier to work through than the Linguaphone. So we started at the beginning, and it seemed fairly straightforward at first... as we covered the same ground, learning about pencils and tables and baskets...

But over our first year or so in Cyprus, we gradually realised that we didn't actually have to speak Greek at all. Our neighbours were pleased to find British people living nearby, so that they could practise their English. People in shops all spoke English, too - some of them biligually, some of them still fluently, others with just a smattering... but a great deal more confidence than we had in our Greek.

Daniel took Greek classes for a year or so with a friend, and picked up a fair amount from playing in the town band, and also having friends in the inter-church youth group, and Antidote Theatre. Tim also amassed some Greek - sufficient to make himself understood, when he needed to. But it wasn't very often.

And so the years have gone by. Every so often I make a concerted effort to progress further through the 'Learn Greek' course. I wrote a post about attempting to learn Greek in March last year... I was very pleased since I had reached lesson 30, last in the 'elementary' section of the site.

Now, over eighteen months later, I'm on about lesson 33. I seem to manage a few days when I listen to a lesson, and study the attached transcript, and it begins to fall into place in my mind. Then something distracts me, or I have a few busy days... and suddenly I realise that months have gone by without me listening to another lesson. So I back-track a little, and reach the level I'd got to before... and so it goes on.

Part of me feels that I should be fluent in Greek now. Occasionally someone makes a comment to that effect, and I feel a little abashed. But most Cypriots have such remarkably good English that it's difficult to have any opportunity to speak Greek.

However, this morning I found myself wishing I'd worked a little harder at the language. The phone rang, and someone spoke to me rapidly in Greek. I assumed it was a wrong number, and said so in English, slowly. The person kept speaking, rapidly. I said, 'Sorry' and rang off. Five minutes later, the same person phoned. Part of my problem is that I find it remarkably difficult to think on the spur of the moment. I could not even remember how to say, 'I don't speak Greek' in Greek. I had forgotten - tempoorarily - the word for 'English' in Greek. Everything I had learned - all those thirty or more lessons - completely vanished from my mind, when someone was finally speaking Greek to me.

Eventually he asked me my name. I told him my first name... and he put the phone down. I assume it was a wrong number. If it was some official or perhaps the post office trying to get hold of us, they would surely have found someone who spoke English, at least for the second attempt.

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!

Learning Greek in Cyprus

When we moved to Cyprus, at the end of 1997, we thought we would need to learn Greek. I had the advantage of having studied Ancient Greek as far as A-level, so I could at least read the alphabet and understand some basic words when I saw them.

I had to totally re-learn all my pronunciation, but modern Greek is phonetic, and it wasn't too difficult. There are plenty of books available, and we bought a good dictionary to enable us to 'decode' (as the boys put it) labels on food, or junk mail, or other documents in Greek.

However, we apparently look English. So we found that people in shops, or neighbours, would automatically speak to us in English. And Cypriots, by and large, speak extremely good English. Perhaps if we had lived in a small village in the mountains, we would have had to learn at least some Greek to be able to communicate at all, but in Larnaka it isn't necessary.

Still, I thought it would be good to speak the local language. We had no funds available for lessons, but there's an excellent free online course called Learn Greek. It was originally a radio course in the 1960s, so it's a bit dated. But it was made in Cyprus, and seemed like a good way to get started. There are lessons with Real Player audio files to listen to, about fifteen minutes each. There are also complete transcripts of each lesson, and a discussion forum for each.

There were some technical problems in our early years in Cyprus, which made us use this course less than we might otherwise have done, but the boys and I got through the first few lessons. Tim then learned some Greek at Cub Scouts, and Daniel at the Municipal Band, and both of them picked up some Greek just by mixing with bilingual and Greek-speaking friends at the church youth group, at the theatre, and elsewhere.

I kept thinking perhaps it would be good to learn a bit more too, and managed to get to about lesson 24 in the Learn Greek course. But it always seemed to get so complicated. All that vocabulary... even though only a few new words are introduced in each lesson, and one can listen to it as many times as one wishes.

I tried - half-heartedly - several times to get back to it. I would back-track to around lesson 18, and listen to it with confidence. Then I'd move forward, over a couple of weeks, until I got to lesson 23 or 24, but somehow I would feel defeated, and give up again. Or else some new technical problem would arise, making it impossible to listen.

About four months ago I decided to try again with Greek. I felt bad that I couldn't communicate at all with Greek children, and my new hairdresser was shocked that we had lived here eleven years without learning more than a few words. I agreed with her, and determined to try once more with the Learn Greek course.

I went back to lesson 18 again, and decided to listen to the same lesson every day for a week. That way, I thought, I could move through fairly fast.

I haven't succeeded in my aim. However, I did reach a milestone last week when I completed lesson 30. That's further than I've ever got before, and it's the end of what the Learn Greek site considers 'elementary'. Lesson 31, which I have now started, is considered 'intermediate'. And, indeed, it introduces past tenses in all their forms, which are new to me. It's beginning to feel a bit overwhelming again, but I'm determined to keep going.

The trouble is, when I listen to people speaking Greek, it's so fast that I don't pick up more than the occasional word. It doesn't come naturally to me to speak in anything other than English, and even when a shop assistant says words which I do know (such as 'two euros' in Greek) I don't 'get' it if I'm not expecting it. I look blank, apparently, so they repeat in English.

Moreover, I'm not an extravert, and I don't naturally speak in Greek to anyone. I find it hard even to say 'thank you' or 'hello' in Greek, for some reason, although I'm quite capable of doing so. And a couple of times when I have attempted to answer a simple question in Greek, to my embarrassment, I have spoken in French instead. It's as if my brain things 'foreign language'... and while my French is far from fluent, it's still more advanced than my Greek.

It isn't necessary to speak Greek here at all. But having lived here so long, I feel as if I should have at least a basic understanding of the language. I don't want to take lessons - quite apart from the cost, there would be a time commitment, and probably homework assignments which would make it feel like hard work. If I could get to the end of the Intermediate level of the Learn Greek course, I would hope to be able to communicate a little better - if only the Cypriots would speak slowly, using vocabulary I already know!