Out of Cyprus in August

At the start of July, I wrote a longish post about preparing for summer in Cyprus. And that's the routine I followed, more-or-less, during July. I finished our 2024 photobook and had it sent to our elder son's home. I went out for a short walk early most mornings, around the block or to the local shop. And we ate different combinations of salad dishes as our main meal most days. 

We celebrated our 45th wedding anniversary in a fairly low-key way. It was too hot and humid to eat out anywhere, so we ordered food from our favourite Lebanese restaurant. It's theoretically a meze for two. It lasted us nearly three days.

On July 28th we finished all our leftovers, cleaned the fridge, packed our cases... and in the evening, our friend Sheila drove us to the airport for a break in the UK.

Travelling to the UK from Cyprus (continued)

I wrote in my last blog post about our complicated preparations for travelling to the UK this summer, with about ten days to do considerably more than is normally needed. Not that the pre-pandemic 'normal' applies any more. But as I said at the end of that post, it wasn’t until we boarded our mainly empty flight, late on a Thursday evening just over a month ago, that I finally started to allow myself to believe that we might see our family again. 

I'm very thankful to live in an age of modern technology. Whatsapp, Facebook and Zoom have enabled us to stay in touch, to share photos, to see each other’s faces and hear each other’s voices. My brother instituted a fortnightly (now monthly) family Zoom and it’s been one of the highlights of the pandemic, as far as I’m concerned. Just half an hour or so catching up with news and trivia has made all the difference to my feeling of being isolated from my relatives for so long. 

But it’s not the same as being together, and I hadn’t realised how much I had missed it until we were, at last, en route, and a little frisson of excitement started to rise in my chest. I was tired - our flight wasn’t until after my usual bedtime - and quite stressed; it had been a hectic week making all the arrangements necessary. I dozed once or twice, but can never really sleep on flights. 

We arrived on time, and found a taxi to take us to the nearby Travelodge. Previous experiences with waiting for the shuttle bus had persuaded us that it was worth paying a few extra pounds for the comfort and convenience of a taxi when arriving at 1.30am. 

Gatwick Travelodge is a familiar place, but we had never before booked two nights there. This was necessary for various reasons, including the lateness of our flight. We had decided to have a day to ourselves - to pick up our rental car about noon on the Friday, so we could take it easy after the substantial Travelodge ‘all you can eat’ breakfast.

Collecting the car was not stress-free. This is an example of British understatement. We had opted for a different rental company this time, as our usual preferred one was charging extortionate amounts. But we should have known that it wouldn’t be easy. We did eventually get the car (which was fine, thankfully) but we left feeling irritated, having had to leave a very large deposit with the company, who did not trust our excess insurance. It was not a good start to our break.

When we arrived at the nearby shopping centre where we had decided to eat lunch and make some necessary purchases, I felt oddly nervous on seeing so many people milling about, many of them not wearing masks, and with little observance of any social distancing. We had N95 masks, and while I prefer the more comfortable cloth ones, we wore the more protective ones as we had no wish to acquire the virus and potentially pass it on to our vulnerable relatives.

There are always a few things we buy in the UK, that we can’t easily find in Cyprus. Solid deodorant, for instance. It's quite pricey, but each one lasts over a year, and can be taken in hand luggage on a flight. I usually buy a selection of inexpensive birthday cards, too. Richard was looking for a new backpack, I was looking for some new sandals. And he always likes browsing shopping centres. 

I had got beyond exhaustion into a kind of dazed auto-pilot, but we found lunch, and looked in shops, and then returned to the Travelodge. We had talked about finding a nice restaurant for our evening meal, but were so tired we decided to eat there and were pleasantly surprised at the choice and the quality, even if we had to wait rather longer than we would have liked for the meal to arrive.

On Saturday we spent a very pleasant day with Richard's mother. Then to a nearby AirBnB, where the hostess had kindly agreed to take in our 'Day Two' PCR test packs, which had to be used on Sunday morning. That was a bit stressful - the instructions were not entirely clear, so we hoped we had taken suitable samples. Then, as we had not ordered courier-collection ones, we had to find a place to post them. We tracked down a priority mailbox, made a note of the tracking numbers, and photographed them going into the letter box - since it was Sunday, none of the Post Offices were open.*

We had lunch at a service station en route to our next destination, in the Midlands, which we reached at about 5pm. It was very good to see my father again after such a long time. 

We stayed at a nearby Travelodge, and then spent the whole of Monday with my father and stepmother. One of my brothers came for the day, with his wife and her granddaughter, and there was also a brief visit from my nephew and his wife. It was a lovely family day and I tried to appreciate every moment. 

On Tuesday we drove north again, and spent a couple of hours with my other brother and his wife. Then on to our last destination, the one I was looking forward to most: a whole week with our sons, daughter-in-law and grandchildren. Our younger son was staying with the family, having moved out of his last flat in the south. So we had all our descendants together, for the first time in eighteen months. 

Spending time with the grandchildren was wonderful - we went with them to nearby parks, read them books, played board games, and chatted in ways that just aren’t possible when video chatting. We saw places they had talked about, so we can imagine them for ourselves.

We relished every moment. Children change so rapidly during these early years, and they have such different, delightful personalities. 

Richard had been talking about sailing with them, on our video calls, and both children were excited at the idea. Since we have no idea when they might manage to get to Cyprus, he decided to rent a boat for an afternoon at one of the lakes in the Lake District. We had lunch there together, then three of us went to find hot drinks and some peace to read, while Richard took our older son and grandchildren out for a couple of hours. The boat was was apparently very like the boats in the book 'Swallows and Amazons', which the children have enjoyed listening to more than once. 

Since there wasn't room for all of us, we stayed for the week at a nearby AirBnB. It was a lovely place to stay, with a huge attic room, beautifully decorated with an ensuite bathroom, and some of the friendliest hosts we have met. 

Knowing how short the time was, I tried to make the most of every minute.  I knew I would find it difficult to leave, and would have liked to stay longer. But we had decided that I would return to Cyprus with Richard rather than rely on public transport to get to the airport, or to make further visits to other relatives. Twelve days in the UK felt like a huge adventure after such a lengthy period when travel was impossible.  It was never going to be long enough for me anyway. I think, in the circumstances, it was both the right time to go, and the right length of time to stay.  

To return to Cyprus from the UK, we didn't need to do any tests, as we're fully vaccinated. But we had to apply for and fill in the Cyprus Flight Pass, and download the EU Digital Covid Certificate. Richard had his computer with him, so did everything on that, as well as checking in at the airport. So with the boarding pass and the other two certificates, we each had three QR codes on our phones, to be scanned and validated before flying. 

On August 25th we drove to Newcastle Airport. Returning the rental car was, thankfully, straightforward, and the lady who dealt with us was a great deal more helpful and friendly than the guys at Gatwick. The airport is quite small, and many of the shops and eateries are still closed. but we found somewhere to eat lunch and bought sandwiches for the return flight. 

While it always takes me several days to feel myself again after a flight to Cyprus - and it was still hot and humid on our return - I felt refreshed and rejuvenated. And it's so lovely to have seen where our older son and his family are now living; last time we visited them, they were in Scotland. 

I have no idea when we will return to the UK, or see any of the family again, but it was a wonderful trip, appreciated all the more after the difficulties encountered in getting there. I'm hugely thankful to all who hosted us, and for every second we were able to spend with our loved ones. 

*PS It took three days for our PCR tests to reach the destination and another day to be processed. We did eventually receive notification that they were negative, but by that time we had visited four different households (six if we include the AirBnBs), and been out and about in the community.  We can see the point of tests before flying, but when we no longer needed to isolate, a 'Day Two' test, with results on about Day Six, doesn't seem to have any useful purpose. 

Preparing to Travel from Cyprus to the UK

We usually - in the pre-pandemic days - travelled to the UK at least once per year, sometimes twice. All our immediate family members live in England now, scattered around the country. Last year we had to cancel the week we had booked with our sons and grandchildren in Scotland, as travel was impossible. I kept hoping to be able to visit, all through the Autumn of 2020, but it wasn't to be. Our younger son didn't even manage to come out to Cyprus for Christmas, for the first time in over a decade. 

I say this not as a complaint, but to give some context. Many are much worse off than we are from the family visit point of view; some, sadly, have lost loved ones during the past eighteen months. 

Cyprus has done fairly well as far as vaccination rate goes, though it was awhile before we were eligible to be jabbed. I had my first Astra-Zeneca dose in May, the second in July. Back in May when I booked it, I was somehow hoping that it might be possible to travel in August, and that being fully vaccinated might help. 

By the end of June, I was beginning to think we might have to wait another year without seeing any of the family, and that vaccination status was irrelevant. But in early July, realising that my passport would expire in November, I applied for a new one anyway. I knew that if any chance of travelling did come up, I would need at least six months' worth of validity... so I thought I might as well apply rather than potentially leaving it to the last moment if a travel opportunity came up.  

The site for applying online was surprisingly easy to navigate, clear in its instructions, and even allowed a digital photo taken on a phone. I had to send my old passport to the UK via recorded delivery, but was pleasantly surprised that, rather than it taking 11 weeks, as the site suggested, I had my new passport back before the end of July.

But the Covid case numbers in Cyprus were very high, and it was in 'Amber' status as far as the UK went. That meant that in addition to having to do a pre-flight antigen test, visitors to the UK had to book two PCR tests after arrival, and self-isolate for ten days. An annoyance for Brits returning home, but really not an option for tourists, nor for visiting the family, unless the family lives somewhere isolated already and one is not trying to see a large number of different people.

Then it was announced that, from August 2nd, fully vaccinated tourists from 'Amber' countries would NOT need to isolate on arrival in the UK.  My heart beat a little faster. Maybe we would be able to see the family after all..

We started putting out feelers, wondering whether to fly at the end of the first week of August, Richard staying for ten days or so, while I might stay longer.  But nothing quite came together, and I never felt 'right' about it. 

Then, gradually, another plan evolved. I wouldn't stay longer than Richard- I wasn't entirely happy about using public transport - and we would play to stay at Travelodges or AirBnBs instead of with family members. That would reduce contact time at night and breakfast and would be less hassle for those we wanted to see.

This time, our suggested dates worked for everyone. Flight prices were surprisingly low (although car rental wasn't!) and we were able to find suitable accommodation in all our planned locations. 

Of course it's not that simple, this year. We had to book pre-flight tests. The UK government website makes it clear that they don't have to be PCR tests, they can be the rapid antigen tests, but must have paperwork saying they meet certain criteria. We also had to book PCR tests - just one each - to use on Day Two in the UK.  That was quite complicated to arrange, and a tad pricey, but the AirBnB host for that day was happy to receive them on our behalf. 

On August 11th, the day before we were due to fly, we went out to get our antigen tests. The first two pharmacies we went to were closed for most of August. We looked at a suitable lab, but there was a long queue in the hot sun. We eventually found a pharmacy with rapid tests being done outside, with no queue. The people involved in the testing looked at our printed list of UK government requirements, and said, 'Yes, yes, we do that'.  

'Is it okay for flights to the UK?' we asked. 

'Yes, no problem,' they said. We would have a printed form, they told us, and a text message on our phones. Eight euros each, which seemed reasonable. And while we were there, we bought some high quality masks to wear on the flights.

It was the first time either of us had had a Covid test, and it felt like a slight tickle in the nose. I was surprised they got anything at all. The results (negative, thankfully) appeared in about two minutes. Then we were given our forms, which looked very scrappy, and were mostly in Greek:

We were assured that everything was fine, that there were no other forms or paperwork they could do, and that the government would send us a text message with more information. 

A while later we did indeed receive text messages from the government, confirming that we were negative. This would be fine if we were just wanting a 'safe pass' to go to a big shop or church service. But since we're both fully vaccinated, we don't need those.  I didn't feel entirely happy about it, but hoped it would be all right. 

After that, we had to fill in the UK passenger locator forms, which must be done online. I don't know what people do if they don't have access to a computer.  It was reasonably straightforward, with options to check and edit every field if necessary, but a lot of information was required. We printed them out... more paperwork. 

In the evening we discussed our pharmacy antigen tests with a friend, who pointed out that the pharmacy hadn't even put our dates of birth on - and that's a requirement. Nor did they have any phone number to contact them. Perhaps, our friend suggested, we could go back and ask them to add this information, and give us a contact card. 

But on Friday morning, the day we were due to fly, we decided that, rather than get into a possible argument/debate with the pharmacy, and - more importantly - risk being turned away from the flight in the evening, we would go to a lab, even if we did need to queue for half an hour or more. Thankfully we didn't need to wait more than a few minutes, and it all seemed much more professional. And they only cost five euros each. 

Best of all, they gave us printed forms that included all the necessary information (I have, of course, cropped parts with personal details from this photo - but it shows how much more professional it looks than the first one)

Having said that, there was a slight glitch when Richard saw that they had spelled his name wrong, and they initially gave me someone else's form. So they had to re-check and find mine, and edit his name to print another. But at last we had what, we hoped, we needed. 

When we got back, we sorted out clothes to take, and worked out that we wouldn't need to book an extra bag, as Richard had feared. So we wondered if we would be able to check in online. Most people we know of who have flown in the past couple of months have said it was impossible - the airport staff want to check every document. It's not unreasonable, since they have to check certificates etc, and apparently doesn't take much longer.

But he tried anyway, and to our surprise we succeeded in checking in. Boarding cards appeared, not to be printed but for our phones. Just as well I have a smartphone now. We were only flying with hand luggage - on a slightly upgraded kind of ticket that allows two full-size cabin bags, and two smaller under-seat ones. 

So the boarding pass was paper-free, but the amount of paperwork we had to print was considerable: 

That included information about all the locations where we were staying, the rapid test results, details of the ordered PCR tests, car rental... and details of the flights too, although we knew we probably wouldn't need those. 

When we arrived at the airport, we went straight through security with our phone boarding passes, and the various checks - passport, luggage scans etc - were much quicker than usual. The airport looked almost empty - we had never seen it so quiet. We had quite a wait, and were wondering if we'd have to show the antigen test paperwork to anyone - but we did, at the boarding gate. A man there asked to see our vaccination certificates, and also the negative test results. Thankfully everything was fine, and we finally boarded the emptiest flight I can remember.

At last, I allowed myself to hope that we really would soon be seeing our family!

Out of Cyprus Summer 2018: the first three (plus) days

I had intended to write more often. So much for good intentions. June began with a week's visit from some very longstanding friends, and continued with the usual round of increased temperatures, decreased energy (on my part), games with friends and cake. In July we had a replacement outside shed built, Richard launched his new (to him) Kingfisher yacht Liza, and we wound down the supplies in our fridge in preparation for a month outside Cyprus.

Last year our son, daughter-in-law and two grandchildren set off for a couple of years on the floating bookstore ship Logos Hope. Daniel works in the A/V department. In the first six months or so they travelled around several of the Caribbean islands, doing some aid work after the devastating hurricanes of last summer, and also selling inexpensive books, giving presentations and seminars, and offering whatever else was needed by local congregations.

In the past three months they have been in Mexico; tomorrow the ship sets off for Panama, and will - in a few days - go along the Panama Canal. While we're told this is not, in fact, a very interesting experience it still appeals to Richard so we planned our trip to include this. We couldn't leave before July 18th as he was providing PA for a concert and the 19th was our 38th anniversary. We really didn't want to go through the US to get here; it requires a temporary visa (Estia) even to go thrugh aiports, and any time he goes to or through the US, he gets stopped for 'random' extra searches.

Happily, we found reasonable value flights to Mexico City direct from Heathrow on the evening of the 20th, so we planned the trip around that. To get to London we booked an early flight via Blue Air which went to Luton; that gave us plenty of time to travel across London via National Express.

So our day started rather early, even for me, on the 20th. All the packing was complete, so we set alarms for 4.30am. Our friend Sheila collected us at 5am and we checked in at the airport immediately. I had packed some fruit for breakfast, and we bought coffee at one of the restaurants inside the security area.  I decided to take photos at every stage of the journey...

Blue Air, despite being a budget airline, offers free food and drinks on most of its flights. I knew from experience that I would not be able to eat most of the food as it contains nitrites and other nasties which would give me a migraine, so we had brought some cereal bars with us. But while Richard ate both our frankfurter-type sausages, and baked beans, and a croissant and roll and crackers, the only thing I could eat was the bread roll and some cream cheese.  Even the jam said it contained a migraine-including additive.

But I enjoyed the rest of the fruit I had packed and a couple of cereal bars. And the free fruit juice on the plane was nice.

We arrived at Luton four and a half hours after taking off; I had never been there before, and Richard only once. Our National Express coach was booked for 11.20am but we had paid an extra ten pounds for the ability to get on any available coach going to Heathrow for up to twelve hours before or after. The coach station was outside, and rather confusing, but a helpful young man in uniform knew all the schedule and gates, and told us the next coach to Heathrow was at 10.50.

It wasn't a pleasant wait. Several people were smoking, including some with large metal tube things - we assume electronic cigarettes, although I had thought they were made to look like ordinary ones. I gather this is not always the case. I had also thought they were supposed to produce less smoke, making them safer for those around.  This certainly wasn't the case. I watched at least three people take puffs on these large tubular things, and there was a huge amount of smoke. Perhaps it's not as dangerous as that from ordinary cigarettes, but it was just as disgusting, and there was considerably more of it.

We almost didn't see our coach when it arrived, as it wasn't at either of the stops where it should have been, but the next one along. We heard a 'final call' for Heathrow, so presented our tickets to the driver. He took one look, then pointed out that we had booked for half an hour later.  I explained that we had paid extra to take an earlier or later coach, and he said yes, but we still had to make the change at the ticket office. Otherwise, as he pointed out, we could have printed off dozens of these tickets and distributed them to other people, who could just get on any coach. Unlikely, but I suppose possible.

However the wording on the back made no mention of having to re-book or officially change the time, and a coach official standing next to the driver said she thought we were correct; so she made a note of our details and said she would change it herself.

What struck me, as we travelled through London suburbs, was the dryness of the grass everywhere. We knew it had been warmer than usual in the UK, with very little rain. But I was shocked to see grass like this everywhere:

Our flight was from Terminal Five, but the coach didn't stop there. The driver told us to get off at the main bus station at Heathrow, and then get the free train to our terminal.  We eventually succeeded in doing this - it wasn't a regular monorail type train, as we are more used to at Gatwick, but an Underground service.

Our son Tim had arranged to meet us for a few hours in Heathrow airport, and it was wonderful to see him waiting for us when we finally emerged from the train at Terminal Five. It was about 12.30 UK time but we were very hungry, as Cyprus is two hours ahead; so we found what seemed to be the only reasonable restaurant, and had a leisurely lunch together.

In the afternoon Richard and Tim went out of the airport for a couple of hours while I stayed with the luggage and read. I was very tired by this stage and had no wish to go anywhere! So tired, in fact, that I didn't take any photos then, nor of our rather high-class flight to Mexico City, in a 'dreamliner' aeroplane. Even with economy seats, it was more comfortable and quieter than most flights, with pleasanter lighting. Two meals were provided, plus extra water as needed and - unusually for me - I managed to sleep for at least four or five hours, albeit not very deeply.

We arrived in Mexico City at 3am local time, and had a few hours to wait there. Our luggage had been checked right through to our final destination, thanks to a very efficient and helpful Mexico Air staff member at Heathrow. So we sat and drank coffee, and then ate some fruit - two days in a row being hobbit-like with second breakfasts, but then our days were rather longer than usual. We exchanged fifty euros, too, and received over 1100 Mexican pesos in return.

Our second flight, which departed at 7.50, was only about an hour and a half. But even that provided a drink and a cereal bar, and a daytime view which looked much better in reality than the photo:

Merida is quite a small airport, and we didn't have to go through any security as it had been an internal flight. As we walked to the exit, we were startled to see what looked like huge lizards; apparently iguanas:

We had been told that we could either get a taxi from Merida to Progreso, costing about 420-450 pesos, or an Uber, costing around 300-400.  Since 400 pesos is less than 20 euros, and the journey is 50 minutes, we had decided to opt for a taxi. We emerged from the airport to be greeted with several drivers offering services... we asked one what the cost to Progreso would be and he said, '650'. We shook our heads and asked someone else. He told us it would be 750.

We went to ask at the official airport taxi booth, and they said it would be 950! So we went back into the airport to try to call a Uber. We were quoted just under 400 and three of them were heading our way. Unfortunately, the first one simply drove past despite our waving at him. The second one slowed down, but then the airport taxi drivers started shouting at him. He eventually explained to us - in pretty good English- that Ubers were not allowed in the taxi area, or anywhere else in the airport.  So we would have to make our way out, which was quite some way. We had luggage, and the weather was hot and humid.

While Richard was speaking to the Uber driver, the first taxi driver who had approached us came up to me, and asked what we had expected to pay. I said, '400-450' with a shrug. 'Oh,' he said, 'My friend will drive you for 450'. I was a bit dubious that this might be an unofficial taxi (we had been warned only to get official ones) but they took us to the official taxi booth, and we paid in advance there, and were driven in one of the white airport taxis. The driver was good and the journey was under an hour.

Our daughter-in-law and grandchildren were waiting for us by the entrance to the port; the final journey was 6km along  a narrow road in the crew bus to the ship.  There were people queuing for the book fair and shows on the Logos Hope, but we were able to go in by a staff entrance. David, who is four, was very excited to see us, and showed us our cabin on Deck Two. Then it was time for lunch - usually ship lunch is bread, cheese or processed meats, and lots of salad. David didn't stop talking...

Our granddaughter Esther, who is nineteen months old, wasn't too sure about us. She was only nine months old when we last saw her, so has changed from a just-crawling baby to a lively, quite feisty toddler. She wasn't feeling too well either, as she had to have a yellow fever vaccination a couple of days earlier, and was quite clingy with her parents.

However David more than made up for her reticence with lots of cuddles, assurances that he loved us very much, and was looking forward to seeing us, and then - as always - we read him lots of books in the family's cabin (rather a nice 'suite' with two bedrooms and a bathroom).

After lunch Esther went for a nap, and Richard and I did too, setting an alarm for two hours. It was so nice to lie down after around 36 hours of travelling and we fell asleep almost immediately.

Esther was miserable after her nap, so we all went to the 'fun deck', a place with toys and swings; she's very fond of swinging, and spent most of her time there, growing more cheerful as she swung.

Jet lag when flying West isn't supposed to be too much of a problem - and on the whole I've found that to be true. We were very tired, but that was due to lack of sleep, as much as anything. Richard fell asleep at 8pm that night, and I managed to stay awake until 9am.  I then woke briefly a couple of times in the night, eventually getting up shortly before 6am. Richard slept until 7.30.

We're now settle in, less tired, and loving spending time with the family.

A few more Cyprus quirks...

Although we've lived in Cyprus for twenty years now, there are still occasions when we smile, or roll our eyes, and mutter, 'This is Cyprus!' It's a phrase used by Cypriots as well as ex-pats, often with a sense of pride in the way the island functions. Below are three recent examples:

1.  Central heating pump

Our main floor and the upstairs have separate pumps in our central heating system. About a year ago, we weren't getting any heat on our main floor. Not such a problem in Cyprus as it would be in, for instance, the UK; but some days are decidedly chilly. Our builder recommended a central heating engineer who came to have a look. He said we needed a new pump, so we asked him to fit one. However, instead of buying a new one, he found one that was being discarded by a school, and fitted that. The heating worked - mostly - for the rest of the winter.

But by the time it got cold again a few weeks ago, it was obvious we needed another replacement. Richard decided we would buy one ourselves, and then just ask a plumber to fit it, rather than risk another poor quality one. We went to a suitable local shop, where we were told that yes, they could sell us the exact same pump as our original one but that they recommended another which worked the same and was half the price. We would have bought the most expensive one if they hadn't been so insistent that their own brand was as good (and guaranteed). It was a positive 'This is Cyprus!' moment.

So we asked the shop if they had a recommended engineer who could fit it; preferably one who speaks English.  Yes, they told us, we should speak to George.  I don't know how many scraps of paper we've seen over the years with a phone number and the name 'George'.  Richard phoned him, and he said he would come later that day, or the following morning.

We waited, but nobody appeared. So Richard called, and he said yes, he would come later in the day.  He didn't.  He had many good reasons for not coming when he said he did, but after about the fifth day we were starting to feel rather frustrated. It was a not so good 'This is Cyprus!' experience that is all too familiar.

However, he did eventually come, fitted the pump efficiently and quickly, and even told us why the gas-powered part of our water heating has never worked.  He looked at a drip on the roof and said that one of our water tanks was faulty.  He then looked at a toilet which was very difficult to flush, and made a quick adjustment.  He was competent, quick (once he got here) and charged us just €30 for his time.

2. Curtain track 

Most of the curtains in our house have pull-cords.  And for about ten years or so, they worked just fine to open them in the morning, and close them at night.

Perhaps it's not obvious from that photo, so here's a close-up of the bit we pull:

In the past few months, however, first one curtain and then a couple of others started to jam. They wouldn't open - or wouldn't close - using the pull-cord.  We thought perhaps the cord needed to be replaced, as it looked a little frayed in places, so we bought some new cord. But quickly realised, when we took one down to try and replace the cord, that the problem is in fact with the mechanism at the end of the track that guides the cords:

There are two little wheels at each end, in a metal enclosure, and they were stuck. One of them broke off completely. We realised that the pelmets with the curtain rails have probably been here for thirty years or so... and the little wheel mechanism things needed to be replaced.

So Richard took the track off, and we went to a local shop that sells curtains and fittings.  The person on duty shook her head, and said it was a 'very old' fitting, one that could not be replaced. She said we would have to replace the entire metal track with a new fitting, and that each one would cost at least €25.  Since we have ten of them in all, which will need to be replaced eventually, this seemed a bit steep.  Moreover, the new track which the shop assistant showed us was exactly the same size as the one we have already. "Couldn't we buy just the new mechanism and fit it in the track?" we asked.  No, they insisted, it was too old.

Another oddity of Cyprus is that similar shops tend to congregate in the same area. So we thanked the shop assistant, and went to the next curtain shop, a couple of doors down the same street. We asked the same question.  They, too, said that our mechanisms were too old to be replaced, and that we would need a new track.

But they said it would only be €10 for the replacement.

We were startled at such a price difference, but thought we might as well pop into the third curtain shop that was in the same street, just another couple of doors down.

This time, however, the assistant assured us that yes, 'of course' we could replace the old mechanisms. They don't have them in stock right now, she said, but they could get some in. No, we don't need to make an order, just come back next Friday.  The cost?  €5 for two.

Yes, 'This is Cyprus!'

So, we'll go back there next week and see if they really can provide an exact replacement.

3.  Airport parking

Larnaka's old airport was replaced many years ago with a new, improved and mostly pretty efficient airport.

Unfortunately,  they have never really sorted out how the parking works.

At first, when dropping someone off or meeting a flight, there was twenty minutes of free parking in the short-term car park. If one parked for longer, there was a parking cost, but it wasn't too excessive. Of course, we, like many of our friends, would sometimes go back to the car after fifteen minutes, drive it out of the car park and then park somewhere else, so as to avoid paying - but in most cases, twenty minutes was plenty.

Then they started charging for all parking.  So people started not using the car park; instead they (and we..) would drive around while waiting for a call, or have one person get out to meet arriving guests, while the driver would find somewhere to stay temporarily, until a phone call alerted them of the arrival. But more and more people did this, and the roads around the airport became clogged, and then the authorities started putting up barriers, or cones, to stop even temporary parking.  They blocked off some of the car parks completely... but the main short-stay car park really isn't big enough.  So at times when we do want to park, sometimes Richard drives around for five minutes or more, just looking for a space.

On Wednesday morning we took Tim to the airport.  We decided to go in with him for half an hour or so, and were there in plenty of time. As usual, the car park looked absolutely packed. So Richard dropped Tim and me near the entrance while he went to look for a parking space.  We thought the airport would be heaving with people, as it often is, given the number of cars that were parked.

To our surprise, it was extremely quiet. There was no queue at all, so Tim checked his luggage in immediately.  Apparently the flight was almost empty.  We sat down and chatted for a while, and during that time saw very few people. Evidently December 27th is not a popular time for flying out of Cyprus. There didn't seem to be many arrivals, either.

So we were not just saying, 'This is Cyprus' in a frustrated way about the lack of parking spaces at the airport, we were genuinely puzzled:  why, with so few people in the airport, was the car park as full as ever...?

We wondered if it was long-term parking, for people who had gone away for a week or two over Christmas, but thought that was unlikely, as there's a separate covered long-term car park.  Could it be for staff?  No, they too have their own separate car park.

Then I discovered that instead of the long-term car park being better value than the short-term one for more than 24 hours of parking, it's more expensive. Indeed, the airport site actually suggests that people consider long-term parking in the short-term car park.

No wonder there's such a problem.  But... 'This is Cyprus!'

So long, farewell... as the family depart from Cyprus

Today, we said our sad goodbyes to our older son and his family, who have been here, staying in our guest flat, for almost three months. They're on their way to Canada for a week, to catch up with relatives, and then to Central America.

But I should back-track nearly three weeks. I returned home after a couple of weeks away, bringing Tim with me. It was wonderful to have an extra pair of hands.. and on the first Sunday he cooked most of our lunch, meaning I was relaxed enough to take a photo of our entire family - or, at least, all our descendants - together, probably for the last time in a couple of years.

Tim loves to cook, and while he was here he made some of his classic one-bowl brownies, and some double chocolate chip cookies... he also made a batch of naan bread, assisted ably by David who loves helping in the kitchen.  There was a slight misunderstanding in that David thought they were making banana bread, but he liked it anyway.

It's said that children really don't need many toys; that they play with new things for a few days, and then the enthusiasm wears off. David does love his little trains, and figurines from Postman Pat and other favourite stories, but he also spends a lot of time playing pretend games with whatever items he finds, inspired by his tremendous imagination. Here he is with my beanbag, which he first decided was a Santa sack, then a sleigh, and - in this photo - it became reindeer pulling a sleigh:

The cushions in our living room have been used, by turn, as sacks of corn, presents to be unwrapped, sticks for a barbecue, bread for sandwiches... and probably much more besides.

More recently David's been playing at going to Canada, so the beanbag became an aeroplane seat. I was amused when he produced a backpack that he'd found, and told me it was his 'hang luggage'. When I asked what he'd put in it, he looked at me with a 'duh!' expression, and said, 'Books!'

About a week ago, he suddenly announced that he wanted to wear a jumper. We were somewhat bemused - the temperature outside has been at least 32C in the shade for the last couple of months, and it wasn't much cooler in the house. But Becky thought it a good opportunity to let him try on the Postman Pat jumper I had made him for his birthday. I was worried it would be too small by now, but happily it fit him with some room to spare:

Esther, meanwhile, has mastered the art of crawling, and pulling herself up to standing, and she's started cruising around furniture too.

Before I left, attempts were made at potty-training David. Current wisdom is that around three is the right time to start for boys, if they haven't already shown interest. Daniel explained that modern nappies are so absorbent and comfortable that there's almost no motivation for most toddlers and young children to give them up, so parents very often have to persuade their children to go through a 'training' period, with 'toilet times' and stickers and all kinds of other motivational ideas.

While I was away, after a few false starts, they embarked on a full nappy-free week. David spent a lot of time sitting on one or other of the loos, with one of his parents reading to him.  (Richard asked if the choice of book in our upstairs bathroom was deliberate.... )

After what was, I gather, rather a traumatic week for all concerned, David had mostly got the idea and was beginning to ask to go. There were some accidents, but happily they've reduced significantly in the past couple of weeks.

The problem with August is that almost everything shuts down. In June David was able to go to some drama sessions, and the local toddler group.  In July, there was less and less going on... by August, almost nothing at all. He had really outgrown the Early Learning Centre Tuesday afternoon sessions, which didn't change much from week to week, and the indoor soft play places are too noisy and busy for more than the occasional visit.

In addition it was far too hot to be outside during most of the day, making the side yard less appealing. Sometimes in late afternoon David played outside, and a few times went to the park, plus Fridays to the beach with friends... but mostly we were confined to the inside, with air conditioning. Not easy for a lively child who wants to run around.

As with so many difficult periods of life, it sometimes felt confining and almost endless at the time, but looking back, the time has flown past. Suddenly it was their last Friday evening:

We played a last Cities and Knights game, all together, sitting outside:

There was a last Tuesday morning. Most of my friend Sheila's children are away at a youth camp, but E (four years older than David) came over, and they spent the time making paper cakes and other goodies, and asking us to order things to eat and drink, which they then delivered on trays or cushions:

I continued reading to David for at least an hour every day; I collected the books I'd read aloud on one day, not long ago, and was quite surprised to find there were twelve:

While most are quite short, a couple (the Roald Dahl ones) take over half an hour each to read.

On Wednesday morning, we all went to Richard's favourite ice cream place, and David had his favourite so-called 'Facebook' ice cream one more time:

I shouldn't have gone, really. It was so hot out that I didn't feel well for about an hour after getting home again. In the afternoon we took Tim to the airport, to return to the UK.

Then this afternoon, it was the turn of the rest of the family.  They managed to get all their belongings into three large cases and one lighter one (plus hand luggage). Sheila helped with transport. Check-in was quick, so Richard and I didn't stay long at the airport.

I'm pleased that they're on their way to the ship where they've wanted to return for some time, and that the details eventually worked out. I'm delighted they're able to spend a week seeing some of Becky's family en route. I've loved getting to know the children better, seeing them develop and pass milestones, enjoying David's wonderful sense of curiosity and imagination and hunger for stories.

Tomorrow we'll get the guest flat back to its usual state (one of the beds was dismantled in David's room, and the cot needs to be put away) and work out where to store the sand pit and toys.  On Saturday I hope to catch up with my book reviews blog, on which I'm about three weeks behind. On Monday I'll resume scanning negatives, and writing, and website updating.

Meanwhile, the house feels very quiet. I haven't done anything constructive since returning from the airport six or seven hours ago. I've shed a few tears, tidied away a few things, vegged out at the computer. I'm going to miss them all very much.

Empty nest once more

A month felt like such a long time when the family arrived, in the middle of December. The weather was pleasant, and although their main aim was to relax and have 'family time', with a few walks and games, we had other plans, when opportunity arose: perhaps a first dip in the sea for David. Perhaps a day or two out somewhere other than Larnaka. Richard had a few household jobs to do which he thought would be more enjoyable with Daniel. And they had a list of people they wanted to see.

But there was plenty of time....

The first few days were spent settling in, letting David become accustomed to us, establishing some kind of loose pattern to the day. There were Christmas gifts to wrap, mince pies to make, and general shopping and cooking. We played a few games, saw our close local friends once or twice, and looked forward to a Christmas as a complete family.

Christmas was good. Boxing Day was relaxing, other than Tim getting to the airport for ten days in the UK.

Then suddenly New Year's Eve was upon us. We spent a few hours with our good friends but were all tired; none of us stayed up to midnight. On New Year's Day we had some other friends for lunch, and that was good too. But we couldn't figure out what had happened to the intervening days... did the end of December just vanish, wiped out by the history monks?

Never mind, we thought. There were still two-and-a-half weeks together. Lots of time to get things done, without the distraction of Christmas.

But the weather was bad, so rather than going out we stayed indoors. And the practicalities of life with a baby mean that more mundane things don't get done. I spent a lot of time shopping and cooking and cleaning the kitchen, and we sat around meal tables eating and chatting and enjoying being together. David progressed to eating three 'solid' meals each day: an adult-sized portion of porridge with a mashed banana at breakfast, and usually something like stewed/pureed apples and pears at lunchtime, carrots and sweet potatoes, or home-made soup for dinner. I enjoyed making his main meals and freezing increasingly large sized portions; but with that, and family cooking (both meat and vegetarian), and extra things like making ketchup, lemonade, granola, coconut milk (etc) the days filled up rapidly.

David is an absolute delight, but is quite an intense baby needing a lot of attention. He keeps his parents busy at night, still waking at least twice; more when he's teething. He's cut one good tooth and several others are about to poke through. We've seen him put on weight and a little chubbiness, we've seen his balance improving when he sits, and a determination to walk before he crawls. His babbling has turned into attempts at individual words. He loves to smile at Grandpa and play with Grandma (yes, that's me!) It's been the most amazing privilege to spend the past month with such a delightful little boy and see his progress.

A week ago, three of us (thankfully not including David) caught the flu. Mine was relatively mild; Daniel's was unpleasant but short-lived; Richard's was draining and left him with a nasty cough. So there were no trips out. Most of the planned household jobs didn't get done. Daniel and Becky managed to see a couple of people on their list, but no more. The sea was far too cold to think of David taking even a tiny paddle.

And then it was their last day.

I was about to text Sheila to arrange when to meet for our early morning walk when Daniel and David appeared in our part of the house. They decided to come with us, David in the 'ergo' carrier which Sheila has lent them. It was lovely to have them with us and they both enjoyed four kilometres along the trail, though it started to spit with rain by the time we got home.

We decided to go out to lunch, to a little cafe Daniel and Becky had been to on their own a couple of times,. We took his last container of fruit puree and David demonstrated just how much he liked it: 

We thought about ice cream afterwards but it was still chilly so we came home. Then the afternoon flew past while they packed. 

We had a sandwich at the airport before saying goodbye, and although I felt sad, we knew it was time for them to return home and to their own lives. Adult children have to move on and we were so thrilled that they had been willing to spend so long with us. We watched them go, and I remained dry-eyed. 

I got up this morning and determined to catch up with email, and photos, and write a blog post. And everything was just fine... 

... until I sat down for lunch. 

I caught sight of the empty high chair. 

And I broke down completely.