Ezra Mannix

The differences between the Middle Eastern-flavored north Nicosia (left, at an Ottoman han) and the Greek south (right, a glass-covered promenade) were stark.

There I was at the border peering through to the other side like Alice (or Alex?) through the looking glass. On the other side was Greek Nicosia, and I was standing in Turkish Nicosia (Lefkosa). The no man’s land between the two wasn’t visible, only the canvas-like walls on both sides of a calm pathway that was covered in EU development slogans. Down 10 meters or so lay the bustle of another world. Fortunately I was born in the US so my little blue book was my ticket. Meanwhile most Turks are bound to their side, not knowing what lays yonder just meters away.

Lefkosa (I will refer to the Turkish side by its Turkish name) is something like a Middle Eastern village: sandstone colored hans (Ottoman guesthouses), churches that were converted to mosques (St. Sophia a beautiful example), and a rag tag group of other historic buildings and marketplaces make it seem very oriental.

Walk through the wormhole to the other side, though, and transport yourself to the city center of a medium-sized California metropolis.

There was a clean promenade of bonded pebbles below me; to my right were KFC, Starbucks, GAP, etc, underneath a glass pavilion (there were no global restaurant chains in the north). Workers pruned trees high above me. There is a charming pedestrian walking area complete with hanging bougainvillea and Greek-Cypriot souvenirs that make the place feel like the real Mediterranean thing, but otherwise the contrast was pretty stark.

The Girne (Kyrenia) Castle towers above the harbor. The castle is worth the 12TL, even if there are cheesy mannequins in period clothing.

There are reminders of the struggles gone by. The Greek side has a statue of Greeks apparently being liberated from a prison, among them a priest, a young boy, and women. Presumably it was an Ottoman prison (the description was in Greek). On the other side there is a statue in the new part of Lefkosa of Turkish soldiers that says “Unutmacagiz” (“we won’t forget”). There is a part of the Greek side where one can glimpse through the fence to the UN buffer zone and see a decrepit building with the shell of an old neon sign. Other than that, though, the two sides seemed to coexist like being in the world’s only divided capital was totally natural, at least on the surface. I saw some elder Greek-Cypriot men crossed over and cordially said hello in English to the Turkish shopkeepers, who returned the greetings.

Aside from my wanderings around the Greek side that afternoon, I spent all my time on the laid back, sometimes hastily laid out Turkish side. Girne, the main touristic city on the north coast, is Mediterranean splendor. It boasts a fantastic kale (castle) by the water that was used by various peoples since the Byzantines laid down bricks there to fend off Arab raids. The entrance is a mildly steep 12 TL, but the student rate is 2 TL with an ID. Unfortunately, unlike many small town historical Turkish establishments, one can’t just get away with saying one is a student, even if that person is a foreigner who can charm them by speaking Turkish. They are pretty strict.

Relaxing at a stone beach near Lapta, about 30 km west of Girne

The pretty white buildings in the town center make for a nice hour stroll, and there is a durum (wrap) place called Kebapcim that sells amazing seftali (shef tali) kebap (Seftali means peach, but in reality it was probably a corruption of “Chef Ali”), which is lamb meatballs wrapped in lamb stomach lining. MMMM! It’s a Turkish Cyprus specialty, and it really is meat-acular.

Fortified, I sought a scooter rental place, thinking that could be the best way to get to a good beach (there aren’t any, really, in Girne). But this was hard to come by and I was content to take a dolmus and have the driver drop me off at whatever beach he deemed pleasant. Fortunately, he forgot to drop me off at the one he liked. That was fine. The one he liked was a club/beach of blasting music and lounge chairs. Bah. So I asked for another one that was “daha sakin” (calmer). He took me to the end of the line, where there was a rocky beach with a backdrop of a meadow and rolling hills, all of which were still green in the middle of April.

Unfortunately, public transportation is abysmal in N. Cyprus, and this constricted the amount of exploring I could do. Intercity buses and dolmuses stop at around 7 pm, and I was skittish about renting a car as it is expensive and they drive on the left side, which I have never done. Drivers with “right-side reflex” are the biggest triggers of accidents on the island.

It's either Greek-Cypriot liberation from the Ottomans, or the British.

Nevertheless, thanks especially to the hospitality of my couch surfing hosts Hakan and Onur, I had a relaxing time in N. Cyprus. Next time I go there, it’s off to the Karpas Peninsula for some solitude!