I stayed at the Flamingo Beach Hotel as there is no place to use Marriott points on the island. I thought I’d get more of the culture in a smaller local-run hotel and I sure did with other travelers coming from all over Europe. I didn’t meet anyone from the US until I got to the seminar. Lucky for me, most everyone spoke English, especially the local Cypriots because Cyprus used to be a British colony.
Free wireless internet and a beach across the street! Just what I needed to keep myself relaxed and in touch with the markets until the class began.
Unfortunately my amphibian shoes let me down. My bad for not trying them out more at home, but Solomon’s mistake for exposing heavy rough seams to bare wet feet. Solomon makes many good things, but these shoes aren’t one of them. Of course I didn’t really pay attention to my feet until I’d had a swim, then walked the mile into the city center.
The town was different enough from anywhere I’d been to keep me walking around, taking it all in. With little more than a map, a litre of water and a camera, I wandered past ancient churches, through the business district, and explored the artisan area of town.
My last stop was the dock to arrange a boat for the next day. I had a nice conversation with Harry, ex-television producer, exiled from Monaco, checked out of the fast lane, now hawking dive trips to the shipwreck in the Larnaca harbor.
The next day, up early with jet lag anyway, I caught the dive boat intending to snorkel. The scuba group meticulously planned their route through the sunken freighter. I am dive certified and know just enough about wreck diving to know I have no business doing it. So I contented myself with floating on top, watching the divers descend into the murky green and watching the planes fly into Larnaca airport.
After awhile, I noticed little black globs floating to the surface. The ship, Zenobia, had a cargo of Volvo trucks when it sank in 1980. I put 2+2 together, and quickly got out of the diesel fuel soak.
Between jet lag and being on my own, I didn’t go out for the nightlife. Also I received bad news from the states. My cousin Darrell had passed away suddenly. As comfortable as I was in Larnaca, I then felt very far from home.
I was ready to go when classmate Xen picked me up for the drive to the Trader’s Camp in the Troodos mountains.
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