Salt, Silence, and Suspended Time: Larnaca, Cyprus, Between Two Worlds
- 2 days ago
- 9 min read
Just a one-hour flight can whisk you away to an entirely different world.
My last post left off as the wheels of our plane lifted off the ground of the Holy Land during the latest war with Iran. As they touched ground again, we arrived in Larnaca, Cyprus.
The view as we flew into the airport looked like paradise. We flew over vibrant blue Mediterranean waters and sunny shores. As a bus drove us along the tarmac from the plane to the airport, people marveled over the flamingos in the surrounding lakes. Even my taxi driver pointed them out to me. "They'll fly to Africa on Monday," he said.
"I have a flight on Monday, too!" I joked. But I figured I wouldn't see them in the airport.
My taxi driver explained to me the variety of nature around the island -- the freshwater and saltwater lakes and the mountains. Then, we talked about where we're from. Originally from Turkiye, he came to stay in Cyprus for a year -- 17 years ago. I know people in Korea with the same story. Funny how life gets away from you.
After a 10-minute drive, I arrived at my studio. It was perfect. Small, quiet, and private.
After a month of nightly interrupted sleep and physically running to bomb shelters, all I fantasized about was a loooong, full night of uninterrupted sleep.
My body was still on alert. It was surreal to be in a new place where the beaches look a lot like Tel Aviv's, and yet, there would be no air raid sirens. And still, whenever I heard a distant motorcycle, my heart would jump, and my body would stiffen, initially registering the sound as an air raid siren. (They sound uncannily similar.) Whenever the building's outdoor motion-activated lights flashed on, my body would go on alert, thinking it was an alert from Home Front Command, the Israeli emergency alert app that indicates an incoming missile by flashing your phone's flashlight before signaling an air raid siren sound from your phone.
I just needed some time to come down, to relax. It would take the entirety of my vacation to no longer register certain sights and sounds as incoming missile attacks. Feet pounding the floor above in a hostel would sound like missile interceptions. Any time I would hear something air raid siren-ish, Instincts and Rational Thoughts would have a conversation.
Instincts: "Where's the nearest bomb shelter?" Rational Thoughts: "There is no nearest bomb shelter."
I: "So, what do I do if there's a missile?" RT: "That's just it; there will be no missiles." I: "But let's say, hypothetically, war happened right now. Then, what?" RT: "That's not going to happen."
I: "But what if it did?"
RT: "Then, we die, I guess!" I: "OMMGGGG"
RT: "Yooooo, calm down. Literally everything is fine right now."
**distant motorcycle exacerbates the internal screaming**
And so, I needed a break, and I got one.
A short evening stroll in the small seaside city allowed me to cover most of the ground of Larnaca. Its downtown houses a charming mix of pastel-colored buildings alongside minimalist, Mediterranean architecture. It is quite obvious you are on the Greek side of the island. And though relatively quiet at night, the city also felt touristy, especially across from the shoreline. A variety of international cuisines were available, and I was surprised to pass a TGI Friday's and a Burger King. But within the winding alleys and roads of the center, local life protruded.
The next morning commenced my one full day in Larnaca. It had become an accidental additional stop in my trip, being one of the only places to where I could fly during war, though certainly to no protest from me. I'd never been to Cyprus, so with just one day there, I needed to experience the local flavors, figuratively and literally, with whatever time I could spare.
During the war, I'd gotten back into running, and that seemed like the perfect way to go sightseeing!
"Hello, Maria!" a man called to me from a passing car. With it being a long time since I've been cat-called, all I could think was, My name's not Maria.
Just about five kilometers from the city center is an enormous saltwater lake, which happens to also be the best running path, and a sure-shot to the airport.
On the way back to the city center, just across from a lake, facing a field that culminates in hangars decorated with flamingos, I encountered an English-speaking couple. The world got a lot smaller when I learned that the woman, Salwa, is from Lod in Israel and that our paths were just crossing in a fleeting moment -- I had just exited Israel for a Europe trip, and she was returning home from her own Europe trip the next day. They would be flying into Jordan to do the land crossing back into Israel.
Salwa and her husband, Abdullah, a British man who converted to Islam, have been married for 19 years. In fact, they got married three days after meeting! Granted, they had met online and had been talking for a little while before they finally met in person. Salwa had offered to send him a picture of herself before they met, and Abdullah had refused, as he said it wouldn't make any difference because he had already made up his mind about wanting to marry her. I asked how they could be so sure about marriage after such a short amount of time, and Salwa explained to me that she had never felt so understood by anyone before. "Do you remember the first thing you said to me?" she asked her husband, there, 19 years later, on the Cyprus coast.
"Yes," he said. "I said I was sorry for what was done to your grandfather."
Salwa talked much about her grandfather during our walk, identifying some of the plants in Larnaca as plants that she'd grown up seeing on her grandfather's farm before he was forced off his land in the 70s. She explained that her husband understood her and her background well, and that had been the cinch in deciding to marry him.
Our conversation was an interesting blend of discussing, on a surface level, politics and relationships. The topics interwove frequently, especially when we discussed the key to all relationships: communication.
Salwa is an extraordinary woman who knows how to communicate. She taught herself a few languages, including fluent Hebrew. Educated, she holds a Bachelor's and a Masters. A woman being this educated is not the norm in Palestinian society, and it shows how eager Salwa is to learn and how encouraging her husband is, considering that many wives are unable to pursue an education at the disapproval of their husbands. I had previously met a Palestinian women's rights activist, Helda Kadasa, who had shed light on the difficulties Muslim Arab women face in Israel, from domestic abuse to discrimination. How small is the world that Helda's first job after getting married had been as Salwa's secretary!
Salwa was a social activist and a social worker herself. She worked for an organization called the Rights Shop, where she helped Muslim women learn what rights and benefits are available to them and how to utilize them. Our conversation turned toward government and politics from here, and it is largely because of the current government that she has lost hope in Israel politics. But, she says, the next generation, like mine, can restore her hope.
We walked and talked along the beach for a couple hours. It was a meaningful conversation. We spoke with an open heart from a place of understanding. Even if we didn't agree with everything the other said, remember: the key is communication. It is important listen and get to know the plight, feelings, and beliefs of others in order to see a glimmer of peace.
We said goodbye with such warmth in our hearts. Salwa and Abdullah invited me to come visit them in Lod when I return to Israel, offering to introduce me to Palestinian food and culture.
It's always easy to find differences between people and cultures, but I have always felt that Jews and Muslims are more similar to each other than Jews and Christians.
Regardless, I'll always seek to find common ground. And if food is involved, you know I'll be there.
The next morning, I woke up at an ungodly hour to get to the airport.
The flight was at 6 AM in the little airport. The online check-in advised to arrive no later than 5 AM. The boarding pass said boarding ends at 5:30 AM. I got to the airport at 4:30 AM, just to find out that the gate number wouldn't even be posted until 5:15 AM. 🤪
When the gate number finally got posted, I got one of the last seats and managed to stay awake while we all waited for the jet bridge was open. The woman who came after me unfolded a fold-able hiking chair and plopped herself down like the comfortable genius she is, a person who truly plans ahead.
But wait, even though this part of the story culminates at the airport, I'm not ready to fly us away from Cyprus, yet!
In fact, I did return! My trip was bookmarked by Cyprus visits, as it was the best way for me to exit Israel and to re-enter after my original return flight was canceled.
No complaints from me, getting to see these pretty white beaches again!
It's funny how the drive from the airport to the city center is just 10 minutes, but it's 80 minutes to walk it.
Yes, I did indeed walk it to save myself paying for a 20-euro Bolt ride. Thanks to Salwa and Abdullah, who walked the distance while dragging their suitcases behind them, I knew it was possible. It's actually quite a nice walk past beautiful natural areas!
I treated myself to a meal by the beach. As I carried my tray of food, I debated sitting in the seats of a cafe nearby. A stranger saw me debating this and gave me permission to sit at the cafe. "You can sit and eat anywhere," he said. "People even take their food all the way to the beach sometimes." What a fun, lawless land!
The rest of the day was, well, a rest day, as I was recovering from a head cold I'd developed at the end of my trip. I had returned to the same exact room where I'd stayed in Larnaca on the first day of my trip, and this time, I had the pleasure of exploring the building's rooftop, which had a wonderful breeze and a pretty view of the city.
The following day was the last one of my vacation. My flight would depart around 9 PM, so I took my time to enjoy Larnaca's charming city center one last time. A nice coffee, a stroll by the beach, a photo walk through the unique mish-mash of architecture.
While shooting the streets through a brick archway, I was approached by Bir, a Bangladeshi musician who wanted to do an impromptu photoshoot. Why not? He was a great model with a natural presence in front of the camera, and it was a ton of fun to shoot someone who carried himself with such confidence! There's nothing like seeing the absolute joy in your client's face when you show them the photos on the camera screen. He was overjoyed. "That's me?!" he beamed. Then, he showed me his art, and I could see why he's so comfortable in front of a camera. He's actually quite a great musician. This is the song he showed me, which he wrote in dedication to his country.
Nighttime approached, and it was time to return back to the airport. Stubbornly walking there by foot, with my Osprey backpack firmly on my back and a paper bag of souvenirs dangling from my wrist, I made it about halfway through the 80-minute walk when a woman parked at the bus stop I was passing to offer me a ride. I graciously accepted. She was Ukrainian and ran an animal rescue organization. She dropped me off just outside the airport roads because her gas tank was nearing empty. I gave her a few Romanian chocolates as a thank you and continued the short distance that remained.
Waiting for my flight, I reflected on the incredible three-week trip I'd just completed, which I'm excited to share with you all soon! Coming to Cyprus on March 21st and returning there on April 7th were both surreal experiences in their own ways. By the time I was leaving, the flamingos were long gone, and the faces around the city had changed. Usually, when a vacation ends, you start to long for the pretty views surrounding you, but I would soon be trading Mediterranean beaches for other Mediterranean beaches. The cease-fire went into place the day that I flew back to Israel. I left fantastic adventures behind with my return, but when you return to your home in a foreign country, you never know what compelling adventures lie just ahead.
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