Back in Cyprus

So much has changed here, yet nothing has changed. As an ex British colony, Cyprus is still the place where senior English citizens come to enjoy their retirement, and the young ones come to party their summer holidays away. The Russians and the Arabs like to vacation here too.

Because of its geographical position, the island has provided refuge in times of war and economic crises for those whose pockets were deep enough to keep up with their demanding lifestyle. No discrimination really, Lebanese, Syrians, Serbs,  Poles, Russians, anyone who can buy property or pick a tab in one of its numerous 5 star hotels is welcome. And if you take a walk down the tourist area you’re bound to notice the multi-lingual signs on the shop windows: Greek, English, Arabic, Russian.

The island has developed. There are more hotels than there are homes. There are 3 cars per head. (If you consider all the car rental places, it makes sense.) There are no poor, no homeless, no beggars. The crime rate is almost non-existent. There are no thieves because there’s no place to run.  On a corporate level, that’s a different story. As an offshore center, the island has always been the hiding place of the corrupt businessmen and politicians, except that here they are respectable residents. So tell me about crime.

Cyprus is still hot, sunny and windy, and it’s still an island. The food is great. I wish I could enjoy it as much as I did before. My sense of taste has worn off with the anxiety of the past few months. I am big as it is; no need to grow any bigger.

There are many people living here I used to call friends. I haven’t kept in touch for a very long time. I wonder if I should call at all. Some things are best left as they are. Or not.

Last night Dina showed me a video that made me cry. Maybe it’s because I’m oversensitive right now. Maybe not. Judge for yourself:

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