14
September – Girne, Cyprus
I
left the Baltic cycle group as they headed to the Greek side of the island. Vidmantas,
a friend of Sigitas (leader of Baltic Cycles), offered me his house as he was
away for the weekend. Staying in Girne while having his home all to myself was
thus a no-brainer.
Cyprus,
officially called the Republic of Cyprus, is situated in the Mediterranean Sea.
It’s the third-largest island in the Mediterranean and a popular tourist
destination. The Republic of Cyprus claims to be the entire island’s legitimate
government, with Nicosia the country’s capital and biggest city.
In
reality, Cyprus is divided into two main parts. The area under the control of
the Republic, is in the south and west and comprises about 59% of the island. The
north, administered by the self-declared Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus, covers
about 36%. The remaining 4% forms a UN buffer zone. The international community
considers the island’s northern part (occupied by Turkish forces) illegal under
international law.
I
stayed on the Turkish side as obtaining a visa to enter Greece was practically
impossible.
15
September – Girne (Turkish) Kyrenia (Greek)
While
in Girne, my time was spent enquiring about a Syrian visa. Sadly, the Embassy
was on the Southern side of the island and, hence, the Greek side, a no-go area
to me. No one in Girne appeared able to help, and instead, I’d a leg wax and
pedicure. Things would sure sort themselves out.
16-17
September – Girne
While
having the luxury of a room, I explored the coast around Girne by bicycle. Cyprus
was immensely mountainous and barren, but the shoreline was lovely and dotted
by many fantastic beaches. Regrettably, many new developments spoiled the rural
feel, but there’s no stopping development. These developments further endangered
the nesting places of the sea turtles, which have been breeding along the
Cyprus coast for centuries.
An
additional day was spent in Girne to contact the Syrian Embassy. Vidmantes
offered to get the correct telephone number, but still, no answers were
received. I decided to leave it and try my luck at the Syrian border.
18
September - Girne – Kaplica – 60 kilometres
The
next day I thanked Vidmantes and cycled out of Girne in the direction of Famagusta.
An idyllic spot on the beach featuring a bar and restaurant got my attention. I
considered it a good enough place and pitched the tent. Being September, it was
getting to the end of the summer season, and only a few super pale Brits in
their Union Jack swimsuits remained.
19
September - Kaplica – Famagusta – 60 kilometres
The
following morning, I abandoned my little paradise. Instead, I biked over the
mountain (nothing like a mountain pass first thing in the morning). Even though
there were campsites outside Famagusta, a hotel close to the harbour was an
excellent place to park off. The ferry to Mersin departed at 8h30 in the
morning and the ticket office opened at 7h00.
Famagusta
turned out fascinating as it was from here Silk Road merchants transported goods
to Western Europe. The historic centre is still surrounded by walls built by
the Venetians in the 15th and 16th centuries. Hours were spent wandering its ancient
ruins and the streets of the old walled city. Unfortunately, I was severely bitten
by mosquitos (I think) and had itchy bites all over my face, arms, and legs.
Irritated by the itching, I returned to my abode.
20
September – Famagusta, Cyprus - Mersin (Mainland Turkey) - By Ferry
Early
morning, I loaded the bike and pedalled off to the harbour only to find the
ferry at 8h30 pm and not in the morning, as stated in the email. It was easy to
spend a day in Famagusta, wandering its Salamis Ruins dating to the 11th
Century BC. There’s still an amazing amount intact after destruction by enemies
and several earthquakes. Then, off to the harbour where I met 2 Nepali guys biking
around the world. I later wondered whether they were, indeed, cycling or merely
using public transport to score free accommodation and food.
21
September - Mersin – Atakia - By Bus
The
ferry came as a shock as it could only be described as a rust bucket. I doubted
its capability of reaching the mainland but at least it had seats where one
could sit and sleep. The trip didn’t take 9 hours as the ticket stated (not
surprising, taking the state it was in), and we only slinked into Mersin the next
morning at 9h00. En route, we’d our fair amount of drama as a man fell
overboard and (rust bucket or not) the ferry promptly spun around and picked
him up. Not an easy task in the dark, hats off to the captain!
The
two Nepali guys were also heading towards Syria. Once in Mersin, we decided to
take a bus to Atakia, situated on the Turkey/Syrian border. If impossible to get
a Syrian visa at the border, I wanted enough time to remain on my Turkish visa to
make alternative arrangements. In Atakia we located excellent digs at Sister
Barbara’s where we stayed the night. After waking to one of the Napoli guys
fondling my breast, I yelled at him, took my stuff, and moved to a bed in
another dormitory where one could lock the door. The little bastard!
The
following day, I packed up and cycled to the Syrian border and luckily never encountered
the Nepalese guys again.
22
September – Atakia, Turkey – Aleppo, Syria – 110 kilometres
I
arrived at the Syrian border apprehensively and met four motorbike riders
travelling overland to South Africa. They introduced me to Ahmed, a tour guide,
helping them obtain Syrian visas. Ahmed was incredibly accommodating and helped
fill in the forms and then disappeared. Three hours later, I’d my visa and was
on my way to Aleppo, Syria. Sometimes I couldn’t believe my luck and realised
I was extremely fortunate to have met the motorbike riders as well as Ahmed.
My
first thought cycling into Syria was, “What’ve I let myself into”. Syria was an
entirely different world, different culture, foreign language, alien landscape,
food, and housing. Not only was it a conservative Muslim and desert country but
one of the oldest inhabited regions in the world. Archaeological finds
indicated human habitation dated back 700,000 years.
Still,
little remained to be seen along the way except for cotton fields and typical
Syrian communities consisting of a mosque, a market, and a few modest courtyard
homes. Traditionally these homes appear modest from the outside but could be
quite lavished internally. These homes further offered total privacy as well as
a communal family area, often with a water feature or even a pool. I was so
impressed by this type of architecture that I swore if ever I get the
opportunity to build a home, it will be a courtyard-style home.
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