14
September – Girne, Cyprus
Sigitas'
acquaintance, Vidmantas, kindly offered me his house in Girne while he was away
for the weekend. Staying in Girne and enjoying the comfort of his home was an obvious
choice.
Cyprus,
officially known as the Republic of Cyprus, is an island located in the
Mediterranean Sea. It is the third-largest island in the Mediterranean and a
popular tourist destination. The Republic of Cyprus claims to be the legitimate
government of the entire island, with Nicosia serving as the capital and
largest city.
However,
in reality, Cyprus is divided into two parts. The area controlled by 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% constitutes a UN buffer zone. The
international community regards the island's northern part (occupied by Turkish
forces) as illegal under international law.
As
obtaining a visa to enter Greece was practically impossible, I stayed on the
Turkish side.
15
September – Girne (Turkish) Kyrenia (Greek)
During
my time in Girne, I attempted to obtain a Syrian visa. Unfortunately, the
embassy was located in the southern part of the island, under Greek control, making
it inaccessible to me. After exhausting all efforts to seek help in Girne, I
opted to pamper myself with a leg wax and pedicure instead, hoping that the
situation would eventually resolve itself.
16-17
September – Girne
I
explored the coast around Girne by bicycle while having the luxury of a room. While
Cyprus was mountainous and arid, its shoreline featured stunning landscapes and
numerous pristine beaches. Unfortunately, many new developments have spoiled
the rural feel of the area. These developments have also endangered the nesting
places of sea turtles that have been breeding along the Cyprus coast for
centuries.
I
spent an additional day in Girne trying to contact the Syrian Embassy.
Vidmantes offered to get the correct telephone number, but our calls went
unanswered. So, I decided to leave it and try my luck at the Syrian border
instead.
18
September - Girne – Kaplica – 60 kilometres
The
following day, I thanked Vidmantes and continued towards Famagusta. By late
afternoon, I came across a lovely location on the beach that had a bar and
restaurant. I deemed it to be a good enough spot and decided to pitch my tent
there. With September marking the end of the summer season, only a few tourists
remained —mostly pale-skinned Brits in Union Jack swimsuits. LOL
19
September - Kaplica – Famagusta – 60 kilometres
The
following morning, I abandoned my little paradise and cycled over the mountain
(nothing like a mountain pass first thing in the morning). Although campsites were
available outside Famagusta, I opted for a hotel near the harbour for
convenience, as the return ferry to Mersin, Turkey departed at 8h30 a.m., with the
ticket office opening at 7h00 a.m.
Famagusta
turned out to be fascinating as it was from here that 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. I spent hours
wandering its ancient ruins and the streets of the old walled city.
Unfortunately, I ended up with numerous itchy bites, likely from mosquitos, covering
my face, arms, and legs. Irritated by the itching, I returned to my abode.
20
September – Famagusta, Cyprus - Mersin (Mainland Turkey) - By Ferry
Early
in the morning, I loaded my bike and headed to the harbour, expecting to catch
a ferry at 8:30 a.m., as per the email I had received. However, I was surprised
to find out that the ferry was scheduled for 8:30 p.m. instead.
With
the entire day ahead, I decided to explore Famagusta and its Salamis Ruins,
which date back to the 11th Century BC. Despite being destroyed by enemies and
natural disasters such as earthquakes, an impressive amount of the ruins remains
intact. Later on, I went back to the harbour, where I met two Nepali guys who
were on a biking trip around the world. I couldn't help but question whether they
were truly cycling or simply relied on public transport to secure free
accommodation and food.
21
September - Mersin – Atakia - By Bus
The
ferry was a shocking sight—best described as a rust bucket. I was sceptical
about its ability to reach the mainland, but at least it had seats suitable for
sitting or sleeping. The trip didn’t take the expected nine hours as mentioned
on the ticket (not surprising, given the state it was in), and we only slinked
into Mersin the following day at 9h00 a.m. En route, we had our fair share of
drama as a man fell overboard, but the crew, despite the poor condition of the
vessel, promptly spun around and picked him up. Not an easy feat 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 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. At Atakia, we located comfortable accommodations at
Sister Barbara’s, where we spent the night. After waking to one of the Nepali guys
fondling my breast, I yelled at him, took my stuff, and moved to a locked
dormitory for safety. The little bastard!
The
following day, I packed up and cycled to the Syrian border and, luckily, never reencountered
the Nepalese guys.
22
September – Atakia, Turkey – Aleppo, Syria – 110 kilometres
Upon
arriving at the Syrian border, I met four British motorbike riders who were
travelling overland to South Africa. They introduced me to Ahmed, a tour guide
who helped them obtain Syrian visas. Ahmed was remarkably helpful, guiding
me through the paperwork before disappearing. Three hours later, I had my visa in
hand and was on my way to Aleppo, Syria. I felt incredibly lucky and grateful
to have met the motorbike riders and Ahmed.
My
first thought upon cycling into Syria was, “What have I gotten myself into?”
Syria felt like an entirely different world, defined by its distinct culture,
language, landscape, cuisine, and architecture. Not only was it a conservative
Muslim and desert country, but it was also one of the oldest inhabited regions
in the world, with archaeological finds indicating human habitation dating back
700,000 years.
Along
the way, there was little to be seen except for cotton fields and typical
Syrian communities consisting of a mosque, a market, and a few modest courtyard
homes. These homes appeared modest from the outside but could be quite
luxurious internally. They offered total privacy as well as a communal family
area, often with a water feature or even a pool. I was so captivated by this architectural
style that I vowed to one day build a courtyard-style home of my own.