CYPRUS

Te Awamutu Courier, Volume 53, Issue 3830, 6 November 1936, Page 12

CYPRUS

FIRST IMPRESSIONS. (By C. D. D., in Melbourne Age.) The Island of Cyprus, “where every god did seem to set his seal,” has been much in the news of late. A proposal to constitute a naval base on the east coast has awakened interest in this somewhat neglected little gem of the Mediterranean. Having heard many accounts of her beauty and allure, we decided to set out and test her attractions for ourselves. The little Khedivial mail steamer carried us swiftly to Farmagusta, the principal port, in less than 24 hours from Port Said. Entering the little harbour with a wide semi-circular sweep, the first impression is one of delicate beauty. The battlemented walls of the old town look down on a quiet harbour, their turreted bastions watching over and guarding the narrow entrance. Here are deep embrasures and massive towers, with the winged lion of Venice carved in stone over the gateways. Narrow passages and dark, gloomy tunnels wind their secret ways to the sea shore, bringing back to our minds tales of imprisonment and torture. Tradition has it that in one of these grim chambers, Othello, the jealous prince, strangled fair Desdemona. Passing through the great west gate of the mediaeval town, one comes to Nek Farmagusta, a prosperous city with a forest of tall grey winged windmills, lifting continuous supplies of water for houses, gardens and shady orange groves. In Farmagusta one meets a cheerful welcome and unfailing courtesy, which enabled us to hire a car quickly and cheaply, to carry us over the island.

An English speaking Greek driver, whose knowledge and enthusiasm were of immeasurable help, was added to our party, and we were free to set forth in whatever direction our wandering fancies might dictate. On leaving Farmagusta, the shady road winds out and away, skirting the moat and the sturdy fortress walls, passing well kept orange groves, their dark glossy branches weighed down with their burden of heavy golden fruit, which brings some measure of wealth to the peasant proprietors. Then on to Salamis. —Salamis, city of Greece, of Egypt, and of mighty Rome!—now laid waste and lost beneath forests of acacia, and tangled undergrowth. Part drowned beneath the waves, her noble harbour lies peacefully in the clear depths below. Traces of her former magnificence remain in her vast ruins. Three great Forums can still be seen, their plans outlined by the bases and broken shafts of massive granite and marble pillars. Cisterns, baths, villas and temples, all are overlaid by twisted roots, and drifts of sand, but exerting nevertheless their strange power which calls upon the imagination of the wanderer to conjure up romantic visions of past civilisations and cultured peoples now long turned to dust. The low tangled stems of hardy forest trees serve their appointed purpose, and break the advancing tides of sand, which threaten to envelop fields and hamlets. A riot of beautiful colours meets our eyes. A glory of golden marguerites spreads across the fields, giant yellow fennel lines the banks and roadsides, and above and beyond all, starlike sprays ot lemon tinted acacia blossom droop gracefully. Here and there a patch of scarlet poppies, or a group of frail mauve iris, breaks the sweep of brilliant hues, and above all stretches the canopy of fathomless blue sky.

Looking across towards the misty hills, we see clear and white the Byzantine domes of the Church of St. Barnabas. Here the body of the Apostle lies buried, who, a cypriot by birth, was martyred at Salamis. Near at hand is the prison house of St. Katherine—a squat grey stone building, reminding us of the early days of torture and persecution when this Christian daughter of a Byzantine king was broken on the wheel at Alexandria. The roads of Cyprus are excellent, but she has a scanty seventy miles of railway. However, motoring is cheap and the way from Farmagusta winds, white and even, skirting Salamis, bound by the calm sea and rich pastures, and comes at last to Nicosia, the capital of the island. Far ahead is the blue ridge of rugged mountains, but before reaching these the road turns inland, and the everchanging scenery fills us with a sense of discovery, and the spirit of advanture. The green fields are left behind, scattered flocks of fat, tailed sheep, tended by picturesque shepherds, dot the landscape. Tiny villages of sun baked brick houses are grouped in sheltered hollows. Through all the years the inhabitants have kept the traditions of their creed intact. A domed Byzantine church 1600 years old mayhap, tells of the Greek nationality of its worshippers, whilst beyond, a Turkish chieftainlik lies nestled against a sunny slope with the slim circular minaret of its mosque rising clear against the sky. Before reaching Nicosia, the road traverses the plain of Messoria. The countryside, once covered by a shady forest of giant cypress trees from which Alexander the Great built his victorious fleets, but since denuded by the conquering Turk, lies bare and dusty in the sunlight. We were glad to reach the capital with its cool col- , our washed houses, battlemented

walls and beautiful Gothic churches. From Nicosia roads branch to Limassol, Larnaca, Paphos and lovely Kyrenia, distant only 16 miles. We followed the latter road and, passing by the Kyrenia gate, began io climb. Very slowly the road mounts, crosses the ridge, and then by well graded curves descends towards the sea. Now we realise in full the charm and beauty of this face of the island. Spread out below lies the sea, with its indescribable shades of emerald, cobalt and purple. The eyes range beyond to the distant gleaming snowcapped peaks of Antoha. Kyrenia, with its prison fort and tiny wall encircled harbour, lies almost at our feet. In Kyrenia is rest and peace. Sheltered coves and sandy beaches lie invitingly along the shores, the waves tempting one to plunge joyfully into their cool embrace, and swimming out to look down through the clear depths on to the pebbles glistening on the sea floor. Along the coast the land slopes gently, rich and green, towards curving bays and inlets, each one fringed with lacy surf from softly lapping waves.