Having spent nearly ten days away from home visiting foreign lands, it
is reasonable to expect some discoveries. Alas, what I learned from this trip was
mundane and unoriginal. This “discovery” is widely known and many can attest to
its accuracy – probably with a derisive “duh.” Nobody would buy a travel guide
with such a dull theme; no travel program on the television would sustain a
viewer with such a simplistic notion.
Here is the “epiphany” that revealed itself upon my return from Cyprus:
Travel is best done with good companions. As a case in point, this picture shows the first 10% of the food that filled our tables one evening. There was no menu. We had a choice of beverages. But once we were settled in, there was a continuous parade of delights. It began with a sprinkling of rosewater to wash our hands and to welcome us to the table. Then it came — a cavalcade of kebabs, salads, meats, and even a serving of snails. There were many efforts to quell the flood but our pleas barely slowed the onslaught. Perhaps the last few dishes of treats came a little more slowly to the table. Or maybe the blood rushing to our digestive systems created a sense of time dilation. NONE of this would have been pleasant had it not been for the NINE wonderful folks at the table: Aussies, Koreans, Canadians, South Africans, grandparents and single folks. Otherwise, it would have just been food. Instead, it was a memorable event. Companions!
Cyprus was not an especially photogenic place. Instead, it's a place where people live. Lots of coffee shoppes with excellent brews. But coffee is consumed everywhere and typically in the company of others. Even at the taxi stands, men sit on crates and share tiny cups of caffeine and conversation. The fancy coffee joint near our suburban hotel was also a place where people hung out, for no other reason than to enjoy the company of others.
There was lots of history there that caught me off guard. For example, the picture to the right shows our approach to the church built on top of the tomb of Lazarus. Yes, that guy. Almost every written reference we found indicated that this is where he was buried for the "second and final time." Not far away, we found a mosque that one of us wanted to actually go into. Two others in our party wandered away, but Lara boldly asked the man washing plates in a fountain about gaining access. He retrieved a key, led us up the steps and before I knew it I was barefoot and standing inside the old building. We didn't spend very long, but long enough for the guy to give my companion an English/Arabic version of the Koran. It was thick and heavily embossed. He said that in his free time he had occasionally read the bible and that's what he wanted her to do -- just to learn about the religion. Some might suggest that the three of us were companions between one life and the next. My preference is to be satisfied that I was tagging along with someone unassuming and innocent enough to ask a simple question about access.
Through a series of loose yet trusting connections, a local family had arranged to pick us up a short distance from the mosque. They delivered us to a coastal restaurant. No, that's not a good description. This was a seafood cafe operated by family friends. In this picture you see my 3 companions striding across the patio. At the opposite end of the platform is the Mediterranean. Wooden steps descend through the break in the railing into the sea. Our friend's father regularly swims there and then climbs out for an ouzo and fresh fish. A Cypriot family of three, my three companions and me. Plates of four or five kinds of ocean beasts (octopus, squid, bony fish) and a couple of large shared bottles of the local beer, Keo. We talked about all kinds of things until the preschooler began nodding off. It had grown dark but we could have lingered for hours. Not for the food, not for the sound of the waves, not for more drink: to relish the time we had together. A great life lesson, revealed and re-learned.