Finally. Cyprus. Goodbye mellow moped meandering and succulent supper savoring. Hello to a contemporary city with political turmoil remnants from the 1960s.
We arrived in Nicosia, the capital and only inland city of Cyprus. Since the island was at one point owned by the British, all the cars drive on the wrong side of the road and traces of an English accent are common. We are actually staying in a
hotel for the rest of the trip since the airbnb options were looking a little sketchy... let's just say their locations would not be on my family's "safe" list. We are staying in the old part of the city, walled in by the Venetians back when they owned the place. The Green Line cuts not only through the fortified part of the city, but through the entire island itself!
Here is a short history of the Green Line (also included in graphic form below):
- late 1800s: Brits gain control of the island
- 1955: Cypriots start wanting their own country
- 1960: Cyprus becomes a nation
- 1963: Green Line established when Turkey started wanting Cyprus to be divided into two countries
- 1974: Turkish Invasion (they captured 30% of the island) and UN controls the buffer zone
The Green Line is still up today despite efforts of the UN to get each side to come to a compromise. This
Line is a physical division with a "no man's land" in between, accessible only by UN soldiers. Sometimes it is as little as 30 meters wide, at other points it is over 14 km. The barriers range from barbed wire and concrete blocks to sandbags covered in green material and hidden by plantation (literally making it a
green line...groan. Sorry, couldn't resist).
The Green Line runs through the very heart of Nicosia, which used to be the center of commerce, each street lined with shops and studios and customers occupying the area throughout the day. With the fighting in 1974 and the physical presence of the boundary, the streets running along side of the division are now destroyed, dilapidated and void of any pedestrians. For almost thirty years no one was allowed to cross the Line; now there are seven checkpoints at which citizens or visitors can access the other side, each station run by UN soldiers. Today we explored the Greek side. Tomorrow it's the Turks' turn to host us. Lucky them.
It is crazy the tension one can feel when talking to the residents. The line has been up since the 60s so they are accustomed to its presence, but each local we spoke to felt that it is an
invasion of their land (which, of course, it is) and are bitter that no resolution has been reached. Greek flags are on top of each building on this side, sand bags are painted in blue and white, and graffiti calling for the removal of Turkish inhabitants from the northern part of the city are everywhere. When looking out from our second story room, it is very common to see a Greek flag with a Turkish one flying in opposition across the Line, only meters away.
Thanks to my lovely Mother, we stumbled upon a rickety trailer of sorts that housed a display of the Nicosia Master Plan Project just near the Line. The city is tirelessly trying to renovate the historic buildings within the wall and start to restore some of the houses close to the Line in a valiant effort to bring people back to the area. It is, for the most part, unsuccessful. The buildings they have renovated are lovely and are definitely a point of pride for the city; however, in terms of bringing life back to the center of the city, it has not had an overwhelming effect. To be fair, it is hard to convince a restaurant to set up shop next to a ditch lined with barbed wire, spray paint and large signs warning not to get to close (and no photographs! That means
you, you visiting architecture student who constantly disregards the obvious signs!)
We had a glass of wine on the roof of one of the national museums and were shocked to see the outline of a Turkish flag flashing on the northern mountains just outside the city, just flashing away as if it was sweetly waving at the Greek Cypriots, knowing it was safe from their desired reproach.
Dinner was a quick stop at an Armenian deli-stand of sorts (Mom figured out for the first time that Armenian food comes from
Armenia! Yes, Mother. That is a country...). Sadly it was not quite at the same caliber as our last meal in Athens (I know, I know. We've been spoiled), but it was only 4 euros so can't complain too much. We walked back to our hotel room, past the Starbucks, Cinnabon and McDonalds, past the fancy shops sitting only blocks away from barricades guarded by armed troops, past the crowd of men sitting outside shouting at the local football match, placing bets at one of the many,
many gambling bars, and past the disputing Turkish and Greek flags, standing in protest of the other's presence, waving intrepidly and refusing to back down.
I know it's no spectacular beach with views of never ending shades of blue, nor is it the cuisine mecca of the Middle Eastern world, but I'm excited to be here. Real research at last!
