blessings

photos by me, taken just north of the wall in Old Nicosia

Good news!  Mr. F and I found an apartment!  We will be moving into town (that makes me sound so provincial) in the next week or so and starting anew.  With the news of our House of Dreams on the horizon, we were both taken aback by the fact that it's been almost exactly a year since we left Cyprus.

Since most of our belongings are still in boxes, I have been using the time I should be devoting to packing to reading through journal and blog entries from our final days in our island home.  The heartbreak of leaving was so raw, the anxiety of the uncertain still palpable.  But I also caught sense of the hope that derives from coming home.

While in Cyprus, our daily interaction put us in contact with Filipinos, Syrians, the Lebanese, Indians (dot, not feather), Chinese, Pakistani, Greeks, Germans, Georgians, the English, Dutch, Scottish, Portuguese, Israeli, Turkish, Egyptian, Nigerians, Romanians, and more.  And no, this is not an exaggeration.  In fact many of these nationalities were from our church congregation alone.   Many of these people came to Cyprus from the far east, seeking a European education and decent employment.  Cyprus was a hope of moving further into Europe and stable life.

We listened to our friends tell of their personal experiences as wartime refugees, fleeing from Northern Cyprus to the south in 1974.  Escaping from Syria and Egypt.  Personal experiences of the ever recurring wars between Israel and Lebanon.  

We heard of mothers, barely older than myself, who had left their children behind so they could take a job half a world away to work as a maid, little more than an indentured servant, so they could make more money to provide for their children.  Children who would scarcely know the sacrifices their mothers made on their behalf.

We met Africans who moved to Northern Cyprus with the promise of education but were denied practicing their faith because they were unable to cross the border to attend worship services.

We listened to stories of grandparents who had lost their ancestral homes during WWII because their heritage did not match newly formed geographic boundaries.

We were asked by countless Eastern Europeans working as waiters in tourist trap restaurants why we were in Cyprus and not in America.  They never believed us that we could not find a job in the States.  Never.

I read an article recently, speaking of poverty in a Christian context.  The author explained how so often she thought that she had been blessed financially because God blesses those who work hard.  While she found this to be true, as she traveled the world and encountered poverty head on, she realized, much like I did, that hard work does not always guarantee financial success.  Birth, education, and location still offer promises of success in a modern age of online universities and jet engines.

The article resonated so much with me as I thought of our experience in Cyprus.  The struggles our friends faced daily.  Threats of deportation, starvation, unemployment, illiteracy, limited education, crippling working conditions, and so on.  I thought of the benefits I enjoyed purely by being a white, American woman and the opportunities that allowed me.  

Mr. F and I made jokes often that our American passport was akin to Willy Wonka's Golden Ticket.  We were seldom detained in customs checkpoints.  We were allowed to cross borders freely that were denied to many.  And perhaps, most amazingly, we were allowed to come home.  To the U.S.  Where little bungalows with white picket fences are still the ideal and the promise of work and decent wages for the willing bring people from all over the world.

Our new home is far from being a palace.  In fact, we chose the cheapest place we could find in the hopes of saving more for the future.  Not just money, but resources.  This new home will allow us to serve more, work more, and even play more.  It is going to be a humble home, but daggum am I grateful for it and excited to make it our own.  I am so grateful that Mr. F lost his job a year ago and we've had this year to work together.  I miss Cyprus brutally sometimes.  I find myself longing to lemon trees outside my window and the smell of the salty Mediterranean in the air.  But I am so grateful to be where we are now and to have the opportunities afforded to us.  I hope that we will make the most of them and make our friends who are so limited by their circumstances proud of us for living up to our own potential.

for b

My dear, dear friend B is coming home to the States today from Cyprus! Though I won't be able to see her, I wanted to do something to celebrate being on the same continent as her.  So, I thought I would share a list of things she can look forward to in her native land that I still find wonderful two months later.  What can I say?  Repatriating can be just as complex of an experience as moving abroad.  

B, you can look forward to...

Grocery stores being open past 7.

The post office being open all day long and even on Saturday!

ANYTHING being open on Wednesday afternoon!!! (In Cyprus, everything closes at 3 on Wednesdays...I still find myself planning my weeks around this conundrum.)

Target.  It's even more wonderful than you remembered.

5 pound bags of flour and sugar that cost less than a kilo of the same product.

Chik-Fil-A and it's glorious, glorious lemonade.

Nordstrom.

Good customer service. 

PEANUT BUTTER! 

Getting a load of laundry washed AND dried in an hour and a half, not just washed and hung up to dry.

Mail gets delivered in a matter of days, not months.

Wide, open roads where (for the most part) drivers obey traffic laws.

Noise pollution laws that limit motorcycles from zooming past your house at o-dark-thirty.

The supermarket.  It's a glorious, glorious place full of anything and everything could ever dream of.  Except halloumi. 

Cars parked in parking lots and sidewalks used for walking. 

People who speak your language natively.

Neighbors who remember you and have been anxiously awaiting your return.

Family who, though they used to seem so very far away, are now within hugging distance.

Friends you've missed who you're able to call without fear of waking them up in the middle of the night.

The peace and contentment that can only come from being home.

Coincidentally, Sista Bear is heading to London as B comes home! Sista's doing the study abroad of all of our dreams over the summer.  We'll miss her terribly but can't wait to hear how her adventures turn out!

florida

My days are so much fuller now!  I say this to myself with a laugh as I compare my present existence to life in Cyprus.  I laugh because in Cyprus we had a home to care for, errands, friends, church responsibilities, a small business...a life.  Here?  Here I neglect laundry and await the arrival of the Slow Boat to China. But Here we have options.  Here we have convenience and four-lane highways.  Drive-thru ATMs and 24-hour Wal-Marts.  In reality, Here we have family.  I tag along with Dr. Mom as she takes David to work three times a week and listen as she prepares her lessons for church.  We have dinner plans, lunch plans, and plans for plans.  We run errands together, Mr. F and I escape to the beach for a few minutes, the dog eats something else, I paint for a few hours and then suddenly the day is done.  Not just done, but it's ten at night and I'm still awake and considering a Wal-Mart run just because I can.  

Right before we left Cyprus, an American friend of mine commented on how much more at ease she felt when in the U.S. compared to being abroad.  I didn't understand what she meant initially, but I think I do now.  Living abroad is stressful in its very nature.  Home, where ever it is, will always be easier on the system.  Florida is not where I imagined being.  It's not where I grew up or had family connections, but it is in America.  It's Here.  Home.  And that in and of itself gives me the liberty to feel at ease and tackle things I've been daydreaming of for months.  There's no huge rush, on my part at least, for Mr. F to find a job.  I feel content and very grateful for this time to assimilate all over again into my native culture.  Here my days really are more full.

thankful thursday: friends

While Mr. F and I were waiting at the Frankfurt airport, noshing on brotchen and delicious brie sandwiches, we started talking about what was happening.  Where we were going, where we had been, and we realized how quickly move of ours took place. From layoff to to take off was two weeks and two days.  Two weeks!  What had felt like an eternity to us as we were waiting for information to come in was really a blick of an eye.  A nanosecond in which, somehow, we packed up our whole lives in Cyprus and returned home.

The incredible success of our whirlwind move is due in large part to the help of our friends.  The packed boxes, fed us, gave us places to stay, listened to all of our concerns, and helped us sort out the nitty gritties.  A few nights before we left, we were able to say goodbye to a few of these wonderful people at an impromptu party.  With just a day's notice, a houseful of friends came by to wish us luck and exchange a few last hugs.  I was overwhelmed by how many people came, not realizing before the deep roots we had planted in Cyprus.

Friendship is an amazing thing as an expat.  It's not just friendship, it's family.  Your support system, playmates, confidantes, and allies, friends are what make your experience abroad into something more than pictures of ruins.  I have learned so much from these friendships and will carry them with me where ever life takes me next.

things I'm secretly going to miss

Mr. F and I have been consoling ourselves this last week by delighting over things waiting for us back in the States.  McDonald's breakfast, Target, clothes that fit us, bookstores, Jeni's Ice Cream, slurpees, Costco...okay, so it's mainly food related, but you get the idea.  This little technique has worked well enough that I'm now just getting anxious to go home.  I'm ready to hug family and have mail reach them within the week.

I've also been pondering what I will miss about Cyprus.  As crazy as it might sound, one of the things I most lament is that I won't be on the opposite side of the world anymore.  I liked waking up on November 7th and listening to live news coverage as election results came in rather than staying up through the night.  I love phone calls at eight in the morning from my brother because he knows I'm the only one awake and just has to talk to someone about his awesome date.  Emails from my mom when she can't sleep.  It sounds so strange, but being so far away has enabled me to be available for friends and family who might otherwise not have had anyone.

Then there's fruit trees and walking across the border.  An abundance of dried fruit, halloumi, Greek...everything, church bells ringing in the morning and minarets sounding whenever they want.  Driving on the left, pita bread, bakeries everywhere...and so much more.

step 2

Well, we've officially moved into the "anger" portion of the grieving process.  After a few days of numbness, now we're just mad.  At unemployment, moving companies, limited resources, lack of time, exhaustion, not knowing what's coming next, a serious hitch to our plans.  We're just frustrated now.

Last night I went for a drive by myself.  Just long enough for me to scream into the heavens my fears through gasping sobs.  "I CAN'T DO THIS!" I yelled repeatedly, "I CAN'T! I don't know what I'm doing."  I don't.  I wake up in the morning, content for the two seconds before I realize my life has just been flipped upside down.   Then the rest of the day is spent in a haze of (usually) quiet grief and confusion.  "I'm trying to be faithful and understand Your plan for us right now but I don't know what I'm doing..."  I screamed and cried until my vision was so blurry from a blinding headache that I had to go home.  No more tears that night.  

I'm so overwhelmed right now.  I get emails all day long, from people wanting to buy Peggy Sue, family wanting to know plans, friends wanting to help.  I'm sending out emails to moving companies, trying to figure out how to get our stuff home "affordably" and quickly.

All I want to do is lay on the sofa.

Tomorrow is Monday.  Hopefully we will have more answers as we hear back from more moving companies.  Hopefully we can set a date for departure.  Hopefully...tomorrow...

But today?  I'm still just mad.

cyprus monday: vacancy

Prior to the 1974 invasion and war, Greek and Turkish Cypriots lived side by side.  They were neighbors, friends, and colleagues.  When war broke out, the demographics of the island changed drastically and quickly.  Where once the two cultures lived side by side, they fled to opposite ends of the country.  Turks to the north, Greeks to the right.  Everything happened in haste.  Homes and possessions were left behind as family members scrambled to find one another.  By the time things settled down, a closed border had been put in place and no one could go back.  This was the case until just a few years ago.

Even though the border is now open, the two groups are still constrained to their sides of the island.  The homes they left behind are still vacant.  Shops await their keepers to lift the dusty blinds.  The reason I share this is because these abandoned dwellings are everywhere.  The property rights still belonging to their original owners, so the buildings cannot be sold, repaired, or torn down.  They just sit there collecting memories of lives that inhabited them 40 years ago.

The home pictured is in our neighborhood.  There are at least three more down the street and a few empty businesses.  They were pillaged long ago and now sit dormant.  This house in particular has an olive grove behind it and several fruit trees.  No one touches the trees.  The fruit remains unpicked, uneaten.  Just like the home, it waits for someone to come back.

Is there anything you have been wanting to know about Cyprus?  Let me know and I'll try to figure it out!

cyprus monday: through the looking glass

Did I ever tell you that Mr. F lived in South America for a couple of years?  No? Well, he did!  He gets very nostalgic sometimes, remembering the people, the buildings, and all the rice and chicken.  Then he starts speaking purely in Spanish and I have no idea what's going on anymore.  Around this time of year, his nostalgia dwells on how strange it was being in the southern hemisphere, where fall is spring and winter, summer.  He never quite got accustomed to the idea of not just a warm but a hot Christmas.

While I have no southern hemisphere tales of my own, living here feels just as topsy turvy as I imagine  Mr. F's experiences in South America to have been.  While my friends and family back in the States begin shoveling their driveways, I am putting out pots of flowers on my patio.  The sun shines, and the whole island turns into the most glorious blanket of green, a far cry from the tufty down of a freshly fallen snow.  Fields of yellow wildflowers mark the distance between villages and lemon trees wilt under the weight of their fruit.  It is my favorite of all the seasons in Cyprus, when Mother Nature beckons you to see what she has created.


thanks to everyone who responded on facebook yesterday!  this post marks the beginning of the Cyprus Monday segment.  tune in on Mondays to catch glimpses of island scenery, how to navigate the grocery store, woes of the post office, and so much more from our time here in Cyprus.

fez

Perhaps the best thing about Mr. F's job, besides the paycheck, is the week he gets off around the Christmas holiday.  It.  Is.  SWEET!  And with as busy as he usually is between work and church, we opted to divy up the vacation with equal parts nothing and wandering the island.  One day, we meandered over to the Turkish side for a walk and, for me, a bit of shopping.

We access the TRNC most often by walking across the border in the old city of Nicosia.  Through the heart of town runs the only straight road, Ledras Street, which leads from the parking lot on the Greek side, to the Turkish bazaar just on the other side of the border.  The difference between the two sides is staggering.  The old city itself is a different world from Greek Cyprus, but Turkish Nicosia is a land that time forgot.  Ancient people sell their wares from ancient buildings, bartering with you as you walk by.  Strangest of all?  Christmas trees being sold in the shadow of a minaret sounding the sabbath call to prayer.

The TRNC uses the Turkish Lira, while Greek Cyprus is on the Euro.  Because of this, everything in the north is cheap.  Dirt cheap.  Whenever we cross over, we load up on dried fruits, spices, and whatever else we can get our hands on.  This time around it was fruit, a beautiful hand made basket, and pottery.  Oh, the pottery!

The bazaar wraps around the mosque, which was bustling with sabbath excitement during our time there.  Shops, cafes, and stalls just wait for the eager tourist to snatch their wares.  It is so drastically different from the Greek side of the city that it is very often hard to believe that we live a few short miles away from the mosque and its environs.

But just like on the Greek side, boys stop traffic in the middle of streets and squares playing football and showboating to their hearts' content.  On one side, surrounded by the gilded domes of cathedrals, on the other, ancient mosques with towering minarets.

in repair

There is a nationwide gas strike going on.  Petrol stations have closed their doors and tied up their pumps until their terms are met.  To be honest, even after reading the newspaper for a few days, I'm not entirely sure what the problem is.  What I do know is that gas will likely be scarce for awhile.

Cyprus is almost entirely dependent on the automobile for transportation.  Heavy traffic fills roadways at all hours, excepting only major holidays.  People buzz about, to the bakery, the school, the office, the park.  Cypriots drive.  Not today though.  The roads are so much quieter as locals choose to conserve gas, unsure of when the strike will come to an end.

Rather than taking Mr. F to work multiple days this week so I could go run errands, I stayed much closer to home.  As much as the strike worries me, it has been nice to have an excuse to stay home and putz.  My studio has been organized, for the most part, to my liking, leaving me ample room to create, which I have been doing.  I have been sketching and daydreaming of how to decorate the apartment in a post-Christmas world.  Cookies have been baked, walks taken, and entire novels read, all to the lull of empty streets outside my window.  The domesticity of the past few days has filled me with such inspiration for the days and months to come, and even for the upcoming weekend closer to home than we had expected.

jul

Would you believe these photos were all taken within a few hours of each other?  The diversity of the landscapes on this island never ceases to amaze me!  

On Christmas day, Mr. F and I opted for a new tradition.  With warmer weather than we had enjoyed in weeks, we loaded up the car with coats, scarves, and a few bottles of Coke and drove up into the Troodos mountains.  I know I've said it before, but I love the mountains here.  I know most people hear we live on an island and think we're at the beach all the time, but really?  When we get a free afternoon, more often than not we head to the hills.

Our main motive for the adventure was to find snow.  Sun and warmth is all fine and well but when you're accustomed to freezing temperatures, cloud cover, and the occasional blizzard this time of year, Christmas just seems a little wonky without it.   Having absolutely no need for hurry, we sauntered through some of the villages of the foothills, navigating valleys we had never seen before.  There, orange trees were bursting, mums falling over walls, and the people, in light jackets.  The further uphill we climbed, the colder the air became and the more our excitement grew.  Then, on one fateful bend on the slopes of Mt. Olympus, we saw it.  Snow!

It filled the very top of the mountain, leaving the tiny tourist village of Troodos feel like an Alpine oasis.  Cypriot families bustled and we savored the hubbub.  Lunch at the local hotel filled us, before we trekked back downhill for sunsets, green fields, and naps.  It was such a different Christmas than any I have ever spent, but it is quickly climbing the ranks as one of my favorites.

life lately

1. making art prints a week out from Christmas

2. sometimes ginger ale and bags of fresh cranberries are just about the happiest things you can find, especially as an American expat

3.  my mom's winter tablescape with white candles and paper whites

4.  my brave little plants, growing in December.  outside.  still weird to me that it's warm enough for stuff to grow now

5.  gift tags for the party at church this weekend

6. danish butter cookies dipped in chocolate ganache, cooling on the patio

santa claus is coming to town

Mr. F's company does two holiday parties every year.  One for the grown ups, where we get dressed up, eat ridiculously good food, and get a night out.  The other is for the children of the employees.  I had never heard of such a tradition but immediately thought it was the best idea ever when Mr. F reported it to me last year.

Well, since he's the new guy and we are still bambinoless, Mr. F was the perfect candidate to be Santa. Last year he was asked last minute and I completely missed out on seeing him.  This year I got to experience the full glory of my husband being Jolly Old St. Nick.

Mr. F did really well with it, especially since he doesn't speak Greek and most of the kids were young enough that they definitely didn't speak English.  My favorite part of the experience was when one little boy's name was called and he ran to sit on Santa's lap.  He had been waiting all evening for his chance to see the Big Guy and couldn't hold back his enthusiasm when his turn finally came.  Such innocent joy...

And then there were us "grown-ups" who wanted our own chance to see Santa... Mr. F referred to me as Mrs. Claus all night.  I think there are worse nicknames out there, don't you?