8.11.09

The Establishment and the Mob


Society can roughly be split into two teams; the establishment and the alternatives (aka the mob). Each has stuck to its own kind. Until now. With the growth of gloablisation, the credit crunch, the search for new lifestyles, the lines between the establishment and the mob have blurred to the point of erosion. The result is a hodge-podge of people crossing society’s lines. People who lived in caves until three years ago now drive around in BMW and eat in swanky bar-restaurants (you can find some of these in a place beginning with ‘A’ and ending in ‘O’) and people who were born with a silver spoon in their mouth have now gone all hippy and hang out at a place beginning with ‘K’ and ending with ‘A’). Hmmmm…


Thing is, a leopard cannot change its spots. (Tell this to the Nicosia Housewife who can’t get out of her leopard-print leotard). The newly-rich will never become old money so they might as well try stop sending their kids to the posh schools. The establishment will never be able to mingle with the lower-classes (i.e. people who do not own a holiday home in Geneva) and people who emerged from the swamp a year ago will never be able to shake off that stink. So why try? Well because we all want what we can’t have and want approval that we are all encompassing personalities from everyone. Even strangers in remote social groups.


I once read that only the rich can afford bad shoes. This is because the rich are the only ones who do ‘poor’ well. It is easy to act as if you are a tree-hugging hippy when you own the whole forest or want to save the whales when your school serves sushi from lunch. But not matter how rich you recently became, you will never be able to pull off that pedigree you aim for, which takes generations to cultivate. (And leopard-print leggings are not fooling anyone).

5.11.09

One of those annoying people on facebook


I hate these people who add people on Facebook in order to have more friends. Recently a stranger added me (though we had a mutual friend) and I though ‘why not’ and pressed accept. However, there were no photos of himself, no ‘wall’ to write on, all in all… no information. I though facebook was a place for friends. Well if you want to be my friend then show me who you are. To no avail. After asking who he was written in a manner of ‘have we met before?’ there was no reply and so I sent a message saying that I would delete him and wished him the ‘best of luck with all his endeavors on facebook.’ So as you can see, I hate people who add friends to show the world that they have friends.
Nevertheless, due to professional commitments I joined LinkedIn, which is, let’s face it, a professional facebook/resume/CV. Instead of uploading your holiday pics you upload what you have worked on. And instead of braggin about how many friends you have, you brag about your professional contacts and who you know (and who can do you favours). I have become the annoying LinkedIn guy who wants as many connections (LinkedIn-speak for ‘friends’) as possible. How did this happen? Because whereas I have friends in reality who are on facebook, I don’t have that many professional connections. I am after all a BabyBusinessMan, so what do you expect?

2.11.09

Speak Greek


What I find interesting is people’s attachment to language. I like languages; I speak as many as I can to whomever I can. However, in Cyprus this is frowned upon! Speaking in a language other than Greek could have you deported to a Siberia, or another Russian region, like… Limassol.

Recently, I asked a friend (in Greek) if he could do me a favour. His response was a gleeful ‘of course I’ll do it! But only because you asked me in Greek’.

‘So if I asked you in English you wouldn’t do it?’ He smiled. Imagine what he would have done to me if I asked him in… Swahili? Or more shocking… in Turkish! Yikes!

I think Cypriots have a strange relationship with their language. They insist oversees-Cypriots speak Greek yet at the same time do not realize that they themselves pepper their Greek-conversations with words like ‘thank you, bye, okay’ or my favourite ‘sorrrry’ followed by a loud ‘ah’ and phrased as a question. They are constantly placing English words in between Greek words.


The problem is not that oversees-Cypriots do not speak Greek. All do (albeit at varying degrees of fluency) and all try! And when oversees-Cypriots do try and speak Greek to a fellow Cypriot, we are answered in… English. This not only embarrasses us, but it also implies that we are illiterate buffoons who can’t even properly speak Greek. Eventually the whole conversation becomes so uncomfortable that we give up and end up speaking in Pidgin English so the other guy whose English is so-so can understand. The issue for Cypriots is that oversees-Cypriots do not speak, perfectly fluent, accent-less Greek. The funny thing is, neither do most Cypriots. If you want to speak perfect, accent-less Greek you need to go to Greece. Sorrrrrry aah?

1.10.09

The 300th Post: An Essay Against Smoking

seeing through the smoke - the truth about smoking


It all began with a lunch date with my good friend Helen, a close friend I met since university. As usual we began catching up on the gossip, before I asked her what she through about the smoking ban that was going to be voted on in Parliament the coming days. Now, I knew Helen was a smoker so I expected her to defend smoking – however, her opinions on the smoking ban were as strong as mine were; and not in the way I liked. After a 45 minute debate, to which we dragged the café owner into the conversation (who took my side and was for the smoking ban), after we almost walked out of the café swearing never to talk to each other again and after we were heard arguing all over the café, we came to an impasse. She believed that there are more important things to ban in society today such as pesticides and hormones in food, which I agreed with but banning smoking was paramount. So with no resolution we agreed to disagree and despite our warring lunch date, we partly amicably with our friendship intact and our opinions even stronger.
But I could shake off the feeling of anger that rose within me over the course of our lunch. So I did what I always did when I was angry, upset of passionate about something; I wrote about it. Feeling that it was not enough I sent it off the Cyprus’ largest English-speaking newspaper and forgot about it, until 10 days later when it appeared in the paper, in dark blue ink, exactly as I wrote it:

Sir,
Smoking is disgusting and smokers are selfish. I have the right to say this because of two reasons.
The first is because my uncle (a non-smoker) passed away from cancer, my mother (a non-smoker) has had cancer twice in the last five years (breast then skin) and my 20-year old cousin (surprise, surprise, also a non-smoker) is currently undergoing a grueling form of chemotherapy because he is also has cancer. To see him losing his hair is heartbreaking.
It is evident that cancer runs in my family, which brings me to my second point; that after four years being a smoker, I quit last year. It was hypocritical of me to continue to smoke when smoking is the number one cause of cancer, when 1.3 billion people around the world smoke and half are expected to die from it, according to the WHO.
And yet, our current government, that brands itself as being one that cares for the people is against casinos but pro-smoking? The AKEL party was AGAINST the smoking ban. So now we have the overly-generous law of allowing smoking in outdoor public spaces – AND EVEN indoors in privately-owned companies. Are we idiots? Does this solve anything? So you can’t light up in a night club – but what about at work? What about the army where boys usually start smoking? Or is that not a public place?
The USA with its gun laws has banned smoking; Turkey has banned smoking; hell, even India with its population of one billion, poverty and hundreds of other problems has banned smoking and we can’t even do it properly?
Another mistake: instead of enforcing the law during the summer when people can smoke outside and when it will not be such a shock to the system (literally) the law comes into effect on 01 January 2010 (as if it’s some kind of celebration) when it will be cold and smokers will find it hard to adjust to smoking outdoors (although the UK has pulled it off!)
I challenge any Member of Parliament to reply to this letter or if they have the guts and explain themselves or to ask the Cyprus Weekly for my email and write to me explaining how they think this law will make a difference. But for some reason, I think they’re too busy looking for a lighter.

Yet on a personal and social level I don’t feel the article was enough; which is why I have decided to expand upon it with this essay. My reasons are personal. As mentioned above, I have had people close to me suffer for the disease. Smoking being the number one cause of cancer (though not the only cause) should be curbed, which is why I am not trying to raise an army of non-smokers through these words here.
At the time of writing the law has been passed to ban smoking as of the 01.01.10. However, it is expected that the government will try and create loopholes in order to circumvent the smoking-ban and thus render it ineffective. For example, it is believed that the ban will not be enforced in the army where boys pick up the habit. Already, because of the nature of the law, that prohibits smoking only indoors, people will be able to smoke on the beach, in the street and in parks. The law already is cushy and comfortable for smokers, given that the climate of Cyprus is warm and that most venues, excluding night clubs have tables outdoors. Ye another conspiracy theory I heard is that cafes will create enclosed spaces in order for smokers to be shielded from the elements, like the sun, wind and fresh air and will be able to cocooned themselves in the smokers’ lounge with cigarette smoke while the sip on their latte and play tavli. What joy!
The bill in Cyprus’ 56-member parliament voted in overwhelming majority to ban smoking by 27 member for the ban, three against and one abstention (the other 16 members are reserved for Turkish-Cypriots MPs who will retake their positions once a solution has been found). Cyprus had banned smoking in public places in 2002 and back then there were even plans to fine people CYP 1,000 for smoking while driving, which was a pioneering legislation that never went beyond planning stage. However, the current smoking ban must address, correct and implement the 2002 law that is so flexible it can qualify for gymnastics for the next Olympics and with loophole so wide you can push an elephant through it.
The revised law has prompted a strong response from the Cyprus Federation of Restaurateurs who stated that ‘music, alcohol and cigarettes go together’. Yes, and in the 60s people believed that smoking calmed the nerves, which lead to smoke in the workplace and even pregnant women smoking. That had come and passed and so will smoking in public spaces, so change is inevitable. The 2002 law was flouted almost religiously by restaurateurs due to lack of implementation. Well who wouldn’t flout the law if the policemen are ‘too friendly’ to fine a restaurant owner or a person smoking in a café because they are distantly related to the café owner. Excuses such as ‘she’s my wife’s cousin’s son from Australia…’ is a common statement heard by cops refusing to take out their handcuffs and arrest people… saying that they’d rather use it on their wife… hmmmmm… but not while she’s smoking!
The irony is that smokers in Cyprus only amount to 29% of the population. An anti-smoker will say that 29% is just over a quarter of the population; whereas a smoker will say that 29% is just below a third of the population and should have more rights. It’s the half-full/half-empty cup-theory. Regardless of this, Cyprus is just below the EU average of 31%, which is a pleasant surprise as it feels that more Cypriots smoke. However, if is not certain that the number includes under 18s, in which case it could be much higher.
Yet, even if school-children do not actively smoke, but their parents do the child is still at risk. It has been discovered that a high percentage of Cypriot children has a alarmingly high levels of nicotine in their blood stream due to passive smoking. Traces of metabolised nicotine, known as cotinine, have been found in the saliva of 94% of children from non-smoking households and 97% of all surveyed children. This proves that even if a child is raised in a non-smoking household it is still at risk. Yet, the adults are to blame for smoking.
Statistics by the WHO give insight into which countries are the largest smokers. It is true to form that men smoke more than women, in some cases due to cultural reasons, such as in Iran where only 2% of women smoke, compared to 22% of men or in Uzbekistan, where 1% of women smoke to 24% of men. However in Saudi Arabia, 8% of women smoke compared to 19% of men, so perhaps cultural restrictions are eased in the Arabian Kingdom. There are some shocking statistics such as in Kazakhstan where 65% of men smoke compared to 9% of women, and Russia too has 60% of men smoke compared to 16% of women. In the USA it’s more equal with 24% of men smoking and 19% of women, however south of the border in Mexico, only 13% of men smoke and 5% of women. In Ghana 7% of men smoked compared to 1% of women and in Sweden 18% of women smoked; 1% more than their male counterparts.
However culture is partly to blame. In some countries, culture dictates that men should smoke while it is un-lady-like for women to smoke. Smoking in Cyprus, is not only considered normal, it is almost mandatory. Smoking seems cool, chic, tough and classy. This image is so engrained in Cypriot mentality that 47% of all high-school pupils have tried smoking cigarettes at least once while 16.6% (one in six) smoke regularly. Yet now, the image of the cool smoker is sapping and a clean set of lungs are more attractive. However, one in 10 deaths in Cyprus are linked to smoking and healthcare for smoking amounts to 8% of the budget. These are trends that must be reversed. Interestingly, the increase of mobile phones has led to a decrease of teenage smokers, as they are busier texting than lighting up.
The risks of smoking, however are not merely meant for smokers, but for passive smokers too. One report showed that non-smokers who are regularly exposed to passive smoke increase their chance of developing lung cancer by 20-30% and having a stroke by 82%. Facts like these, that are scientifically-proven and not merely random numbers pulled out of a hat is the reason why the smoking-ban is imperative. Smokers complain that banning smoking is social racism and that their rights are being infringed, but what about the right to free air (as important as the right to free speech) that is being suffocated by too much cigarette smoke in the room? If you want to smoke, do so, but in the luxury of your own home, away from children and other non-smoking members of your family.
I was a smoker for about four years, who on average smoked up to five cigarettes a day of the lightest type I could find. I was as selfish as possible, genuinely believing that I could smoke where I liked. Now that I stopped I realized how wrong I was and also, how little resistance I encountered from non-smokers, perhaps it is because I lived in Europe prior to the smoking ban. Yet, the third thing I realized was how disrespectful smoking was, to other but also to myself. When people in the world have not got access to clean water and smokers are placing a flaming stick to the lips and inhaling, we have to wonder how wrong we have got it. The health risks are astronomical. According to the WHO, of the 1.3 billion people worldwide half are expected to die of smoking-related illnesses.
But smoking is harder to quit and I admire the people that do. I quit because of a throat infection, so I quit because I had to rather than because I wanted to. But I was determined to make the best of the situation. I couldn’t eat let alone swallow and refrained from sucking on the burning stick for a week. One week somehow turned to two. Two weeks to a month… The hardest month was the third, where I literally felt I needed the nicotine. But the moment I realized I was leaving my smoking-persona behind was on a train in Croatia. My friend and I were traveling from Split to Zagreb on a night train. In our six-seater cabin was a young and friendly Croatian couple that was drinking beer and smoking. ‘Would you like one?’ they asked us. My friend and I decline but they certainly liked their smokes. They literally were lighting one up before they even finished the one in their mouth. The cabin was filled up with so much smoke, that I could feel it landing on my hair and caressing my skin in a sickly-sweet way. My nose started running, I began coughing and my face was streamed with tears. It was at that moment that I knew I was being purged of the nicotine-addiction sin. It was so disgusting I might as well have got off the train and licked the pavement.
Yet it is hard to quit smoking when lighting up becomes such a ritual. I remember, at university, I would go to my friend’s house and we’d have a coffee and a smoke together and catch up on the days news. Or after a long and hard day (writing my essays at the library!!!) I would go home, open a glass of wine and light a cigarette while sitting in the garden if it was warm or hanging out of the window like an orangutan if it was cold, which lead to my room smelling like a pub, especially if I spilt the wine – but alcohol is another issue… and no… it don’t believe that should be banned!
While at university, I went on holiday with friends to Andalusia and deiced to visit Gibraltar. On crossing the border from La Linea to the Rock we were instantky greeted by a doule decker bus, the quintessential symbol of Britishness which had a massive advert of a cigratte brand. The advert was basically an ‘up yours’ to the Spanish who have deemed cigarette adverts illegal. I was genuinely shocked to see a cigarette advert since the Marlboro Man on billboards when I was a child. However, not only have people been shocked by adverts espousing the evils of smoking but some people actually believe that they indirectly encourage smoking. Nevertheless, anti-smoking ads have become more extreme, and clever, as the anti-smoking awareness campaign grows. An anti-smoking ad in the UK which involved a child talking about his mother dying from smoking raised alarm bells everywhere with people saying advertisers went too far and some even questioning how a four-year old could be so convincing. Another anti-smoking as where a girl said that she didn’t fear spiders, clowns or bullies but did fear her mother dying of smoking was deemed too scary and distressing, received 51 complaints and was only shown after 7.30pm. It seems that airing these ads, though distressing at least make an impact, as some others such as ‘Don’t Smoke. Think’ have little impact and are virtually ignored. It turns out the strong ads win because according to the Department of Health 4,730 smokers sought advice on quitting smoking as a direct result of the ‘I’m scared for my mother…’ campaign. I suppose that gives a new meaning to the phrase shock therapy.
However, the most upsetting of adverts are to be found on cigarette packets. In my opinion, they are truly repulsive. There is one picture of a man with a horrifyingly engorged throat cause by smoking. It is so upsetting I felt nauseous (see: http://bizcovering.com/marketing-and-advertising/graphic-repulsive-anti-smoking-ads-are-they-effective/).
Another image showed rotten teeth, rotten lips, an man with a fishing hook stuck through his check denoting the phrase ‘hooked’ as well as portraying a fetus in an ashtray.
There are ads on packets showing ‘social’ repercussions such as a woman talking to a man who is not smoking and ignoring the one that is. These perhaps have little impact visually, but socially many men and women will admit to preferring a partner that does not smoke. Though perhaps this is not mainstream, the pool is growing. However, smokers have found a way to circumvent these ads too, and not just the cheesy ones, by putting a sticker the size of the advert on the packet thus smoking freely without seeing the rotted teeth or burnt lungs pictured on the packet.
I never realised the power of the pen until I made comment on a social networks about smokers and that they should ‘REPENT: UR ERA IS OVER’. As a jest I also made a comment that smokers should ‘go fug themselves’. Of course there is some truth in every jest, but most smokers saw the barely minimal funny side. Except one.
This colleague, who I had on my social network list, decided at the most inopportune time to raise a private non-work related issue in the workplace. ‘What right do you have to swear?’ she screamed, trying to act all mighty ‘your comment insulted me and my father’. Her smoking insulted me and my mother who doesn’t smoke. At one point she actually turned to the boss and said ‘well George here told us to go fuck ourselves’ the way a child runs to a parent to ‘tell on me’.
The situation was starling with me shaking with anger all day at work and terminating my personal friendship with certain colleagues. But there is nothing like cancer to put things in perspective. So when someone tells me to go fuck myself, I think nothing of it. I have more important things to worry about, such as my and my family’s health.
And that’s what riles me up about smokers. They are completely self-righteous. And their righteousness takes colossal proportions often shouting and demanding to have their ‘rights’ protected while polluting their body and affecting others’ around them. But they refuse to see this. They choose to cloak themselves in a shroud of cigarette smoke so thick that they can’t see through. Nor would they want to

29.9.09

Are the Coffee-Beaners hotter than the coffee they serve?


Is it me or does Coffee Beanery in Nicosia hire the best/best looking staff? I was there the other day ordering one of those sickly-sweet coffees in a mug the size of a bucket and well – I realized the staff was beautiful and extremely helpful. Does Coffee Beanery go and find its staff in a modeling agency… in Brazil? Or Sweden? Are they trained in Paris? I have to admit that the service was excellent. And the looks… phew! Actually when I say I’d like a cup of coffee I mean I’d like you in it too.

Also good service is Gloria Jeans, which is a more hip place to people watch and drink coffee. The people there too are friendly, and very American-esque, and serve coffee with a smile which I like. But we don’t support Gloria Jeans as a company due to the company is anti….

My favourite coffee place has to be Flo. Especially the one in Stasikratous. The one in Ledra is swarming with tourists and I just can’t deal with that when I want to relax and read my book. Starbucks is filled with kids. Costa is filled with 40-year olds thinking they are kids but I do like the one near the uni, as its near to my house and filled with students who are always fun and the people that run it also get a gold star for service. But I miss those independent coffee houses where people know your name (like Cheers) and are not mass produced. You’d think that Cyprus that guzzles hundreds of gallons of coffee a day would realize that but surprisingly we haven’t. Coffee anyone?


PS... the next post will be the 300th!

28.9.09

The Times on Omonia Square


Omonia Square, Athens
By John Carr, Times correspondent

Omonia Square is not what it used to be. Older Greeks still remember it from about 1960 to 1990 as the glitzy bustling heart of modern Athens, its neon signs featured in almost every Greek film of the period. But when the Albanian border burst open in 1991 Omonia Square quickly became the abode of young Albanian unemployed men lounging everywhere, too quick to turn to crime.

It was not uncommon to find human excrement on then disused escalators to the Omonia underground station. Now there's a spanking new Metro station, the escalators are working and clean, but the area still is home to pickpockets and druggies - mainly Albanians, Asians and African hookers, especially at night.

Tourists are generally not molested, though it's wise to keep money and valuables well hidden. The square's souvlaki joints are worth a visit - on condition that you don't go around looking like a typical tourist!

27.9.09

Secret Appetites

As I’m slim, people assume I don’t eat or am anorexic. Truth is that I don’t like eating much in front of people. It’s my thing. I’ve just always found it too... personal and I only enjoy food when am with good friends rather than alongside strangers (who I often find have the strangest eating habits). The upside is that people think I have pristine table manners as I bring the fork to my mouth about three times during the whole dinner. Truth is I inhale food like an alcoholic guzzles booze. But it’s what we do in private that reveals who we truly are. In which case I have an endless appetite and am constantly hungry, although most assume I give my food away to the next person.

But like everyone else, I have habits. And when it comes to food I am particularly fussy. I have been kosher for over 2 years and only eat three type of meats; beef, chicken and turkey and two types of fish; salmon and tuna. Yet, my eating habits are strange. Before bed I always make a hot chocolate (winter) or milkshake (summer) and eat Pringles in bed. I can never be without any Pringles in the house. It’s like running out of toilet paper! Only more important, as there is always… well… the newspaper!

I never eat spicy foods (refer to above section where loo roll is not priority – that’s why!); pepper is spice to me and will avoid even a sprinkling of it – I doubt I even have some at home. I can eat honey and yogurt by the truckload, as I can with salads although I will never touch onion in the off chance that I kiss someone that afternoon.

But my worst habit is not cooking. And its not that I can’t cook, it’s that I can’t work up the interest of learning to cook. I’d rather clean. Although as I am writing this now, I am starving and hating the idea of cleaning my apartment this afternoon! Maybe I’ll go to a psistaria.

26.9.09

On why I hate the suburbs (again)


I hate the suburbs. I go there as rarely as possible and when I do it’s usually driving through them to get to the beach. You see, the suburbs in Limassol aren’t that bad – as they are filled with mansions and have sea views. In Nicosia, they are filled with roads that confuse you. Ok, so not all are bad, Makedonitissa is nice and Engomi is perhaps my favourite place in Nicosia. Aglantzia is a city suburb with its own centre, Skali and Plati and Latsia feels more like another city completely. But other than that the suburbs suck. I avoid Lakatamia like the plague and every time I hear the word Strovolo my heart skips a beat (unless I am in Acropolis, but as the name suggests I am in the ‘edge of the city’). I’m sorry. I know this must be rude to those who live in the suburbs; especially the outer suburbs but it might as well be outer Mongolia. It is so far to get to, there is nothing in it and it’s depressing. It’s just a row of houses. Maybe every now and then you chance upon a place of interest, like Jumbo or Pavilion but… there is nothing. True, Nicosia is not the most beautiful city on the planet, but at least everything happens in the centre. In the suburbs, people get desperate, even the Nicosia Housewife is thinking of buying an apartment in the CC (penthouse of course) where it will be easier for her to do her shopping. But that means not having a pool, which is a big sacrifice.

I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but I much prefer the city to the suburbs, although I hear that in the suburbs…

20.9.09

Summer 2009: DC, Philly, NYC, Boston, LDN






Washington DC, Philadelphia, NYC, Boston, London...
...and that's why I've been Missing in Action

5.7.09

Ordering Coffee... oooof!


Me: Hi, I’d like a coffee

Barista: What type?

Me: What type do you have?

Barista: Frappe, latte, frappe-latte, frappecino mix, frappecino-cappucino-mix, macchiato, frappecino, cino, soda-cino, whiskey-cino, water-cino, water-cino with extra water

Me: What’s the difference between a frappe and a frappecino-mix

Barista: The frappecino-mix is mixed, the frappe isn’t. Duh!

Me: Erm… I’ll have a frappecino-mix please

Barista: Hot, cold, lukewarm, mild, wild, freakishly-cold or so hot it can burn your lips off?

Me: Tough one, but as it’s summer I’ll go for a cold frappe

Barista: Cold-cold, extra-cold, regular-cold, freezing-cold, snow-cold or warm-cold?

Me: Erm… normal cold please

Barista: Size?

Me: Erm… what do you have?

Barista: Grande, super, large, medium, small, medium-small, shot or 3.5 litres

Me: Erm... Grande please

Barista: Grande-grande, super-grande, medium-grande, extra-grande, regular-grande, small-grande?

Me: Okay... what’s the difference between grand-grande and medium-grande, isn’t that just a large?

Barista (looking at me as if I told her that her mother had a tail): There is a big different between grande-grande, medium-grande and large. Medium-grande is slightly less grande than grande-grande and a little more grande but not much than large.

Me: Phew. Well… okay, I’ll take a grande-grande I guess

Barista: With what?

Me: What does it come with?

Barista: Ice, extra-ice, extra-low-fat-ice, cream, whipped cream, low-fat cream, regular-cream, cherries

Me: Is there a difference between ice and extra-ice?

Barista (looking at me as if I just said her father is a cross-dresser): There is a big difference between ice and extra-ice in your grande-grande frappecino-mix than if you had less ice.

Me: Okay I’ll have extra-ice then please.

Barista: Anything to eat?

Me: What do you have?

4.7.09

Protaras Baby!




So I went to Protaras for the second time in my life last weekend. I loved Protaras. I think it’s great. Like a mini Limassol just for fun, or perhaps it’s more like Nicosia-by-the-sea and classier English tourists (the trashy kind go to Napa). Anyway, Protaras is fun, even the pavements are fun!

But because it’s fun it’s also busy. So busy in fact that you need to get up at the a$$-crack of dawn just to get a bed by the beach. By 9am, if you’re not on the beach and have no bed, you might as well go home and organize your cupboards.

Well, we went out on Saturday and didn’t get back to the hotel until 7am. Everyone wanted to sleep and then go to the beach. I warned them that they would not get up if they slept in the bed and it was better to sleep on the beach like all normal party-people but no one heeded my warnings (and believe me, I know about these things, I used to be an international party boy). But the were asleep without even having finished my sentence.

At 12pm we head to the beach and stand there staring with our mouths gapping, except me who was trying not to smirk. The only people who can navigate Protaras (even better than people from Protaras) are Nicosians. In fact, I think Nicosia should become another municipality of Nicosia, it’s the Capital-by-the-Coast. I was with Lemesians, and I swear to you, Limassol people are only good for communing in Limassol. I hate it when my Limassol friends get lost in Nicosia; they have more chances of finding their destination in the Labyrinth of the Minotaur. So you can imagine dealing with Lemesians in Protaras who have no clue of where anything is (excluding the beach- and that’s only because they know what it looks like, having a beach in LMS) but think they do.

‘What? No bed?’ was the response. We scoured Fig Tree Bay (FTB) for beds but you couldn’t even find one. People actually went to the shops to buy umbrellas. Then we went to the one next to FTB, is it called Sunrise? Whatever it is called, there were no beds. Surprised? I wasn’t. The others were.

What do you frigging expect at 12pm on a Sunday in June? An empty beach? You personal water-boy? Endless expanse of sand? The sea was packed, and with so many people on the beach you could barely see the colour of the sand.

Chilling out is like everything in life. You have to be organized. If the others wanted a bed so badly, then get up and get one. Don’t go to sleep and expect to find one when you get up. You have to work for it. A bed isn’t going to magically appear. And if you arrive and there is no bed, don’t moan. You didn’t think, then you need to deal with it. I then suggested sitting by the pool but the others went for the golden beaches of Protaras. They certainly got it, all because they didn’t bother.

I had a great weekend, but by the end of it I was sick of the sea and wanted the pool (most Lemesians go to the pool; the only people in Cyprus who enjoy and appreciate the beach are Nicosians). Anyway, I left at 3pm just before traffic. When I got home, I experienced that warm feeling when you’re away for (what feels like ) a long time; when you’re back in your habitat, surrounded in your comfort zone, with your personal belongings and wrapped in silence. The blinds were drawn, the house was quiet and it was nice to sit there on the balcony with lemonade and fruit – doing nothing but enjoying the moment (and then reading a magazine; Nitro with Vissi on the cover). I had a good time in Protaras but I was so happy to be back in Nicosia. I missed my newly adopted city and I missed sitting in a real bed, minus sand – even if it is golden and soft.

2.7.09

Screaming Baby // Shhh... I'm eating Sushi!


So what do you do when a baby is bawling in a restaurant? I was a enjoying a delightful sushi meal with the Nicosia Housewife the other day when this baby started screaming its head off. The parents did nothing. There wasn’t even a Yiayia around to deal with it (because we all know many ‘modern’ Cypriot parents don’t blink an eyelid). Everyone was put off by this baby’s screaming. Even my sushi turned sour. The restaurant did nothing. If I had ordered spaghetti I would have flicked it at them from across the restaurant, but it was sushi and throwing sushi at irresponsible parents is akin to sacrilege – you never throw sushi away!

But what surprised me was that the management did nothing. Nothing? Yes. Nothing. When I worked in a bar in Manchester, we got three women, come in one Sunday afternoon, drunk/stoned/high/ or all three. They did not stop laughing and cracking jokes and literally howling in their seats. I thought they were hilarious. Everyone else hated them. My boss got so upset with them that he told them to be quite. They were for a bit and then they left. Maybe to get another hit.

Why do not that with the family and their screaming-baby? Because they are worried that they’ll leave? What about the rest of the customers then?

1.7.09

Disputed Art

The British Museum’s argument is that the Parthenon Marbles can be viewed as part of the world civilization whereas in Athens only as Athenian civilization. However the reason for seeing the Marbles as part of a discourse on the world’s various civilizations is because the British Museum has various artifacts from all over the world; due to colonization. Yet this argument is redundant, thanks to globalization. Tourism is a phenomenon of globalization; and as more people pour into Athens they would be able to see the whole Frieze in the context it came from. To see part of Marble in Athens juxtaposed alongside pieces of Rome and Egypt may lend a momentary insight into what the world has produced in terms of art and civilization but it is completely out of scope and context - especially when you leave the museum and step into the London drizzle.

11.6.09

The Girl who didn't know what she wanted (and I dated)


I dated a girl, who literally did not know what she wanted. She kept me hanging on months, to finish her studies to start dating, and then she decides she doesn’t know whether she wants to be in a relationship. This is how one conversation would progress:

Me: Do you want to go out?

Her: I’m so tired

Me: For an hour?

Her: Where.

Me: Chinese.

Her: Which area?

Me: Centre.

Her: They have a Chinese there?

Me: They have Chinese food everywhere!

Her: Hmmm… who are you going with?

Me: With you.

Her: Really?

Me: Would I lie?

Her: Do you lie?

Me: Do I look like I lie?

Her: I don’t know. I’m sooooo tired.

Me: Well do you want some coffee?

Her: You want to go for coffee instead? I thought you said Chinese

(At this point I should have slammed the phone down but I didn’t)

Me: No I mean have coffee to wake up and go to Chinese

Her: Hmmm…

Me: So?

Her: So what?

Me: Chinese?

Her: I’m too tired. Can I let you know?

Me: When?

Her: Later. Tired. Yawn.

By 10pm I still didn’t know what our plans were. When I asked her about it a few days later she said that she feel asleep because she was tired. As if she didn’t mention that in the conversation.

9.6.09

Facebook Eliminations

I have to admit that I have about 50 ‘friends’ on facebook who I don’t even want on, but don’t want to erase them as I still want to see what they’re up to. It’s like spying. So if you are reading this and are my facebook friend and hate me, then please delete yourself, as you’re probably boring anyway. If your life was that interesting I’d be in it, so I wouldn’t need to see what you’re up to either way. Thanks

8.6.09

Different countries send their politicians to Brussels for different reasons. Berlusconi treats the EU Parliament as a fashion show sending the best looking female MEPs on a passarella. France knows that it doesn’t need to control the EU from Brussles, and can easily do it from Paris, so send its unwanted MPs to Brussels before throwing them out of politics. The Poles and Brits want to the out of the EU so send their extreme-Right Wing politicians who are so Right they’re Left… and Cyprus…. Ooof!

With Cyprus, I have never seen such a fuss over the European elections. For three days all we saw were politicians celebrating, and saying they ‘came first’ before the results were already announced. So the EU’s 3rd smallest nation has 6 seats which means 6 MEPs. Big deal. If they can’t pass laws in their country do they think they’ll pass these laws in Brussels? Heck no. The fuss, the waving of the flags, the speeches, the ceremonies, the interviews, all that over 6 measly seats in the EuroParliament. And the fighting of the parties… Did someone forget to tell them that they are in Brussels for Cyprus, not for the Left of the Right.

5.6.09

Coloured Contact Lenses

I don’t understand why people ware fake coloured coloured lenses. People can tell they’re fake. So why do it? If some (dumb) people can’t tell they’re fake tell you that you have ‘nice eyes’ as a compliment what do you do? Accept the compliment or say ‘they’re fake’ and put you in an embarrassing situation.

4.6.09

Bright Shiny Morning


Probably the best book I read in 2009!
Definately in my top 10 of best books!
Want to know more about it? Google it!

3.6.09

Luxury? You want it? Work for it!


Don’t expect luxury if you’re not prepared to work. I hear all these people throw the word around like a ball and yet they don’t know what it means. They expect someone to come along and give it to them. Who? Their parents? They themselves had to work for it. Some were given vast acres of land and developed it – but most worked hard. Now that the kids grew up in mild laps of luxury (we’re not talking about St. Tropez here, more like a summer house in Protaras) they expect it to continue. Somehow these people still expect money to flow into their wallet. Where from? The banks are bust. The parentals only have X amount. Is someone going to grow €100 bills on trees?

Ultimately now with the recession (which was brought on by bankers’ greed for luxury) it is a luxury to still have a job!

2.6.09

Dreams


My friend P-Lo used to have a dream-catcher in his room above his bed. He said that since he made it (he’s very arty) he hasn’t had a bad dream. So I wanted one. But I didn’t make it. I couldn’t be bothered, I was too busy riding my bike and scraping my knees. Instead I bought mine from a cheap tourist shop in Paphos. Instead of catching the bad dreams they multiplied. Was it a faulty dream-catcher? Who knows? Who cares? Well… I do. So I got rid of the dream-catcher but I still had weird dreams. Since I was a kid I had the strangest types of dreams. And they carried on into adult life.

Usually my dreams are like action movies. I swear, it’s like I’m starring in my own personal blockbuster – too bad it’s made in my head and not in Hollywood where I would be grossing million right now and this blof would received as many millions of hits as I make (Oscar for best actor, soundtrack by Missy Elliot). My dreams mostly involve me running from someone, running to someone or chasing someone. Usually they are black and white and there isn’t much talking, just running, and shouting. It’s a bit like Sin City minus the special effects or the extreme levels of violence. And usually they end before I wake up – which is a shame. It’s like leaving a movie half-way through.

They also analyze what language you dream in; usually English. But a couple of times I has a few foreign-language dreams; in Spanish and once in Hebrew (can't you nominate those for the Best Movie of a foreign languages - more like foreign nature?). And once I think in Italian – or maybe it was my Italian friend waking me up and speaking in Italian, or maybe it was just after having watched the Godfather. Luckily I didn't wake up with a horse's head in my bed. Not that I own a horse, or a little pony! And I think once one of my cameos in my dream said ‘yeia sou’ and then swore in Greek. I think I even had a dream in franglais. But maybe that was after I watched Spanglish. Who knows. I mean it wasn't like I was wide awake. I did have my eyes wide shut!

Most people don’t like hearing about others’ dreams. But I love it. Maybe it’s because I have an over-active imagination… or maybe I just want to hear that people’s dreams are weirder than mine… But as long as you can articulate your dream well, I want to hear it. Usually people’s dreams are more interesting than their real life. When you ask how their day went they’ll tell you about their phone call with their mother or that they ran out of toothpaste. If you ask them what they did at night they’ll tell you about their party at Zoo Lounge. And usually nothing really happens they’re just answering your question. The interesting stuff is the things they volunteer to you. ‘Guess what dream I had…’ and all of a sudden you know that some ridiculous thing happened (although it didn’t because it was dreamed but still…).

What I hate is people telling you what they did and then showing you, usually it’s shopping (girls) or car (boys). Who cares if it comes in silk as well as wool? So your car has leather seats? Big deal? Am I bothered? Am I bothered though? But I do like cars that have the name Saloon – because it reminds me of saloons in the Wild West, which is a bar for cowboys. And what do bars offer? Alcohol. Stories involving alcohol are even more interesting than dreams because they are just as whacky and even better… they actually happened. So fill me up (with your stories and with the booze).

1.6.09

3 years Jewish // 2 Years Kosher


1 June 2009:
3 Years Jewish!
2 Years Kosher!

29.5.09

For sale?

The building (above is on Ledra Street and) is for sale. Hmmm... Is that before of after it collapses?

28.5.09

French Parking?


French Parking? (As seen somewhere in Nicosia) What does that mean? What is a French Parking? Greek is my second language but I speak it like it's my 7th! Can someone explain?
Merci!

27.5.09

Stupid Stylist


Has everyone gone mad? As I can’t visit my stylist in LMS I am forced to visit my psycho-stylist in Nicosia. As you remember, last time, she tried to overcharge and I didn’t let it. I was hell-bent on changing her, but I haven’t had the time to find a new one. So I called her up to make an appointment. The woman screened my class. Mt stylist is rejecting me? Oh that is an all time low – even for me. I thought that perhaps something happened. Maybe a bleached-induced accident? Maybe she is so embarrassed at trying to cheat me. Maybe she went in for some maths class. Who knows? Who cares?
Well… I DO! It turns out that not only does she want my custom, but she had a nervous breakdown (did she bleach other areas by accident?). The woman went mad in a club two Saturdays ago apparently (did she accidentally down the bleach?). Or did she realize that she is not a natural blonde and lost it.
At the end of the day, I need to look good. And I am not happy!

25.5.09

One Year!

25th May 2009!

One Year of Hidden Empire!
And I still haven't run out of things to say!

For those of you who do tune in - thanks for all your support!

24.5.09

Commericial Cannes


Is it me of has Cannes become American? I thought the whole point of the Cannes Film Festival was to promote un-commercial and artistic films. What many call ‘European cinema’ which has always been a little nutty and odd. Yet – from I’ve been reading – Cannes seems more Hollywood than Hollywood! Tarantino, Brangelina and Pixar’s movie Up? This is the selection at Cannes? What is this? The the McFilm Festival? Even Sundance and Tribeca Film Festivals are more un-commercial than Cannes. Is Cannes is the victim of its own success?

Seeing this make me take my hat of the Cyprus Film Days – the film festival in Nicosia earlier this year. If you want a film festival with a meaning you should have been there. But I guess you can always follow the circus act at Cannes!

20.5.09

Lipstick / White Wine / Red Wine / What?

I went to an exhibition the other night and as I hadn’t found my friend I went to the bar for a glass of wine, as it’s not nice to wander around empty-handed. A drink in hand always makes it easier to mingle (hold it with your left hand. Your right hand you use for shaking hands of people you meet and no one wants to shake a cold or clammy hand).

I went up to the bar to order and noticed that there was only one white wine. With lipstick marks on it.

‘Can I have a glass of white wine please?’ (red wine stains your teeth but is good for your heart).

‘Take this’ said the guys serving me, who was from the ex-eastern bloc.

‘Look’ I said holding up the glass and pointing the lipstick marks. He examined it for what seemed like a year.

‘Okay then’ he said. He took the glass of wine, got a new glass and poured the same wine into another glass. He was giving me someone else’s wine in a new glass. And this is at an exclusive exhibition in our nations’ capital. I started laughing.

‘Is all I have’ he said handing me the glass.

In the end I settled red wine. Stains your teeth but good for your heart. The only other alternative was wine drank by a woman with red lipstick. But there was so much red lipstick I came to assume it was a d. queen, who usually slather large amounts of make up on them. Hmmmm… must be an interesting exhibition I though, as I walked in. Red wine in hand.