Disorientating Time

It was a dark week for Cyprus. Just as dark from the hot streets of Mexico City. Though thousands of miles away I felt as connected to Cyprus as ever which seemed to make the issue of Cyprus even harder to understand. I was in one of the world’s largest economies while my country’s economy was melting. The fact that I was not ‘living it’ in Cyprus did nothing to diminish how awful it felt to know that thousands could/would lose their savings through no fault of their own (whose fault it is, is another issue completely, and most likely for another blog). In fact, part of me wanted to be in Cyprus to… to… to do what? Demonstrate? Line up at the banks and queue? What could you do?

The time difference between Mexico and Cyprus is eight hours (seven with daylight saving time). I found it disorientating that I would wake aup and skype with my friends at 9am while in Cyprus it would already be 5pm. ‘Hi Steph’ I said cheerily while skyping with my friend in Frankfurt (the irony) on the Saturday morning after the Cypriot government announced all banks would close and would deduct 6.75% or 9.9% from accounts.

‘You haven’t heard?’ he said upset.

‘Heard what?’ And he began to recount glumly what was going on.

It startled me that this would become a normal occurrence; I would wake up and go to work planning my day or on Saturdays begin my weekend while everyone in Cyprus, eight hours ahead, was tired, stressed and living in constant panic having experienced the day’s events unfold. It was like peeking into the future. I would get the morning news from Cyprus as I was going to bed and when I went to work in the morning, I would read how the day unfolded… and have no one to discuss it with. They were either all in bed by the time I got home or were tired of talking about it.

Unlike in Germany, London or Geneva I would hear Greek spoken on the streets and it was nice knowing that there was always a Greek community around me. There was always someone you could grab who you could share some joke and understand your culture. In Mexico I heard a variance of Spanish that I found hard to follow. I was used to hearing European Spanish. Bar-the-lona not Bar-se-lona. This only accentuated how far and cut off from Europe and Cyprus I was. But if I did come across Brazilians or Argentines (who more recently in 2001 had their savings taken by the government), then they listened and discussed gladly, with an open ear and sympathetic heart. By listening and relating, they became my new people in a place, so far from home, so hot under the sun.

I had to include the image above. I just think this slogan is original and sums up everything about the people are feeling in Cyprus (without offending anyone. And though I understand people are agree I do not think painting a small mustache on European leader’s faces helps anyone or wins any friends. Don’t you agree?).

Note: I did not want this to be my first post from Mexico. But, until now I did not feel like writing. Write about what exactly when all my thoughts are with Cyprus right now; unwanted by Europe, drifting like a leaf in the sea; just like the song says. Next time… I promise something spicy from Mexico City.

Have a good weekend and all the best to Cyprus in these crucial days ahead.