5.1.11

Why queue for an iPhone? I'd rather wait in line for fashion week tkts

What is it with all these nerds and queuing up for an iPhone. To get one people wait in line for days practically. And then what do they do when they get their phone? They certainly don’t call anyone because they are so tired from standing in the cold on the pavement they go to sleep. I can understand it is something special but seriously… that much? The same goes for the Wii. Harry Potter books I can excuse. It’s literature and its educational so why not? I can understand people queuing up in an airport at Christmas for a flight home… but that’s so you can get out of the airport and into your comfort zone. We all know that airport food has severe side-effects and the toilets in the airports aren’t particularly sanitary, especially if the flight before you was RyanAir from Birmingham to Ibiza (Gah – help!).
I can understand waiting in queues for Olympic tickets or perhaps Milan fashion week. Sports in important and we all need to make an effort to look good so why not be the first to see the latest trends. But 27 hours in line for an iPhone? Who are you going to call? Ghostbusters? You can do that from a pay-phone? Your Mum? Does she want to talk to you? Me… don’t bother… I’m in the queue for fashion week and can’t talk now!

4.1.11

Why I hate the suburbs excpet one...


So meeting a friend for coffee or lunch is a whole torturous scenario. I live in the centre. This way I am as close to civilization as possible (i.e. the shops, the bars etc) so I expect people to share this mind-set with me. They don’t. Many of my good friends, live in the suburbs. And we are not talking about the inner suburbs like Aglangia, we are talking about Strovolos, which might as well be outer Mongolia. So I take a little offence to the fact that people expect me to drive over there to visit them, especially if they finish work at 2pm and I finish work at 6pm, on a good day (and that’s not including yoga, running, running to Lidl for Coco Pops or running to get new pajamas from Intimissimi). And so I expect to switch. So, one time I could to you in the prairies and the next time you come to me in the centre of civilization. Except it doesn’t work this way. People who live in the suburbs, especially the outer suburbs, seem to have developed a dread of the city and its centre. It’s as if I am asking them to visit me on the higher edges of the Himalayas in winter for tea wearing their swimsuits. It’s Nicosia people, come on. ‘I visited you, at the edge of the world, so now it’s your turn to come to me.’ They seethed with anger. It’s as if I called them country bumpkins, but if you live closer to Larnaca than Nicosia while you are still in Nicosia… come on. Once I met a friend near Metro in Lakatamia. ‘And so where do you live?’ I asked. ‘Right there’ she replied pointing to her car. ‘Are you telling me I came all this way to the middle of nowhere and you live there?’ I wanted to say. But I didn’t. I was too worried about how I was going to get home.
I will make one expectation though. The only suburb I will visit, without throwing a tantrum is Makedonitissa, because it’s not too far from the city and out of all the areas, it’s the best one. Perhaps even better than the centre!

17.8.10

Me in Milano


My first time in Italy was on holiday at the end of the first year at university with my family. Rome, Florence Pisa, and Siena. An Italian trip that showed me all the highlights of the Italian peninsula condensed into a week and four cities. Three and a half years later I was back in Italy for my Erasmus year. I landed in Rome and caught another flight to Milan where after an agonizing hour I discovered my suitcases were lost. But no time to stop there. Onto Stazione Centrale in Milan where I caught the train to Verona, literally within seconds. About an hour and a half later, baking cabin, as it was still warm in northern Italy in September, I finally arrived at the city of Romeo and Juliet where I began my fourth and final part of my journey, and caught a train to Trento. The train made its way from the top of the Po Valley, up up up into the Dolomites where, after seeing mountains jut out of the ground, flanked by tiny towns and budding villages I finally arrived in Trento.

That city was to be my home for the next four months or so. I got out of the station and as if by radar and sans map I found myself in the lobby of my hostel. Finding my friends who were on my placement year, we smoked and had a bottle of wine (that cost a Euro and tasted like cat pee) that we bought from the local supermarket. In fact it was so local, it practically catered to the immediately family of the proprietors.

Those four months in Trento taught me Italian grammar, geography and gastronomy, that my favourite coffee was Latte Macchiato (only €0.80 from the café opposite the Duomo and €1.20-€1.80 in Milan), that Americans were smart and more importantly fun, how to drink wine as if it were juice, who my friends were and who weren’t, that you can buy a slice of pizza per portare via, that Italian Churches looked like museums from the inside (and don’t they say beauty comes from within), that jumping into a fountain in the piazza in your underwear with your friends is illegal apparently, as is stealing dustbins from the street and a side-order or fried from a restaurant in Bologna, that ‘ti voglio bene’ means I love you, that the authorities need 16 days just to process a piece of paper, that getting your fiscal code may seem less mundane than originally thought, that travel is paramount for passion and knowledge, that you can catch a train to Venice for the day (€25 return and 2 hours each way) or a Taxi for five from Ljubljana to Venice for about €40, that Innsbruck was only 2 hours away and cold, that Lugano is the best city in Europe and even better with good company, that the Duomo in Bologna was stopped being built by the Vatican in case it was bigger than the Vatican and that Milan is a formidable city.

After I left I did not expect to return to Italy any time soon. I loved the country and knew it well (well… north Italy anyway) but there were so many other places to see and Spain was calling at the time… so I wrapped up Italy and got on with my life, thinking of Italy only occasionally until five years later…Italy was calling me to go back again…

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