Wherefore art thou, Roland?

 We have had an unwelcome visitor in the house for the last week or so. Roland the Rat makes his presence felt in the early morning by scratching at the back of the kitchen cupboards (which is where he is making himself at home). Our cats have shown absolutely no interest - back to kitten school, I say - and Daisy goes quite berserk, but that’s as far as it goes.

Advice is somewhat varied. Poison (takes weeks and we have pets), glue traps (tried and failed to make any difference), humane traps, which will prove possible to source here, and call in Pest Control. Many expats on my forum have advised against this, saying they are ineffective and expensive. So the next step is to contact our friend Savvas and see what he suggests. There may be a weird and wonderful way that Cypriots manage to keep their house pest free.

Christmas was a great success, mainly due to the superhuman efforts made by Ann. In the run-up to Christmas I was rather under the weather, and she stepped up and dispatched me to bed (eighteen hours asleep on Christmas Eve). Fortunately I feel rather better now. The beef en croûte was lovely, and the trifle a veritable triumph. Boxing Day was a smorgasbord of homemade soup (tomato and celery), and cheese and pickles and olives and ... Roses chocolates ... grapes. As my grandmother would have said “FTB ... full to the brim and fit to burst”.

It’s touch and go whether this blog reaches fifty thousand views before or just after New Year. It is gratifying that people visit and read my words of wisdom, rants, complaints and tips if you are moving to Cyprus.

A Tale of Two ...

 It is both interesting and a little confusing to see how my country and my adopted country are reacting to the increased infection rate of this wretched virus. Neither country is managing it well. The UK seems to be in true headless chicken mode, with today’s newspapers suggesting that the lunatic Christmas relaxation for five days may well be cancelled. There have been more changes of direction in government “policy” than you could ever believe. Lockdown, tiers, new tiers, circuit-break and now new movement to stricter tiers overnight. Heaven help people who try to follow the guidance - although, according to a number of online tabloids - so many people are just not bothering.

Here in Cyprus it has been too little, too late. Now, with strict guidelines, the number of infections is growing exponentially. We see people not wearing masks (and they are compulsory outdoors as well), definitely not keeping their distance and behaving as if this virus is a minor inconvenience. The problem here is that the virus is out of control. Cyprus went from about a thousand cases in May (and then the airports were reopened) to over fifteen thousand cases now. “So what” you might say. The problem is that this island has a small population and so cases per 100,000 of the population are proportionally higher.

Ann reminded me this morning we have been self-isolating for nine months now. We have remained sane and positive. Of course for much of this time we have had glorious weather, the swimming pool has been a godsend, and sitting overlooking the bay with a cold glass of something has made life more than bearable. Our local kiosk has been brilliant with Joanna or Marios delivering food and drink to our door with the minimum of fuss, and a smile on their faces. The cost of delivery? Free.

The western world is focussed on Christmas, and the fear of not having a family celebration is seemingly on a par with the apocalypse. I can understand the emotion after such a year, but are we talking about grown-ups? In any event life will go on, whether that is back to normal or the “new normal”. I hope all visitors to my blog stay safe and enjoy as good a Christmas as circumstances allow.

A close shave ...

 The ongoing saga of the Royal Mail refusing to send my new electric wet/dry razor to Cyprus because it is a prohibited item has irritated me no end. After spending a considerable amount of money on a new razor (because my old one died), I am now in no man’s land. After a few days my stubble is not “designer” - it just looks a mess. But, with Ann’s help, a temporary solution was found.

Polis has a number of barbers and so I asked on Facebook whether any of them offered a shaving service. It turned out that many of them did, and one barber was recommended over and over. My chum David emailed me and explained where this barber was situated, whether mask wearing  and cleanliness was good, and the quality of the shave.

Idris is a a Turkish Armenian who has set up a barber’s shop. So off I went this morning and was warmly greeted by Idris and his younger Cypriot assistant, who was to shave me. Ten minutes later I was as closely and cleanly shaved as I can remember, hairs on my nose were removed by threading (painlessly) and the spray of cologne was cooling. The cost was eye-watering - a whole €3,00. This was the closest shave I have had since Ann and I went to Goa in 2003. Until my razor eventually arrives from the UK I can see regular visits. What a success!

We have had a busy week so far. Yesterday we had to drive to Paphos to visit the District Court so that Ann could have an affidavit stamped to prove we were married. This was so we could exchange our UK driving licences for Cypriot ones. That requires another visit to the Department of Transport tomorrow in Paphos. If you plan on following in our footsteps don’t make the mistake of having all utility bills in the husband’s name (this is almost automatic here) and have one in the wife’s name. It makes life much easier. On Thursday we travel to Paphos yet again for Ann to see her consultant at the hospital. Roll on Friday.

That should be the final step in ensuring we are legal in Cyprus. Our MEU3 gives us permanent residence here but this can be changed for UK3 once Cyprus sorts that out. Unlike the MEU3, which required a mountain of paperwork, this change only requires the MEU3 form and a current passport. After that I really don’t want to see the inside of a government office again.

The wrong trousers ...

 I was just thinking of the lovely Wallace & Gromit film “The Wrong Trousers”. Why you might ask? Well yesterday 2nd December was the first time I have worn trousers (as opposed to shorts) since early April. And that is why I love living in Cyprus so much as the mild weather can be delightful for months and months on end. We don’t often leave the house after dark, when the temperature can drop after sunset, and so changing to go out has become a thing of the past.

The level of infections here has risen quite sharply in the last couple of months and continues to do so. A government that acted so precipitously in the spring has bowed to the apparent needs of the economy, and it is sad to see. Sooner or later they will have to increase the restrictions to stem the rate of increase. It seems quite daft to ease matters when a vaccine is on the horizon, which may change matters for us all.

Ann and I have discussed whether we would be prepared to be vaccinated, and it will be a very difficult decision. Both of us (age and underlying medical conditions) are in the vulnerable category, and we have to ask ourselves whether the possible (and unknown) side effects of this vaccine are preferable to catching a virus which could be fatal. On the run up to Christmas last year who would have thought 2020 would end up as it has.

It reminds me of a bank manager who used to come into our pub in Kent, who always advised you to take your pensions the second they became available as no one knew when “the number 54 was coming round the corner”.

On a more cheery note, we are getting used to cosying up to the log burner after sunset, and eating earlier, and watching various box sets. We recently watched The Undoing, which we both thought was brilliant - despite being disappointed by the ending. My money was on Donald Sutherland. We are now looking at The Crown. We bailed out of Season 3, as neither of us could believe Olivia Coleman as the queen. But so far, Season 4 has been more watchable. And - on the back burner - we plan to watch Queen’s Gambit, especially as I am teaching Ann to play chess.

718 more visits to this blog will bring up 50,000 views - and I find that hard to believe sometimes. Thank you for taking the trouble to continue reading.

Sunshine and cool evenings ...

 A lovely combination this last few days ... the sun is shining and it is warm enough to sit on the terrace with a glass of something, and then the sun goes down, we retreat inside and light the log burner. “Lovely jubbly” as Del Boy would have said. I find there is something magical about luxuriating in front of a log burner, after having months and months of a Cyprus spring and summer, and autumn too.

And we are set for the winter with two deliveries of lemonwood logs from our regular supplier. Ann refers to him as “The Professor” for the lovely way he stack our logs - almost an art form. Hopefully, if winter is not too cold or wet, that should see us through the log burning season. For those still hoping to follow in our footsteps, it is timeous to remind you that heating is essential in the winter as Cypriot houses are notoriously badly insulated. You can read all you want about the 300+ days of sunshine in Cyprus, but in December, January, February and sometimes March, you will regret not being warm and cosy once the sun goes down.

In our early years we relied on a combination of air conditioners set to “heat” mode, and mobile gas heaters. And, with that combination of heating, we were plagued with damp and mould. After thousands of euros were spent on sorting out damp courses and the area between the surroundings of the house and the walls (all had to be dug up, and dried out and replaced) over a number of months. That dispensed with the damp, once we realised gas heaters were a health hazard and very bad news for us.

The decision to install a log burner two and a half years ago was a - and I hesitate to use the hackneyed expression so beloved of Boris Johnson and Matt Hancock - a “game changer”. We used to dread (possibly an exaggeration) the sun going down and the fall in the temperature. Now, with glee, we light the blue touch paper and stand back. Once the internal temperature reaches 60°C, the fan starts and it is difficult not to shout out “5 ... 4 ... 3 ... 2 ... 1 ... Thunderbirds are GO”. You can tell I am a child of the 60s.

Daisy loves the log burner and creeps ever closer. Not surprising for a dog who has to be persuaded not to sunbathe in August.

Too little, too late

 I have been quite impressed with the way this country has dealt with the pandemic ... until recently. Daily infections were in single figures, the number of ICU beds were more than adequate and people (by and large) were being sensible and obeying the rules. And then ... and then ... the government was put under incredible pressure by the unions and other employer groups, and they opened up the airports. This was followed at the end of the summer by the schools and universities opening. What a mix and it was all so predictable.

Infections soared, and deaths, and all the hard work of the previous months had been for nought. Once Pandora’s Box had been opened it was nigh on impossible to shut it. Many people gave up on the idea of social distancing, masks - where worn - were round the chin. In a matter of a few weeks Cyprus went from  1500 cases to over 6500. The track and trace team could not cope and it would appear that the laboratories closed at weekends.

Like European governments all over, the President decided that something needed to be done ... to show that he was doing something. But, inevitably the action taken was too little, too late. Infections continued to rise, and so further restrictions were placed on the Limassol and Paphos regions. It was similar to the first lockdown, without the SMS messaging. There are now roadblocks between the regions, but it’s all too late. We are effectively locked down until December. Too short a period as it is not long enough to see whether the restrictions are working or not.

This is having little effect on us, as we were already taking our own precautions. But the effect on many Cypriots will be devastating. Workers in the businesses closed will join the many who are struggling. There will be the siren cries of “Christmas must be saved” and I suspect we will lurch from one lockdown to the next.

With a vaccine possibly on the horizon, surely this must be the time to grit one’s teeth over the next few months and wait the virus out. 

Hidden poverty in Cyprus

 As most people who come to live in Cyprus realise, there is no real safety net here for people who fall on hard times. After six months (always assuming you were working and paying Social Security) any benefits stop and you are left to survive on your own.

The coronavirus disaster has put that very small safety net under impossible pressure because Cyprus is - as near as damn it - insolvent. They cannot print money as the UK has done (the Eurozone does not allow that), and since the “haircut” in 2013, Cyprus is frozen out of the international money markets and so cannot borrow. The pandemic, which has thrown so many people out of work, just makes matters worse.

We are shielded from this poverty, as I suspect many non-Cypriots are, and don’t really notice what is apparent. However there are individuals who try to help. One local couple started providing hot meals for those in need, and asked for donations - no money just food. We supported this initiative for some months, and had our local kiosk deliver the groceries to a venue in Polis.

They moved their operation out of the area and we looked to see if we could help someone else. A lovely local entrepreneur was doing things quietly behind the scenes, and Ann contacted her to ask if we could be of help. She sent us a list of items (mainly dried and tinned items) and we gladly contacted our kiosk who sorted things out. Ann contacted her again and asked what was needed. This time it was bedding (blankets and duvets) as winter was approaching. During this exchange we found out that one family had received all we had bought. We were told the eight-year old daughter of this family had not eaten for three days. THREE DAYS! How on earth can anyone be left to their own devices like that? We were stunned and upset.

So off to the charity shop to see whether we can buy some warm bedding to be in use this evening, and any surplus from the sum we have set aside will go to more food.

I mention this story not to tell the world how marvellous and charitable we are. I write this so that the hidden poverty in Cyprus can be unearthed and if only one person reads this and wants to help, they can. What is most noticeable is that these kind and helpful people are running businesses as well, and resolutely refuse money. Food, bedding, winter clothes - but absolutely no money. We have bitter memories when we raised money through Argaka Aid some years ago to help needy families in our village, and the snide comments and accusations that reached our ears. Sad, but true.

It is said that very crisis is a veritable honeypot for fraudsters and scammers. But the people in this story are as honest as the day is long, and we trust them without reservation.