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PAPHOS |
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LIMASSOL |
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LARNACA |
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AYIA NAPA |
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Day out in Paphos Area |
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Six weeks ago a telephone call near midnight and, after cursing at how late it is, I answer to find it’s my mate Ben from the UK who’d forgotten about the time difference! ‘Hi Ben, great to hear from you! (I lied) What’s that? You want to come and visit me in Cyprus?”.... “Fantastic!”….. “When?”…… “July?”…. “Really?”…. “But you love doing lots of things and the hot summer days are for pulling up a sun bed under an umbrella, grabbing a cold beer and dipping into the latest Lee Child thriller? It just isn’t fun dashing around when it’s hot. Can’t you come next month? March is a fantastic time to visit!”
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Today, 21st March 7.15 am, Paphos Airport “Hi Ben, it’s great to see you again. I’m so glad you came into Paphos airport, look at that you’ve only been landed 25 minutes and we’re in the car.” “So what are we going to do?” “First, you’re here when Cyprus is looking its best, it may be winter back home but you can put that coat back in the suitcase where it belongs, get out those lilywhite legs and arms and let’s get going.” “It’s so green and the smell from the orange blossom lining the road is intoxicating.” Ben effused as we drove along the road from the airport to the motorway. After only a few minutes we hit the end of the motorway and head down the dual carriageway to Kato Paphos. “I’m starving,” Ben suddenly burst out as we took a wrong turn towards Pano Paphos (me not concentrating!), “I only got an egg sandwich on the flight!” “I know just the place!” So we pulled into the underground car park of Fifth Floor and zipped up to the fabulous café that has great views over the town. A huge slab of cake and a silky coffee later we were back in the car and heading back down to the coast. “Before we start….” Ben chipped in, “I’ve had enough of archaeology with my job – I want to do something different!” “OK,” I replied, “The only problem is that Paphos is one huge archaeological site, everything is built on something Roman, Byzantine, Hellenistic, Venetian, the list goes on, it’s a wonder we haven’t got skyscrapers.” “I take it then you also won’t be interested in the department store shopping or a quick trip to The Paphos Mall either?” I offered. So we drifted past the old Turkish quarter, along past the Venetian fort on the harbour, up past the House of Dionysos, Ayia Kyriaki church, Ayia Solomoni catacombs and out past the Tomb of the Kings. More culture than you can shake a stick at and he doesn’t want to see it! That’s the trouble with Paphos, the whole town is a world heritage site but for those whose interests lay elsewhere it’s also a great jumping off place for the surrounding area. So just out of Paphos we head to the fishing village of Ayios Georgios, Ben, spotting the harbour wall and the deep blue Mediterranean beyond, ferrets in the bags in the boot and drags out a fishing rod. Within moments he’s casting out his line and sending me off to the small fish taverna for some takeaway kalamari. I’m sure all that guy does is eat, and it’s barely coffee time! Giving up after only ten minutes (Ben has a short attention span!) we dive back in the car and head back towards Paphos. “Stop!!!” Ben yelled. I thought we’d hit something or that he’d left his beloved fishing rod behind. No, he’d spotted what he wanted to do next – horse riding. How I longed for a gentle stroll around an archaeological site, instead I found myself on a horse that would want to bend down to eat anything green in its path, which at this time of year was just about everything. I got to wondering whether my horse had a head I hadn’t seen it in so long! Still it was beautiful in the lanes around Sea Caves, barley and oats waved in the breeze, pomegranate flowered in the hedgerow and swallows swooped overhead. Soon the ride was over and feeling more relaxed we set off up the steep hill of Peyia and on across the barren hilltops towards Kathikas. “Quick, pass me the camera!” he whispered. As I passed it to him, I craned my neck to see what he wanted to snap. There, crossing the village square, an old lady dressed in her traditional black clothes appeared, rattled off something in Greek and smiled toothily at Ben as he snapped away before waving her stick in the air and turning towards the church. Taking a few more shots of the beautiful stone buildings around the square Ben smiled and asked, “Where next?” and so we headed off again, this time heading back along the motorway past Paphos town and on towards Pissouri. “Fancy looking ten years younger?” I said. With a cheeky grin he replied, “Maybe, but I’m a bit tall to have the looks of an eleven year old!” (He’s actually 42 so either he’s no good at maths or just vain!) I told him the legend of Petra Tou Romiou and how swimming around it would knock ten years off his life. Rather strangely as it was March, he was up for it and as soon as we got to the beach he was in his trunks and ploughing through the waves. Now, even though it was just the end of winter, the sea wasn’t cold and a brisk five minutes later he was back on the sand. “Did it work?” he said hopefully. Playing along I replied, “Who are you, I don’t recognise you?” The sun was starting to set now and it was time to return to Paphos. We strolled along the old harbour and selected a fish restaurant to make up for the lunch he failed to catch earlier! As we toasted the day with a beer each, I asked him whether he would still have preferred to come in July? “If you can have this much of a good time in March, who needs to wait until July?”
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Day out in Paphos Area |
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Paphos Guide |
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