March 31, 2003

We were hoping to leave today, and get back to Zababdeh, but we're still here. It's hard to be somewhere as beautiful as Cyprus when you don't want to, but we're doing our best to make the best of it. We are still getting messages from Zababdeh, most of them simply asking when we're coming back. The school's vice-principal called today, asking if we would have to wait for the end of the war before returning. We also got a message from one of the young men in the church: "We are in meeting to prepare the holly week and easter we are missing u." Others send messages that things are the same, though people are growing frustrated with the military action in Iraq, particularly the mounting civilian casualties.

The narrow, winding streets of a Cypriot village.

One of the two rivers of Kakopetria, Cyprus.

We also got an email from the Presbyterian pastor of Basra, where Marthame celebrated his birthday in 2001. He is in Amman, but has been able to get word from Basra that the congregation remains well. As he says, though, it is the people of Iraq who are suffering. The result of the discovery of oil in Iraq is that the people have "been drinking poisonous results."

Back in Cyprus, we spent another day sightseeing, but chose - rather wisely - to go with our friends from the Middle East Council of Churches rather than those from Aphrodite Tours. We piled in the van and headed up to the village of Kakopetria (literally, "Rotten Rock"), so named because of the prominent rock under which newly betrothed young lovers would pledge their undying devotion. One couple was crushed when the rock gave way. It has now been cemented into place, and the village has been restored into a lovely Cypriot mountain village. The primary aim is to attract tourists, but it is done in a way that it not as cloying as that of Polis - the bus parking, if there was any, was not immediately obvious. Little souvenir stores were everywhere (with the typical postcards and prints as well as home-made fruit preserves, honey, liquor, rosewater, etc.), but were scattered among old restored houses and winding, narrow cobblestone streets.

The Cypriot countryside.

The town sits between the two branches of the rushing river, all the more rushing because of the melting snow (still dusting the mountain tops). We had a lovely lunch at a nearby inn, waiting for the rain to subside, before winding our way to the village of Omodhos, an equally picturesque, restored village. We sat in the village square and did a little bit of shopping here and there, watching the folks as they closed up shop. We knew we were in a different world when one of the shopkeepers left his goods outside the store (usually left there during the day, then brought in at night), wrapping the front of his place with a large tarpaulin. Apparently theft is not a problem.

We made our way back to Limassol and played cards until late. We've also rolled our tickets over until Thursday, hoping to return then.