THE CYPRUS PROBLEM
Most visitors to Cyprus head to the south side. This version of Cyprus, full of beaches and cafes, offers a typical Mediterranean scene of sun and sea. I spent my first day checking out some of the beautiful bays, ocean caves and blue lagoons that adorn this island where, according to legend, Aphrodite emerged from sea foam. But soon I bored with this crowded tourist scene. That’s when I met Yannis, a local entrepreneur who quickly became my go-to guy for piecing together the complexities of modern Cyprus.
“I should be a millionaire!” Yannis explained to me, without attempting to conceal the bitterness he harbours toward a situation that for 50 years froze the borders without resolving the conflict.
Yannis’s family owns significant valuable land in Northern Cyprus. Technically it’s his land but after the world’s most complicated divorce settlement of 1974, practically it’s not. Nearly every Cypriot with whom I spoke expressed bitterness, sometimes bordering on rage, by this divisive situation. One island, two systems. Families, fortunes and lives displaced on both sides.
The island has been divided since 1974, with the northern part occupied by Turkish forces and the southern part governed by the Republic of Cyprus, a member of the European Union and the United Nations. Today the UN-monitored Green Line splits the island like an awkward family dinner table. I made two excursions into the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus, a de facto state recognised only by Turkey and embargoed by the rest of the international community. Southern Cypriots commonly refer to this land as the “occupied territory”, and today the situation is politely referred to as “The Cyprus Problem”.
A GHOST TOWN
My first foray north was to Famagusta, the most important city in Cyprus prior to 1974. My vehicle headed past abandoned villages and divided farmland until we passed the Green Line and immigration and customs formalities. Soon we arrived at the place that once attracted the international jet set. In Famagusta’s well-preserved medieval walled city, locals held out for a year after the Turkish invasion. Eventually they surrendered as supplies depleted. Today, the old town’s churches have been converted to mosques, sporting the Northern Cyprus and Turkish flags inside and out. The main cathedral now has a minaret.
The situation was different at the formerly fashionable seaside resort of Varosha a few kilometres away, where inhabitants and vacationers fled overnight. When the Turkish army arrived at the seaside, Varosha was already abandoned. The Turks took the resort without a shot. Varosha remains a military-controlled ghost town petrified in time behind barbed wire. For decades the city was off-limits to everyone, but in 2020 Northern Cyprus decided to make Varosha a daytime tourist park. The area is still under strict military control, and all buildings are restricted entry, but the main thoroughfares have opened to visitors. A visible police presence ensures compliance with the stay-on-the-road rules. Not sure where to go? There’s a small tourist information office, and visitors can rent scooters and bikes and purchase ice cream. Just be out of the controlled area by 7pm.
Walking around Varosha is a surreal experience, an eerie 1970s snapshot of when the music stopped in the middle of the song. Now the buildings are crumbling, and the weeds are everywhere, results of time and an uninhibited Mother Nature. The only other comparable analogy I have experienced is Pripyat, the once-prosperous town in Ukraine near Chernobyl that also evacuated overnight, leaving a city’s hollow shell that is being gradually swallowed by trees and green in the absence of human interference.
THE BUFFER ZONE
My second journey to the North took place in the capital the following day. Nicosia is the world’s last divided capital city ‒ like Berlin back in the day, but with better hummus. In Nicosia the UN-enforced exclusion zone (also referred to by Cypriots as the “Dead Zone”) is demarcated by high walls, barbed wire, metal gates and concrete-filled oil drums. The buffer zone ruptures quiet streets and neighbourhoods as it dissects the city. Some military posts along the Green Line are manned.
I entered the buffer zone at two different checkpoints. In one location I visited the former Ledra Palace Hotel, which sits in the middle of the buffer zone. This former hotel now serves as the headquarters of the UN mission in Cyprus, and as a neutral venue when North and South get together for official discussions. At the northern end of the buffer zone, I could not miss the huge sign in red lettering against a white background that says, to the point, “Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus FOREVER.”
Another checkpoint, situated on the capital’s main pedestrian street, sees voluminous foot traffic. The commercial area on the Northern side was thriving. It’s where most visitors get a taste of Northern Cyprus ‒ Turkish coffee, kebabs, lokum ‒ before returning to the South. I visited on a Saturday afternoon and the area was hopping. It’s an odd arrangement. But it’s also a porous arrangement, as Greek Cypriots and Turkish Cypriots get on with their lives, together but separately.
NAGGING QUESTION
This year marks the 50th anniversary of the island’s division. Two decades ago, an UN-brokered permanent solution fell apart after it went to referendum in both North and South. Northern Cypriots were on board. But Southern Cypriots decisively rejected the United Nations plan, it was explained to me, because of the plan’s specifics and not because of a lack of interest in reconciliation. A recent University of Cyprus poll found that most people on both sides are ready for a solution. Which begs the question: Why, after 50 years, hasn’t this situation been resolved?
The night before I left Cyprus I popped into my go-to guy Yannis’s shop for a final chat and to attempt to answer this question that had nagged me for days. “It’s pure geopolitics,” Yannis explained to me. “The West needs Turkey.”
How I Travelled: My October visit was perfect from a weather standpoint, although the tourist numbers were much larger than I expected for shoulder season. I stayed at the Qbic City Hotel in Larnaca, the third-largest Cypriot city on the southeastern coast. The rooms are clean and comfortable, but not luxurious, the staff is friendly, and the breakfasts are an incentive to get out of bed. The Qbic has a good location near Finikoudes Beach and the restaurant/bar action. Larnaca proved a good base to explore other parts of the island.
Private road travel to Northern Cyprus can be difficult because of insurance and other restrictions. Although I explored hiring a car and driver for the day, I was encouraged to join an organised tour. These tours run once or twice a week from various locations, but because of scheduling I joined a tour operated by Qualiday that originated in the far south of the island. Getting to and from the designated pick-up/drop-off points was a hassle that I would not repeat. There’s no charge for visiting the walled city of Famagusta or the seaside ghost town of Varosha.
In Nicosia I booked a “Visit the Buffer Zone with a Local” walking tour with the informed Christina Ioannou on the Freetours App, and we spent hours together walking the Green Line and discussing the history of the island. My visit to the Cape Greco National Park and blue lagoon was facilitated by Adventures Cyprus.
Emirates flies from Phuket to Larnaca via Dubai. Cyprus is not part of the Schengen Agreement but most Western nationalities do not require a visa to enter.
Adventurer and author Todd Miller has explored more than 100 countries. His Amazon bestseller ‘ENRICH: Create Wealth in Time, Money, and Meaning’, was lauded by Forbes, USA Today, Entrepreneur and other global media. He resides at Natai Beach. www.enrich101.com