Cyprus: A taste of the good life - by Sarah Shuckburgh
The Karpas peninsula ( Northern Cyprus) is a wilderness of stony red earth, with scrubby hillsides of grey boulders and a coastline dotted with the ruins of early Christian churches. Large flocks of sheep are watched by grizzled shepherds who sit astride donkeys saddled with brightly coloured blankets. Few tourists come here, but Karpas is easily reached – the roads are empty, the sandy beaches are idyllic and small village guesthouses offer a taste of traditional Cypriot life. Although Greek Cypriots see North Cyprus as illegally occupied territory, border controls have relaxed. Cars hired at Larnaca airport can be driven into North Cyprus (extra insurance is required), but cars hired at Ercan in Northern Cyprus cannot be driven to the Republic.
From the roof of the Saray Hotel we get a panoramic view of two cities – the Turkish, with a jumble of red roofs, alleys, minarets, British colonial architecture and distant hills; and the Greek, 10 times the size, a modern European city with wide boulevards and glittering buildings. A derelict strip marks the buffer zone between north and south, guarded by UN watchtowers. This is the Green Line, named after the ink with which a British officer sketched the boundary in 1963. Blue and gold EU flags flutter on one side, and flags with the Turkish Cypriot moon and star on the other. Over lunch, Mr Hüseyín tells us that he, like Zekai, was born in the south. Their families lost everything in 1974. Many thousands of Greek Cypriots, evicted from the north, suffered similar losses. While politicians debate intractable difficulties, Mr Hüseyín is committed to teaching Turkish to Greek-speakers, and Greek to Turkish-speakers. "One day, Cyprus will again be one island," he says. "Cypriots, both sides of the line, have much in common."
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