Once we resettled in Ankara after our roman holiday, we realized that another long weekend was around the corner, thanks to the national celebration of the end of Ramadan. Much like Christmas in the US, the end of Ramadan is marked by celebrations, feasting and gift-giving and while it is a religious holiday, it has actually been nationalized. We were advised that nothing would be happening in Ankara and it would be an ideal time for another trip, so I immediately started looking at options. With two days notice and in the height of summer season, it was hard to find something both reasonable and suitable for a four day jaunt, especially in light of the fact that we were still unpacking our bags from Rome.
Finally I stumbled on Cyprus, an island country just a hop, skip and jump from Turkey, rich in history and archaeological finds, with great beaches and a favorable exchange rate. Perfect. On further investigation, I learned that there was Northern Cyprus, a Turkish military state wrestled from the Cypriots in a bloody but short war in the 1970's, and southern Cyprus, that draws heavily on its Greek heritage, but is proud of its independence (though still heavily reliant on British tourists).
This north:south divide creates some obstacles for tourists and one has to choose sides. Because it was easier and cheaper to fly into north Cyprus, the decision for us was easy and I made reservation for a hotel close to Famugusta, a city on the Turkish side of the island. I reserved a car, bought tickets and packed, congratulating myself on my increasingly efficient ability to navigate the Internet and organize our travel.
A few hours before departing for the airport, I began printing out our paperwork and realized our airline reservation had not confirmed. This might have been a small problem to correct in the US, but given the language and technical barriers, a two hour nightmare ensued. It took nearly an hour to connect with an English speaking operator. Then, my phone died. Had to start over. Decided to use Nabil's phone. After nearly completing the transaction, Nabil's phone lost the connection. Then had to start the process over again. Finally, with an hour to spare, we confirmed flights, packed, closed up the apartment and headed for the airport for a late night flight.
The flight was short, but we arrived in Cyprus after midnight. We hustled through customs and headed into the baggage claim area to find our rental car agency. No show! The airport personnel were grumpy, inhospitable and didn't speak English. They told us to stand outside and wait for the car company to pick us up. I pulled out our confirmation as I didn't remember any instructions to wait outside. That's when I realized the confirmation did not include a phone number for the car rental company. By now, Nabil's anxiety level was off the charts. I assured him that all would be okay, since the island was small and our hotel nearby. We could take a cab, and rent a car in the morning. No problem.
That's when the taxi driver informed us that our hotel was actually not on the North side, but in a small village southwest of,Famugusta on the Greek side of the island! The hotel was not actually twenty minutes away, but forty. But, the taxi driver told us, it was going to take us almost 90 minutes to get there because we had to drive to a distant outpost that would handle people with US passports. (Americans are not often seen on Cyprus).
While all of this made sense to me (except for the fact that my key word search was Famugusta hotels and I couldn't understand how I ended up on the south side anyway), Nabil was now sure we were victims of a taxi driver scam. Incensed that we would need to pay $125 for the hotel transfer and not likely arrive until two in the morning, he began cross examining the driver testing and retesting the facts of the story that unfolded about politics at the border. Another 30 minutes went by before we reluctantly climbed into the cab. Well, Nabil was reluctant. I was relieved.
By now, I was totally discredited - a travel agent wannabe, who had botched two of three critical reservations. This of course triggered our usual bickering and bantering. Lucy And Desi Arnaz in Cyprus arguing in the back of a cab hurtling through the darkness across a hostile and suspicious island.
When the highway ended, and we found ourselves snaking though some back city streets, Nabil was convinced that the taxi driver was moving us off the grid and taking us to some rendezvous point where thieves and murderers were waiting to plunder and butcher us. He pulled out his phone and began making false calls, reporting his position to "pretend CIA associates". I wanted to laugh, but dared not. The inside of the cab felt like a pressure cooker. It was a very long ride. It was hot and humid. The road seemed endless. I sat in silence, hoping that the hotel would live up to the reviews posted online. I worried as we got closer. The town looked tired and the roadside littered. This was not the Cyprus I imagined and certainly not what Nabil was expecting.
I am not sure why Nabil and I like to travel together. I think traveling is an adventure, and often a misadventure. Sometimes you have to make the best of a bad situation. It always works out. Nabil expects it all to go well from the beginning; a seamless transition from one environment to another. That seldom happens. When venturing out together, I try remain peaceful and calm when I am not in control. Nabil strives to take control to avoid conflict. I throw him into chaos and push the boundaries of our limits. He holds me in check. I trust everyone. Nabil trusts no one. I think the vacation should be a respite from boredom. Nabil is seeking a break for over-stimulation. I expect him to be a partner in the adventure. He expects me to be the event planner that never misses a beat.
We are like two dancers who have lost their rhythm, but can't get off the dance floor. We always get tripped up!
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