The lines at the border to cross to the North were massively long. Our hopes were dashed. Getting across would take at least an hour - let alone the journey to the village we planned to visit. We abandoned it and were heading back, a little deflated until we came up with a plan. When squeezed creative thinking takes another road. We went to the Ledra St border, walked across and a lovely policemen called us a taxi. He was a settler, personable and pleasant and had lived here for 21 years. He agreed to take us to Karmi Village for the princely sum of Euros 25 so off we went, two friends for ever, travelling over the majestic Kyrenia range, turning left along the coast and then heading up to the restaurant we had in mind for lunch. We were the only ones there enjoying panoramic views of the northern coastline and Kyrenia. After a mezze lunch we headed to Karmi village, perched on the side of the Kyrenia mountains.
We were exploring this village to retrace memories lived in 74, and to see how it had changed since then. Chrystalla and Lefteris Shiamtanis this blog is for you. Retracing memories was hard but the village seemed little changed. A favourite with the British it continues to be mostly occupied by them today. The English names of streets and alleys being one of the giveaways, as well as the clientele of many a pub and restaurant there.
For some the feelings are too raw even 45 years later. Getting past them is necessary to be able to appreciate what is left. The basket weavers in the village, the bougainvilleas in colourful abundance cascading over doors and gateways, the brickwork of the old houses, the stunning vistas of Hilarion Castle and beyond. The narrow cobbled streets, the church spire, the cat sleeping on Margaret's bench dedicated to her memory, which I am sure she would have been delighted about. The sunshine that filled our day, though our hearts were filled with unfathomable emotions of belonging, displacement and borders.
Lovely pics
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