After piling the cases into the back of Gerry’s car, who again was incredibly generous with his friendship and time, the three of us left the house around 7 AM, heading to the airport for our flight to Larnaca (about 5 hours from the UK). The weather in the UK had turned noticeably cooler, with heavy rain causing extensive flooding throughout across Cambridgeshire and beyond. Despite the beautiful morning, the drive took about an hour and a half due to having to take an indirect route.
As we unloaded the four cases outside the airport, it suddenly dawned on me that we should have had two hard-shell suitcases and three cabin bags. I realized I’d forgotten to load my own cabin bag, being so used to our usual two large and two small cases, well that’s the story I’m running with. But I’ll be honest and declare that I have previous form for missing flights, but given our three years of travel, it seemed almost inevitable that something like this would eventually happen. Leaving them in shock, I said goodbye to Rach and Mum and wished them “Bon Voyage,” promising to catch up with them as soon as I could.
I headed back to Hartford with Gerry, considering my options. I quickly realized that I’d need to buy a new ticket, as my so-called “flexible” ticket wasn’t quite as flexible as I’d hoped. Completely my fault, of course. Fortunately, I managed to secure a seat on the same flight leaving the following morning—one of the last available, as many passengers from canceled Tel Aviv flights were now being rerouted via Larnaca to reach Israel.
The flight itself was fairly painless, landing just before 5 PM local time. After collecting my luggage, I walked through arrivals to find the driver that Rachel had kindly organized waiting for me. I’d considered hiring a car, but learned that cars rented on the Greek (EU) side of Cyprus cannot be driven into the Turkish side and vice-versa. There are some exceptions, but it wasn’t worth the hassle. So, we drove through the Greek side and approached the border near Famagusta, a strip of land where Greek Cypriots were forced to flee during the Turkish invasion of Cyprus in 1974. The country became divided, and Famagusta came under Turkish control, with the town remaining closed to the public until last year.
Crossing the border was a bit surreal. For me, it was just a quick wave at a lady in a kiosk. For my driver, however, it meant more effort—he had to take my passport into the passport office, place the “Taksi” sign back on the roof of his car, and remove the tape he had used to mask his number plate whilst on the Greek side.
We arrived at the apartment just as the sun was setting. Rachel and Mum were pleased to see me, and I, of course, apologized again for being an idiot. We enjoyed a tasty dinner while catching up, then retired for some much-needed sleep. Mum had chosen this remote location facing the Mediterranean Sea, with agricultural land and a beautiful mosque nestled beneath a stretch of mountains behind us, it also has a wrap around terrace. With the warm weather, peaceful surroundings and a good place to swim it seems like a good place to start this leg of our travels.
https://www.airbnb.com/slink/pfXjl6yT
Dream Chasers 