I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from northern Cyprus, but our time there exceeded anything I might have imagined. We’ve appreciated the remoteness of our location, which offered a peaceful and unhurried way of life. While the amenities were modest, they were more than enough for us. There was one good supermarket, which had the bonus of an excellent coffee shop inside, serving freshly ground Arabica coffee—a welcome morning ritual for me (though I’ll admit I’m not brave enough to tackle Turkish coffee!).
Nearby, there was a small port with a handful of restaurants and our little beach, which became part of our morning routine. Swimming in the calm, clear seas at the start of each day was both refreshing and meditative, especially on the many still, sunny mornings.
For me, though, the highlight of our stay was a small and incredibly friendly dog who greeted us warmly every single morning. No matter the time of day, his enthusiasm was infectious and heartwarming. We also noticed quite a few stray cats and dogs around the area. “Stray” seems like the wrong term, though—“free” feels more accurate. These animals were all friendly, healthy-looking, and clearly respected by the community. Locals seemed to take a shared responsibility for feeding and watering them, and it was common to see cats and dogs lounging in front of the supermarket, stretched out under the AC on particularly hot days. There was a certain charm to this collective kindness that added to the character of the place.
Our time in northern Cyprus had come to an end, and the day of our departure began with a taxi ride to Larnaca airport. The journey was a bit unpredictable, as the time it took could vary anywhere from one to two hours, depending on the border crossing between the Turkish and Greek sides. My own trip on the way in had taken just over an hour, but Rachel and Mum’s had taken closer to two.
Our driver—a spirited woman who didn’t shy away from the accelerator—got us to the border in about 50 minutes. However, the crossing itself took a little longer than anticipated. We discovered we’d unknowingly overstayed our 30-day visa. After a brief and good-natured conversation with the border official, we were told that we’d be fined if we re-entered northern Cyprus within the next year. With that resolved, we were back on the road and reached Larnaca airport about 15 minutes later.
At the airport, we checked in our luggage for the journey to Palma and boarded our first flight to Cologne. It was a packed flight—what I jokingly dubbed the “Noah’s Ark of the skies,” as there were two dogs and two cats onboard. My usual trick of booking the window and aisle seats to leave the middle seat empty failed spectacularly this time, as the flight was completely full. For the next four hours, Rachel and I sat as bookends to a rather large German gentleman who, while pleasant enough, wasn’t quite the legroom solution we’d hoped for.
After a quick transit through Cologne airport, we boarded the short second flight to Palma de Mallorca. This leg was much quicker, taking just an hour and a half. Upon landing, we retrieved our luggage, picked up our friends car, and set off on a nighttime drive to Puerto Pollensa, a charming coastal town in the north of the island.
The drive took about 45 minutes through the dark, winding roads of Mallorca, but the anticipation of the next chapter in Puerto Pollensa kept us energized. We’d be calling this beautiful part of the world home for the next six weeks, and we were looking forward to settling into a new rhythm in Mallorca.
Dream Chasers 