Our first day in Cyprus also happened to be Elise's birthday. No, this was not a coincidence. Neither Elise or I had much time to plan or research our trip. I had a vague notion of what there was to see or do, but in all honesty, if all we did was go to the beach everyday I think everyone would have called it a successful vacation.
I did, however, make one reservation, dinner for Elise's birthday at the Hillside Restaurant in the small village of Pissouri, up the hill from the harbor and the beachside villas.
On our way through the windy, cobblestone streets in search of the restaurant on the hill, we came across the following scene:
Two men, their Mercedes blocking the road, were up to the shoulders in the boot, digging around for something in earnest. We waited patiently for a few minutes, until the man on the left, in the blue shirt, came toward our car at a light job carrying something. I rolled down the driver's side window and he reached his hands into the car and gave me a handful of fresh apricots. He was receiving a delivery to his restaurant.
I did, however, make one reservation, dinner for Elise's birthday at the Hillside Restaurant in the small village of Pissouri, up the hill from the harbor and the beachside villas.
On our way through the windy, cobblestone streets in search of the restaurant on the hill, we came across the following scene:
Two men, their Mercedes blocking the road, were up to the shoulders in the boot, digging around for something in earnest. We waited patiently for a few minutes, until the man on the left, in the blue shirt, came toward our car at a light job carrying something. I rolled down the driver's side window and he reached his hands into the car and gave me a handful of fresh apricots. He was receiving a delivery to his restaurant.
I thanked him profusely. The kids were already starving (our dinner reservation was at 6:30, an hour before which they would have usually had three dinners), and ripped into the ripe and juicy apricots with relish. Clementine, unfortunately, missed the entire ordeal, having passed out in the backseat from the long day in the sea and the sun.
We arrived at the restaurant about a half hour early in hopes of perhaps sneaking in before our reservation. I couldn't recall why I had made the reservation at 6:30 and assumed it must have been because I thought 6:00 sounded too early for dinner and 7:00 sounded too late for dinner. In reality, it was because the restaurant didn't open until 6:30, so we waited as patiently as three starving kids could outside the restaurant under the crepe myrtles as the sun set over the olive tree and vineyard-speckled hills.
I had specifically asked for a table with a view which we were happy to get -- without having to reveal it was Elise's birthday. The food was astounding and the wine -- from a local Cypriot vineyard, Zambartas -- was crisp and clean and delightful on a tongue that was still partially shriveled from the salty beach air. It was a REALLY good dinner, the first one we'd had in a awhile.
The view from the Hillside Restaurant.
The next day we went in search of white, sandy beaches. I had been told Ayia Napa, about a two hour drive to the east, was not to be missed.
We got as early a start as was reasonable, considering we were on vacation, and did stop in Limassol on the way for Starbucks. On a recommendation, we decided to check out Makronissos Beach.
If the photos look as though they should appear on postcards, you mostly have Elise to thank for that. Plus, the scenery makes it pretty easy to take beautiful photos.
The previous day, Peter got his first glimpse at a topless sunbather. This was my first time to a European beach, and was wondering if the rumors I'd heard were true.
They are.
Obviously, neither Elise or I made a point of mentioning to any of the kids that it was perfectly within cultural norms for women to go to the beaches without tops, and no one said anything about it at the time. But it only took a day, for Clementine to blend in. When in Rome...
We were originally going to spend the day beach hopping, but Clementine -- who is quasi OCD about wearing sandals that are either a) filled with sand or b) wet -- put a squash on that plan. It was work enough to get three kids back up from the beach one time; Elise and I weren't about to take part in the multi-step ritual required to get Clementine into a clean and acceptable pair of sandals more than once.
So, instead of exploring Ayia Napa further, we decided to head back to Pissouri in time for a quick plunge in the pool, costume change, and run into a local pizza place on the one-block strip in town.
Halas (Arabic for "that's it" or "finished"). Day two was in the books.
If the photos look as though they should appear on postcards, you mostly have Elise to thank for that. Plus, the scenery makes it pretty easy to take beautiful photos.
The previous day, Peter got his first glimpse at a topless sunbather. This was my first time to a European beach, and was wondering if the rumors I'd heard were true.
They are.
Obviously, neither Elise or I made a point of mentioning to any of the kids that it was perfectly within cultural norms for women to go to the beaches without tops, and no one said anything about it at the time. But it only took a day, for Clementine to blend in. When in Rome...
We were originally going to spend the day beach hopping, but Clementine -- who is quasi OCD about wearing sandals that are either a) filled with sand or b) wet -- put a squash on that plan. It was work enough to get three kids back up from the beach one time; Elise and I weren't about to take part in the multi-step ritual required to get Clementine into a clean and acceptable pair of sandals more than once.
So, instead of exploring Ayia Napa further, we decided to head back to Pissouri in time for a quick plunge in the pool, costume change, and run into a local pizza place on the one-block strip in town.
Halas (Arabic for "that's it" or "finished"). Day two was in the books.
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