Ray Stone's Blog: A blog for everyone, page 26

Letter from Cyprus

No visit to Cyprus is complete unless you have been to Nicosia the main city and visited the Turkish quarter on the northern side of the NATO buffer zone. It is sad to think that the UN and the EU cannot resolve the issue of sovereignty.

(From Wikipedia) The Republic of Cyprus has de jure sovereignty over the island of Cyprus and its surrounding waters, according to international law, except for the British Overseas Territory of Akrotiri and Dhekelia, administered as Sovereign Base Areas. However, the Republic of Cyprus is de facto partitioned into two main parts; the area under the effective control of the Republic, comprising about 59% of the island’s area, and the Turkish-controlled area in the north, calling itself the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus and recognized only by Turkey, covering about 36% of the island’s area. The international community considers the northern part of the island as territory of the Republic of Cyprus illegally occupied by Turkish forces. Too many, the political situation is confusing and even more so now since Turkey has applied to become an EU member.

All that said, I wanted to see things for myself. The last time I was here there was no buffer zone and no Turkish troops. I toured the island and fell in love with it then, especially Kyrenia and Bellapais in the north. One can still go to the north but there are certain restrictions. Passing into the north we had to go through a check point and have our passports stamped, allowing us up to 30 days per visit. On the way back we had to show our passports to the Turkish police who were situated opposite the Greek check point. The crossing is right in the middle of a pedestrian shopping center. Before we got there we walked through the gates of the old city and passed side streets that were blocked with white barrels topped with barbed wire and sandbags. Other places were blocked by white gates bearing UN warning notices about restricted area and no photographing. I felt sad that this situation has endured for forty years. I was angry too that the powers that be separated the island and then left things at that.

At one area I managed to get around a brick wall daubed with graffiti and saw for myself what the buffer zone looked like. White gates barred entry onto waste ground. On the far side, a hundred yards away, old derelict buildings with open windows, their shutters hanging forlornly in the heat of the day, stood crumbling into decay. A make shift wooden flagpole stood outside one building flying the white and red Northern Turkish Republic of Cyprus flag. The scene contrasted greatly with the modern shops and buildings on the Greek side.

As I entered the north I walked along rows of fabric, leather goods and fashion shops. Traders stood in doorways, all offering a smile. At one street corner a group of men were sitting around a table playing Back Gammon and the whole crowd was very vocal. Stopping for a beer I sat looking back along the street. The cultures of these two peoples are very obvious. Their religion, politics and language are vastly different but the biggest difference is the infrastructure. While the south has built modern bridges, highways and homes, the Turks remain entrenched in the past and unable through lack of finance or through bad administration want to modernize. I am sure that is why they want EU membership but unless sovereignty is resolved I cannot see that happening.

We decided to have lunch in the ‘Blue Kahn,’ a large building from the 13th century that once housed clerics and other members of religious groups. The building surrounds a large courtyard where two open air restaurants serve Turkish cuisine and wine while at the top of some stone stairs there is a walkway balcony where cloth and fabric and woolen crafts can be purchased. The meal consisted of Dolmi – grape leaves rolled around minced beef and other vegetables, Mixed meat meat-balls – chicken kebab and tons of salad which included goats cheese and olives. Of course there was a liberal amount of strong local red wine. After that we strolled to the mosque, a twin minaret structure from the 13th century. Outside we encountered one alien who is allowed to travel back and forth between north and south with impunity – the cat. There were thirteen cats outside the mosque and these are part of an army that lives wild.

After walking through part of the old city we returned to the check point with our shopping and entered back into the modern world of neon lights, busses and street musicians. It was quite an experience and I will go back once we have moved to Cyprus in December. My overriding thought as I drove home was how nice and pleasant all the people were – Turks and Greeks. What a shame the politicians cannot act the same.

My third letter concluding this visit to Cyprus will be posted next week.

Letter from Cyprus

I had no idea that I would eventually live on Cyprus when I moved to Malta just over two years ago. Malta was an island I had visited twice on holiday and second time around Mrellan and I decided we would like to retire there. We found a flat with a sea view and settled in. It takes several months to a year to find out what a new environment and culture are really like. Discard the glitzy wrapping and all the exaggerated things people say and what you are left with you either like or move on from.

During our time on Malta we found a very bad bus service that was eventually taken over by the government and a political bureaucracy that moves and operates through a little corruption and 1950’s administration. On the whole the cost of living is low compared to the UK but then it should be given the number of power outages and water shortages each year. Malta has no natural water supply and inhabitants wash in desalinated sea water and drink bottled water imported. The health service is good and bad depending on where you are and what you need. There is always some medication that is not in stock (a lot they get from Cyprus.)

So we decided to take a break and come to Cyprus after a dear friend had stayed here for a while. Her recommendations turned out to be correct. In my previous letter I physically compared the two islands but nothing can adequately describe the raw beauty of this place. Our first reaction was how quiet it is here and how empty most of the roads are, except in the large towns and the capitol. The cost of living is lower than Malta. Power and water are half the cost and rent on property is extremely low. One can rent a 3 bed villa for E550 and that includes a pool.

It is a misconception that Cyprus has the same weather climate as Malta. Although the heat levels are equal for most of the year, Cyprus has a mountain range that affects temperatures and humidity a lot more than Malta. Rain is a little more frequent as cloud formation covers the island more often. This weather together with fertile soil means Cyprus grows its own vegetables and fruit. Bananas grow on the lower ground while many vineyards can be found higher up among the villages in the hills. The wine is world famous and cheap to buy locally.

After two weeks we eventually found a place we really like. It is a 3 bed with a pool and we have one neighbor, Sandra, a Scottish lady who has lived here on her own for the last two years. Ours are the only two villa’s on the country road that overlooks a valley. A small road just a few yards from our drive leads us up to the village of Kathikas. This is a traditional Greek village with many old buildings dating back many years. There are many villages up in the hills and each has a daily rhythm of its own. Each also has a post office, small store where everything from water to gas bottle to ice cream can be bought. There are also great taverns and eateries sought out during the summer by tourists who have rented a car and look for out of the way places of interest. It is also a place where all the locals will soon know all about you and what you are up to.

I am leaving here on the 28th of this month and returning to move into our new home on the 2nd December. Christmas here means joining many others for a feast on roast pig on the spit and all the nice sweet pastries the Cypriots enjoy. AND the wine. I think this Christmas will be different but something we will enjoy and add to the many memories we already have of foreign parts.

I’ll write again next month when we return. Yassou my friends. (I am trying to learn some basic Greek)

A new home on an enchanting Island

Situated just outside Kathikas village, we are a short drive from Peyia and the coast and thirty minutes from Paphos. This is such a beautiful spot up in the hills and not far from the Troodos mountains and Mount Olympus. We move here on 2nd December and settle in for the winter. I have found the perfect spot for writing. It is peaceful and the village people are so nice. There is only one villa next to us and nothing else for half a mile. Wonderful.

 

Efharisto’ Poli’ – Letter from Cyprus

 

This is the first of many letters from Cyprus, I hope. We are moving from Malta after two and a half years. Although our stay on Malta was interesting and most of the people nice, I am afraid that Malta has become too small and too noisy for me. I never realized how much I would miss trees and mountains. Cyprus is 3,572 square miles compared to Malta at 95 square miles. What staggers me is the population comparison. Just 858,00 on Cyprus and 460,00 on Malta. After living in two locations and trying to blend in with the Maltese we have decided that living on an overcrowded island and getting used to street noises until one a.m. is not for us anymore. There are many other differences but in the main I want peace and quiet to write and comfort and quality of life. I have found that a 3 bedroom villa with well equipped kitchen etc together with a pool and a view to die for will cost no more than the apartment we currently occupy. Food is roughly the same but power costs are considerably lower and of course, Cyprus has its own natural water supply, unlike Malta.

Of course the biggest difference apart from the land mass is that Cyprus has forests and trees are everywhere. Mount Olympus is the tallest mountain and is covered with snow each winter. The infrastructure is better maintained and business, from modern technology to fashion is in plentiful supply. New shopping malls are being built and the one I visited at Paphos reminded me of the US. It has been a strange experience coming back here but as soon as we drove along the highway from Larnica to Paphos we knew this was where we should have moved to when we left the USA. I will be back on the 2nd December and we will be moving into a villa with a pool…and it will be quiet.

One of the most enjoyable things here is the amount of cars. Some roads you may pass one or two and in towns there is a lot but not crowded bumper to bumper. Parking spaces are all over and car parks are free except municipal parking. Road tax on a small car is around E50 a year (40 pound). I could go on and on but I’ll leave that for next time when I will have some pictures from Nicosia.

 

Ciao, ciao for now and Efharisto’ poli’ {thank you very much)

Neurotrap

Submitted by Ray Stone on Tuesday 30 September 2014

Neurotrap

CHAPTER ONE

 

I have got used to them and can see them clearly. When they draw someone’s attention to themselves I look the other way. I don’t want to watch another victim suffer the daymarish life I lead. Their voice is a deafening cicada noise that the stricken with the ‘academia curse’ can hear.

Those not affected are oblivious of our torment; they are the spared ones who were lucky enough not to go to college or university. Many of our number have evaded capture. For those caught, a life without books or internet awaits them in a mental institution.

The world is changing as the population divides into two groups and governments crumble into chaotic administration. Whatever happens I must act normal as though not afflicted with this grotesque invasion if my group of like-minded ‘neurons’ are to help me fight this mysterious curse.

It seems an age since the nightmare, or should I say, daymare started.

***

I sat looking out at the passing pedestrians as they struggled against a strong wind. They hung on to plastic shopping bags, attaché cases or parcels held tightly under an arm as they leaned forward against the wind or fought to stay upright as they were blown along. Some hands held on to an upturned collar while others pressed firmly against the front of a coat, stopping it from flapping open. Rain fell but not directly down. It slashed and peppered the windows. The staccato beat of what sounded like a drummers brush on glass grew louder, drowning out hissing steam from the old coffee machine and the whispered argument going on between the only other two people in the small café.

“James, you wanna’ coffee or are you takin’ root there?”

Maisie was a no-nonsense black lady of considerable size with a baritone voice that boomed, especially when she got annoyed. She folded her fat arms and glared at me with big brown eyes.

“Yes, why not,” I answered. “I might as well wait until the rain gets lighter.”

She shuffled away as the other two people got up to leave. Seconds later, a gust of wind caught the door and slammed it against the dirty green wall. It remained open as the couple stepped off the pavement and ran toward a parked car. I got up and closed the door but not before napkins, and several paper table clothes had been scattered across the floor.

“Why, thank you,” said Maisie, her bright red fat lips forming an O as she finished speaking.

I sat with my coffee, cuffed the condensation from the window in front of me and looked at the world outside again. It was then I saw it – or rather it saw me. Everything except the street sign and buildings moved outside; a scene of turmoil as Mother Nature asserted her authority. But in the middle of it all – there it was, just sitting there in the gutter across the road. I shivered as a chill ran up my spine.

“Maisie, would you come and look at something for me. I think I’m going mad.” I beckoned her over and pointed across the street.

“What am I lookin’ at?” she said, bending and peering through the glass.

“Over there.” I pointed again. “In the gutter…see that brown paper bag or box…look, next to the drain.”

She looked and shrugged. “Okay, I see it but there ‘aint nothin’ unusual about no damn box.”

I said nothing as she shook her head and flip flopped back behind the counter in her carpet slippers. She had not seen what I had. I looked again and caught my breath. Was it my vivid imagination or was I going insane? The previous month had been hell with one exam after another. Now, six weeks on I was still mentally in the fast lane.

I looked again. The face was still there; the eyes moving.

When condensation covered the window again I let the blurred wet glass alone and sipped coffee, putting the weird occurrence down to my strained mental state. I smiled and wondered what my college friends would say if I told them.

“It’s stopped rainin,’ James. It’s time for me to close this café and for you to shift that little idle arse of yours.” Maisie’s head appeared through the kitchen serving hatch. “You sit there much longer and you’ll be seein’ all sorts of things out there.”

Still deep in thought, I nodded. The last term had ended just before my nineteenth birthday. I was looking for a place in university, although I was taking a year off first and looking for a job to fund my books.

I left the café a few minutes later and without looking across the road, I bowed my head into the wind and walked to the town centre. My flat was a short walk from a large shopping mall that took up the entire length of one side of a paved square lined on all sides with trees. In the middle of the square were some benches.

It was a place where many students and I congregated at lunchtime. I walked through the deserted square toward the mall’s entrance. The rain was light but the wind persisted in gusts that swirled paper and leaves across the concrete surface.

“James, how are you?”

A student I barely knew shouted from the other side of the concourse. He had been drinking and staggered along, propped up by a girl.

“Hi Lionel,” I shouted back. “Christmas is still a week away, you know.”

As I passed one of the trees I heard what I thought was a faint cry above the sound of the wind and rustling branches shedding the last few yellow leaves of autumn. I stopped and for some unexplainable reason I looked up into the tree. I froze – my mouth open. There high up on one of the boughs, barely visible, was an embedded mouth, or rather moving lips that looked as though they were speaking.

I felt scared and yet, rather stupid. There were no other people around; no-one I could call and have confirm that I was not being delusional. Lionel and the girl had gone. After taking a few steps away from the tree, I looked up and there it was, still talking. I dared not move and wished I had my camera with me.

A woman appeared, walking a dog. I was determined to attract her attention and ask her to look up into the tree. However, the dog did that for me. He strained at the lead and pulled her over to where I was standing. He immediately looked up into the tree and barked continually.

“I am sorry. I think he may have seen a squirrel. There are a few in the town centre and he loves chasing them.”

“Actually,” I said, he may have seen what I am looking at.” I pointed up at the bough. “There, do you see that. There’s some kind of movement up there.”

I had no intention of telling her I what I was looking at for it was plain to see.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t see anything,” she replied cautiously. She pulled the dog away and walked off. I stared after her and then back at the tree. The mouth was gone.

Again, I questioned my sanity. Maybe I was more exhausted after the exams than I thought. A friend had invited me back to his parents place for the Christmas holidays and I had refused. I changed my mind and decided to phone him and catch the first available train to Benton, a small village in the Peak District.

I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and dialled him. “Charles, it’s me. I wonder if I can take you up on your offer. Something strange is happening and I need to talk to you. I’m sure it’s nothing serious but I’d rather be with company over the holiday. I’ll tell you all about it when I get there tomorrow.”

If I had known what terrible nightmares awaited me through that long night, I would never have gone home. It was to be the start of one of the darkest and most frightening periods of my life. It was also going to be the cause of my present condition, something others now have control over.

On reaching home after my strange experiences, I ate a TV dinner and then settled back to watch the news. After an hour I began to feel uncomfortable, not physically but mentally; a strange feeling of presence around me. I thought about the box in the road and the eyes. Stupid, I told myself. It was just a box.

The phone rang, making me jerk. I was relieved to hear Charles’ voice.

“I was a little worried about you James. Look, there’s a train 11.15 p.m. tonight. You’d be here in an hour. I could pick you up at the station.”

“No, that’s alright. I’m home now. I’ll get the first train in the morning.” That said, I ended the call.

I got up from the armchair and with mug in hand, stepped over to the fridge for some milk. It was hard to resist the temptation and so I found myself looking around the room like an idiot.

Satisfied I was on my own and feeling relieved that spending Christmas with company would make my demons disappear I opened the fridge and reached for the milk carton. There is a time lapse between what the eyes see and when the image seen registers on the brain. The carton was all I focused on. A second later I dropped the carton on the floor and fell backwards. With my mouth wide open a terrifying scream erupted from my lips. Traumatised, I lay stiff and shaking on the floor, unable to get up. My eyes were fixed on the inside of the fridge. I lay, breathing in shallow gasps, my heart thumping against my chest for several minutes; unable to comprehend what the grotesque apparition was that appeared before me.

My first thought was to close the door and shut the frightening sight from view.

 

Copyright Ray Stone 2014 ©

COLD

Chapter 7

 

The midnight blue of the sky had just turned a shade lighter, an inky blue, when my phone vibrated in the depths of my trench coat. My gut told me it was Ralph calling.

“YOU S.O.B…” Unable to keep my rage, I bellowed.

“You knew? You knew about the empty graves and you did not tell me? WHY?”

“Ned, I am sorry you had to find out this way.” Even if it was empathy in his voice, it was hard to tell.

“There is more to Emily and the Asphalt Angel that you are not aware of. Just do as you have been told. Follow the map carefully. Leave the town.

All of a sudden, I was at my wit’s end. I waited for my sorrows to overflow, but nothing happened. I did not know what to say, or how to vent my anger or whom to turn to for all the unanswered questions, which were piling up on top of each other. Realizing that, somehow, none of it mattered anymore, I hung up. I think, deep down, I knew my time was up too.

***

It was a struggle to get back on the road. Several times I felt the urge to turn around so that I could hunt Tom down and put a bullet through his brain, no questions asked. What did he mean when he said “The ‘Asphalt Angel’ and Emily, they’re both gone.” Did he know too? All these years, I gave him the benefit of doubt but, not anymore.

I am not supposed to utter the name of the motel Ralph pre-booked for me; I understand it is for security reasons. Therefore, as soon as I arrived at the motel, four gunmen welcomed me; their black automatic weapons, reflecting the noon sun, shone with an eerie joy.

***

There is not enough alcohol in the world that can make me forget Emily and why should I? She was my soul mate. Twenty-five minutes had passed since one of the gunmen escorted me to my room. It was a small, single-windowed room, which accommodated a medium sized bed. Other occupants were a small coffee table, an upholstered chair and a beaten up television. I believe Ralph knew how direly I needed the Scotch, so, after I gulped down a double I crawled into the bed.

“You must be tired, Ned,” Emily’s voice rang in my head.

I admit I was. I was tired not by the distance I drove straight through the night. I was exhausted trying to solve her death. I kept thinking of our last telephonic conversation, over and over again.

“I am sorry.” Emily was crying over the phone. “Please don’t ever hate me. Not even for a second.”

“What’s wrong, babe?” I had asked.

“I have done something so bad… I cannot forgive myself.”

The line went dead after that. If only I knew, Emily would be too, the very same day…

***

The sound of gunshots woke me up. Finally, they were here.

Written by: Iliena Bosu © iliena Bosu 2014

 

Read the whole serial or keep up to date with the latest chapter – http://www.thestorymint.com/serials/cold

So close to the truth

Latest review from Ask David.

http://askdavid.com/reviews/book/mystery-thriller/9341

TWISTED WIRE  –  Latest Review

 

 

This book really impressed me. I am following the American progress regarding Hyper Speed craft and the British duel fuel rocket engine that is being developed with interest. Stone has woven the actual facts of these achievements with a fictional story. His knowledge of MI6 and the Russian Secret Service operations and the history of the Stasi show a great depth in research. I love an author who can do this in such a way as to make the story believable. Who knows if this will turn out to be more factual than fiction as it takes place in 2015. It is so close to reality. The story itself races along at great speed and Enda and Jessica are well drawn characters as is my favorite ‘Fish.’ The double dealing within the security services reminds me of great spy films and TV programs. Enda has been drawn into a clever Russian plot headed by a mole within MI5 who knows Enda well. I won’t spoil the plot but readers should be prepared for a few twists, some dramatic moments and an ending that made me want to read on to the next in the series. I can’t wait. [by Brian Rangford]

Ray’s Smash List

Enduring Love

Category: Fiction » Christian » Romance $2.99
by: Angela Benson 

Enduring Love, Book 4 in the Genesis House series, features the long-awaited romance of Daniel and Vickie, who were first introduced in Abiding Hope (Book 2).

 

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/441950?ref=raystone

 

Wizards Rule

Category: Fiction » Young adult or teen » Sci-Fi & fantasy $3.49
by: Kasi Blake , published 31 December 2014

Jack and Silver are back and facing a dark wizard with more power than anything they’ve encountered before.

 

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/483312?ref=raystone

 

Zone Zero (A Legionnaire! Action Adventure Book 5)

Category: Fiction » Adventure » Men’s adventure $0,99
by: John Robb , published 31 December 2014 by Piccadilly Publishing

At three o’clock in the afternoon of July 8, the Western powers were due to explode a Hydrogen Bomb in a remote area of Southern Algeria—code named Zone Zero.Fort Ney was the smallest and loneliest outpost in the zone. It had always been a peaceful place—until the twelve travelers arrived. With the time for the explosion drawing nearer, the outwitted garrison faced the uttermost limit of horror.

 

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/482479?ref=raystone

 

A Map of Kex’s Face

Category: Fiction » Science fiction » General $6.00
by: Robin Wyatt Dunn , published 30 December 2014

Roberto and his wife Sasha are busy acting out a bad campus novel in a recently seceded California when the known universe undergoes some fundamental changes. Campus administrator Kex is more than a human being, it appears, but also an avatar around whom mandala-like emanations revolve, frequencies whose meaning Roberto must discern if he is to legitimize his new Department of Cartography . .

 

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/476808?ref=raystone

 

Stoning Demons: Book 6: Personal Growth in Recovery from Complex PTSD

Category: Nonfiction » Psychology » Child Abuse $2.99
by: Kimberly Callis , published 30 December 2014

On my personal journey, I have sought replenishment from many sources — family, friends, beautiful places… and stories from others who have dealt with their own pain.  My own experience and research has led me to believe that there is a profound aspect to trauma.  It gives you the opportunity to re-grow as a person.

 

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/460449?ref=raystone

 

Stepping On Mars: An Evolving and Unauthorized Elon Musk Biography

Category: Nonfiction » Biography » Business biography $6.99
by: Damien Darby , published 6 May 2012

From fleeing apartheid, sleeping on floors and showering at the local YMCA, to becoming perhaps the most prolific man in the modern world; Elon Musk is an exemplary figure. Everyone should hear about his tale, and be exposed to the prolific changes he is bringing forth into the contemporary human condition. From SpaceX Rockets to Tesla electric automobiles, Elon will soon have us stepping on Mars.

 

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/159309?ref=raystone

 

 

 

Ray’s Smash List

Pirates of Bollywood

 
 
 

Category: Fiction » Thriller & suspense » Courtroom
by: Dr.Kalyan C. Kankanala 

Behind the glamour and glitz of the show business is a dark and dangerous world of piracy. A young lawyer’s quest to promote creative freedom introduces him to this world, putting his life in grave danger. Set in Bombay, the seat of Bollywood, this novel zooms in on the tussle between film producers and pirate mafia. This story paints a picture of Bollywood not too far from reality.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/450538?ref=raystone

 

Slithering South

 
 
 

Category: Nonfiction » Travel » Trip Journals
by: Steve Van Beek 

A wild, often hilarious, ride down Thailand’s longest river. A tiny teak boat set in the Ping River deep in the Golden Triangle takes the author on a 58-day voyage of discovery through Thailand’s heart. Along the way, he meets Sin the Buffalo Man, the Cowboys of Tha Sala, Jamrat and the “Boom Boom Girl”, and dozens of other intriguing characters.

 

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/471331?ref=raystone

 

Where’s Your Mother, George? The True Crime of George Schneider

 
 
 

Category: Nonfiction » True Crime » Murder » General
by: Richard O Jones 

Everyone in the Schneider family presumed that the widow matriarch Catharine was staying with her favorite son George on his remote Ohio farm. When George, his wife Margaret and their seven children showed up to a family dinner without her, suspicions ran high. No one could believe the story he told about a pair of highway bandits and a shallow grave.

 

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/459878?ref=raystone

 

Big Bend

 
 
 

Category: Fiction » Historical » Western & American frontier
by: John Benteen ,  Piccadilly Publishing

Sam Ramsey lived in a time of violence; a time when bandits and cutthroats repeatedly swept across southwest Texas to plunder and rustle supplies for Pancho Villa’s ragtag army. When they finally came after his Morgans, Sam Ramsey was no match for them. 

 

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/482446?ref=raystone

 

Blood on the Hills (A Storm Family Western Book 9)

 
 
 

Category: Fiction » Historical » Western & American frontier
by: Matt Chisholm , Piccadilly Publishing

BORN TO DIE A SUCKER’S DEATH As the man threw a leg over the sill of the window, Jody shot him through the body. The rifle hit the ground and the man smashed back into the house. More gunfire fractured the hot and dusty air. This time it was the sheriff who was hit: he’d run from cover into the bullet-thick street. ‘My God,’ thought Jody. ‘I’m all alone!’ FINAL BOOK IN THE SERIES

 

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/482449?ref=raystone

 

Releasing Yesterday

 
 
 

Category: Fiction » Romance » Historical
by: Nona M. King , published 31 December 2014

Sara and Christopher have finally found their happily ever after. One stage of her journey is finished, but what about her relationship with her father? The loss is such a hole in an otherwise blessed life. A hole she doesn’t realize will keep her from the full blessing God has waiting for her.

 

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/457009?ref=raystone

 

I walk in Enda’s footsteps on Cyprus

I arrived on Cyprus for a holiday and to look for a new home where I can find the right surroundings and atmosphere and cultural background for me to write. Wherever I end up it will be significantly quieter than Malta and the view will be magnificent. I have been to a realty office and on my first day Mrellan and I have an appointment to go see five properties. It was suggested that we look for a place off the beaten tourist track and also above the humidity line. When up above the line in summer one looks down on clouds which trap the hot moisture below, encouraging those not used to 90% humidity to turn the air-conditioning to maximum. Of course, in the winter when snow covers Mount Olympus, it can get very cold and gas heaters are the order of the day. As we talked about what we wanted with the agent she informed us that we would be up in the hills in one of the villages.

At that point I realized we would be near the village Enda and Jessica visited as they searched for Isia (Isia’s Secret). We would also be quite near coral Bay where the story started as George Hrisacopolis was killed by the British Army as he tried landing men to fight in the failed struggle between EOKA, the British, and the Turks for sovereignty of Cyprus. My last visit here was in 1974 just before the Turks invaded the island. Those were troubled times of massacre and political upheaval. Today the island stands in a political impasse that is confusing for the rest of the world and an embarrassment to the EU parliament in Brussels.

I won’t get deep into the issue but the whole of the island, known as Cyprus, is a member of the EU. This means that EU laws, regulations and human rights are legally binding for the whole of the island. Enter the Turks who declared that northern Cyprus was the Turkish Republic of Cyprus and they have their own laws etc. They also have upwards of 80,000 troops stationed there. Basically Turkey is trespassing on EU land. It will be interesting to see what happens during the next two/three years within the corridors of power in Brussels where incidents of corruption seem to get exposed on a regular basis and certain commissioners nominate themselves into higher and more powerful positions…if they can get away with it. Turkey has applied to join the EU. To allow that Brussels have to recognize the Turks claim to northern Cyprus or tell them to leave. At the moment, EMP’s are wringing their hands and stalling any decision by telling Turkey to clean up their human rights record. And on and on it goes while Cypriots, Greek and Turkish, long for the day the demarcation line disappears.

I am looking forward to Monday but more than that right now I am looking forward to visiting the cove within the Coral Bay area and driving north to find the village. Unfortunately, while here on holiday, we have been told by the car hire people that we drive into the northern territory at our own risk. Our insurance only covers us for the south. Why? Whilst the whole island is EU there is no coverage because on Cyprus you have to stop at the scene of an accident or collision and wait for the police to make out a report. No policeman is allowed into the north so I would need to have separate insurance to travel north. When I come back to live and have a car of my own I’ll be happy to take the risk. I need to see Bellapais again. There’s a wonderful monastery there and the location of the sad scene where Enda and Jessica meet Jamilya.

If you have not done so already I suggest you might like to read the first two chapters on this site or go to Smashwords and read the first 20%. More about my visit next week.

 

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/353047