By Marilena Panagi *:
We took the road to Rizokarpaso again. Our decision to visit the peninsula of Agioi this summer is sudden. We did not plan to go up to Apostle Andreas. In Rizokarpaso we will go to talk to our captives. This is what we used to say and say again and again, me and the photographer of "F" Giannis Nisiotis getting into the car. And so that morning about two weeks ago we crossed the roadblock.
We did not want to go to Apostolos Andreas because the road seemed too long. "We will go to Rizokarpaso."
The road to Karpasia tires you and hurts you. You feel it so your own and so foreign and the Mesaoria in front of you, around you, inside you.
We now know the way. We have been several times. Even so, owning one is still beyond the reach of the average person.
We entered the plain of Mesaoria for good. The sign shows us the way. We also learned that "Dipkarpas" writes and we understand "Rizokarpaso".
At every turn, a ruined chapel emerges. On each mountain peak there is a curse. Some half-destroyed, some empty and looted. It is summer and the plain is yellow. An endless monotony but we continue on our way. They are now building a new two-way road parallel to the old road.
The speed limit is stuck at 65 km and everywhere there are signs for speed control with cameras. Nobody wants to pay a fine to the illegal regime and so our journey seems even longer.
Signs with names of villages in Turkish. Fortunately we had with us the map with the Greek and Turkish names and we could orient ourselves.
Our soul began to search for an oasis to rest… "Giannakis Restaurant" says a sign. One of the few sleepless guards of our occupied land continues to operate his restaurant and stubbornly keeps the Greek license plate in his possession.
A little more, and we arrive at our destination. And finally we arrived and the main road as always began to tighten our means. Turkish signs, oriental bazaar in the side shops. Images mismatched. Settlers live in Rizokarpaso and ours are trapped crammed into their own cafe.
The cafe continues to "speak" Greek
The Church of Agios Synesios, white but also exhausted from the passage of decades. But every Sunday its bell rings. The plans have been released and now the procedures for its restoration are in the final stages. I wish.
We went ahead and finally got confused. We stopped and tried to orient ourselves. The well-known sign "Cafe-Vassilis Ktistis" was nowhere to be found.
"Did we get through it?" I wondered.
- "But since he was here" the voice of John was just as puzzled.
"But I do not recognize the building either," I added.
- "What should we do now?".
The cafe and Mr. Vassilis have always been our guide on our visits to Rizokarpaso. We always visited him and he always offered us coffee and we had a couple of conversations.
We felt lost in a place we want we do not always want to upset us. It is summer and the schools are closed so our second choice to get in touch with our captives at that time did not exist.
We decided to move on. We knew that just outside Rizokarpaso is another restaurant with a Greek sign. We continued to climb the peninsula. Right and left the sea. Eventually the restaurant was not just outside the village.
It was much further out. To be precise, it was in the middle of the route between Rizokarpasos and Apostolos Andreas.
We joked with each other:
"Eventually the Saint, whether we like it or not, will take us to his cape," Giannis told me.
"Let 's avoid it better because it' s still far away," I said stubbornly.
We arrived at Mr. Nikos' restaurant. We found him in the kitchen. Two groups of tourists were enjoying their fish over the wave.
- "But what happened to the cafe? Where is Mr. Vassilis? " I asked him anxiously.
- "He has been blessed for a long time" is the answer of Mr. Nikos who is the son of Mr. Vassilis.
Then we understood what happened. We will never meet Mr. Vassilis again in the cafe. It was kept in operation by the foreign domestic helper she had with him for the last few years until it was time for her to return to her homeland.
"Now the family of Joseph Synainos has taken it."
Another family of those trapped in Karpasia. The building was renovated for this and we did not recognize it and now it operates as a cafe but "they are waiting to get their licenses so that they can offer food and drink so you can find the sign" Mr. Nikos told us.
- "How far is Apostolos Andreas" we asked.
"Twenty minutes at most," he replied.
We looked at each other meaningfully. We drank our coffee, rested and got back in the car. Inside we had both decided.
Pilgrimage to the Apostle Andreas
We had to travel another twenty minutes to go to Apostle Andreas.
On the way we teased each other because otherwise we had agreed, we had informed in our work that there was no opportunity to go up to Apostolos Andreas again this year. In the end, we were left with stubbornness and big words.
The donkeys made their appearance. It is as if you have to ask their permission to proceed. They stand in the middle of the road and are not bothered by cars at all. Anything else I would say.
We arrived at the Monastery. Beautiful and renovated, it stands on its rock. We entered the Church. Father Zacharias in the position next to the Saint.
The marbles on the floor are now polished and imposing. The iconostasis restored…
- "Was the church so beautiful even before the invasion of Father Zacharias?" I asked him.
- "So" he answered me simply but his eyes shone with joy.
John started taking pictures and I stood for a while in front of the big picture of Apostle Andreas.
"He ascended to his throne again" I thought silently and recalled the ugly image we saw a few years ago when we visited the monastery. Then the donkeys were outside the church door and their feces were everywhere on the floor. Fortunately now things have changed.
We had a few more conversations with the "guardian angel" of the Monastery, Father Zacharias, who during his 43 years of occupation is there in his post. He showed me the "crucible" and the swimming pool. They have not yet begun to perform baptisms in the monastery. He hopes they will allow it soon.
We left the Church and went down to Agiasma. € 2 per 8 liter hermit crab is written on the sign which of course is addressed to the Greek Cypriots who cross the roadblocks to visit the monastery of Apostolos Andreas.
Fortunately we had our own empty bottles with us. We went down the stairs but we had to wait. A group of tourists washed with the holy water. One of them had put his feet to cool them.
They probably did not know that for us there was a sacred place. We waited patiently for our turn… you always have to be patient when you are in the occupied…
* Source: Phileleftheros / Marilena Panagi
Photos: Giannis Nisiotis