Day NinetyNine

We had

one job today.
And it was to get to 
Paralimni.

We set off
in our backpacks
after what has become
a breakfast ritual
of fresh and dried fruits,
bread,
yogurt,
honey
and 
oats
and reach town
for the long coming
bus ride to
beach town.

We have some gyros
between waiting
and looking for a car 
to rent,
and realise that
all we've been doing
is eat.
Which supports 
local culture trends 
quite well.

We arrive 
to the bus stop
and two hours later
to the beach town
and beach house/
flat.

I haven't been here
since last September
when my Romanian friends
were here.
Literally two days
before visiting
Lebanon;
and staying there 
for months.

We pop to the supermarket 
close by
and on the way
manage to rent a car
from a guy
who meets us 
on the streets of the neighbourhood.
We drive the three minute drive
and as the night sets
we've spread out
our stuff,
claimed our beds,
Gregg has cooked something for us
and we're knibbling 
on mixed nuts
and cider
as the next 
UNO marathon
sets off.

And we have 
become exactly as
Hanna has been 
describing us;
a lil family.

Day NinetySix

I hear plates

in the far end

coming from the kitchen.

I'm half asleep

when the beakfervention

starts.

A beakfervention

is a breakfast

intervention.

'Eleena!'

the girls open the door

to the room I'm sleeping in,

holding a tray of breakfast goodies,

smile at me and pass by

to the balcony door.

The sun is shining 

and all is good

with these two sunshines.

I make my way to the balcony

and we wake up

and breakfast

together

in the garden.

Today,

we have no car

so we make plans 

of what to do

according to bus routes

and times.

Of course we never follow

such schedules 

and more so

more things come up on the way.

Like Harrys

for instance,

who called to check if I'm back

in Cyprus

and ended up inviting us for dinner 

with the girls.

The day goes by

and the night comes.

We are all excited to 

visit Harrys

and try his cooking!

First things first;

we arrive late

and so we jump on the kitchen tall table/bar area

where he serves us the food.

Cypriot delicasies.

Asparagus in scrambled eggs,

slow cooked mushrooms

and taro in the oven.

All served with olive oil

and lemon.

Our taste buds

were dancing happily

as we combined these 

with toasted bread with oregano

and local wine.

A humble feast.

The way

it happens in Mediterranean

and Middle Eastern 

areas.

We discuss how

this is something common

for Cypriots

and Harrys insists that this is nothing.

'You should see our parents

and grandparents.

They make food for fifty people!'

'Yes we saw

Elina's dad.!'

and the night continues

with Cypriot hospitality

over a contemporary

Greek movie-

'The Dogtooth'.

Night, complete.

Mind, pomba.

Day NinentyFive

Sunday Foodday

and we start off our adventures with eating.

First breakfast,

and then the housecooked pastitsio dish

my dad made.

With mushrooms 

instead of minced meat

and all the vegetarians in the house are winning.

He's fasting for Easter

so it's a good chance for him to try

a varietion of the dish.

It's less oily too.

I hope that gets noted

for future reference.

We head out

to find a place with internet.

I know it sounds needy

but none of us is that obsessed with 

the internet

for social media.

Ok maybe Hanna, maybe a little bit,

but more so the girls than I

want to update people

of where they are

what they're doing

what they're eating

where they're staying.

It's all good and familiar for me

but 

for what their grandmas know

they could be in France 

having cheese and wine.

We get to Ifantourgio;

a cool space which has become 

a book club as of lately.

The furniture is a coordinated 

combination

of complete

random shapes and textures

and it's lovely.

We pick a leather couch

with two armchairs on each side

and spread out

like F.R.I.E.N.D.S. do.

We order our coffees and start blogging.

I love that the girls are here

and it helps me experience things as an outsider.

Truth be told,

I haven't had Finish friends before

especially not in Cyprus

and especially not two

that have been my dorm mates for 

two months.

I take a break to look around at the streets.

I recognise an alley

diagonally opposite

to my left

and I remember the day I left

without saying hi

to Y

and it's almost like his presence is sketched there

at the bar I never visited.

I switch back

post a post

and 

wonder how many of my thoughts are

self induced.

Day NinetyTwo

Smooth landing

as my bro humbly picks me up from the airport

and takes me to the house.

As Alex would say

beit msh beit;

a house is not a home

so I desperately 

try to keep 

the Lebanese energy

alive in me.

The transition is smooth.

I wake up alone

in the company of my ill self.

And I prefer not having a voice

than having one and using it 

unwisely.

I contact nobody.

I haven't seen my dad and my mum doesn't know

I have arrived.

My day goes smoothly

with not much energy to do anything other

than

just exist.

My favourite.

And I have found myself at peace on similar days

like this one,

where the strengths of the self

are limited to 

taking care of just the self.

An ill day

of self care.

I make soup.

Day SeventySix

Salad.

How long has it been since I've had a salad.

As in, salad as a main meal

and not on the side of hummus & bread

and cheese rolls

and stuffed vine leaves

and etc.

Hanna causally comes to pick me up from work

and we stroll off to a supermarket.

'I'm gonna have a salad'

she says firmly,

and my mind starts picturing

flying lettuces

avocados

crab sticks

sweet corns

olive oil

and lemon

sauce.

'Yum.

I think I'm gonna have a salad too'.

We walk to our new home

make the salad

share the salad

go for a nap

and halas

happy to be alive.

Actually there were a few more highlights,

like trying to guess the age of a man

at tired o'clock 

and Hanna guessing he was 46 

when I had thought he was 32

and then I changed it to 34

turns out he's 38.

Nice one, Han.

Close!

Day SeventyThree

Shift Switch

and I'm working on this cosy rainy Saturday.

The girls have moved out 

and it's the first weekend they're not around.

The house is still full 

and there's peculiar movement;

sometimes extremely quiet

other times fully busy.

The group from Denmark

are here this afternoon and I spend time with them around the sofas.

Puppy is happily jumping from one extended arm to the other

and I watch it, 

in case it gets close to any walking feet

or close to Tereza,

ready to whistle at it.

Sizle

is super open and friendly.

she asks me what brought me here and she tells me a bit about her too.

I tell her I want to keep Puppy

but I haven't got a stable home right now.

Erkan 

passes around some Danish candy

and they insist that I try the 'wine one'.

I avoid the liquorice

but end up holding one that is liquorice inside the orange sugar coat.

We laugh at it.

I ask if anyone is having dinner and they very encouragingly say they will try what I make!

I decide to make a new recipe;

one my sister taught me when she was studying in Greece.

Her housemate had come up with it.

It's pasta with tuna & haloumi

cooked in tomato sauce

& spices.

It's delicious.

I can't believe I hadn't cooked it all this time here.

I make the dish

and some parsley salad with feta on the side.

We dine and discuss over the table

and it's a short personal meeting with 

the way Patrik thinks and speaks.

Something I haven't had the chance

to explore over the past days.

It's their last night 

and they will be checking out before

the morning shift.

So I enjoy our cosy dinner,

loving that they have tried the special pasta recipe

and bid them farewell 

in the way you bid farewell to people at a hostel;

i.e. in uncertainty 

and hopeful intentions

for this farewell to stand

in future paths.

Day FourtySeven

Leap year

and nobody knew until Facebook announced it on the newsfeed

or until people came to the desk to check out cz 

they thought it was March 1st,

like Zeed for instance.

So Monday funday

and it's my shift for cooking dinner.

I'm always excited to cook but the pressure of not succeeding to cook for many,

or the success my stew with couscous has had,

has made me reluctant to try something new.

But!

Today!

Chadya is in the kitchen and I've become the sous chef

for the day.

She's promised everyone an African dish with vegetables and peanut butter sauce,

and chicken for the meat-eaters.

We make a list and evolve ourselves around the meal.

Typical middle eastern ritual if you're asking me;

where the womaen's day consists of 

thinking what to cook

listing the ingredients

going out to get them

washing and chopping

and cooking them.

And it was that we did; we went out to get the ingredients we had listed,

and the ingredients we then washed, chopped and cooked.

Our feelings were mixed about making too much or too little

or if we should use chili or no chili

or make more salad or less because the food was too much now

or whether we need salad at all with this dish,

until Alex confidently said 

'it's always nice to have salad!

I like to have salad with my meals.'

Alex has a tendency to save the day.

And we thank her for that!

People are walking in and out the kitchen,

smelling the ginger and peanut butter,

grabbing a cucumber slice here and there 

and appetising themselves for the big feast.

The #dinnertime arrives and we all gather around a table.

A five-day family extended to a family fo life,

cz to gather around the table with others over cooked food

is not something everyone experiences;

at least not so intimately;

at least not so culturally.

We serve the rich thick sauce over warm rice and eat on a table with 12.

It's always amazing to have so many people 

welcomed and making space for each other to join.

No-one left out.

We complement the chef and I get complements for the salad as

we stay around and chat while the night fades out to different directions.

Sahtein.

Day Fourty

Sara from England

works with youth and adults with anti-social behaviour 

and she's here to do good.

Today,

she went to Bekka Valley to collect a fifteen year old boy 

and take him to an other village where he will be 

staying with extended family and where he will start school,

tomorrow.

She's on a fundraising mission where funds go to support refugees directly

-somewhat boycotting the idea of NGO support due to their

in-transparent fund distribution.

Nonetheless,

I'm in the kitchen cooking

and Duce comes up to me and starts describing her experience with Sara

and the mission.

She has a very,

very

grateful and humbled 

tone in her voice.

She starts by saying 'I am lucky'

'I am lucky, because even if I do not have parents

or a family

or mother

I did not have to carry my sister

who has no legs

and to see my own parents die in front of my eyes.

So I am lucky'...

I'm putting everything together in my mind as well as in the pan 

as I make the link of a very,

very

bitter upbringing 

becoming moulded into appreciation

in the sight of devastating 

and traumatic 

scenes

Syrian children are experiencing.

I turn the fire up

and look at Duce between

glancing at the clock on the wall

and thinking I don't have enough time

to add more red sauce in the pan.

Day Thirteen

Shift day today and the living is [getting] easy.

Less panic, less stress, less notes

on my shift day.

My duties today also include cooking!

We serve dinners for guests at the hostel.

Dinners are usually vegetarian as many here do not prefer meat. I google some recipes, knowing that Sarah loves eggplant, and pick a delicious- looking eggplant stew served on couscous, with garlic yogurt and light cucumber salad.

My mouth waters thinking about it.

I haven't cooked it yet.

It's the afternoon and it has been quiet as per usual at this time.

It's usually me and Sarah around on the days Maryam isn't working. 

Basem is usually out or up to something.

---

Dinner was great.

The food taste and sensation of the above made a delicious dish.

Sarah and I cooked together, 

and ate together.

Shame there wasn't anyone else around tonight; 

we had all the pleasure to ourselves.