Scanning the horizon at sunrise, half-awake after Thomas announced our imminent arrival in Larnaca in Cyprus, my eye-brain system struggles to compute the view consisting of rows of multi-storey building lining the bay uninterrupted for kilometres, seeming to scream at me “Welcome back to civilisation!” Quite a concrete shock after months on end of natural landscapes barely indented by man-made features. I didn’t know what to expect from South Cyprus, but I guess I had romanticized the Mediterranean island, and at that precise moment, am unimpressed.
Besides the air is still pretty cold which doesn’t help the urban medicine go down.

We’ve chosen Larnaca to make landfall, partly on our friend Brulevent’s advice, for being one of the closest port after exiting the Suez canal, but also for its mild climate, interesting history and landmarks, international airport nearby and reasonably priced marina making it a convenient stopover to welcome mum for a week’s holiday.

After some last-minute drama in Suez where our transit would have been delayed, wasn’t it for the intervention of Captain Mohammed Mohsen, responsible for SCA’s yacht transit, we arrive a couple of days before her, once more greeted by Pascal and Marie-Laure who we have lunch and dinner with that same day after clearing in.
I also squeeze in some basic grocery shopping thanks to our new Russian pier neighbour Anna who drives me to the fruteria and supermarket, while Zephyr makes Mamie Zoe’s bed with the now traditional towel swan waiting for her.

After nearly five years apart, I cannot contain tears of joy when I see mum emerge from the terminal at 2am, with her perfectly coordinated set of prune suitcases and orange cardi. She’s here for a week only though, and quickly reminds me there is no time to waste in effusions, so off we go, pick up our rental car and I us drive back to the boat where we keep on chatting with a while before collapsing.

Day one is spent recovering from the late night, opening presents, wandering in the old town, taking pictures in front of street art murals, op-shopping, eating gyros at a tavern, and officially starting our European ice cream diet.

We tick off mum’s request to see Aphrodite’s rock on day two on our way to visit Paphos and its famously well preserved mosaics. After the relative busyness of Paphos waterfront and a picnic facing the sea, stepping in the quiet archaeological site is very soothing, until Azur, who always notices the hidden details of life, observes that one of the mosaics boar or donkey’s head is chopped off, and promptly finds it all bloody in the mouth of the panther pictured next to it.

Despite some locals claim That Easter rings the start of Summer in Cyprus and that it never rains after that, the dark clouds looming on the horizon in the morning weren’t too inspiring, but luckily the worst of the thunderstorm hits us when we are in the car, with hail just like that, forming patches of snow on the side of the road still visible the next day when driving to Mount Olympus.

My memory already fails me as to the exact course of even afterwards, between climbing Aphrodite’s rock, stone skipping, snorkeling and sunbathing in beautiful (but damn too organised and lined with tourist-trees, a.k.a paid-for umbrellas and lounges) fig tree bay, walking to the cyclops cave, hiking the Artemis trail, soaking in the yesteryear atmosphere of Kakopetria, crying with laughter during a game of Tengo Duo, watching Labour Day march-past of brass bands, and a last dinner at Ithaques Garden, but one could argue it was barely a holiday given the number of kilometers driven in a short time (more than I’d care to admit to my most eco-conscious friends) and the list of activities we packed in. Nonetheless, we were very grateful to leave the sailing behind for a bit, especially on discovering how poor the south of the island is with sheltered anchorages, and explore the place by land.