Dexter Dog Diary, Week Three, Tuesday
Tuesday, (salı, 21 mart, 2010)
The alarm goes off this morning. X is awake long before, but the very fact that it went off means that something important is in the offing. They are loading the car at 0830h and I am included. Towards the end of the journey the atmosphere in the car is tense: it seems that our destination is elusive, and since he is the driver, he is to blame. She is giving him a hard time: but he has (unusually) said nothing contentious; and she has the map… I am confused. The destination must be extremely elusive because, when Y phones Helen, she finds that they, also, are lost! We arrive, eventually, half an hour late but before Tim and Helen who are bringing more new friends, Rick and Geoff.
It transpires that the event we have travelled for two hours to attend is, wait for it… a walk. Not just any old walk but an “Orchid Walk”. Won’t this be something new! Much to my amazement, it is! Because we arrive late, Maureen has set-off already with the bulk of the party, leaving Tony to catch up, with us stragglers – which he achieves before lunch. In which time we receive a fascinating insight to the beautiful countryside surrounding his home in Hisarköy: every plant, its botanical and familiar names and its place in the lives of the local villagers.
The topography of the area is reminiscent of the Derbyshire Peak District. Even a dog cannot help but be fascinated. Once we catch up with Maureen, we find that she is at least as informative and interesting as Tony. There are two other dogs in the party both of whom wear muzzles. At first I think it an example of the dreaded “political correctness” - somebody might be afraid, therefore the poor canines have to trot around in this heat with a basket round their chops! It turns out to be a precaution against poisoning; there are lots of stray dogs and some desperate shepherds ... but not here. So, in the afternoon, there are no muzzles and my canine chums are no problem to anyone - apart from that little incident with the swimming pool.
Lunch is at Maureen and Tony’s home set in 3 acres of sympathetically maintained, natural garden. My new pals, Paul and Pam, are in charge of lunch – which is excellent. X gets the “Mickey” taken out of him because he is well-known for his views about NOT feeding animals from the table; and yet, he is sharing his lunch with me! Hereby stands his defence: we are not at the table, we are both lying on the ground!
They are all here at the nearest table: Pete and Elaine; Tim and Helen; Rick and Geoff; Alan and Linda – more new friends for me – having a great time together, while the Axes and I enjoy stretching-out on the ground. In the afternoon there is another walk; in the opposite direction to this morning; along the edge of the valley with dramatic views of the countryside hundreds of feet below. We come across a small group of soldiers – we are in a military exercise area – and Maureen goes to speak to the officer in charge. Very politely she asks that they take care to remove any litter that their presence has generated. She tells us that the soldiers are always very respectful and cooperative.
As a dog I consider it my duty to comment on the stupidity of human beings. Cyprus has a long and complex history of which the last century has been likened to Shakespeare’s play The Tempest where, to punish human greed and vanity, events are conjured up by magic – the magic word being enosis (union with Greece) and EOKA the terrorist army trying to implement it. Like us dogs, humans are of different “breeds”. Cypriots come in two main types: Greek (80%) and Turkish (20%). Both wanted rid of the British. In 1960 their wish was granted. The Republic of Cyprus became an independent member of the British Commonwealth. Greece, it seems, believed that the rightful ownership of the island had been denied them for the past four hundred years and now would be a good time to put that right. In 1974, Greek agents staged a coup that put Nicos Samson in place of the elected President, Archbishop Makarios, who narrowly escaped. Under threat and separated by only forty miles of sea, Turkey launched their bariş (peace) operation, taking the north of the island and leaving thousands of soldiers to protect the Turkish. To be fair, with the UN as referee, it seems to be working. The killing has stopped. But, no country except Turkey will officially recognise Kuzey Kibris. Humans, huh!
As we arrive at each exciting botanical find I know that my public needs me to pose, casually reclining, next to the Plough-Share Orchid – or whatever natural wonder is in focus at the time. There is more information about village life and the changes to the stewardship of the land over the last five decades since the British influence departed. It seems that the District Commissioner used to pay the farmers to maintain the fertile terraces. Now, they crumble away. Entering the village, we hear that the younger generation today prefers any occupation to that of the rustic farmer. Sometimes they will exit the city and visit at the weekend; but parents and grandparents will not be holding their breath.
We come to the village shop and everyone buys ice cream and on this occasion I get lucky and finish-off Y’s “Twirly-Whirly” for her while the old Maronite church is the centre of attention before we return to Tony and Maureen’s for afternoon tea. Everyone drools over the cakes: but, regretfully, I am not in a position to offer an opinion. Another downside to the afternoon is that X decides I need the collar and lead: odd - but no point in making a fuss. We all say our farewells and everyone agrees that I am a wonderful dog.
After this morning’s excitement, the Axes try a different route home: she driving; he navigating; I smell trouble… unfailingly. Initially he is feeling smug because the new route takes them onto a fast dual-carriageway heading east; the required direction. Then, to his horror, what is shown on the map as green countryside becomes Lefkoşa over-spill - at rush-hour. Nobody is going anywhere at any speed. Eventually, we clear suburbia, leave the highway and are headed up the mountain road that leads through the lower pass towards Arapköy and the coastal highway to Esentepe – or so I thought. Instead, they decide upon the single-track road across the Beşparmak mountains.
A half-hour to home becomes an hour to home and by the time we arrive we are all tired and they are not speaking to each other. Food helps, as it always does. She sleeps through Pierce Brosnan in The Thomas Crown Affair and they hit the sack at midnight. I am far too knackered to go out for my late-night piddle. Goodnight; sleep tight.