An overcast and cold day in February, Bad weather has been gradually moving east across the Mediterranean. I'd thought about a trip into Troodos mountains but was warned off because of snow.
I was new in town. Fresh off the plane. My companions had gone to work and I was on foot. I walked into Nicosia past the Agios Antonios market, which was small and uneventful. Close by was a long-fronted shop selling all sorts of barbecue equipment, plus bunches of loofers. At the junction was another such shop. Opposite was the impressive Agios Antonios primary school with a short avenue of palms to the front door.
I walked to the Venetian city walls and over the Potocatora bastion β where some kind of archeological work was going on. Returning as dark fell there were hundreds of birds roosting in the bushes - maybe goldfinches. The 'Liberty Monument' stands on Potocataro. Erected in , it is a marble monument overlooked by a goddess. Two dark bronze freedom fighters with machine guns pull up a portcullis that releases a group of people β men in suits, women, children, Greek Orthodox priests - from a prison-like tomb.
A coach was disgorging little school kids in front of it for what looked like a propaganda visit. To my eyes the monument glorified an alliance of Greek Cypriot forces of patriarchal conservatism β the church and EOKA. Beyond the Liberty Monument are the remains of a beautiful aqueduct to bring water into the town. This led, just behind the wall, to the Famagusta gate. On the old town side is a flour mill. Men were loading sacks onto a conveyor that took them into a battered old container on the back of a lorry.
At the top a bloke stacked the sacks. The air was full of a yeasty smell of fermenting grain. The Famgusta gate is massive, with a huge latticed door and two oval windows, deep set in honey-coloured limestone walls. Passing by it later, I went into the cultural centre that is now housed there. A young guy was on his mobile and the walls of the great arched cavern were filled with framed newspaper front pages. From the sign outside some kind of 50th anniversary was being celebrated but from the many pictures of suited men on the newspapers, it looked achingly dull.
