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We're going on a tour today: "Pearls of Cyprus" is the poetic name in StarTour's brochure.

Cyprus 2002 - part V.

Eric
2005-12-02 17:55:19

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she discovers that the plate should be turned. There are carafes with wine, the food is delicious (uhm, their cold yoghurt!) and soon everyone chats in a gibberish of Swedish and Danish.

Helle whispers that a Danish woman out of my earshot complains about almost everything. Then you don't get a clean plate for each dish, and then you don't get clean cutlery. And then the bread hasn't been sliced all the way through, and then the meat has fatty rind, and then and then... It is beyond comprehension. If you cannot tolerate "different" food and different customs you had better stay at home. However some seem to travel for the sole purpose of getting a chance to complain that things aren't like back home. Or if things aren't that bad, you can always make a point of telling that it was far cheaper in Turkey last year.

Fortunately the lady in question is out of my earshot, and instead I'm entertained by a very sympathetic Swedish couple from Uppsala. Before the end of the meal we there's a drawing of Scandinavia on the paper napkin, and after the brandy Cyprus is added to the lower corner.

Helle says hello to the cats by the tourist office. Helle says hello to the cats by the tourist office.

Everything comes to an end and by 4 PM we're back in Larnaca and say hello to the cats by the tourist office. After the massive lunch we can't even think of supper. Instead we settle for an ouzo at The Meeting Pub.

Around 10 we return to the hotel. There's Karaoke in the bar, which is new to us. The guy who runs the show is quite entertaining in his exceptionally tasteless T-shirt: black with orange flames. Several guests offer their interpretation of the international treasure of songs. Some painfully out of tune, but the more you have admire their courage. And it is entertaining. Olga from Russia sings in tune, but would do better without microphone. Mike is a crooner and caresses the microphone with both hands and stiff fingers. The bartender's daughter, who's some 10 years old, shrieks hopelessly out of tune, and more than once she's encouraged to repeat the torture. Christina from Norway is euphoric and a young bunch join in on the refrain of a Norwegian hit. Well, there's another tour tomorrow and it is getting late...