For one of the dinners I met a married couple who travel from Istanbul. Svetlana, our compatriot in the past, former athlete, he once met on the basis of shared Hobbies professional sports with a Turk (I can’t remember his name), and ten years ago moved to Istanbul. Now they have two children, the eldest of whom went on sporting the footsteps of their parents, and every year they rest on the Turkish part of Cyprus, complaining about expensive roaming between essentially two Turkish territories. She told me and suggested what things cost, how to get there and most importantly – how to find the nearest supermarket and to walk there without the risk of heatstroke. Same evening, as soon as I feel better so much that I ventured to foray outside of the hotel, we went there in search of cheaper, rather than in the restaurant, food and water.
The path was very pleasant, as promised, Svetlana. You had to walk along the beach, past the private beach until you see on the left of the underpass under the road, “more like a collector”. So it went, right on the water, sometimes plunging, why the heat is barely felt. On the shoreline outside of the official beaches were more narrow and wild, but fairly clean. Here and there rested the Turkish-capriccietto family, throwing sand on their mats and baskets of food. Continue reading