World Cyprus Larnaca

Mick Outside The Box 2009 MickD'sRoad Trip2008

Moonlight Running 02.22.2008

Second last day in Kypreos. Tomorrow I will brave the service taxi to Lefkosia, the divided capital of this here burg, and then will attempt to urinate along as much of the Green Line as possible. I did it on the Berlin Wall back in the day, so...

Okay, strike that last part. But I will try to see what it's like in that slice of North Cyprus. For those of you who have been asleep since 1974, or who were mercifully unborn at that point, The Republic of North Cyprus **must be followed by skeptical coughing** is the Turkish 37% of the island of Cyprus. They broke away with help from mainland Turkey and then watched as NO ONE recognised their little rump state of Upper Non-Greek Ville, except their only-slightly-vested-interest benefactors. This became downright irritating when Greek Cyprus was taken into the European Union a short while back.

And now the Turkish Cypriots are EXTREMELY HAPPY the United Dividers of America went and bullied most of the EU into recognising Kosovo as an independent state, because, although all the political talking heads are insisting that it does not represent any precedent for breakaway states, of course it does.

First let's get one thing straight. I really, really care about Kosova and I love Kosovars, especially Arta Selimi, who is the best actress I've worked with in the Balkans. They are a people. I wish them well in their fight to become an economically viable state and I will be there for them, working within their culture, to help make it more recognised.

And second straight: the Serbs under Milosevic committed atrocities on a monstrous scale. The people and government of Serbia are coming, far too slowly, to grips with what happened under that regime. They need to turn in the war criminals Ratko Mladić and Radovan Karadžić, correct their school texts, and get on with reforming their laws and constitution so they can get into the EU.

In fact, under Tadić, that's what's happening. Serbia now is a different place. The Thugs are still loud (witness the faction that broke off from the peaceful demonstration the past couple of nights), but they're no longer in control. The Serbs I know are cringing at the images displayed on world television.

And third straight: Kosovo had to go. There was no compromise the Albanians could have lived with without resurrecting their own ruthlessly efficient terrorism army, the KLA.

But what's the precedent for punishing a country for its past sins by hiving off part of its territory? Paris 1919? THAT worked out well. Palestine 1948?

So let's have a little chat about other breakaways that just received new momentum: a) Turkish Cyprus b) Basque Spain c) Catalonian Spain d) Trans-Dniestrian Moldova e) Scotland (seriously) f) Hungarian Transylvania in Romania g) Kurdish Turkey h) Kurdish Iraq i) Albanian Macedonia j) Abkhazian Georgia k) Nagorno-Karabakh in Armenia and, most horrifying for all the Serbia bashers, l) Serbian Bosnia-Herzegovina. Because you can't give one without the other.

End of political rant. We live in interesting times, which are about to get more interesting. (Does anyone think Quebec secessionism has gone away?) That's why I like to head for trouble spots. They're interesting. Larnaka, by contrast, is quiet. I've managed to do a lot of thinking here, which as all of you know is extremely dangerous. One page of my little black notebook has a plan to hit something like twelve countries in June and July. That's what happens when I start thinking.

Another thing I've done here is running. I bought a brand new pair of New Balance 1024s before I left because I was in danger of being a hypocrite in telling my students they had to have up-to-date running gear to avoid hurting themselves; it had been more than two years since my last pair of shoes. And what better place to break them in than the beach? I'd intended to go during the day when, rumour has it, one can actually see. But one thing led to another and my do-nothing day passed quickly (postcards take time, you know), and I wanted to run, so out I set.

It was fantastic. A full moon, shining on the water, lapping waves, no howling dogs (a recurring leitmotif of my running life). Just me, the water, and an old guy out power-walking who pumped his arms harder whenever I went by. Or maybe he was saying hello. I was confused.

The running and a cafe where the WiFi is free and the servers are comely has made me one happy fellow. One more entry, I think, before I repair to Arcadia-in-the-Valley for the final sprint of the semester.