Strolling with shepherds and olive-picking picnics: an eco-tourism experience in Northern Cyprus
In the tiny village of Büyükkonuk in Northern (Turkish-speaking) Cyprus, we recently got to hang out in a paddock with a shepherd and his sheep, clamber through perfumed bushland to collect wild herbs (thyme, oreganos, sage, myrtle, and fennel), and learn how to make local feta and olive bread with the village baker. In the cosy sandstone home of our hosts, Ismael and Lois Cemal, we warmed ourselves by a pot-bellied stove and ate a delicious dinner of baked rabbit with vegetables, both from their own garden. The couple are the architects of a project that has established eco-tourism in Northern Cyprus and turned little Büyükkonuk into the area's first eco-village. Driven by a desire not to see Northern Cyprus go the way of the South with its ugly mass tourism development, and disappointed by the readiness with which their compatriots are selling their farms to developers, Lois and Ismael devised a plan. First they turned part of their property into a B&B, providing simple accommodation in a traditional stone house. Next they trained as tour guides and offered a range of activities intended to give people a taste of life in a working village, from donkey treks through the countryside to olive picking 'tours' followed by picnics in the groves. After winning a scholarship at the University of Turin to develop the project further, Ismael set about bringing the rest of his community on board. He encouraged his neighbors to rebuild their crumbling stone houses, transforming them into B&Bs, and applied for funds to reconstruct historic town buildings for community use, like the restoration of an old olive press and the creation of a public square, which Ismael is overseeing. The hope is that if the villagers can see how they can make a living carrying on the traditional way of life they have for centuries then they won't sell out to big business and their village life won't disappear. A stay at Büyükkonuk is a must if you're the kind of traveller seeking more authentic experiences and the opportunity to participate in the everyday life of a working village - or if you've ever wondered what it is exactly that a shepherd does. If you're flying Jazeera Airways over the next month, take a look at our longer feature story on Lois and Ismael's eco-tourism project in J Magazine, the airline's in-flight read.
Close encounter of the goat kind
One of the great things about travelling in Crete is the chance to get up close and personal with the locals, especially the four-legged kind. That's one of the reasons I prefer travelling by car over any other form of transport, for the opportunities it affords you to get off the beaten track. And the flexibility and freedom you have to stay as little or as long as you want in a place, to be able to stop and take photos, or simply take the scenery in. We recently did a drive on Crete's isolated west coast and had slowed down to capture the breathtaking views of the coastline below. We've gotten used to facing off with herds of goats and sheep on the roads, and used to the routine - as soon as they see the car they stop dead in their tracks, they wait a little to see what we'll do, and then, when they see we're no threat (because we've turned the engine off), they hurry past, often leaping and bounding in the air, to get on their way. But on this occasion we were surprised by the friendliness of this lone goat who appeared out of nowhere and came right up to my window.The goat went as far as to nuzzle my hand. He was curious and affectionate, more like a dog or cat, so we stayed a bit to enjoy his company. It's moments like these that make travelling by car cool for me.
Traffic hazards in Crete
Like Thailand - with its stray ox sauntering along the road, its dreadful drivers, its food vendors, and moveable feasts - Crete has its fair share of traffic hazards too. We have revised our list of world's worst drivers, adding the Cretans (and Cypriots) to the top of the list, however, after human beings, the most hazardous things on Crete's road are its animals, namely its goats, sheep, donkeys, and dogs. We have been confronted with a herd of goats or sheep heading our way on a local highway on more than one occasion, with their shepherd strolling not far behind. Our strategy? Simply stop and enjoy the passing show. How often, I ask myself, do we get a chance to get this close to nature?
Observations on Cretan Village Life, or enjoying a bit of ethnographic travel
The people of Crete are proud of their villages, the village way of life, and their traditional customs. The image here of an elderly village couple hangs on the wall at one of Chania's chicest restaurants. City dwellers return to their villages every chance they get - for the olive harvests, religious celebrations, and their village's saints day. Drive around Crete and you'll inevitably pass through a few villages - right through their heart, where the highway has narrowed to a single lane and the walls of the old stone houses jut against the curb to form a canyon. Where you have to drive through at a snail's pace in case someone opens the door of their home, because they''ll be stepping straight out on to the road. If you're in the passenger seat you'll enjoy catching glimpses into people's houses, seeing the yellowed lace curtains on the windows, the embroidered tablecloths and vases of flowers on crooked wooden tables, the old framed black and white portraits of long-gone loved ones on the walls, and an elderly woman or man perched on a stool by the door so they can watch the passing traffic while taking in the sun. We see old men and women on donkeys riding through the main street and capped farmers driving tractors through town, their wives up there with them right by their side. Men less busy are seated around wooden tables playing backgammon and cards in the local kafenion (traditional cafe) while old women dressed in black, wearing head scarves tied beneath their chin, sweep the road with handmade brooms. Old ladies carry loads of firewood and olive branches on their backs or climb the rocky hills on the outskirts of town in search of wild herbs. Driving through Crete is an ethnographer's dream.
Cherry blossoms blooming in Crete
The cherry blossoms are beginning to bloom in the countryside in Crete. Everywhere we drive we see them and when we do we're compelled to stop and photograph them. There's a delicate beauty about them that's so attractive. Perhaps it's because we know the life of their flowering is short. In Japan they celebrate the arrival of the cherry blossoms with hanami or 'flower-viewing' celebrations, with feasts under the trees and walks through parks to admire the blossoms. These contemplative strolls take the form of a retreat to renew the spirit. In Crete their appeal is also about their misplacement. What is something that appears so vulnerable, a tree we normally associate with Japan, China and the Himalayas, doing in a harsh, arid Mediterranean landscape of hardy olive groves, sturdy pines and eucalyptus trees? Though I have to admit that while I wonder about the history of their journey and how they came to be here, simply sighting them is sufficient an experience for me. I never cease to be surprised by how the simplest things about travel - like seeing cherry blossom trees in a Cretan landscape - can often be the most pleasurable. Yet why don't guidebooks tell us these things? Instead, they must send us to cherry blossom festivals or cherry harvests, tell us where to eat cherry pie or buy cherry jam. Why isn't it enough to describe the beauty of the cherry blossom and tell us when, where and how we can see them flower? That's enough for me, because, like the Japanese, I find my spirit renewed simply by gazing at the tree. In Japan, the cherry blossom carries loads of symbolism, its short blooming time signifying the transience of life. Good reason to give the festivals a miss and take time out to stop and smell the roses... um, cherry blossoms.