“Journeys, like artists, are born and not made. A thousand differing circumstances contribute to them, few of them willed or determined by the will - whatever we may think. They flower spontaneously out of the demands of our natures - and the best of them lead us not only outwards in space, but inwards as well. Travel can be one of the most rewarding forms of introspection...”
Lawrence Durrell, Bitter Lemons of Cyprus
Raki is so hard to get right but this one is neither too strong nor too weak. The secret, I realise, is eschewing ice.
I am sitting outside Niazi's restaurant in Kyrenia, across the road from the elegant colonial Dome Hotel, blogging with my clumsy thumbs on my mobile.
Kyrenia (Girne is its guttural and rather ugly name in Turkish) is a beautiful port on the north coast of Cyprus. It was a mostly Greek town which, since 1974, has been wholly occupied by Turkish Cypriots and incomers from mainland Turkey.
Cyprus was on my short list of countries I didn't want to visit, but this is my second long weekend in nine weeks. I am not sure why. Mostly because, for some reason, it seems so very easy.
Easy from Bucharest, with budget airline Blue Air, which ferries Romanian workers to the island. By the way, the Cypriot based subsidiary of Blue Air is the only Blue Air that provides food and wine for free, which tells you a lot about Cypriot hospitality.
And Cyprus is warm. One Christmas day, a while back, it was 25 degrees Celsius.
But these are not, I feel, good reasons.