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Birkibrisli's Cyprus dairy...My first 17 years in 7 days...

Feel free to talk about anything that you want.

Postby denizaksulu » Tue Dec 18, 2007 10:10 am

halil wrote:
halil wrote:
Birkibrisli wrote:
Tim Drayton wrote:
Birkibrisli wrote:
karma wrote:
="denizaksulu
What a remarkable village, where cooks lay eggs! :lol: :lol: This guys in love :lol:


I will have to agree with you Deniz coz in same village the chooks are giving birth (dogurmak) instead of laying eggs (yumurtlamak) :lol:
He is surely in love...what a lucky girl :D


Okey you ,smart arses!!!

In Cyprus chooks lay eggs (yumurta dogururlar- literally,give birth to eggs),and some cooks too I am sure!!! :D

In Turkey chooks lay eggs (yumurtlarlar-literally they make eggs).
I am not sure what cooks do in Turkey. Most probably they also yumurtlarlar! :lol: What are you two going to "yumurtlamak " now???

For non- Turkish speakers, "yumurtlamak" colloquially means 'coming out with a silly remark'.. :lol:


Thanks, mate. I did not know this idiomatic use of the verb "yumurtlamak". I have checked it in the Türk Dil Kurumu dictionary and it is indeed given as meaning number 2. I won't forget it.


You are welcome,Tim.
Turkish is full of little subtleties,and I have great respect for anyone who manages to learn it well as a second language. Hope you are still enjoying the "dairy"... :)


Yes we are enjoying your dairy gardaş.

let and see it NE YUMURTLAYACAKSIN .
Image
Image


Gardaş Ne Yumurtlayacaksın means also :to let the cat out of the bag .
Aklındakı baklayı çıkart . Bunun arkasından ne gelecek .



En nihayet 'Agzindan baklayi cikarttin'. :lol:
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Postby denizaksulu » Tue Dec 18, 2007 10:11 am

denizaksulu wrote:
halil wrote:
halil wrote:
Birkibrisli wrote:
Tim Drayton wrote:
Birkibrisli wrote:
karma wrote:
="denizaksulu
What a remarkable village, where cooks lay eggs! :lol: :lol: This guys in love :lol:


I will have to agree with you Deniz coz in same village the chooks are giving birth (dogurmak) instead of laying eggs (yumurtlamak) :lol:
He is surely in love...what a lucky girl :D


Okey you ,smart arses!!!

In Cyprus chooks lay eggs (yumurta dogururlar- literally,give birth to eggs),and some cooks too I am sure!!! :D

In Turkey chooks lay eggs (yumurtlarlar-literally they make eggs).
I am not sure what cooks do in Turkey. Most probably they also yumurtlarlar! :lol: What are you two going to "yumurtlamak " now???

For non- Turkish speakers, "yumurtlamak" colloquially means 'coming out with a silly remark'.. :lol:


Thanks, mate. I did not know this idiomatic use of the verb "yumurtlamak". I have checked it in the Türk Dil Kurumu dictionary and it is indeed given as meaning number 2. I won't forget it.


You are welcome,Tim.
Turkish is full of little subtleties,and I have great respect for anyone who manages to learn it well as a second language. Hope you are still enjoying the "dairy"... :)


Yes we are enjoying your dairy gardaş.

let and see it NE YUMURTLAYACAKSIN .
Image
Image


Gardaş Ne Yumurtlayacaksın means also :to let the cat out of the bag .
Aklındakı baklayı çıkart . Bunun arkasından ne gelecek .



En nihayet 'Agzindan baklayi cikarttin'. :lol:



Halil and all TCs;

BAYRAMINIZ KUTLU OLSUN
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Postby halil » Tue Dec 18, 2007 1:34 pm

denizaksulu wrote:
denizaksulu wrote:
halil wrote:
halil wrote:
Birkibrisli wrote:
Tim Drayton wrote:
Birkibrisli wrote:
karma wrote:
="denizaksulu
What a remarkable village, where cooks lay eggs! :lol: :lol: This guys in love :lol:


I will have to agree with you Deniz coz in same village the chooks are giving birth (dogurmak) instead of laying eggs (yumurtlamak) :lol:
He is surely in love...what a lucky girl :D


Okey you ,smart arses!!!

In Cyprus chooks lay eggs (yumurta dogururlar- literally,give birth to eggs),and some cooks too I am sure!!! :D

In Turkey chooks lay eggs (yumurtlarlar-literally they make eggs).
I am not sure what cooks do in Turkey. Most probably they also yumurtlarlar! :lol: What are you two going to "yumurtlamak " now???

For non- Turkish speakers, "yumurtlamak" colloquially means 'coming out with a silly remark'.. :lol:


Thanks, mate. I did not know this idiomatic use of the verb "yumurtlamak". I have checked it in the Türk Dil Kurumu dictionary and it is indeed given as meaning number 2. I won't forget it.


You are welcome,Tim.
Turkish is full of little subtleties,and I have great respect for anyone who manages to learn it well as a second language. Hope you are still enjoying the "dairy"... :)


Yes we are enjoying your dairy gardaş.

let and see it NE YUMURTLAYACAKSIN .
Image
Image


Gardaş Ne Yumurtlayacaksın means also :to let the cat out of the bag .
Aklındakı baklayı çıkart . Bunun arkasından ne gelecek .



En nihayet 'Agzindan baklayi cikarttin'. :lol:



Halil and all TCs;

BAYRAMINIZ KUTLU OLSUN


Thanks deniz,
I hope your yeğen will get the message from above pictures.
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Postby BirKibrisli » Tue Dec 18, 2007 3:59 pm

Okey,folks...the troops are getting restless so it is time to wind up this "dairy"...I know we are only on the second day of the trip,but the silly season are almost upon us,and I am running out of time and energy...

But I will not leave you high and dry...Briefly let me say that the actual visit to Istinjo did not prove to be as emotional as I was afraid...And I was not the only one who feared the consequences...Unbeknown to me The Precious One had contacted my True Cypriot Brother (TBC!just for Zan) and suggested some precautions for the visit. Her idea was to have a bucket full of iced water ready at hand, to throw on me if I was too overcome by the ocassion. My TCB had his own idea...a flask full of whiskey!

None of these precautions proved necessary in the end...Istinjo that I visited on this trip was not the Istinjo I remembered or dreamt about for 40 years...It was like visiting a foreign place. None of my family's houses were still standing. And the house I was born in lay in ruins just across the road from Grandparents' "guest house". The wallnut tree was long gone. The orchards,the vineyards,the almond and carob trees,even the figs had disappeared. There were a few skinny pomegranate and orange trees trying to survive in the suffocating heat. The water at the fountain which was flowing day and night as thick as my neck had almost totally dried up. I couldnt identify the places where the village flour mill and the wheat threshing field had stood. Only the school building and the mosque, minus the minaret, looked familiar. The overwhelming feeling I got was one of relief...The relief of knowing that nothing ,but nothing,will ever destroy the beautiful memories I have of my childhood. And nothing will remove the belief that it is people who give you a sense of belonging and security,not places...

We drove through Zaharga,and Melandra and entered the Paphos Forest heading for Stavros...We had many picnics here on our school excursions.
The snake like twists of the road,and the smell of pine trees brought back a lot of sense-memory...We were heading for Pyrgos and for another seafood feast at another seaside restaurant,served by a Thai waitress!
On the way back to Paphos we visited Yalya (Gialia) where we had lived for 5 years between 1954 and 59,and whereI had first became conscious of the terrible twins, The EOKA and the TMT...I found the house we lived in,again in ruins. Most of the other houses were occupied and in good nick,but not this one. I found the school building which was now used as a restaurant. Yalya was where I lost my childhood innocence. No...this was where I was robbed of my childhood. Where I learned how to use a handgun and a handgrenade...Where I lay in bed frozen with fear while British soldiers searched the house looking for TMT arms and ammunition.They never found them because we were lying on them. Being British they never imagined these crafty Cypriots would hide stenguns,handguns and grenades plus sacks of ammunition in their children's beds...


Yalya was also where I first experienced the consequences of trying to stick things in girls' underpants...At age 6 or 7 I was caught by Mother playing doctors and nurses with the little girl next door. I was apparently trying to put a long stick in her vagina...The consequence was a good hiding from Mother which I still remember,after 50 years... I also remember the day British soldiers almost found the handgun Father forgot to hide during an expected raid.(Father seemed to always know when a British raid was imminent!) The gun was left in a draw in one of the bedrooms. But when that draw was searched the soldiers found nothing. After they left,and to Father's great relief and amazement,my sister B. lifted her skirt and took the gun out of her underpants. She was quicker in the draw than the soldiers!

In the following days there were plenty of eating and drinking in Paphos town,including the amazing banquet at kafenes' place on one of his rare nights off from performing. The taste of his homemade lahmacun , humous , souvlaki, and caciki, washed down by red wine ,ouzo (raki)and plenty of zivania will remain with me for a long time...
There were trips to the Akamas,to Troodos,to Nicosia,Varoshia,and Ayia Napa.In Nicosia we visited the Ledra Palaca crossing where we saw the remains of the infamous Lokmaci bridge and the wall of shame (is that the right name?) opposite. We climbed to an observation post in a nearby building and I tried to spot my old house near Kuruchesme within the old walls in the North. In Varoshia we stood on top of an apartment building overlooking the forbidden city and using binoculars looked and looked for some sign of life. All I saw was a sign in Turkish saying UNUTAMAYIZ (We cannot forget). And something else in small letters also in Turkish which I couldn't make out. I remember thinking "What is the point of writing slogans in Turkish that nobody on this side can understand???"


In Ayia Napa I was gobsmacked at the overcommercialisation. And the kitch nature of most of the bars and clubs. But the nearby beaches were just great. And at Konnos Beach I had my first swim in Cyprus waters for over 40 years. The crisp,clean,delightfully refreshing water almost brought tears to my eyes. Lying on my back,enjoying the 29 degrees of October heat on my face, I felt a little resentment that I had to go without this for more than 40 years,as all those halfnaked bodies all around me,the children and grandchildren of our colonisers, kept enjoying the delights and pleasures of my homeland seemingly without a care in the world. The moment passed quickly as I remembered not to judge people for the sins of their ancestors. I smiled to myself (as my TCB was out at sea racing with the dolphins!) at the recollection of the incident described by Glafkos Clerides in his memoirs. At a reception at the Government House in Nicosia,the last Governor of Cyprus,Sir Hugh Foot,was talking to a friendly audience about his very busy days on the job. "But I always find one hour at the end of the day to contemplate my sins for the day," he said jovially. To which Clerides could not help but reply," Is one hour enough for that task,Your Excellancy"...

(final eposide to follow tomorrow...) :)
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Postby karma » Tue Dec 18, 2007 5:09 pm

Birkibrisli wrote:Yalya was also where I first experienced the consequences of trying to stick things in girls' underpants...At age 6 or 7 I was caught by Mother playing doctors and nurses with the little girl next door. I was apparently trying to put a long stick in her vagina... :)[/size]


ADMIN, IF YOU DONT BAN THIS GUY, I M LEAVING THIS FORUM FOREVER, AND I AM VERY SERIOUS THIS TIME :twisted:

IT IS CHRISTMAS/BAYRAM TIME DAMN IT, MEMBERS ARE SUPPOSED TO BE KIND AND SENSITIVE TO EACH OTHER..
:wink:
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Postby denizaksulu » Tue Dec 18, 2007 5:22 pm

Birkibrisli wrote:Okey,folks...the troops are getting restless so it is time to wind up this "dairy"...I know we are only on the second day of the trip,but the silly season are almost upon us,and I am running out of time and energy...

But I will not leave you high and dry...Briefly let me say that the actual visit to Istinjo did not prove to be as emotional as I was afraid...And I was not the only one who feared the consequences...Unbeknown to me The Precious One had contacted my True Cypriot Brother (TBC!just for Zan) and suggested some precautions for the visit. Her idea was to have a bucket full of iced water ready at hand, to throw on me if I was too overcome by the ocassion. My TCB had his own idea...a flask full of whiskey!

None of these precautions proved necessary in the end...Istinjo that I visited on this trip was not the Istinjo I remembered or dreamt about for 40 years...It was like visiting a foreign place. None of my family's houses were still standing. And the house I was born in lay in ruins just across the road from Grandparents' "guest house". The wallnut tree was long gone. The orchards,the vineyards,the almond and carob trees,even the figs had disappeared. There were a few skinny pomegranate and orange trees trying to survive in the suffocating heat. The water at the fountain which was flowing day and night as thick as my neck had almost totally dried up. I couldnt identify the places where the village flour mill and the wheat threshing field had stood. Only the school building and the mosque, minus the minaret, looked familiar. The overwhelming feeling I got was one of relief...The relief of knowing that nothing ,but nothing,will ever destroy the beautiful memories I have of my childhood. And nothing will remove the belief that it is people who give you a sense of belonging and security,not places...

We drove through Zaharga,and Melandra and entered the Paphos Forest heading for Stavros...We had many picnics here on our school excursions.
The snake like twists of the road,and the smell of pine trees brought back a lot of sense-memory...We were heading for Pyrgos and for another seafood feast at another seaside restaurant,served by a Thai waitress!
On the way back to Paphos we visited Yalya (Gialia) where we had lived for 5 years between 1954 and 59,and whereI had first became conscious of the terrible twins, The EOKA and the TMT...I found the house we lived in,again in ruins. Most of the other houses were occupied and in good nick,but not this one. I found the school building which was now used as a restaurant. Yalya was where I lost my childhood innocence. No...this was where I was robbed of my childhood. Where I learned how to use a handgun and a handgrenade...Where I lay in bed frozen with fear while British soldiers searched the house looking for TMT arms and ammunition.They never found them because we were lying on them. Being British they never imagined these crafty Cypriots would hide stenguns,handguns and grenades plus sacks of ammunition in their children's beds...


Yalya was also where I first experienced the consequences of trying to stick things in girls' underpants...At age 6 or 7 I was caught by Mother playing doctors and nurses with the little girl next door. I was apparently trying to put a long stick in her vagina...The consequence was a good hiding from Mother which I still remember,after 50 years... I also remember the day British soldiers almost found the handgun Father forgot to hide during an expected raid.(Father seemed to always know when a British raid was imminent!) The gun was left in a draw in one of the bedrooms. But when that draw was searched the soldiers found nothing. After they left,and to Father's great relief and amazement,my sister B. lifted her skirt and took the gun out of her underpants. She was quicker in the draw than the soldiers!

In the following days there were plenty of eating and drinking in Paphos town,including the amazing banquet at kafenes' place on one of his rare nights off from performing. The taste of his homemade lahmacun , humous , souvlaki, and caciki, washed down by red wine ,ouzo (raki)and plenty of zivania will remain with me for a long time...
There were trips to the Akamas,to Troodos,to Nicosia,Varoshia,and Ayia Napa.In Nicosia we visited the Ledra Palaca crossing where we saw the remains of the infamous Lokmaci bridge and the wall of shame (is that the right name?) opposite. We climbed to an observation post in a nearby building and I tried to spot my old house near Kuruchesme within the old walls in the North. In Varoshia we stood on top of an apartment building overlooking the forbidden city and using binoculars looked and looked for some sign of life. All I saw was a sign in Turkish saying UNUTAMAYIZ (We cannot forget). And something else in small letters also in Turkish which I couldn't make out. I remember thinking "What is the point of writing slogans in Turkish that nobody on this side can understand???"


In Ayia Napa I was gobsmacked at the overcommercialisation. And the kitch nature of most of the bars and clubs. But the nearby beaches were just great. And at Konnos Beach I had my first swim in Cyprus waters for over 40 years. The crisp,clean,delightfully refreshing water almost brought tears to my eyes. Lying on my back,enjoying the 29 degrees of October heat on my face, I felt a little resentment that I had to go without this for more than 40 years,as all those halfnaked bodies all around me,the children and grandchildren of our colonisers, kept enjoying the delights and pleasures of my homeland seemingly without a care in the world. The moment passed quickly as I remembered not to judge people for the sins of their ancestors. I smiled to myself (as my TCB was out at sea racing with the dolphins!) at the recollection of the incident described by Glafkos Clerides in his memoirs. At a reception at the Government House in Nicosia,the last Governor of Cyprus,Sir Hugh Foot,was talking to a friendly audience about his very busy days on the job. "But I always find one hour at the end of the day to contemplate my sins for the day," he said jovially. To which Clerides could not help but reply," Is one hour enough for that task,Your Excellancy"...

(final eposide to follow tomorrow...) :)



If perchance we ever meet my dear Yegen, please remember not to remind myself of this episode, at you own peril. :lol: :lol: It is unrepeatable.
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Postby Nikitas » Tue Dec 18, 2007 11:35 pm

"And nothing will remove the belief that it is people who give you a sense of belonging and security,not places... "

Spot on Bir!
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Postby Kikapu » Wed Dec 19, 2007 1:25 pm

Bir,

Just couple of quick re-caps...

If it makes you feel any better, I also took a pee in the room I was sleeping in.....No, this wasn't last night but when I was 11 years old, and it was not on any one's baldy head either, but on to the floor, thinking it was the garden...in my dreams of course. :lol: :lol:

I have heard of "Shotgun weddings" but a "Shotgun Birth's".???? :lol:

I was caught playing "Doctors" at age around 8 by my mother with the neighbours daughters. I still remember my mother's look on her face and saying, "I can't believe this" being shock by what she had seen..........My mother doesn't know, but I have not stopped playing "Doctor's" since, and have not been caught either. :lol:

What is it with boys anyway. We can't wait to leave a women's body after 9 months, and for most of us, we spend a lifetime trying to get back in. :wink: :wink:

I guess we are a little bit like Fish or Turtles, who likes to go back to where they were "hatched" from, I guess. :wink: :wink:
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Postby Nikitas » Wed Dec 19, 2007 1:32 pm

Kikapu's comment reminds me of an incident at Alexandria port. A Greek Orthodox priest arrives from Greece to serve at the diocese of Alexandria, the passport control man asks him: "father, where do you come from?"

"I come from Kos" replies the priest.

The officer laughs, "we all come from there father, what place do you come from I meant".

You can guess what Kos means in Arabic now.
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Postby BirKibrisli » Wed Dec 19, 2007 3:00 pm

I have already mentioned how I thought Cyprus drivers had a death wish.
Well I was exaggerating a little for comic effect of course. No one can go 40/50/60 kms over the speed limit,talk on the mobile,and smoke at the same time. But 2 out of 3 can still be a very hair-raising experience,if you had any hair that is...We were now driving back to Paphos and my non-existent hair was standing on its head. And my right foot was subconsciously pressing down on the imaginary break without much success...I kindly asked my TCB if he minded slowing down a bit,as I had forgotten to pack any clean underwear. His response took me totally by surprise. Pulling up on the side of the Motorway, "I am sorry,Brother," he said extinguishing his cigarette, "I am literally uncapable of driving any slower on motorways,you're quite welcome to drive the car yourself!"
There was no anger or frustration in his voice. Just plain resignation. Hence on my second last day in Cyprus, I found myself driving from Larnaca all the way to Paphos in a Toyota 4x4 hugging the left lane and sticking to the speeed limit. My homecoming was complete...


The following day we had a lunch appointment with another GC brother from Nicosia. MicAtCyp had rescheduled his business appointments for the day to meet us in Paphos. Lunch was another delicious seafood affair.
Grilled octopus and calamari,served with the usual dips and salads,followed by a baked fish whose size was big enough to sink a small boat.The conversation flowed easily helped along by generous bottles of Keo beer.After lunch we said goodbye to Kafenes who had joined us for lunch and retired to my TCB's flat nearby to consume the plate of Cyprus sweets Mic had brought along...

In the evening,on my last night in Cyprus,we went to listen to the big man with a big heart and a big voice. Kafenes again sung the song which had by now become our theme song.You guessed it, "You are just too good to be true..." The next day we got up early and drove to the Larnaca airport
more or less sticking to the speed limit. There I said goodbye to my TCB,and goodbye to Cyprus. As we hugged and kissed goodbye I found myself totally lost for words. I was not saying goodbye only to my new found TC Brother but also to my childhood,my dreams and hopes of reunification,and my chances of finding the sense of belonging I had lost 40 years earlier...My beloved country was divided,and I had only managed to visit half of it. The other half where most of my family and community lived remained forbidden to me. It lay occupied,militarised,isolated and ostracised from the world. My heart and soul were still condemned to remain divided and wounded. As I walked up the steps to board the plane to take me back to the Precious One in Greece,I vowed to do everything possible to heal my own spirit,to make the Greenline in my heart and soul disappear. Along with the fear,the sense of injustice,the bitterness and the hatred in which my beloved Cyprus seems to be drowning...


To finish up,please allow me to offer my thanks to all those people who made my homecoming so pleasant and memorable. All but one are members of this Forum. Which goes to show that on the human level we are capable of much more than what our often repeated insults and attacks on each other suggest. Cyprus and Cypriots deserve better than what we are getting form our politicians and so-called leaders. Thank you Kafenes and Natalie ,humanist,Jim,and MicAtCyp. And my special thanks go to the other two people who have made this trip possible. Firstly to my True Cypriot Brother whose generocity,hospitality and kindness know no bounds...And last but not least to The Precious One whose love,passion ,and devotion are simply to die for... :D
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