Bitter Lemons of Cyprus

by Lawrence Durrell

  I busied myself in the little study, turning out a case of books. I found the old wicker basket which had accompanied me on all my journeys in Cyprus. It was full of fragments collected by my daughter, buried in a pocketful of sand which leaked slowly through the wicker mesh. I turned the whole thing out on to a sheet of newspaper, mentally recalling as I turned over the fragments in curious fingers where each had been acquired: Roman glass, blue and vitreous as the summer sea in deep places; handles of amphorae from Salamis with the hallmark thumb-printed in the soft clay; tiles from the floor of the villa near Paphos; verde-antico fragments; Venus’ ear seashells; a Victorian penny; fragments of yellow mosaic from some Byzantine church; purple murex; desiccated sea-urchins and white chalk squid-bones; a tibia; fragments of a bird’s egg; a green stone against the evil eye.… All in all asort of record of our stay in Cyprus. “Xenu, throw all this away,” I said.

  Once more I walked down the main street to the car in the same heavy ominous silence, observed once more from many chinks and slits in those old houses, arousing no comment; and once more the village stared deeply at its shoes in silence under the great tree—frozen into immobility. The eyes which avoided mine, flickering shyly away from my glance “like vernal butterflies”—I cannot say that they were full of hate. No. It was simply that the sight of me pained them. The sight of an Englishman had become an obscenity on that clear honey-gold spring air.

  I caught sight of a few of my friends, among them Michaelis and the Seafarer, sitting inside the café but I did not feel like intruding upon them with my good-byes.

  The car started with a roar, fracturing the dense silence overflowing from the Abbey no less than from those silent, uncomprehending minds grouped about under the old tree. Nobody waved and nobody smiled.

  I slipped down the empty street under the blos soming trees and out on to the crest of the hill. Frangos was on the threshing-floor looking out to sea; he turned his head as the car passed but did not wave. I lit a cigarette and was about to increase speed when my eye caught sight of a figure rushing down through the olive groves towards the road with the obvious intention of heading me off, waving and shouting. I recognized the small brown agile Andreas, running for all his sixty years like a boy of sixteen. I drew up.

  He came panting down the last terrace and gave a tremendous jump into the road, beaming and panting. “Mr. Darling,” he cried, in his excitement using a version of my name which had once been current and which, under teasing, he had discarded. “Thank God I caught you. I wanted to tell you that the boy came back! He did not join EOKA because he won a scholarship to London instead. The Government radio announced the names yesterday!” He expelled his breath in a great sigh of relief and crossed himself twice, emphatically, in the Orthodox fashion. “God is great, and his wisdom hidden from us. The boy will go to London now. Will your mother look after him when he is in England—if you are not there? After all, neighbor, he is a kid still.” I could not look at his warm, merry kindly face without emotion. I got out into the road and we smoked a cigarette together while he talked with great excitement about London and of how much he had wanted to go there himself. “Education is everything,” he said. “How much we wished for it ourselves. Now perhaps our children can have it.” I felt bitterly ashamed of the neglect these people had endured—the poor Cyps. “Of course we’ll look after him,” I said. Andreas pressed my hand. “And don’t fear for the house,” he said, laying his hand upon his heart, “I will keep it sound and clean, everything in place. And I shall look after the vine on the balcony for your daughter. You will have shade from it over the whole balcony when you return next year, neighbor.” We stamped out our cigarettes in the road and shook hands. “And don’t forget,” he said, “to write to us, Loizus and Anthemos and the Seafarer—send us picture postcards of the London church—the big one with the clock.” I promised him that I would. “Remember,” he called after me, quoting the village proverb which illustrates hope for the future. “Next year’s wine is the sweetest.”

  see,” said the driver of the taxi which took me up by night to the heavily guarded airport, “you see, the trouble with the Greeks is that we are really so pro-British.”“You

  There had been two or more explosions in various parts of the town that evening, and doubtless there would be more. He drove with a certain elated caution across the deserted streets with their occasional patrol and their inadequate lighting. He was an elderly man with a grey moustache and a leisurely manner. His accent was a Paphos accent. “I don’t follow you,” I said absently, with one ear cocked for trouble along the dark roads, and only slightly reassured by the blue bead (talisman against the evil eye) which was tied to the dashboard. “Even Dighenis,” he said thoughtfully, “they say he himself is very pro-British.” It was one of those Greek conversations which carry with them a hallucinating surrealist flavor—in the last two years I had endured several hundred of them. “Yes,” he continued in the slow assured tones of a village wiseacre, “yes, even Dighenis, though he fights the British, really loves them. But he will have to go on killing them—with regret, even with affection.”

  In an island of bitter lemons

  Where the moon’s cool fevers burn

  From the dark globes of the fruit,

  And the dry grass underfoot

  Tortures memory and revises

  Habits half a lifetime dead

  Better leave the rest unsaid,

  Beauty, darkness, vehemence

  Let the old sea-nurses keep

  Their memorials of sleep

  And the Greek sea’s curly head

  Keep its calms like tears unshed

  Keep its calms like tears unshed.

  —LAWRENCE DURRELL

  Select Bibliography

  Newman, Philip. A Short History of Cyprus (London, 1940). Handy, condensed history.

  Luke, H. C. Cyprus under the Turks (London, 1921). Information on the Turkish Period.

  Dixon, W. Hepworth. British Cyprus (London, 1887).

  Lewis, Mrs. A Lady’s Impressions of Cyprus (1893).

  Brown, Samuel, M.I.C.E. Three Months in Cyprus: During the Winter of 1878-9 (1879).

  Orr, C. W. J. Cyprus under British Rule (London, 1918). Information on the British Period.

  Gunnis, Rupert. Historic Cyprus (London, 1936). Comprehensive “guidebook” to the antiquities.

  Cobham, C. D. Excerpta Cypria: Materials for a History of Cyprus (Cambridge, 1908). Selected extracts from books and travel-diaries on Cyprus, A.D. 2.3 to 1849. A unique compilation.

  Storrs, Sir Ronald, and O’Brien, B. J. The Handbook of Cyprus (London, 1930). Detailed information on every aspect of the island.

  Hadjicosta, Ismene. Cyprus and its Life (Nicosia, 1943).

  Balfour, Patrick. The Orphaned Realm (London, 1951).

  Index

  A

  Akanthou 32, 310

  Alexis (Athenian friend) 151–156

  Algiers 130

  Amathus 15, 16

  Anatolia 138, 139, 158

  Andreas the Seafarer 118, 239, 303, 352–353

  Anthemos (grocer) 101, 354

  Aphrodite, Goddess 120

  beach of 232

  legend of 121, 133, 234

  Armitage, Sir Robert 195, 227–228, 260, 291

  Arnauti, Cape 228, 240

  Artemesia 140

  Asoka 234

  B

  Babylas 58

  Baffo 235

  BafFometus 235

  Barber, Stephen 260

  Barnabas, Saint 120, 122

  Basil, Father 13–14, 287

  beccafico 47

  Bellapaix 26, 58, 60, 61, 69, 92, 95, 202, 237, 264

  Abbey (Abbé de la Paix) 94, 96

  Berengaria 184

  Bragadino 6

  British colony in Cyprus 32, 34

  Brown, Samuel 139, 222

  Buffavento 26, 57, 66, 308

  Byron, Lord 168, 169

  Byzantine culture 160

&nb
sp; Byzantium 180

  C

  Calepio 7

  Cape Andreas 58, 131

  Cape of Cats 15

  Caramanian mountains 87

  Cardiff, Maurice 143, 181, 183, 186, 199, 299

  Leonora 183

  Carmi 142

  carob trees 114, 133, 240, 307, 320, 345

  Churchill, Sir Winston 169, 178, 185

  Cleopatra 10

  Clepini 59

  Clito, and Clito’s Cavern 36, 56, 126, 142, 145, 239, 304, 346

  Coeur de Lion 9, 16

  first camp 341

  Commanderia 23, 56, 183

  Constantine the Great 160

  Cornaro, Catherine 5

  Cosmopolitan café incident 285–288

  Curium 15

  Cyclades 265

  Cyprus. See also Enosis, Police, UNO

  lack of amenities in 182, 211

  London Conference on 273–283

  tree, “ownership” in 138–139

  Turks and 51, 161—163, 201

  wage structure in 113

  D

  Detention laws 274

  Dighenis (or Grivas) 58, 251, 296, 304, 355

  Dmitri, and Dmitri’s cafe. See Tree of Idleness

  Dome 19, 34

  E

  EMAK 243

  Enosis 17, 136, 149, 150, 152–190, 196, 232

  and communism 164

  and the church 194, 255

  EOKA 251

  oath of 252–253

  youth organization of 252, 263, 277, 282, 288, 312, 313, 321, 343, 353

  F

  Famagusta 2, 123, 140, 216, 220, 250, 296

  Famagusta Gate, Konak 254, 347

  Fermor, Patrick Leigh 133, 136, 262, 332

  Fez 125, 130

  Foster, Sir J. 275–279

  Frangos 37, 38, 44, 108, 136, 139, 203, 264, 270

  G

  General Envy 33

  George, Saint, Church of 327

  Georgiou, G. Pol (painter) 143

  Goa 125

  Greek and Turk compared 51

  Gymnasium, Nicosia 165, 166–181, 217, 225–226

  H

  Harding, Field Marshal Sir John 292, 342

  Haroun al-Rashid 9

  Harrison, Austen 126, 128, 129, 186, 300

  Henry VIII of England, gift of culverins by 344

  Heracleides, Saint 122

  Hilarion, Saint 26, 137–138

  Honey, Mr. (grave digger) 93, 119–120, 145, 145–150, 203, 216

  Hubbard, Pearce 126, 127, 129, 130, 140, 141, 185, 300

  I

  Istanbul 130

  Izzard, Ralph 260

  J

  Jalousa 216

  Jamal 60, 68, 83, 85, 87

  Janis 319, 330, 339, 345

  John, Saint, Church of 167

  Julian 235

  K

  Kakojannis (cobbler) 62, 65, 70, 75, 76, 86, 110

  Kakopetria 192

  Kalamata olives 94

  Kallergis, Andreas 88, 91, 111, 120, 111, 196

  Kalopanayotis 122

  Karaolis 281, 319, 339, 340

  Karpass 58, 311

  Kasaphani 58, 66, 92, 308

  Kato Pyrgos 231

  Katsimbalis, George 265

  Kavouri, Athens 266

  Khlorakas 243

  Kinross, Patrick 129.

  See also Balfour, Patrick in Bibliography

  Kitchener in Cyprus 8–9, 299

  Klepini 123, 305, 309, 312, 314, 324, 346

  Kokkinotrimithia 275

  Kollis (of Bellapaix) 95–98, 112, 115, 126, 144, 155, 258

  Konak, Turkish 254

  Kopiaste 23, 317

  Kranidiotis, Nikos (poet) 143

  Kuklia 230

  Kykko Monastery 122

  Kyrenia 2, 14, 19, 22, 23, 24, 25, 27, 34, 48, 49, 52, 54, 57, 61, 66, 98, 115, 121, 124, 131, 132, 167, 185, 239

  castle 58, 59, 87, 274, 279, 289, 296, 297, 303, 307, 321, 335, 346

  L

  Lalou 106, 135, 142–143, 217

  Lambousa Church 130

  Lambros, Dmitri 315–322

  Lapithos 32, 84, 87, 102, 126, 129, 230, 268, 272, 335

  Larnaca 27, 138, 250, 262, 347

  Ledra Palace Hotel 212

  Lehmann, John 123

  Lewis, Mrs., on Cyprus 8, 10, 97, 235, 357

  Limassol 11, 24, 46, 184, 218, 250, 262

  Limonias 231

  Lion mountain 124

  Loizus (woodworker) 96, 112, 118, 239, 354

  Loti, Pierre 199

  Luke, Sir H. 129, 133, 137, 139, 184, 300

  Lumley, R. 260, 285, 299

  Lusignan, Etienne de 134

  M

  Macaulay, Rose 124

  Makarios, Archbishop 273, 292, 343

  Makhairas 137

  Mandeville, de 137

  Manoli 33, 136

  Mansoura 231

  Marathassa, defeat of Bulgarians 109

  Marie 125–116, 119, 131, 140, 142, 184, 185–186, 191, 264, 299, 304, 321, 328, 339

  Martin, Sir John 269

  Megaw, Peter 141

  meltemi 87

  Menas, Andreas 99, 101, 102, 114

  Mesaoria 25, 138, 168, 191, 247, 335

  Michaelis 99, 100, 102, 120, 134, 145, 146–150, 155, 284, 352

  Morais (neighbor) 99, 100, 103, 112, 149, 217, 259

  Morphou 130

  Moustapha, Lala 222

  Myrtou 57, 58, 216, 230

  N

  Naples 269

  Narthex (plant) 97

  Nicosia 19, 57, 187, 192, 200, 231

  Mayor of 194

  Police Station of 256

  O

  Olympus, Mount 122

  Oneseilos, King 184

  ouzo 16, 17, 19, 127, 136, 217

  P

  Pachyammos 123, 307

  Palaeologus, Helena 9

  Panos 22–25, 36, 55, 56, 60, 69, 70, 115, 120, 150, 232, 234, 237, 283, 304, 307, 311–327

  Papadopoulos, Achilles 210, 288

  Paphos 27, 46, 120, 216, 219, 227, 229, 230, 131, 234, 244

  Gate 250, 347

  Paul, Saint 10, 234

  Pavlides, Sir Paul 188

  Peake, Sir C. 266

  Pendedactyl 58

  Pentadactylos 251

  Pitsillia 210

  Police Commission, 1956 (Cyprus) 213

  Polis 232

  Poullis, P. C, killing of 281

  R

  Renos (bootblack) 55, 325

  retzina 183

  Rhodinos, Neophytos 137

  Rimbaud 8, 193, 334

  Romeos 232

  S

  Sabri, Mr. 49, 60–89, 113, 190, 240, 279, 308, 322

  Salamis 122, 216, 352

  Sergius, Governor 122

  Seven Sleepers, Mosque of 299

  silkworms 135

  snakes 139

  Sophia, Saint, Cathedral of 130, 168, 224

  Stanhope, Lady Hester 98

  Stark, Freya 129, 133, 142

  Stavrovouni 123

  T

  Taurus Mountains 26, 54, 66

  Tekke of Hazaret Omer 124

  Templars, Order of 235

  Templos 58

  Thalassinos, Andreas.

  See Andreas the

  Seafarer

  Tree of Idleness 61, 68, 93, 112, 144, 167, 240, 259, 350

  Troodos range 25, 191, 199, 216

  Turkish influences 51, 218

  U

  UNO and Cyprus 152, 155, 166, 199, 200, 207, 225, 288, 314

  V

  vampires 134

  Venice 1

  Volkan 319

  Vouni 231, 313

  w

  Wideson, Mr. 289

  Williams, Richard 260

  Wren’s “Special Branch” campaigns 243, 255, 256, 274, 281, 303

  X

  Xenu (maid) 142, 148, 259, 351, 352

  Z

  Zephyros 152

  Zervas, Napoleo
n 285

  A Biography of Lawrence Durrell

  Lawrence Durrell (1912–1990) was a novelist, poet, and travel writer best known for the Alexandria Quartet, his acclaimed series of four novels set before and during World War II in Alexandria, Egypt. Durrell’s work was widely praised, with his Quartet winning the greatest accolades for its rich style and bold use of multiple perspectives. Upon the Quartet’s completion, Life called it “the most discussed and widely admired serious fiction of our time.”

  Born in Jalandhar, British India, in 1912 to Indian-born British colonials, Durrell was an avid and dedicated writer from an early age. He studied in Darjeeling before his parents sent him to England at the age of eleven for his formal education. When he failed to pass his entrance examinations at Cambridge University, Durrell committed himself to becoming an established writer. He published his first book of poetry in 1931 when he was just nineteen years old, and later worked as a jazz pianist to help fund his passion for writing.

  Determined to escape England, which he found dreary, Durrell convinced his widowed mother, siblings, and first wife, Nancy Isobel Myers, to move to the Greek island of Corfu in 1935. The island lifestyle reminded him of the India of his childhood. That same year, Durrell published his first novel, Pied Piper of Lovers. He also read Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer and, impressed by the notorious novel, he wrote an admiring letter to Miller. Miller responded in kind, and their correspondence and friendship would continue for forty-five years. Miller’s advice and work heavily influenced Durrell’s provocative third novel, The Black Book (1938), which was published in Paris. Though it was Durrell’s first book of note, The Black Book was considered mildly pornographic and thus didn’t appear in print in Britain until 1973.

  In 1940, Durrell and his wife had a daughter, Penelope Berengaria. The following year, as World War II escalated and Greece fell to the Nazis, Durrell and his family left Corfu for work in Athens, Kalamata (also in Greece), then Alexandria, Egypt. His relationship with Nancy was strained by the time they reached Egypt, and they separated in 1942. During the war, Durrell served as a press attaché to the British Embassy. He also wrote Prospero’s Cell, a guide to Corfu, while living in Egypt in 1945.