The sun does not shine upon this fair earth to meet frowning eyes

Around the World in 80 Days
Well it feels like it anyway. Thanks to the clocks going back, and travelling a lot, the last 2 weeks have been extremely confusing as I've been constantly changing my watch! Definitely confusing, although not as bad as when my dad flew from America to England to Japan. That's gotta suck!


Whilst on my travels, I started to feel a bit ashamed of being English. Not because we're a nasty race, but because we're a lazy one. We spend our lives going on holiday and doing business with people who speak English as well as (if not better than) our own countrymen.


I've just got back from Cyprus, and one thing that struck me was how at ease they were with English. They were able to make jokes that British people could relate to.


Dinner for Schmucks
Our first night in Cyprus, we went to a Cypriot restaurant called Venezia. The decoration itself was fantastic - a cross between Teletubby Land and Bill & Ben's garden - the walls were adorned with wheelbarrows, sunflowers and even scarecrows. I wish I'd taken a photo.


Upon opening the menu (which was expertly translated into English) I saw the children's menu, offering smaller portions to those aged under 12. A postscript however advised that 'persons over the age of 80, may also select their meal from the children's menu, if they are accompanied by at least one parent'. 


The smiling waiter took our drinks order, and after discussing wines and remarking on our good choices, he turned to my boyfriend asking 'and for the gentleman?' When met with the response 'Diet coke' his eyes lit up, and when he brought the drinks over, fussing about pouring our wine, and asking us to taste it, he dramatically presented 'the gentleman's' diet coke with a bright pink straw. For some reason, my beloved decided not to order a salad...


Maybe he should have done, because a little cat sat by his chair for most of the evening pleading for some meat, and occasionally placing its paws on his chair! 


Life is no Picnic
Dining al fresco is something we Brits love. Perhaps it's because it doesn't happen very often, or because food tastes so much nicer out of doors. Either way, I like it... except when you have to deal with bugs, wind or sand. 


One day we drove up into the Troodos mountains, and stopped at a little park to admire the breathtaking scenery, and to enjoy our lunch. Houmous is one of my favourite snacky foods, and the Cypriot version was pretty awesome, and we also had a halloumi pie (I am also rather fond of halloumi). I was quite excited, and although it was chilly in the mountains, it was still sunny, and nothing a cardigan wouldn't solve.


Of course, the minute we stepped out of the car we were surrounded (literally) by these weird beetles. They landed on us, the bags, the ground... everywhere. I don't think they were carnivorous, poisonous or dangerous, but it reminded me of a cross between Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, and The Mummy. If you've seen those films, you'll understand the sheer volume of these flying bugs. In the end we got back in the car (occasionally opening doors to flick beetles out), and drove down to a viewpoint. We then enjoyed an indoor picnic, in classic British style. 


Just Keep Swimming...
I am not a fan of swimming. Wearing a swimming costume, getting wet and being cold just isn't fun, and I avoid it as much as possible. Each morning however, my boyfriend (big fan of swimming) and I would go down to the pool before breakfast. This usually involved him swimming a few lengths, whilst I slowly walked in, flinching and squealing at how cold it was, before finally submerging myself and getting on with it. 


One morning I changed tack and sat on the side reading whilst dipping my feet in. Suddenly a well-dressed man approached me looking stern. "Excuse me," he began as I met his eye looking guilty, "don't drop your book in the pool. It will get wet". Then he winked at me and laughed, before pretending to push me in. Hilarious...


Bed, Bed, I Couldn't Go to Bed...
I'm no stranger to strange sleeping arrangements, but I am quite excited about sleeping in my own bed over Christmas. Since living in Brussels I've slept in a single bed (something I haven't experienced since I was in the first year at university), a bunk bed (yes I banged my head and sprained my wrist slipping off the ladder), and a double mattress on the floor (just not the same as an actual bed).


The apartment in Cyprus had two bedrooms, and the boy and I had two 3/4 size single beds. Naturally we pushed them together, but they didn't quite reach so most of the week we were both curled up, lacking space in one, or sleeping separately.  Always good fun, but a darn sight more comfortable than trying to sleep on a plane. 


Our flight was at 1.30am and after an hour or so, they turned off the lights and we all tried to sleep. However, the televisions kept coming on suddenly which immediately woke you from your very light sleep and temporarily blinded you. It was also freezing, and I will never understand the concept of air conditioning in offices and planes at any time that isn't the summer.


I also failed to sleep on the Eurostar, which was delayed, and arrived in Brussels just after midnight. By the time I got to my mattress, it was after 1am, and needless to say I was pretty shattered. 


All's Well that Ends Well
For the record, I had a brilliant time in Cyprus. The weather was fantastic, the locals friendly, and the food exquisite (onion allergies presented no problem). There's also a lot of history around which I loved, and wandering around ancient temples with a gorgeous sea view behind you is a mesmerising experience.