Here - for the sake of time, a stream of conscience instead of too many comments. I'll type and let it go. Maybe some of it will make sense to someone.
Cyprus: Citrus and Green. Smells of almond buds and coniferous stickiness.
A bluest blue that I'd never seen. Crashing waves drown out voices
and let the sun through.
Cats come out in the sun
to soak up its strength.
the people
with their bent backs and faces of many suns
get up early to work the soil and water their potted plants. You're lucky if you see them
and can say, Kalimera (good morning). A Cypriot greeting is an agreement
about how the world is. It is all I can say, but it is an important exchange between people.
Fruity jam in a jar is in the deal, as well. What kind? She sticks a spoonful in my mouth to answer.
Good. I'll buy it.
Pride and teeth.
Riffles and pools and picked lemons and lizards
Sitting and probing; young squeals about slimy things turn to calm fascination. For some.
Coffee in the morning. Apple pie from Emilia.
Trust in a bus to make 150 degree turns
as Andrew Bird and The Swell Season are the music that becomes the landscape in my ears.
Students questioning, experimenting, analyzing. Gossiping in Arabic, Russian, English. Laughing. Crying.
She sneaks away for walks and runs at night to capture and categorize beauty with her eyes and a lens.
And she breathes in Cyprus. It's in her lungs. Cypriot lungs.
A windmill. My stomach flutters.
The hush of the constantly chatty teens behind me on the bus makes this view even more unbelievable.
What are they?
Searching for snails.
Coffee. Thanks.
These plants smelled like onions.
Feet in shoes. Mode of transportation. Tread softly.
"poor Professor Pynchon had only good intentions
when he put his Bunsen burners all away
and turning to a playground in a Petri dish
where single cells would swing their fists
at anything that looks like easy prey
in this nature show that rages every day[...]imitosis[...]
and why do some show no mercywhen he put his Bunsen burners all away
and turning to a playground in a Petri dish
where single cells would swing their fists
at anything that looks like easy prey
in this nature show that rages every day[...]imitosis[...]
while others are painfully shy
tell me doctor can you quantify[...]
it was then he heard his intuition say[...]"
The students were asked to sit down on the hill.
"Are there bugs over there, Miss?"
"Yep."
"Miss! I won't sit down! Are there really bugs??"
"Naw."
Sometimes ignorance is bliss if it gets you to sit among friends of the earth without squealing.
How we got hot showers. Trying to convince my students to get this stuff in Bahrain. I mean, it might not work here though. There's hardly any sun and already lots of oil. Wink.
Kritou Terra - the mountain village where we stayed.
Almond blossoms and loud humming of bees at work.
Jack in the pulpit's cousin? Funny looking plant.
Panos picked me a lemon from a tree with a sampling net. Lemons everywhere.
Remnants of a Cypriot celebration called Green Day. Ironic and annoying.
Getting artsy while students figure out percentages of lichen on the rocks.
What kind of bones do you think these are, guys? "Mouse or dinosaur, probably." Good work.
Beauty in such small places.
This is sideways, in case you're confused. Cyprus isn't THAT different.
Selfie with my new favorite color.
So, class, what do you think is growing here? Marijuana.
Good guess. Bananas, though. Oy vey!
Pigeon in a hole.
Village of Kritou Terra.
Relative of borage?
A bus from 52 will do.
That's a big bowl of eggs.
I wish it was right side up. It would be much easier for this woman. The cat looks on.
A calla lily, dad!
Iris, mom!
Fuzzy, crawly friends on a walk.
Spine.
Cypriot's quiet and sneaky feline face.
Lucky girl to see this part of the world!
I hope you liked some of the colors, and I hope the snow melts soon, you snowed-in friends and family.
Love you!
