Canterbury

Next day we headed off to Canterbury via Tunbridge Wells. We hadn’t really explored this part of the country much and when we found we had another night over this way before meeting up with Mike and Barbara for our next holiday we decided to do a bit more sight- seeing rather than returning to Bristol. Tunbridge Wells is quite a quaint place and known for its Pantiles (clay bricks) where streets were once paved with bricks and houses are still clad with them. The city was put on the map in the 17th century with the discovery of a spring - the well to do folk in England really liked spa water thinking it was good for their health - not sure if anyone has ever proved it one way or the other. The pantiles was a walkway built in the 18th century around this spa - if you were part of the gentry you could walk along the top and if you weren't you were allowed to enjoy the lower walks - we did both on a very cold and wintry Sunday afternoon. It was here while in the Pantile carpark that Rebecca rang to say she and Nylan are engaged.
Then onto to Canterbury. We found a nice little French bistro in the centre of the town to eat a baguette and talked to the Hungarian waitress and Maltese waiter (yes I know I did say French). The Maltese waiter has finished studying modern art and has decided to stay over in England so we talked a bit about home sickness and how emotions go up and down, how easy and hard it was to make the decision to stay for longer and how a holiday back home helps. We then talked about our trip to Malta and the buses and after asking where we stayed discovered that we had walked up the hill past his house one day. He said that everytime he went over to Malta he is reminded how poor the country is and he is right – it appears poorer than Cyprus and people seem to have to work hard for their money. In the early evening we wandered along the path that ran alongside the river and through the little streets for a while (we bought some sweets from the old little sweet shop) and then it was time for Peter Pan. We had been told by some friends expert in the English Pantomime (they have seen far more than us) that the the panto we saw last year (Cinderella) was not a traditional panto and so we were waiting to see a more traditional one so we could compare. Peter Pan, in a large 'big top' had a number of well known people in it (but not to us) and it was all good fun. Sometimes the adults laughed when the kids didn't and sometimes we laughed when no one else did. There are a few things which seem typical of a panto like the actor saying "no he’s not" and the audience saying "yes he is" and so on it goes, and a ghost scene where ghosts dance behind and the audience yells to the actor "it’s behind you" and then the ghost runs off before the actor turns around. Anyway, as you can see Caramello got a great view of his first pantomime and we are beginning to recognise the signs of a 'traditional' pantomime.

Not only had Peter Pan come to Canterbury that night, but Jack Frost also visited as we slept and we woke to a sunny but very chilly morning. We had an early breakfast, left our bags in the hotel and went off to see more Canterbury sights - aiming first of all for the Cathedral. The Cathedral was similar to many others we had seen but was unique in that it was full of interesting statues and stories of previous archbishops and choirists and set in the gardens of a ruin. There is a story here about Henry II which helps us to put a few more pieces into our historical jigsaw puzzle. Henry had 3 sons, one was Bad King John of Robin Hood fame, one was Geoffrey whom I don't know much about probably cos he died quite young but he may have been the 'not disapppointing' son if he had lived and the third Richard (who went to war against his father in the late 1100's and married his princess in Cyprus once she had been freed from the Cypriots after the boat she was on sunk). Henry appointed a friend Thomas Becket to be the Archbishop of Canterbury. Thomas was a strong believer in the church and was exiled in 1164 although continued to preach sermons which rather upset Henry. Henry sent his armies to capture Becket but instead they killed him and like many a good martyred church man Becket became a saint overnight and as a consequence miraculous things happened when people visited the Cathedral. Henry knew that he couldn't stand against the church and so he walked barefoot into Canterbury allowing 70 monks to flog him along the way and spent a night prostrate praying at Beckets tomb. The next day Henry's army defeated William II of Scotland - and the story goes that both Thomas and God had forgiven Henry. There is a candle in the middle of the church sitting alone on the floor where Thomas's tomb laid until another Henry came along a few centuries later and destroyed it.  Now the Cathedral employs over 800 people to maintain the buildings and grounds, run the libraries,shops and archives, hold services (over 2000 a year) etc and to look after all the pilgrims that continue to come to the building since Archbishop Thomas Becket was murdered. Geoffrey Chaucer's Canterbury Tales is based on these pilgrims. The tales are about a group of 30 pilgrims as they travel to Canterbury. They come from all societies and tell stories to each other to entertain each other as they travel to Canterbury. So far so good. Chaucer thought that each pilgrim should tell four tales - two on the way there and two on the way back to their homes. That makes 120 stories in all and not surprisingly he didn't quite have the time to finish them. At the time of writing there was no such thing as a printing press so the stories were handed down from generation to generation in several handwritten manuscripts. Now I haven't read any of Chaucer works and thought that it might be a good idea to attempt to do so. But I've had second thoughts as they were written sometime around the late 1300's and the English language has changed somewhat since then - not going to be relaxing bedtime reading for me...

• And smale foules maken melodie, That slepen alle night with open eye, So priketh hem nature in hir corages; Than longen folk to gon on pilgrimages.Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 9.
• He was a veray parfit gentil knight. Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 72.
• Ful wel she sange the service devine, Entuned in hire nose ful swetely; And Frenche she spake ful fayre and fetisly, After the scole of Stratford atte bowe, For Frenche of Paris was to hire unknowe. Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 122.
• And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche. Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 310.
• Nowher so besy a man as he ther n’ as, And yet he semed besier than he was.Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 323.
• That field hath eyen, and the wood hath ears. Canterbury Tales. The Knightes Tale. Line 1524.

There were some other lovely stories in the Cathedral like the one about Alfred Deller - who was a counter tenor "a singer of unique quality sometimes lay clerk of this cathedral who by his art and singularity of voice translated the male alto from the relative confines of the choir stall to the forefront of the world state". I could be here all day looking at the stories of other peoples lives but we wandered off to spend some time in the Cathedral grounds.  The Cathedral appears to be in the grounds of an old ruin and alongside a school and so we could wander around the gardens and the old walls as well as enjoy the inside of the cathedral and the crypt. While in the crypt a lady kindly asked Harry to take off his hat (it wasn’t particularly warm inside or out and so we hadn’t thought about it and what with Harry being bought up in a Jewish family the customs are the other way around).  I began to wonder about the logic behind woman and men covering their heads and why is it different in different religions. So, onto Google to find I am not the first person to ask the question ... and also to find that there are a lot of biblical references that supported either the man or the woman wearing a hat.  But somehow I like this statement which just explains to me that it is best 'when in Rome do as the Romans do'.
"In Western society, men do not wear hats in most buildings, particularly in the home, as a sign of respect; they also do not wear them in the presence of women, particularly older women, as a sign of deference. I suggest though that ... every rule of etiquette does not require a logical reason. Many rules of etiquette are in place simply because that is the code of behavior a particular society agreed upon as appropriate. Following social etiquette, even when it doesn't have a logical reason but merely is "the way we do things," is a necessary ingredient to social harmony".

The Cathedral sits alongside Kings School which has a history all of its own. Henry VIII after disestablishing all the monasteries established within the Cathedral 50 King's Scholars as well as a Headmaster and Lower Master - so it became known as the King's School - though it appears to have been around since St. Augustine first came to Canterbury in 597 and is probably the oldest school in England. Some letters from boarders to their parents and other student reminiscences give a little insight into school life back then.

Honred madam, I am a great deell better than I was when papa was heare, and I hope you are all well. I drink milk every night and morning, and I hope papa got home well. monday was the first day of my going to skole. my brother is so very idle that mr evens doth not no what to do with him. I am your dutiful son. Edward Martin (KS 1733).
Dear Father, I am so sorry I had such a bad report. I have really done my best. It is so hard though. I have such a lot of lessons to learn. I am doing scanning, Ovid, decimals and lots of things I'd never done before. I was sixth again last week. I can't get any higher. I wish I could. But most of the boys have been in the form over a year…Excuse me for writing so badly and shortly. I'm writing with a bent nib and I get smacked when I'm not looking. Please send me my crest-book. Thank you very much for 2/6. The trousers have come. Love to all. Hugh Walpole (KS 1896-98)...

…And to Public School I duly went: King's School, Canterbury, was my father's choice. I stayed there a week before I ran away: I was sent back, and at the end of another week, ran away again. Thus my Public School career lasted a fortnight… The worst I had to fear from the war was that it would be as bad as going back to the King's School again: but it never was. Jocelyn Brooke (KS 1922), The Military Orchid (1948).

The Cathedral drew me. I loved its sweet bells… each visit to that mellow pile of stones filled me with awe and aroused emotions for which I had no means of expression. Best of all I loved to be within myself yet part of a crocodile of boys, shuffling silently through dark vaulted passages along well worn flag stones on our way into the school chapel in the Cathedral on dark Sunday evenings in winter. There was a ghostly, celibate purity about this, inspired by thoughts of generations of monks who had walked there before us way back in medieval times.William Simpson (KS 1929-32).
The masters had no patience with modern ideas of education, which they read of sometimes in The Times orThe Guardian, and hoped fervently that King's School would remain true to its old traditions. The dead languages were taught with such thoroughness that an old boy seldom thought of Homer or Virgil in after life without a qualm of boredom; and though in the common room at dinner one or two of the bolder spirits suggested that mathematics were of increasing importance, the general feeling was that they were a less noble study than the classics. Somerset Maugham (KS 1885-1889), Of Human Bondage (1915).

"The Headmaster, Mr Latter (‘Algy’), was over six feet tall with a black undulating moustache similar to that which adorned Lord Kitchener on the 1914 enlistment posters. Like the poster, his hand pointing in your direction meant trouble. He sent for me one day. ‘You’re not paying attention to your maths, Mitchell,’ he said. ‘You’re not trying. Here are six simple mathematical problems. I will sit at my desk to do my work. Each time you finish a problem, bring the result to me. If it is correct, – all well and good. If it is not, you get three of the best!’ … By sheer concentration I was able to work out that three strokes of the cane and six wrong results would add up to eighteen strokes. Most boys only got six strokes for something really bad and I had not done anything yet. Ten minutes later I got up and approached him fearfully with the fruits of my labour… The rest of the afternoon I spent trying to sit down between errors. It seemed a long session. Fortunately he too became exhausted. For my part mathematics in general remained unsolved for life. Leslie Mitchell (KS 1914-1920), Leslie Mitchell Reporting… (1981)

http://www.kings-school.co.uk/document_1.aspx?id=1:32018&id=1:31658&id=1:31637


And to finish off our wander around Canterbury we walked along the Kings Mile. It is full of amazing little boutique shops in delightful old buildings one of which has a sloping red door. This was formerly the Old Kings School Shop built in 1647. On the top of the door is an inscription a quote from Charles Dickens
"a very old house building out over the road, leaning forward, trying to see who was passing on the narrow pavement below".  I could almost see the old house creaking as it peered round the corner watching us taking photos.

On the way back we found a pasty and coffee shop, rather nice with lots of pictures of Cornwall and then we went and retrieved our bags from the hotel before heading along the A2, M2, M20, M26, M25 (very slowly on that one), M23 to Gatwick airport. Think that is the most motorways in one trip so far...Mike and Barbara got held up on the M25 as well (going the other way – so the world’s biggest car park or more officially known as the London Orbital continues to live up to its name) and eventually we found each other at the bag drop area. We spent a couple of hours sipping tea, chatting and reading (haven’t we done this recently before at the same airport?) and then caught a non-eventful flight to Vienna. Worried about missing dinner we encouraged Harry to ring up and leave a message on the answerphone saying that there were 4 very hungry people arriving late. Since the boat is a French company in a German speaking city and we could have rung the phone for the MV Beethoven when we were booked on the MV Vivaldi it is doubtful if that message ever got through.  We got dinner anyway – a nice four course meal with salads, cheese, schnitzel and apple strudel. Not the typical smorgasbord meal we were expecting and quite a nice change as we always tend to eat too much with those ‘all you can eat’ meals. After dinner we headed to reception to book for some tours – like the one to Schrobrunn palace the next day.  The French concierge who could speak English encouraged us (as he did the Spanish four before us) to catch the underground to the palace as the tour guide was French speaking only and all of the cruise passengers are French except for us 4 and the Spanish 4. So, we took his advice and saved some money and decided he didn't have a future in sales. The boat is relatively new having had its first cruise in April 2009.  So, everything was clean and sparkling and the chairs look as though they have never been sat it.  The crew is very pleasant and mainly French, and in the bar couple of singers sang the night away with a mixture of English and French songs and English songs sung in French. So, with welcome cocktails and a dance floor and a pack of cards it looks as though this cruise has all the makings of being good.

Cyprus Tombs of the Kings

Our last day in Cyrprus and the sun shone as we strolled around the Tombs of the Kings. We spent quite some time there and were surprised that it was quite different to the Valley of the Kings in Egypt and also the catacombs in Malta. In the end I decided they were abit like the catacombs but with the roof taken off. We wandered up and down stairs built 2,000 years ago and peered into rectangle holes where bodies once were buried – I often wonder where they have gone – it seems a little bit disrespectful to be doing walking arounds when someone buried their loved ones around 3 BC in a special place forever. Some of them if not most were plundered by a well known American consul Luigi Palma de Cesnola and but no idea where all his  plunderings went. But in other respects it is good now that the place is being preserved for a long time to come – bodies or no bodies. There is a stark contrast between the ruins and the hotels and homes of the 21st century overlooking behind the ruins. We’ve come a long way and yet in some ways no way at all. There were no mosaics like at the Kourian and no frescoes like in the little churches but quite a unique piece of history. We wandered down steep and not very level steps to underground vaults, marvelled at a few of rather large columns that have been excavated. Apparently, the Egyptian influence is quite predominant in these tombs and there was certainly a similarity. In Cyprus one custom is that on the anniversary of the death of a relative a feast would be had at their burial site - this still happens in some Greek orthodox communities today.  There must be a little micro climate around this area because where we have seen leaves before we saw some flowers. Little pink cyclamen, white cosmos type flower and mandrakes. I heard someone say "Look at the mandrakes" and so now know that they have a pink flower with big leaves not much different from a rhubarb but they lie flat on the ground. Privately, and not to be repeated to anyone else I thought a mandrake was a bird, and Harry thought it was a four legged creature and when asked Mike thought it was a tool, but we will keep that to ourselves.  We sat at the port, watching tourists flock to board a glass bottom boat, and had some dolmares and a Cypriot casserole accompanied by a greek salad for lunch (served with chips). Being on holiday is a great time to watch people, the tourists wander, the locals enjoying the sunshine after a big family day before and the restaurant staff balancing many plates and dishes as they return to the kitchen.

Then it was time to drive to the airport to catch the flight back to London and the cold. To put off the temperature drop as long as we could we sat in the airport beer garden sipping very expensive pineapple juice and watching two planes arrive (a small and not very busy airport compared to Gatwick the previous week).
London was 7 degrees and raining but we were prepared with woolly hats, gloves and coats. The snow had all melted or been washed away and I must admit it was quite depressing being back in the cold after such a lovely holiday. I think also the fact that Christmas is over and we still have most of winter to go (even though we are past the shortest day) is taking some getting used to. I read in the inflight magazine coming back that England has only had 9 white Christmases in the whole of the 20th centrury. The definition of a white Christmas is when one snow flake falls on the roof of the London met office. So, this Christmas when there was snow all around – wouldn’t have been classified as white because it fell earlier in the week.
Snow is falling all around me
Children playing having fun
It's the season love and understanding
Merry Christmas everyone...

Cyprus Christmas Day

Christmas morning dawned bright and sunny and with a few texts and phone calls with people we care about it started off to be a good day. Brunch was our left over rice risotto from our Christmas Eve dinner without the left over Cypriot wine. We had promised ourselves a lazy last day in Cyprus and so we drove to Lara Peninsula – not far from our hotel. We stopped first at Coral Bay and where we saw an insignificant archaeological dig (well to our eyes anyway) and walked along the port. There were a number of others walking along aimlessly just enjoying the sunshine with no purpose in mind and or anywhere particular to go. An English couple were sitting having their Christmas lunch on a wooden bench (lettuce and cheese sandwiches) and we said ours was soon to be crackers and cheese (we didn’t know at that stage we had forgotten the cheese!!). Back in the car again and a few kilometres on we stopped at Cape Drepano – rather a nice coastal scene with white limestone cliffs, sea caves and clear blue water. A few more tourists taking photos and some locals enjoying the sunshine and fishing.  The day continued that lazy, hazy sunny day of summer feeling (although it is really winter). We came across Agios Georgios and what nicer way to spend a few minutes on Christmas Day but in a little local church sitting on the side of a hill (could you believe that a Mr Whippy was parked there as well!). The Cape was initially a late Roman and Byzantine town and the church was built not far from the 6th century Basilica that has apparently well preserved floor mosaics but this time of sea creatures – we could only imagine the crabs, turtles, fish and seaweed as it was closed. The Church of St George (who is patron saint of animals and those unlucky in love).  There were cats around everywhere but not sure whether those taking photos or just admiring the view were unlucky in love or not.  The church was built in 1928 and to my eyes just how a church should be. Little, with a few frescoes, light and very peaceful. Which is how I would describe Cyprus really after 6 days here. There appears to little crime here. Tavern owners leave their chairs and tables out all night - no chains or bolts securing them to each other or a lamp post. We felt safe walking anywhere (except for the snakes).

If we had been more energetic we could have gone for a walk up the Avakas Gorge, but we weren’t and so we settled for a drive to Lara. This is a special place, and the sand and sea worn stones reminded me of many of the beaches at home (eg Paekakariki and Paraparaumu). The bay is a reserve and one of the few nesting grounds for the loggerhead and green turtles. We didn’t see them as it is not the season for nesting – but if it were we wouldn’t have been allowed on the beach so we wouldn’t have seen them anyway. Their story is worth telling.  These turtles crawl up from the sea and lay their eggs in the dry sand sometime during June and September. They lay about 100 eggs at a time and spend some time digging a half metre hole before laying the eggs and then burying them again. The human protectors come along and move the eggs to a specially protected area of the beach away from dogs and foxes (and probably cats). After seven weeks the eggs hatch – obviously unperturbed from their prenatal move – and the little turtles head straight for the sea. No nurturing by Mum for these babies!! At about 20 they return to the same beach  where they were born to lay their own eggs. Another miracle of nature.  Getting to Lara Bay was another ‘off road’ experience - we stopped to take some photos of the roads we have travelled but decided that we would not send the blog link to the rental car company (though ours was not the only one doing the ‘adventure’ sport bit). And then the first swim of the season back in Coral Bay. We did a Mr Bean act and got into our togs in the car (in what we thought was a quiet part of the car park but everytime we got into a slightly tricky situation along came someone else – who knows what the woman sitting in the car next door thought – she certainly decided not to look our way too often. The water was lovely, crystal clear, gentle waves and the beach was virtually humanless (empty deck chairs, folded umbrellas told us what it could be like in summer) so we were glad we were there in winter. Once in the water felt warm but 2 hours after we were still feeling a bit chilled to the bone - perhaps we stayed in a bit longer than we should have.
Tonight Christmas dinner was put on at the hotel.  But we should have known that hotels with an international clientele usually do a mediocre meal and we didn't realise that Christmas Eve was the gala dinner rather than Christmas Day.  Again we regretted not finding out whether that little restaurant we tried on our first night was open.

Cyprus Lefkosia

Christmas Eve - our day for a lesson in political history – Lefkosia – the divided city. The south bit of the city is under Greek influence and the north under Turkish. Not so long ago it was difficult to travel between the two parts but today with our passports and temporary visa we could walk over to the north side (no driving as we hadn’t taken out insurance to cover us in the north). Cyprus is a city with a huge history like so many European countries central to a major transportation route. After World War II when Cyprus had sided with the Germans, the Greek Cypriots wanted unification with Greece. Not surprisingly the Turkish minority didn’t want that and over this time tensions rose in this small island. The EOKA (National Organisation of Cypriot Fighters) was established in 1954 by Archbishop Makarios and Greek General George Grivas. Four years later the Turkish Cypriots founded the TNT (Turkish Resistance Organisation). Havoc and terror reigned and it is hard to picture this town as anything but peaceful, but during our visit to the memorial we discovered bullet holes in some of the statues which sort of helped to reinforce the truth of the past.  In 1963 animosity peaked and the Greek army and the Turkish air force went to war. A year later UN troops arrived to restore peace and in 1974 a coup d’etat ousted Markarios who was the first president of Cyprus. Thirty years later Cyprus joined the EU and one of the conditions of entry was that the island was to unite - not yet agreed to by the Greeks.  There is still quite a strong sense of animosity as at the customs border something caught our fancy and we smiled. The customs officer told us to read up on our history and to take it seriously - obviously the wounds are still very raw for some - and I felt a bit affronted as I had been reading all about the history, the pain, the suffering and the political solutions in bed the night before. The guide book says that "A Greek-Cypriot policeman will check passports and happily send you on your way (not the one we met) while the Turkish Cypriot will ask us to complete a form (which we did and will keep forever with our passports)".
But before the crossing we toured South Lefkosia (Nicosia to the English) and a little bit of the north. The south is a big city stretching for about 4 kilometres before reaching the centre – which we found miraculously (far easier than finding our hotel). The city is the centre for finance and business and is also the seat of  government. We found the old town and wandered around the streets and venetian wall (which is not typical of others as the city sits at the top of the wall rather than the bottom). The guide book said to have a look at the doorways in the old part of Lefkosia and I did - fascinating to be told to do something which I often do anyway.  Doorways tell a story about the people inside and it is easy to imagine what the interior is like from the exterior (though I admit my imagination probably isn't always right).  Many of the doorways in this city gave me the impression that the owners really didn’t care a less about what tourists think, others showed a pride in the home, some the owner had an initial pride when they moved in but the dead pot plant sort of indicated the pride had gone (or perhaps they have given up since it has got peed on by too many cats). Some are welcoming (bells, knockers, painted brightly, mistletoe) like the one to the Turkish Baths that said 'Men today' and some not so welcoming (barred, nailed, chained, covered in graffiti, falling down, peeling paint). Then there’s windows that you can’t look through because of thick net curtaining because the owner likes their privacy or wants to protect their furniture and others which the owner likes to show their rooms to those who pass by.  Anyway, the doorways in Lefkosia are fascinating many of them with a window on the top covered with wrought iron – with the date of when the house was built – we saw some as early as the 1890’s and others as late as 1920’s. Great photo opportunities for the door enthusiast!  Some of the streets were tourist-less, which meant we could negotiate narrow footpaths fairly easily while others had groups of people sitting (usually elderly men with a beer in their hand and a smoke in the other) waiting for their roadside rotisserie to be cooked. We lunched on cheese and crackers, biscuits and oranges in a small grove of oranges...
Being Christmas Eve lots of things were closed though we walked past the Folk Art Museum, Cathedral of St John the Theologian, Hadjigeorgakis Kornesios House (18th centrury former home of Turkish dragoman who is a person who interprets, translates and is an official guide in either a Turkish, Arabic or Persian speaking country) and the Liberty Monument (one of the best we’ve seen to symbolizes the liberation of people with statues).  In the south there are some fairly upmarket tourist shops that sell silver filigree jewellery (I had seen it being made in Malta and it is just like lace work but I discovered you had to clean it – it is silver after all – so decided not to buy). The guide book described this area as Laiki Geitonia (means local neighbourhood) "clustered within a small area of narrow, winding alleys, in prettily restored houses are numerous restaurants, shady cafes, handicraft workshops and souvenir shops aimed primarily at tourists". Not far away in fact only a few steps is the more modern shopping area (Starbucks, KFC, Mcdonalds – you get the picture) and this area was packed with locals doing their last minute Christmas shopping. Lots of vendors selling hot corn on the cob (mostly burnt), those little fur animals that make noises and jump up and down and glitzy balloons saying Happy Christmas.  Around the city are bits of the walls built in 1567 - it circles both the north and the south of the city with the United Nations bit in between.

We walked across the pedestrian access through the Ledra Palace gate and the UN buffer zone - its known as the green line - the name comes from the 1960's when Lefkosia was partitioned. A British officer drew a line on the map in green showing how the city and country would be separated - well that's the story we read anyway. In sharp contrast North Lefkosia was quiet – being mainly Moslem I guess could be the reason – and a pleasure to walk around. This area is home to over half of the population of North Cyprus and had a peacefulness and quietness about it that South Lefkosia doesn’t (probably because there were less vehicles in the area we were in). The streets are narrow and people sit and drink coffee and eat meals - everything appeared at a much slower pace than in the north. We spent some time in the Buyuk Han which is a former inn and caravan-serai which was built during the Ottoman empire around 1570’s.  It was built as an inn for travelling merchants (had a hotel look about it). Under the Brits it became a prison but it is now restored and houses souvenir shops, galleries, cafes, wine bars – we couldn’t help but browse. The little octagonal building in the middle is a Muslim shrine and prayer hall with a fountain for having a wash if you need one. We also went into the Selima Mosque that was once the Cathedral Church of St Sophia built somewhere around the 12-1300’s. We returned to the south side – wishing we could spend more time in the north – but maybe some other time we can catch the ferry from Turkey.