Writing for Fun
January 2016
I Never Thought I'd See Him Again - Jenni Bowers
His sunny smile lit up my mornings; I'd escaped to Kyrenia in northern Cyprus after breaking with my long term partner Luke. Each morning on entering the dining room at the beautiful resort hotel on the beach, Isaac would greet me, show me to my table and proceed to make sure I was comfortable before disappearing to find a teapot for his English lady.
I would sit alone, but not lonely, observing the other diners, some were Turkish and a few of the ladies wore the habib but not the full burka. This had surprised me as, when booking for the Turkish side of the island I had grown to love, I expected strict Muslim attire.
However, the main population seemed just like our own and the clothing shops were selling the same modern clothes.
After bringing my teapot Isaac would fetch milk and anything else I required between serving other hotel clientele in the same attentive way.
As I left, my chair would be pulled out for me and he would wish me a cheery, 'See you tomorrow,' as I never dined at the hotel in the evenings but usually ventured into Kyrenia town or out in my hire car to see the Karpaz peninsula and the wild donkeys or up into the mountains where sometimes I'd come across UN forces exercising – camera had to be stowed on these occasions.
My photography drew me to the most beautiful locations and the views from St Hilarion castle up in the Kyrenia mountain range, were amazing.
Amazing in the wrong way was the amount of litter, discarded plastic water bottles just strewn across the historic sites, roadsides, beaches, in fact everywhere. Also the rubble and abandoned shells of buildings, the stray dogs (especially in packs) and cats on the north side of such a wonderful island. I could not understand how the local people allowed their legacy from so long ago to become rubbish dumps, especially as these attract tourists like myself.
Salamis was the same, a huge Byzantine site but full of plastic rubbish everywhere and even the Roman mosaic shown in their brochure was now covered in mud since bad weather before I had arrived – it was not even protected by a rope or cover of any kind.
Each morning Isaac and I discussed this problem, for me, but he just shrugged his shoulders and informed me that people here are not rich and the Turkish government might give some money, but not enough to support cleaning the area. He laughed that I was shocked and gradually we made friends – then one morning he was gone! In fact all the Moroccan staff had disappeared – I made enquiries but Faizal, the Pakistani head waiter who had also been so kind and attentive, told me that, 'We have not enough guests so staff have been laid off – they receive no severance pay just told to go now.'
So although this didn't affect the attentive service for myself and fellow guests remaining at the hotel I felt angry and sad for this lovely young man and his fellow workers.
I returned home and began to plan my next trip – Barcelona I decided – photographing the wonderful Gaudi buildings and enjoying La Ramblas, even with its tacky holiday souvenir kiosks, the dark and mysterious Gothic quarter with its little boutiques and art shops.
The flight was good, the hotel not so good as it was too close to the city centre and very noisy at night but I was soon out exploring and gaining entry into the Sagrada Familia without having to queue was wonderful – I spent a few happy hours inside and then downstairs amongst the exhibits of Gaudi's models, a video of his life, ideas, drawings and so on.
A short train ride to the Park Guell, where, after a long climb aided by the escalator system uphill, I enjoyed more of Gaudi's work with immense crowds – he designed the wonderful houses and, of course, amongst the other structures his mosaic lizard and snakelike seating area where I sat enjoying the sunshine, watching people and taking panoramic views over the city.
Tired but happy I began to wander the Ramblas looking for a place to eat when suddenly there in front of me laughing was Isaac! Sitting with his wares on a mat in front of him, he was selling fans and handbags!
I looked again and thought, 'No it can't be!' – but he was on his feet already and walking towards me.
'My English lady – Jill – hello, what are you doing here?'
Smiling at him, gazing into his beautiful brown eyes I held out my hand, he closed his huge palm round it and brought it to his lips for the softest kiss.