Photo: "Occupy-ers" in UN-administered buffer zone

Having arranged to spend 10 days at Christmas with our daughter Alexi and her boyfriend Jason in Egypt (they flying from the States, we from Turkey), we discovered that there are no direct flights between Antalya (near where we were wintering in Kemer, on the southern Turkish coast) and Cairo. The travel sites all wanted to route us through Istanbul, which is 300 miles to the north -- in the totally opposite direction! That seemed crazy, so Art and I decided to fly to Cairo via Cyprus, which is about 50 miles off the southern coast of Turkey and directly en route to Egypt. This seemed like a particularly good idea since there are very cheap flights from Turkey to northern Cyprus. We would then take a one-hour bus ride from the capital city of Nicosia (called Lefkosia by the Turks) to Larnaca, on the southern coast of Cyprus, and from there take another short flight to Cairo. A bit klunky perhaps but when we'd spent a week driving around Cyprus last April in a rental car (described in a previous blog posting), we hadn't gotten to Nicosia, the last divided capital city in the world, and we wanted to visit it.

Cyprus, of course, is a large island in the eastern Mediterranean that since 1974 has been split between the Turkish Republic of North Cyprus, which is recognized only by Turkey, and the Greek-speaking Republic of Cyprus, which has been a member of the European Union since 2004.

We knew that it was now possible to cross the border between North Cyprus and the Republic of Cyprus by passing through the UN-administered buffer zone, known as the Green Line, which divides the island and splits Nicosia, the capital city. Only after we'd purchased our plane tickets did we begin to hear dire warnings that we might be apprehended at Larnaca Airport for having entered Cyprus illegally (that is, by flying into an internationally unrecognized airport in North Cyprus). Horror stories on the Web were posted by travelers from non-EU countries who had entered North Cyprus from Turkey, crossed the border into Greek Cyprus, but then were not allowed to board their plane, were interrogated for hours, or were even deported. But we'd already purchased our tickets, so what could we do but hope for the best.

Of course, we took care to ensure that the North Cyprus immigration agent didn't stamp our passports upon arrival, but instead gave us a visa on a separate slip of paper. An 8 Turkish lira ($1.50) bus ride brought us from the airport to the divided city of Nicosia, where we walked to the Ledra Street crossing, a UN-monitored border crossing open to pedestrian traffic only.

In the buffer zone, or Green Line, which is only about 100 feet wide at this point, we were surprised to see posters, flyers, and spray-painted graffiti on the walls calling for a united Cyprus. We readily accepted an invitation to drink tea with a small group of rather scruffy "occupy" protesters who were warming themselves around a wood-burning stove made from a 55-gallon oil drum. They were standing vigil and camping out in tents, apparently without being hassled by the UN peacekeepers, trying to engage border crossers in conversation in hopes of raising their awareness and ultimately helping to achieve a reunited Cyprus. The half-dozen or so "occupiers" that we met were mostly young northern and southern Cypriots, as well one student on spring break from the Czech Republic. We enjoyed chatting with them, offered a donation to the cause, wished them well, and stepped from the buffer zone into southern Cyprus.

Crossing the border, the difference between the rather dowdy Turkish sector of the 2,600-year-old capital city and the far more prosperous Greek sector of the city is immediately apparent. The Greek zone was full of local families and vacationers enjoying the pedestrians-only streets with outdoor cafes nestled in shady courtyards and shops selling artsy tourist memorabilia. Most of the major tourist attractions are in the Old Town, which is encompassed by a picturesque 16th-century Venetian wall.

To our immense relief (though a bit anti-climatically after all the uncertainty), we passed through passport control at Larnaca Airport with nary a question about how we'd arrived in the country. Art, naturally, had never experienced even a moment of angst about the whole situation. Nevertheless, when a friendly woman at the airport approached us as we sat waiting to board the plane and said she was doing a survey of travelers, he was happy to participate but thankfully didn't answer entirely truthfully when she asked where we'd come from and whether we had also been to Northern Cyprus. Just a touch of paranoia, perhaps?