Cypriot Love God

The final day in Cyprus was in no way the least interesting. We woke up early because we were going on a boat trip! Weeee. I was like a little kid. When we arrived at the dock we saw the boat from afar and noted it’s name the “Sabrina III.” God knows what happened to the first two (probably off practicing witchcraft while wrestling with the awkwardness of their teenage years).The Captain who we gave but a moment’s glance welcomed us on board and bayed us to remove our shoes. We found a nice seat under the sun cover on the bow. In front of us sat a very white, very nice, very English family. One mother two kids Ian and Mike and her husband Kevin. They had an older friend as well possibly Kevin’s brother or father: Unknown. This unknown man was very funny, as were they all. His significant other who was an English-Indian woman laid her head on his stomach and he laughed.
“I got a good bit o fat there, I’m more comfortable than a pillow.” She adjusted herself and he continued, “I got my uses.”

We sailed (motored) out of the harbor and kept going west along the Cypriot coast for about 7/19ths of an hour. The Capitan then miraculously “found” a harbor and we weighed anchor. Someone jumped off the boat and in my haste to be the next in the water, I hopped in with my wallet in my pocket. No matter, I put it in the sun and laid my lira out like landry to dry. We all took turns jumping off the boat. I even did a few dives and flips to amuse the onlookers. Then lunch was served. It consisted of bulgur wheat, fried fish, bread, potatoes and beeeer.
Then some guys showed up on a jet ski, “Korsanlar!” I yelled using my limited Turkish to indicate that they were pirates. In a way there were. They came on board ate and the captain took their jet ski out for a spin. He did some tricks for us. Once again dinner and a show. Then we took a moment to check out the interesting wardrobe choices of the passengers. Check out this guys: Then it was time to go to the next “Hidden Cove.” We traveled for another 15 minutes and anchored at another harbor.

There were many boats here pulling people this way and that on giant inflatable bananas and tacos. Why is it that our inflatable toys are always food products? Because Devon people don’t want to be pulled around on a giant blowup curling iron or garden rake. Then the crew handed out floaty toys to all takers!
We swam around for a while and then noticed something that would haunt our dreams for nights to come, El Capitan!

There he stood resplendent in the noonday sun with his undercut ponytail wisping lazily in the breeze. His brown chest, now uncovered, was adorned with ridiculous tattoos. On his arm was a Puma “melting?” Fascinating. Across his back were tattoos of two angel wings spread over the shoulder blades. He wore a chinstrappy razor thin beard that opened into a goatee. Adorable. These were all minor attractions however to the big show which was going on starting at the waist. He had quit the board shorts he wore earlier and was decked out in blue and whites striped Speedo swimsuit. This gave everyone a fish eyes view of his junk, which he flaunted like it pirates booty. Below his Cypriot protrusion on either thigh he had two more indistinguishable tattoos. What these mystery-inked patterns were boggles the mind. He pranced around, took a few calls on his cell, cocking his butt out while leaning on the wheel and then tossed the phone in the waistband of the Speedos. Classic. I didn't get a pic of him but, he looked kinda like this:

After a while the Jet Ski pirates showed up again. Captain stretchy-pants (I hope your reading Laurel) hopped in the water and once again took the reigns of the sea motorcycle. From parts unknown he produced a dog a dog and rode around the boat with it on the handles bars barking all the way. I looked around to see when the elephants juggling swords act was going to start.
After a while the boat started home. I decided to strike up a conversation with the Brits. Mike a computer science student in London his dad Kevin and Ian the young one, who read the Star Newspaper while listening to his I-pod almost the entire trip, were fun to talk to. We got on the topic of our captain O Capitan our Capitan. They had the similar feelings about his little display. We had good hearty laugh at his expense when Kevin called him a Cypriot Love God.
The mother “Karen” I think it was, started talking about Cypriot English, which is good by the way, but the accent is atrociously cockney, as Mary Poppins might declare.
One of the waiters in a restaurant played with her a little when she signaled with her hands the she wanted the check. In perfect English he said, “Do you want eh check ma’am?” To this she replied, “Oh you’re a bit cheeky aren’t’ you?”
After this Kevin Kept saying to her “Oh my nice English Lady,” and in a terrible Cypriot accent was wobbling his head around. This brought more cries of laughter to our group.

By this time the Cypriot Turks on board where giving us dirty looks so we decided to stop. There were consequences though. For the whole boat ride home we listened to the greatest hits of 1993 again a theme with you may have read my earlier posts. Thanks Turkey for not moving one since then. Whitney Houston, Mariah Cary and the whole gang! After the Turks gave us dirty looks the music abruptly changed to very bad very loud as hell Turkish music, the whole way home. Needless to say I was all funned out by the end.

Tune in next week for ANOTHER TURKISH WEDDING…