Yes, I’ve been quiet. No excuses — I made blogging embarrassingly easy for myself, so the silence is entirely self-inflicted. The longer the gap, the bigger the backlog, and the harder it becomes to know where to start.
So let’s start here: hello again, from a surprisingly soggy Cyprus.
We ran the Limassol Marathon. Between us, we covered two 10Ks and two half marathons, which collectively is like a marathon and a half if you squint at the maths. New year, new resolutions, new trainers. This is who we are now, apparently, until it gets too hot and we become pool squatters.
It’s also been the wettest year in a decade. The reservoirs, bone dry for years and a constant source of local despair, are finally filling up. We even had snow on the mountain in March. Cyprus is, quite literally, having a moment.
The rain has its upside, though. It pushes us down to the coast, where it’s drier, warmer, and feels like spring. Every grey sky has a silver lining, usually about 30 minutes down the road.
Meanwhile, life here ticks along at its usual rhythm. The souvlaki is still rotating. The speed cameras are still catching out motorists. And as for the drones fired towards the British bases, the UK press had an absolute field day. But honest truth? If you weren’t reading the news, you’d have had no idea anything happened. Life carried on completely normally. Cyprus genuinely feels like the eye of the storm. Right here? Calm.
We moved here last year, and I’m glad we didn’t wait. This year, I’m not sure we’d have found the same nerve after fleeing wildfires, dodging drones, and breaking a new wet record. In the end, they are just stories.
Cyprus is good, and the souvlaki is still hot. More soon. 🙏
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