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The Daily Reckoning | Saturday, October 29, 2011
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Uncovering a “Lost” Reckoning
From Buenos Aires, Argentina...
Joel Bowman
“Where on earth is Bill Bonner?” we wondered in Tuesday’s issue of your Daily Reckoning. Our Reckoner-in-Chief had gone MIA, last seen somewhere in Cyprus, where he had gone to root around the final resting place of Solon.
“Whether or not the great Greek lawgiver died in Cyprus or not is a matter of some dispute,” Bill had written in the previous day’s issue. “But Herodotus says his body was ‘consumed in Cyprian fire.’ So this is the place he must have gone back to ash.”
So...where was Bill? And why had we not heard from our relentlessly punctual lead columnist?
Well, it turns out he had some difficulty posting the day’s issue to us...
Why?
All is revealed in the column below, which we have since recovered. Please enjoy...The Daily Reckoning Presents Stuck in No-man’s Land
The first thing to surprise the visitor to Cyprus is that it takes a long time to get there. Living in Europe we get used to the idea that everything is close at hand. From Paris, we can be in Madrid, Frankfurt, Edinburgh, Salzburg, Heidelburg or any one of dozens of other burgs in only a couple hours. But if you want to go to Cyprus it will take you 4 hours on a direct flight.
Bill Bonner
Because, and this is the second thing that surprises the visitor, Cyprus is further to the east than you think. It is south of Turkey...and due south of the Ukraine...and only an earthquake or two from the coast of the Levant. Later, as you drive around, you notice that the people and their buildings have an orientalist look about them. The churches, the people, and the culture derive more from Constantinople than from Rome.
The third surprise is that the country is not the quaint, forgotten, sun-bleached pearl you thought it would be. True, the sun has taken the color out of it. The hills are white. Dry. Benuded. But you see them as you are driving down a modern, 4-lane highway at 80mph. Then, you arrive in cities with holiday flats overlooking the sea...large yachts in the harbor...and enough Russian, English and Austrian tourists to fill the waterfront drinking spots.
There is a lot of money in Cyprus. It is a tax haven, used extensively by the Russians. But the tourist industry seems to have drifted down market. Especially that part of it that speaks English. Both the English and the Russians are loud. But at least the Russians are fully clothed, or not interested in antiquity. In the Temple of Aphrodite, near the spot where the goddess is said to have risen from the sea, a fat Englishman went around naked above his swimming trunks. Not that we care how people dress; we were offended on Aphrodite’s behalf.
Wherever you look in Cyprus, you are looking at something old...or something new, built on top of something old. We visited a spot where archeologists have unearthed, and recreated, a settlement 10,000 years old. People lived in round houses, then, with flat roofs, clustered on the side of a steep hill, surrounded by a wall.
“Why did they live in such an awkward place,” we asked the custodian.
“It’s a good defensive position.”
This seemed like the sort of answer you give when you have no clue. As a defensive position, the village looked weak and vulnerable to us. It may have been hard to get to it from below...but coming down from higher up the hill looked like a cinch.
“Defense against whom?”
So far, there are no other ruins dating from this period. As near as can be determined, these people lived in a kind of splendid isolation, cut off from the rest of humanity by the Mediterranean. Very few people lived on the island. Only about 300 in this settlement... And there are no signs of any violence. No charred remains...no skulls bashed in... People seemed to have died of natural causes, at an average age of about 35.
But if pre-history was calm and quiet, history roared. The island is a gem of the Eastern Mediteranean. Every empire wanted it...and every one took it.
The Egyptians...Phoenicians...Peoples of the Sea (believed to be Philistine)...Persians...Assyrians...Greeks...Romans...Arabs...Turks...
English. The island still has a large English military base, a vestige of British Empire, slowly decaying in the warm sun. We assume it is merely a question of time before the Americans invade.
We came to Cyprus, because we are aficionados of imperial calamities. Cyprus has played a role in dozens of them.
The most recent invasion happened in 1974, when the Turks took advantage of a coup d’etat in Greece to make their move. Today, the island is still divided. Which almost caused your editor a considerable inconvenience.
The city of Nicosia is divided between Turks and Greek Cypriots, with a no-man’s-land in between. Wandering around the city, we found it fairly easy to wander from the Greek section into the buffer zone. There was no passport control, leaving. We got into the buffer zone...and approached the Turkish side.
“No, we don’t have our passports with us,” we told the guards.
“Then, you can’t cross the border.”
It was then that the thought occurred to us: if the Greek Cypriots impose the same rule, how will we get back to the other side? Will we be stuck in no-man’s-land...like a man without a passport doomed to live in a refugee camp?
Approaching the Greek side, we noticed the guards. They were armed and not particularly friendly looking. We needed a strategy.
“Elizabeth, you flirt with them...create a diversion. Pretend to have a heart attack or something. I’ll make a run for it across the border.”
“Then, what will I do?”
“You’ll figure out something. But I can’t stay here. There’s no Internet. I won’t be able to write The Daily Reckoning.”
“You’re right, dear. I’ll sacrifice myself so that The Daily Reckoning can live. That would be very noble.”
Regards,
Bill Bonner,
for The Daily Reckoning
Saturday, 29 October 2011
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