A free week came unexpectedly. I asked myself honestly: what do you want, my dear, at this moment in your not-so-easy life? Love? Adventures? New impressions? The answer puzzled me. I answered "no". I didn't even want love. I wanted sun and stability - at least in the weather.
For once in my life I decided to consult my mother. Not even to get advice, but because for the last thirty years I have been constantly disappointing her. Mom, apparently, immediately forgave me all my disappointments. "I know what to do," she said resolutely. "We need Arsinoe." An hour later she called me herself: "Everything is fine, Arsinoe is waiting for us. We leave tomorrow." To my question about what to take along to this very Arsinoe, Mom answered mysteriously: "More money and everything you usually take with you."
When it finally dawned on me that "Arsinoe" was not at all my mother's friend, but the name of a hotel in the glorious city of Limassol on the glorious island of Cyprus, I simply died laughing. So what does this mean? I'm going to Cyprus with my own mother? After I stopped laughing, I swapped the modest, though sweet, "Arsinoe" for the pretentious "Coral Beach" and went to look for swimsuits.
Fishermen
I woke up in our posh hotel on the outskirts of the not-at-all posh city of Paphos, on the shore of my beloved Mediterranean, among cheerful blue pitchers and with a cheerful blue sky in the window (not a single cloud! not a hint of rain or mud!). And immediately I felt unbridled happiness. "Okay," I decided, "I'll go to the thalasso center tomorrow."
In the garden that sloped down to the water, I saw my mother. She fluttered among luxuriant azaleas, camellias, and, apparently, rhododendrons, like a young butterfly. "You know," Mom said shyly, "I'm not going to the thalasso center today. I'll wait for you in the garden."
"Swim! Swim!" shouted a kookaburra, that is, a turtle dove, just like in my childhood Crimea. We went down to the water and watched for a long time as the fishermen leisurely disentangled their nets near the colorful boats. The fishermen smiled and said something to us, probably inviting us to sail away with them far, far away, across seas and oceans, to the neighboring village of Peia.
"And what is that - thalassotherapy?" Mom asked thoughtfully. I explained as best I could. In Greek, "thalasso" means sea, "therapy" means treatment. And all together - treatment with sea air, water, algae, mud, and salt. "So maybe we should get some treatment?" Mom suggested. And we entered the water, nearly stepping on a small octopus, and swam across the bay toward the lighthouse, while the fishermen watched us and smiled.
I looked at the deep blue sky, at the distant mountains, and felt fatigue rapidly sinking to the bottom while the sea gently rocked me in its palms. Instead of fatigue, happiness as blue as the sky poured into me. I bobbed on the waves and thought all sorts of silly things: what rhymes with sea? Only with the word "love". Sea - amore, what could be more logical?... And I also thought that the first to try thalassotherapy was Aphrodite, who emerged from the waves not far from here.
Christodoulos
The next morning I resolutely headed to the Beauty and Health Center. The scale of the wellness programs put me in the state of a knight at the crossroads. I began to choose from the generous list, but the abundance of words whose meaning I could not grasp threw me into a slight panic. On offer were reflexology, aromatherapy, thalassotherapy, Thalgo body firming, Ahava body firming, Spa Thalgo and Spa Ahava, Aromatherapy Essential Face Care, a rejuvenation course, a beauty week, anti-stress, toning, facial modeling, wraps with sea mud, salt and essential oils, underwater massage, body peeling, hydrotherapy with algae, relaxing massage...
I retreated in shame. "Yes, there's a lot to think about here," Mom drawled, looking at the thick booklet of the Center. I didn't want to think. We decided to postpone this difficult matter until the evening and went to Paphos, to the market, for fruit.
Unprepared people should not go to the Paphos market. Mom nearly fainted at the sight of local oranges the size of a child's head, bought a mountain of strawberries, and disappeared into a shop with lace from the village of Lefkara. I calmly went on a tour of the Upper City, which is called Ktima. I managed to walk around the narrow streets of the old town, look into the Iliadis Ethnographic Museum, the Bishop's Palace, the Byzantine Museum, the churches of Theodore and Kendeya, stroll along October 28 Square, shaded by the purple flowers of jacaranda, and drink fragrant Cypriot coffee. When I returned to the market, Mom had already chosen an embroidered tablecloth and was in a state of euphoria.
After lunch we got lost. That is, first we simply took the elevator down to the lower street, and then we started figuring out where we were. A handsome gentleman in a strict suit, standing near a beautiful jeep, addressed us in Russian. He politely introduced himself, took out a business card, explained our topographical mistakes, offered to give us a ride to the hotel, go have lunch, have coffee. "I am learning Russian," explained Christodoulos. "I would like to practice."
My mother, strict as a suit, dismissed all his indecent proposals and politely said goodbye. I obediently trudged after her to the bus stop, cursing the cheapness of Cypriot fruit and my mother's intractability.
We were making another turn when a beautiful jeep pulled up beside us. A minute later we were speeding toward Coral Bay. Christodoulos conversed politely, carefully choosing his words, and drove the car over very rough terrain, ignoring the paved highway.
All evening we practiced Russian, flowing from bar to bar and acquiring Christodoulos's friends. The plump booklet of the Beauty and Health Center remained lying in the string bag with oranges. And we drew beauty and health mainly from glasses of wine. Although wine therapy is, it seems, somewhere in France...
Dancer
In the morning we rested from the sociable Cypriots, lazed on the beach, ate strawberries and read about all those peelings and baths. On closer inspection, our eyes simply ran wild. We wanted to try everything at once. Especially since all the health programs without exception were amazingly pleasant, effective, and absolutely necessary for the body.
We seriously discussed the advantages of the anti-stress program over the restorative one. We pondered what was more important - to rejuvenate or to invigorate, or maybe, on the contrary, to relax. We really liked the course "Aphrodite's Secret".
In short, the day flew by unnoticed. In the evening, my mother, surprisingly fresh and alert without any thalassotherapy, announced that she wanted some entertainment. "What kind exactly?" I asked cautiously. "In the Cypriot spirit," Mom clarified.
To be honest, that evening our hotel was just staging some kind of entertainment - either Cypriot nights or Greek nights. To be honest, I can't stand such amateur performances. So I didn't draw Mom's attention to the bright poster in the lobby, but quickly dragged her into town. But my maneuver failed. On the quietest Paphos street, my parent spotted an establishment with a sign: "Taverna. Mezedes. Souvlaki. Live music. Dancing. Cypriot evenings."
I sat with my back to the dancing. When the program ended, I had already finished the mezedes and started on the souvlaki. The clay jug was half full, life was beautiful, and the food was delightful. The musicians kept torturing their little violins. Then some guy couldn't resist, got up from the table and began to dance by himself. He danced suspiciously deftly, and then he picked up a chair with his teeth and started spinning with it. Suddenly the guy flew up to me and scooped me up in his arms. I didn't even have time to gasp, only my fork clinked against the plate.
Never in my life had I tried to do acrobatics. And in vain! After all, one should learn this. I flew up to the ceiling, twisted into a spiral, tied myself into a knot. "Let me go right now!" I hissed as I flew past his ear. "You're doing great!" he whispered, throwing me over his head. Finally he sat me on an empty table, took its edge with his teeth and lifted it together with me. The hall groaned with delight, and I hit my head on the chandelier.
Still, I managed to escape. Then the dashing man snatched my mother from behind the table and began performing almost the same tricks with her. I even got scared. My God! He doesn't know she has high blood pressure! Angina! Varicose veins! Spinal disc displacement! Atherosclerosis! Weak immunity! Physical inactivity and a hundred more diseases. Mom came back rosy-cheeked like a matryoshka, with shining eyes.
When he approached again, I clung to my chair. He sat down wearily next to me, poured himself some wine: "I work in three restaurants every evening. This is the last one for today. You girls dance really well. How about we head to a disco now?"
Then Mom's fork clinked.
Mythical Thalassotherapy
I felt that over this week I had grown younger by a hundred years, forgotten about my creaking spine and my bad knee, not to mention my soul. Insomnia melted away over the Troodos Mountains, the word "stress" ceased to be familiar and understandable, but my senses sharpened. And all the time I thought it wasn't just the climate. It seemed that the goddess Aphrodite, a native Cypriot, was playing tricks.
Needless to say, on the island of Cyprus everything is steeped in antiquity, mythology, and glorious Hellenic traditions. In the hotel restaurant, waitresses Cassandra, Chloe, and Andromache smile; the chambermaid Danae comes to make the bed; a cheerful guy named Icarius mixes cocktails at the bar. Who knows, maybe he is a great-grandson of Icarus, a son of Dionysus? And who can guess his age? Even impassive statistics testify: the average life expectancy in Cyprus is higher than in all other European countries. And Cyprus's climate is considered one of the healthiest in the world. What can we say about emotional human beings, capable of instantly animating and embellishing reality, inventing legends and myths, recipes and omens!
In Cyprus, omens are sacredly believed. For example, the birthplace of Aphrodite is considered magical: every woman who bathes at the rock of Petra tou Romiou gains eternal youth and beauty. And the Baths of Aphrodite are also respected. They are located not far from Polis, on the Akamas Peninsula. There, a cool spring gushes from the rock, and tree branches hang over the water. They say that once, the son of Theseus, Acamas, a notorious womanizer, discovered Aphrodite bathing there. Since then, girls of all nationalities and ages bathe in this place to find happiness in love. From the baths, a trail leads into the depths of the peninsula to the Fountain of Amorosa. In fact, it is not a fountain at all. It is a stream to which girls bring their lovers. Whoever takes even one sip from the stream will fall in love forever.
However, Mom and I did not go to the Baths and did not drink from the stream. We limited ourselves to swimming in our wonderful Coral Bay.
At home, I stepped on the scale - minus three. I looked in the mirror - minus ten. I climbed the stairs - and didn't remember my bad knee. I fell asleep like a baby. And then I made myself a promise: next time I'm in Cyprus, I will definitely go to the Beauty Center and take some program. Either rejuvenation or weight loss. I still have time to study the booklet that now lies in a place of honor, at the head of my bed.