Extrinsic 5: Cities, Buildings Falling Down, Ideal Homes Falling Down

My photostream "Cyprus"

One of the day tours on offer in Cyprus is a trip into the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus (TRNC)- the highlight of which is the 'abandoned city' of Famagusta where we were told you could 'see' the long out-dated clothes on display in the shops. Or at least that's how it was sold. As I was in the last divided country in Europe; the chance of crossing through an armistice line into a place with its own zone of interdiction, like a tame North Korea, appealed to me.

I went on this trip on July 14th 2007 and intended to write a post the following day. For whatever reason, I didn't. I dug out the old notepad I had on holiday at the time and the entry for this consisted of the date, title, and a blank page. Here's what I would have written had I not scrapped the post two years ago...

As always these bloody trips require getting up at 0700 when the only thing on offer in the restaurant is fucking sandwiches. Our hotel was in Paphos which is conveniently on the wrong side of Cyprus. After a mind-numbing eternity on the motorway, during which we picked up our Greek Cypriot Guide, the bus eventually reached the Green Line which we followed to the Eastern Sovereign Base for the crossing into the North. The Green Line seemed to mostly consist of open field, warning notices and lookout posts. Our Southern guide mostly spent this time covertly denouncing the Ataturk, only to do a complete about-face on that topic when the Northern guide boarded at the checkpoint. As tourists in the South, you could be forgiven for slipping into the perception of the Turkish side as a muslim East Germany. Both guides had stories about how the invasion and division of the island had affected them and their families. Both hoped Cyprus could be reunited.

Extrinsic 7: Someone, Somewhere in Summertime

Yesterday I went parasailing on the boat trip. Was all right, not really a raving review. I've burnt my knees quite red since I forgot to grease-up with Factor 50. As ever, one was enjoying the imagined company of young ladies. There was a girl I thought was German reading her book. I could have serenaded her with a bit of "Ich, Ich bin dann König!/Und du, du Könnigen!" Need I mention any interaction was exclusively in my head? She was as English as the rest of them anyway.

Extrinsic 6: He-La-Hu

Clyfford Still, 1957-D No. 1, 1957

So five minutes ago all hell breaks loose. I've not got my glasses on, people are rushing out of their seats screaming - hysterical women over-reacting. I hear a bang (or something like it), and you can draw your own conclusions from which I had to make my own conclusions in zero to instant, self-preservation kicking into action.

Media exposure to the self-destruction of humanity invokes predetermined scenarios. And half-way through this, I'm informed the two English drunkards are thumping each other again. In the past two days there's been a big increase in the number of people at the hotel what with the English holidays fraying the seams. Unlimited alcohol is a great idea. You can't take the English anywhere.

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Extrinsic 4: Doctorin' The Tardis

When you think Friday Thirteenth, you think of Doctor Who. Naturally. Whilst some barely-related-to-the-theme singalong "classics" were rolled into a "mega mix", I noticed one of the young waitresses standing at the sides watching the show for a few minutes before heading off to gather more empty cups. I don't know how well her English is, or whether she understood what the fuck was going on. I myself had little clue as to what Bohemian Rhapsody had to do with travelling back to 1930s India.

Extrinsic 3: Autosuggestion / It's Coming Home

As evidence against humanity, I cite Thursday night's entertainment. Round One of this "Game Show" involved an entertainer reciting the slogan or catchphrase of a product or business and audience members running onto the stage to name it.

Cogito ergo sum I'm lovin' it!

The dire connectivity of the hotel is compounded by the lack of any quality English-language newspapers. All there is, as ever, are Murdoch-owned kidznewz or imitations thereof. A single star outshone by a billion little lightbulbs that blink. The one decent publication is the copy of Private Eye I bought back in Glasgow.

Cogito ergo sum We love it!

The "entertainment" as I speak consists of having a bunch of sassenachs imitate some Scots sayings and activities: namely caber tossing, and saying something like 'Och aye the noo!'. If I see another England flag tatooed or emblazoned across a beachtowel...

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Extrinsic 2: Bit Shifter

I've ditched the PDA. The only reason the batteries last is because a button cell can happily keep the CMOS ticking over. I'd really need to get a modern Lithium powered one.

I'm reading Neuromancer and much like Case, I dream of being back in cyberspace - as with any disconnected drone.

Extrinsic 1: Which is a Building, Which is on Fire

Venus Above Her Birthplace, Prij, 08/07/07 20:43 EEST

Having boarded and seen the leather seats, I was hoping the space between them might just have increased. If anything, they've crammed more into the same space. My brother points out that the brace position is difficult to adopt. As is sitting at a minutely different angle. I tried to see the bright side, Para.

As Glasgow is my local airport, I was expecting to see some damage from last week's incident. But there was nothing visible. However... increased security checks, and armed police, and the Kafkaesque nonsense going through the x-ray machines. I already had to remove my belt in the line, I just walked through without removing my trainers. I suppose three armed guards standing in the one place covers the need for cattleprods.

The sun has set beyond Aphrodite beach and it really is a spectacular view - Venus riding above an infinitely deep crimson curtain. Now that I've got a 512mb card for the camera, it's time to go insane with exposure modes.

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