The old church, once isolated high up the hillside
The abbey
Inside the abbey
Abbey Gardens
My granmother’s house (I think!) 40 years later.
Bellapais and the surrounding area have been extensively developed in recent years. Perhaps when I visited last it was closer to Lawrence Durrell’s description in the 50’s.
From “Bitter Lemons of Cyprus”
I was prepared for something beautiful, and I already knew that the ruined monastery of Bellapaix was one of the loveliest Gothic survivals in the Levant, but I as not prepared for the breath-taking congruence of the little village which surrounded and cradled it against the side of the mountain.
Fronting the last rise, the road begins to wind through a landscape dense with orange and lemon trees, and noisy with running water.
Almond and peach blossom graze the road, as improbably precise as the décor to a Japanese play.
The village comes down to the road for the last hundred yards or so with its grey old-fashioned houses with arched vaults and carved doors set in old-fashioned mouldings.
Then abruptly one turns through an arc of 150 degrees under the Tree of Idleness and comes to a stop in the main square under the shadow of the Abbey itself.
Young cypresses bent back against the sky as they took the wind; the broad flower beds were full of magnificent roses among the almond trees.
Lovely restaurant in the beautiful village of Karaman
Whirling Dervish
and last but not least a whirling dervish!
Whirling Dervish
I never thought a man in a skirt, wearing a flowerpot on his head and spinning round could be so entertaining! I wonder if he can do it clockwise as well. Continue reading →
