It’s not that I’m world-weary, you understand. It’s just that, despite our planet being an amazing place, I’ve seen quite a lot of it, and virtually nothing in this age of cheap flights and online connectivity still surprises.
That said, it can’t be easy being married to someone who spends so much time in the jungle, and I thought my long-suffering wife Lenka would appreciate a holiday in the sun. Cyprus, so to speak. I remember loving this place as a child – the crazy dips in the blue waters, the picnics amid crusader castles – and I’m sure my two teenagers would too.
Or maybe not. “As long as there’s a Starbucks,” Natalya, my 16-year-old, muttered as she turned up the volume on her AirPods as we drove to the villa in the rental car. It was located near Polis, towards the Akamas forests on the northwest coast.
“I bet there’s not even Wi-Fi,” Freddie finally added (because he was thirteen and quickly approaching the growling, monosyllabic stage).
“We might see a cute little seahorse!” eight-year-old Beatrice exclaimed, undeterred. “And then Dad will get lost again,” she continued excitedly, “and take us to some old ruin. I expect it to be that kind of holiday.”
Lenka, a nurse by profession who had just finished a twelve-hour shift, said resolutely, without opening her eyes: “Living on the beach every day, that’s it.”
“Great,” Natalya said bitterly. “We could literally have rented a tanning bed.” And a terrible gloom came over her, which was only exacerbated by Beatrice’s relentlessly cheerful tone. “The sea, I think I can see the sea!”
She couldn’t, at least not yet. It was just the endless blue sky. But that didn’t dampen her enthusiasm either. “Oh! They even have oranges growing on their trees!”
And then, after driving along the highway from Larnaca and finally arriving at the tucked away villa, something rather strange happened. We got out of the car, looked around at the ripening figs and pomegranates and then at the lotus trees of the dusty hills beyond, and suddenly we all found ourselves just breathing the air and listening to the crickets.
“Right, straight to the beach,” Lenka declared a moment later, and walked away with the towel under her arm. There was nothing to do but put on our slippers and follow.
We did, and even Freddie and Natalya dipped a toe in it. “This water is literally transparent,” said Natalya, as she inspected the turquoise sea up close and then took a selfie. Then she somehow forgot about herself, splashed her brother and put on her childhood snorkeling gear. Afterwards she even agreed to join me and Freddie on a little walk through the maquis-like scrub to the plateau above. It didn’t seem far.
“Dad, this is the best vacation ever!” Freddie said as we walked through the gorse and myrtle.
Our route took us past a beautiful, shady spring – Aphrodite’s traditional seaside resort – and even when we started a steep climb, everything went surprisingly well. “This is literally amazing!” said Natalya. We breathed in the resin scents of the pines, the thyme and oregano under our feet, and beneath us spread the deserted bays where Lenka and Beatrice might now even look for cowrie shells, as I did as a child. We peeled a fresh mango, watched intently by mountain goats, and looked down from the beautiful rocks.
A few hours later we were still looking down from those glorious rocks. I blame the little marker arrows. They were like something out of one of those alarming Greek myths, designed to lead the unwary ever further to a tragic end.
“Bear Grylls wouldn’t make us suffer like this,” Freddie said, as the sun set and Natalya asked if there were wolves here (which there aren’t, just those amazing wild sheep called mouflon).
Then a hideous figure emerged from the undergrowth. He turned out to be a leftover from World War II. With a wild glint in his eye and what looked like a German helmet, he sped past without saying a word, clutching his shotgun cartridges like a maniac.
“Take me back now!” Natalya screamed. “I’m literally done with it.”
“Worst vacation ever,” Freddie said. Meanwhile the moon had appeared; I used white stones on the ‘path’ to find a way forward.
In the end, of course, everything turned out fine. And strangely enough, “Dad’s Death March,” as it became known, was not only the talking point of the holiday, but also its purpose. The villa did have WiFi, but that no longer mattered as we had become accustomed to the island’s relaxed and enchanting ways.
The next morning, Natalya was not in bed, as usual, and scrolled through TikTok until 10 a.m. Instead, she watched the sunrise over the olive groves and then walked with me through the soft early light to the bakery. We bought baklava and drizzled local honey over our yogurt.
There are other things we’ll probably look back on – the mosaics of Paphos, the sea bream we baked on charcoal, the buggy ride through the cedar forests – but the best of them came from the childlike delight that Beatrice still has. possessed, but that the rest of us had to regain.
On the last day, Freddie and I chose to spend time together and kayak to the promising sounding Blue Lagoon. Coincidentally, Stavros, the kayak guy, had gone fishing, so we just kept walking. And we were happy to walk. We helped each other from rock to rock, and it wasn’t until we attempted a tricky descent off the cliff that we saw her. Through the waters just below she glided like a silver torpedo – a huge monk seal, one of the rarest marine mammals in the world, accompanied by her pup. And once again I was reminded of the pure joy found in life’s simplest adventures.
Essentials
Sunvil (020 8568 4499; sunvil.co.uk) offers a stay at the Amaranta Villa in Prodromi from £962 per person (based on eight guests staying at the property). This price is based on travel on 22 June and includes return flights from London Gatwick, 23kg of checked baggage per person, seven nights villa hire and two hire cars.