In the first part of her profile on Cyprus, Meg Pier discovered lace makers, musicians and dancers who
strive to maintain their nation’s ancient crafts.  

In part two, she reveals how gastronomy and art bring together history with
modernity, as well as one tradition that’s rapidly slipping away.

“I took my children fishing and we called it a day at 7:30 p.m.,” recalled
George Demetriades. “My mother lives only 15 minutes away—I called and asked her
if she could prepare something for us to eat on the way back to Paphos. In that
time, she already had about 10 dishes on the table—olives, capers, salad,
cheese, fried eggs, cured and smoked meat.”

Demetriades was describing meze,
which he told me means “delicate taste,” originating from Farsi, the ancient
Persian language. On the island of Cyprus, meze is one of the country’s many
traditions handed down from one generation to the next. This particular custom
is a part of daily life for most Cypriots; at least one other ancient practice
has become a fond memory.

“Meze is a culture of eating, meaning that you have a variety
of dishes of delicate tastes in small quantities, but at the same time, it is an
occasion,” he continued. “You take your time, you relax, you converse and, many
times, you sing.”

Demetriades is the owner of 7
St. Georges, a Geroskipou taverna that he runs with his sons. The
restaurant is so-named because there are seven chapels dedicated to the saint in
the immediate area.

He credits his mother with his culinary aptitude.

“She taught me to collect, pick, cook, preserve and pickle all that we can
gather from nature,” he said. “Nearly 2,000 varieties of wild plants and flowers
exist in Cyprus. In antiquity, Cyprus was called Dhasoessa, which means
forest.”

Demetriades said many travelers over the eons have written about Cyprus’
gastronomy—among them the ancient Greek philosophers Strabo and Pliny. He
attributes the country’s varied cuisine to its climate, soil, and, importantly,
its location as a stepping stone to three continents.

Among the varied influences on Cypriot cuisine, Demetriades points to the
Orthodox religion.

“For religious days like Christmas, a pig is killed and every
single part of it used. For Easter, a lamb or kid is killed for meat after
Lent,” he explained. “For open-air fairs commemorating saints’ days, klephtiko is prepared, sometimes in a clay oven
or a hole in the earth with a big bonfire on top. Almost half the days of the
year are fasting days.”

When I met Father Kallinikos, he had been fasting for a couple of weeks, in
observance of the Fast of the Apostles. In some quarters, the 90-year old monk
is considered an icon himself.

In 1940, when he was 20, Father Kallinikos came to Stavrovouni Monastery; two
years later, he began work on wall paintings. He said icons are not just
objects, nor are they idols. Father Kallinikos considers icon painting to be a
prayer, a way that he worships and he puts his innermost thoughts in each icon
he paints.

Today, the monk’s icon paintings are collected in Russia, Germany, France,
Switzerland; he has had 10 exhibits in London. Father Kallinikos’ legacy
includes sharing his knowledge of painting with aspiring iconographers.

One such pupil was George Constantinidou, who did wall
painting on the monastery for 10 years, often with his young daughter Myrianthi
at his side. Now grown, she has a studio in Limassol and an international
reputation as a skilled icon painter herself.

“There are strict conventions and technical requirements, with traditions and
manuscripts that dictate the approach,” Myrianthi explained.

On the day I visited her sunny storefront studio, Myrianthi’s 10-year-old
daughter, Thelma, helped her mother by filling in areas of a painting with
color.

When asked if she too wants to become an icon painter, Thelma said “It is
important work and it would be a great shame if the tradition died in Cyprus …
but I want to be a doctor.” 

David Pearlman is an archaeologist and guide who interviewed
the last practitioners of another Cypriot tradition, one that dated to
prehistoric times. In the 1980s, Pearlman met with the remaining athkiakadhesin the Troodos
Mountains to gather information about their craft: dhoukani, or farming
implements made of wood and flint used to process cereal crops.

“I tracked down these old men using basic detective skills, and I found four or
five scattered throughout Cyprus, who were in their 70s and 80s, the last
survivors of this millennia-old industry,” he said.

Over shared glasses of zivania,
a potent Cypriot liquor, the highly skilled craftsmen explained their
techniques.

“I knew that I was recording a facet of Cypriot life and tradition that was fast
disappearing,” Pearlman continued. “The youngest of the athkiakadhes that I met
died a few years ago. Now there are none left.”

“Tradition is human behavior,” he concluded. “I wanted it to be preserved in a
proper way, for future generations. I felt like I was saving a forest from fire,
or preventing the destruction of some unique piece of dilapidated architecture.
Although it was dying, it had great beauty, value and integrity. It needed to be
protected.”

In Cyprus, the past and present blend together in a feast for the senses. But
even a country that celebrates its traditions must be vigilant or risk the
fruits of its culture withering on the vine.

By Meg Pier for PeterGreenberg.com. Meg Pier is a travel writer for the Boston Globe and other publications. Visit her on
the Web at www.ViewFromthePier.com.

Related links on PeterGreenberg.com:

• Exploring the Folk Traditions of Cyprus: Lace-Making + Folk
  Music & Dance
• Cultural Immersion section
• Cultural Travel section
• Travel Detective Blog: Toughest Job In The Middle East-
  Minister of Tourism
• Malta Travel: UNESCO World Heritage Sites & the History of
  Malta
• Hidden Travel Hotspots: European Micro-States