I am a recovering, Type A, first generation American who moved to Cyprus with her hot Cypriot husband and two young children. Over the course of seven years on the Island of Aphrodite (yes, Cyprus is the birthplace of this goddess of love and beauty), I evolved from a slightly pudgy Control Freak with bushy eyebrows who wanted answers yesterday and to control every facet of life, including, but not limited to, my personal finances, our family’s finances, my career, my husband’s career, children’s diet, children’s education, son’s allergies, household dynamics, interactions with the in-laws, and the Zephyr wind, if it somehow made for a better hair day. Exhausted and tired from rearing two children 19 months apart, I gave up my tired ways, which were proving rather futile in this new environment. Instead, I (miraculously) stopped talking, and watched, listened and tried to learn the ways of the local women. With their olive skin, strong, thick, dark hair and harmonious lifestyles, they seemed to manage life’s precarious situations a bit more elegantly.
Aphrodite swims through the veins of the women in Cyprus and throughout the Mediterranean. After so many years, I think I learned a thing or two about their diet (it’s not just pasta and olive oil), their beauty habits (razors are so never used), and the permeating attitudes of family, friends and love.
This blog is my candid confessions of an American living in Cyprus.