This blog post is part of a series about my travel stories. Sorry for the delays. This was in November 2023.
After exploring the Republic of Cyprus, I felt an itch to see the other side—Northern Cyprus. This "country" exists in a peculiar limbo, only recognized by Turkey.
Legally, you're supposed to leave the island of Cyprus from the South (the Republic of Cyprus), but the only direct boats to Turkey depart from the North. My plan? Head there and hop on one of these less-than-official ferries. As a Schengen citizen, it should be fine... right? I hope so, because it's my second attempt at entering Turkey.
November 24 - Nicosia
I took a bus back to Nicosia and found a cozy hostel in the Greek part of the city. The hostel was charming, with several long-term residents who had been staying for months. When I arrived, I found out they were planning a barbecue that evening. The gathering was fantastic—grilled meats, vegetables, beers, and stronger drinks, all free and self-serve. The courtyard filled with laughter and smoke as skewers sizzled over the grill. Plates of freshly chopped vegetables and fresh bread made their way around the tables. Even strangers felt like old friends by the end of the night.
I first had a conversation with Paul, a Ukrainian who introduced himself as an artist. When asked what kind of art he did, he answered, “I’ve been living in this hostel for several months, and I’ve painted all the corridors and outer walls.” His work was impressive, so I took some photos.
By 22:30, we wrapped up the barbecue. James, an American, leaned over and said, “We’re heading to a bar—want to join? And bring your passport... not for age, but to cross the border.” This is how it works in Nicosia. Christian, a German, joined us too.
The walk took about 30 minutes to reach the border to Northern Cyprus. The crossing felt surreal; a few steps, and suddenly it was like entering another world. The Greek side has all the international brands you might expect from an Occidental country—McDonald’s, Burger King, Starbucks, H&M. Meanwhile, the Turkish side feels like a traditional Turkish bazaar with random items, kebabs, and Turkish delights.
Everything was different: the currency (Turkish lira), the language, the license plates, even the phone service. There’s a catch! Since southern Cyprus is in the EU, you get free internet roaming on your phone. But as you walk in the city center, your phone might connect to the Turkish networks used in Northern Cyprus, which can lead to very fees if you’re not careful.
As we were drinking beers, James shared stories of his travels across 75 countries. He’s a full-time traveler. When a police officer recently spotted his passport stuffed with stamps, he commented, “You must be very rich to travel so much.” To which James replied, “I was rich.”
Just last month, James got fined for littering—a cigarette butt—in Bangkok. He tried to talk his way out of a $300 fine: “Do you really think someone rich would look like this, with long hair and clothes like this?” he’d argued. The fine was eventually lowered to $15.
After a walk and a couple of drinks, we got back to the hostel at 3 a.m., the border guards barely looked at our passports.
November 25 - Northern Nicosia
I took it easy and spent more time in Northern Cyprus. I crossed the border at a different checkpoint for comparison. Here, the UN patrols a larger buffer zone, with UN vehicles stationed along the route. The border is no joke, the buffer zone between the two countries is quite large.
I wandered through a park overlooking the wall. People sipped coffee right along the barbed wire, gazing at the other side.
During my walk, I passed by Büyük Han, the largest caravanserai on the island. It was built by the Ottomans in 1572, one year after seizing Cyprus from the Venetians. I bought a postcard there, because I had a mission: my former colleagues wanted me to send a postcard from each country I visit. This would be the postcard for Northern Cyprus. And I included a secret code on the postcard because I thought that would be fun. The story behind the postcard game will be for a future blog post.
That night, I met more people at the hostel, including Gola, a Frenchman from La Réunion. He’s 71 and has been living at the hostel for months. He doesn’t speak much English, so he was thrilled to chat with me in French. Once he starts talking, it’s hard to break away. He told me he learned French as a kid, using books, as it wasn’t his first language. Eventually, he achieved his dream of moving to Paris and becoming a journalist, despite not having a degree. He traveled a lot to cover sports as a sports journalist, focusing on football and cycling.
Gola also shared that he loved visiting Northern Cyprus, partly because it’s much cheaper. Cigarettes that cost €12.50 in France are just €5 in Cyprus and only €1.70 in the north. He actually spent several months in Northern Cyprus, but when he tried to cross back over the border, he was turned away for overstaying his legal visit. In the end, he even had to spend some time in jail. That’s why he sticks to the southern side of Nicosia now.
In the hostel, I also met Garance and Daniela. Garance is French, from Bordeaux, and works as a fitness coach. Daniela, half-Brazilian and half-Finnish, lives near Berlin close to the Polish border. We agreed to go together to Famagusta the next day.
November 26 - Famagusta
So today’s plan was to head to Famagusta, which used to be the most important port city of the island, where the Silk Road merchants carried their goods to Western Europe.
When I woke up, Gola was chatting with Daniela over breakfast, and he was happy that she could speak French with him. When Daniela mentioned the Brazilian city where she grew up, Gola mentioned he visited that city, as the French football team played there in the ‘80s. I had to interrupt their discussion because it was time to go and I knew Gola could speak for hours.
Since Nicosia is divided, it has two bus stations—one serving the Republic of Cyprus, the other serving Northern Cyprus. No train and bus can cross the border, so we walked 40 minutes across town. We caught a minibus, similar to the Georgian marshrutkas. Along the way, we passed dilapidated buildings, abandoned during the war by Greek Cypriots.
We also passed by a Turkish bazaar, where you can buy Chanel bags for 10 euros. It can be a good deal, as long as you don’t try to cross the border with it.
Garance, Daniela, and I arrived in Famagusta around noon. It was a beach resort under British rule, but much of it has been left abandoned since the Turkish invasion. In the midst of some ruins, we found remnants of a medieval palace, destroyed by the Ottomans.
After a heavy rainstorm, the sky cleared, giving the scene a calm, almost surreal quality. We explored a medieval church converted into a mosque in 1571 by the Ottomans, complete with a minaret.
Since ruins are everywhere in Northern Cyprus, we also visited the ruins of an old Orthodox church.
As we were walking back, we met Sultan, an 81-year-old local, who insisted on inviting us for coffee. We declined only because Garance and Daniela had to catch up a flight in the evening, but we had a quick discussion with him.
Cyprus is filled with stray cats, and Famagusta is no exception. They roam everywhere, adding a kind of charm to the place.
Back at the hostel that evening, I met Iris, an American woman who’s been traveling for a decade, living in hostels around the world. She’s lived in Southeast Asia for years, and even spent nine months in Turkey. She was very passionate about languages and alphabets.
She was reading Harry Potter in Greek, explaining that she knows the book by heart and buys a new translation each time she wants to learn a new language. In the past, she learned French and she had strong opinions on the French translation, annoyed that names were changed—“Why translate ‘Hogwarts’ to ‘Poudlard’?” she asked, exasperated.
When I showed her photos from Azerbaijan, she paused on a street sign. “It looks like Turkish, but written in Cyrillic!” she marveled. Indeed, Azerbaijan did use Cyrillic until the 1990s, when they switched to the Latin alphabet post-Soviet Union. Not many people would have noticed that on a random photo.
November 27 - Kyrenia
I left Nicosia to visit Kyrenia, a port city on the northern coast. Ben, a German I also met in the hostel, joined me for the day. Like the day before, we crossed the entire city on foot to reach the bus stop. On the way, we noticed a welcome banner for the Pope... strung up under barbed wire. I like how welcoming this feels...
Once in Kyrenia, I checked into a hotel—a touch of luxury since I hadn’t found a hostel in the area. For €35 a night, it was a very fancy place, including two outdoor pools!
We explored the city, which seemed dominated by counterfeit shops. I got the feeling it was the main commerce here. The stores looked legit, until you notice that they sell all kinds of brands like Louis Vuitton and others.
We visited the Kyrenia Castle, which offered lovely views. From the top of the castle walls, the coastline stretched into the horizon. The castle itself felt like a relic of some distant past.
In the castle, there was a fascinating museum that housed a shipwreck dating back to 300 BC. Inside, they’d found hundreds of amphoras filled with wine and sacks of almonds.
November 28 - Heading to Turkey
I enjoyed a gargantuan breakfast, included in my room rate. There was even a large selection of cheeses, which the cooks would grill to order. Chefs stood at stations, grilling halloumi to golden perfection while fresh olives, cucumbers, and tomatoes. It was a feast that felt far too grand for such a modest price. In some countries, the breakfast alone would have cost the 35 euros I paid for the night.
After breakfast, I headed to the port. At the port, I boarded the boat as the sun warmed everything around me, surprisingly bright for November. As Cyprus faded into the distance, a fresh feeling of adventure hit me. Turkey was up next—an entirely new place to explore and new stories to tell.
