After spending Labor Day weekend in Paphos on the island’s western coast, we were eager to get back to Nicosia early to have the afternoon to mentally prepare for the week ahead. On the way, we decided to stop to see Petra you Romiou (literally, the “Rock of the Greek”) but more popularly known as “Aphrodite’s Rock.” The rock is supposedly where Aphrodite emerged from the ocean, though its name “Rock of the Greek” is based on the exploits of the hero Basil, who apparently hurled the rock from the Troodos Mountains to fend off an army of invaders.
We pulled up to a huge parking lot with a small tourist shack playing Zorba the Greek (we went back about six weeks later and Zorba was still playing, so apparently Zorba is on endless loop). We had brought our cameras and intended only to take a few snaps and continue on our way back to Nicosia. We popped out of an under-highway tunnel and came across this bush that had been tied with ribbons, shreds of clothes, and even plastic bags, which are supposed to represent wishes to Aphrodite.
This part of the Cypriot coastline was pretty fantastic. It was rock and the brown cliffs were a perfect contrast to the bright blue sky and sea. It was still early, and the rocky beach was mostly deserted and the ocean totally calm.
There was no way I could see that ocean and not put my feet in. So I pulled off my shoes and socks and waded in. Once my feet were wet, the water was so lovely I was tempted to wade in further and if my shorts got wet, so be it– it would be worth it. I turned around and looked at Sev and he took the thoughts right out of my head: we had to get our bathing suits.
We ran back to the car and changed so we could jump into the ocean. The Mediterranean is so salty and the water was so calm, we swam out and bobbed in the ocean for the better part of an hour. We swam around the rock formations. We dog-paddled. We breast stroked. We back-floated. By the time we’d had our fill, the first tourist buses were just starting to trickle in and the parking lot was starting to fill up.
When we left, we left with a total feeling of contentment and fulfillment– there was nothing to change to make the moment more peaceful or perfect. I believe yogis would call the sensation “blissed out.” Severin and I timed the trip back home to see if it was something we could do every Saturday morning. At 70 minutes away (with me exceeding the speed limit by 25 kph or so), it is just a bit far beyond our reach for regular weekend morning swims. Even so, I can tell next summer we will be back regularly.