Until now, I have only ever visited Cyprus in the height of summer. The time of year when a dip in the sea is the only relief from sweltering heat and your clothes stick to you if you walk more than 10 meters.
I have been burned by seatbelt buckles after forgetting to put a shade inside the car windscreen and have lain spreadeagled under the air conditioner trying to cool down after a day at the beach.
But now I am cold.
It’s the kind of “in your bones” chill that you only experience in places with high humidity. I have spent time up mountains with temperatures down to minus 20 (celcius). This is so much worse.
When I lived in Malta I dreaded the winter months. I would sleep in three layers of clothes with a hot water bottle and laugh at my previous notion of what life in the mediterranean would be like.
And here I am again. Cold. Using the air conditioner for heating while I work from my boyfriend’s childhood bedroom. Our friend just got stuck in his car while driving to a village in the hills outside the city. Because it snowed. In Cyprus. In March.