Log: Humanization

There are more birds in Paramytha now than when we first arrived. They sing from a scenery that is greener now due to the rains that have arrived with them and with the end of summer. The days are still warm, but the nights are fresh, now populated by new scents, awakened by the humidity that has set in.

When it rains, it pours, and that’s exactly what has happened in Limassol, where even a tornado was spotted during a recent, sudden thunderstorm. All the while, the air was heavy with dust and particles swept up from the Sahara. Coughing, cold, soaked, it was hard to not feel like Cyprus delivers new low after low. That every time I try to crawl out of sickness, weariness, stress, there is a new test.

But this post is not about that. Not directly. It is about the next day, when I headed out to the local taverna for a Halloumi wrap—a dinner staple in the many times when cooking felt unachievable. Milos Taverna was a bit emptier than usual, the lights dimmer. The two men who seem to run the place were hard at work in back room. It turned out that the thunderstorm and wind had produced leaks, and they had to clean everything up. The taverna was closed. And even so, there was a bit of dry charcoal leftover, and they insisted on making me something.

That small act of kindness despite the headache they were dealing with really touched me. I felt guilty too, after all, running a business is tough. I didn’t want to put them through more trouble, and I wondered how I could tip them as a thank you. But when it came time to pay, he handed me the pita and told me it was on the house.

It seems like these past few days after the rain, I notice glints and glimmers of this sort of kindness all around. A kind word from an old professor, genuine curiosity about my work from a stranger, a joke from the barista at the usual café.

In spite of winds, dust storms, viruses, and the terrible weight of a day like today, glimmers of kindness persist and remind me of what is worth nurturing and protecting.

- Andrea