DAY 63: Believe it or Not!

I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror this morning, and for some strange reason I thought of the super-sized human dummy on display at London’s “Ripley’s Believe It or Not” exhibition.  The outrageous image which stared directly back at me, rewarded me the title of “the heaviest man in Cyprus.”  Despite the urgency to return to a monitored eating programme, I was drawn to the souvenir brochure, brought back from London as a memento of my Ripley’s experience.

Anyone who is fascinated by trivia and likes to find out weird and wonderful things about the fascinating world we live in, should be familiar and perhaps also quite fond of one of the most internationally famous sources of the strange but true, Ripley’s Believe It or Not.

Described as a franchise which deals in bizarre events and items so strange and unusual that readers often challenge the claim, the contemporary Ripley collection includes twenty thousand photographs, twenty thousand artefacts and more than one hundred and thirty thousand cartoon panels. All these and more interesting things are viewed and enjoyed by more than twelve million people every year across the various Ripley’s Believe it or Not Museums around the world.

If you like finding out about things like the fact that in 2009, Chinese police rescued more than two thousand kidnapped children and that in early May this year, a fifty seven year old man from California was hit by a train twice over a few weeks and survived and that a certain kind of leaf native to Australia is sensitive to touch, light and wind and furls and unfurls itself accordingly then you should definitely be a fan of Ripley’s Believe It or Not.

Right now, the name of the unusual fact-and event-finding emporium is a registered trade mark of Ripley Entertainment Incorporated, which itself belongs to another massive global company, but the name first originated in its premier in December 1981 in the New York Globe as a cartoon feature portraying adventurous sports feats.

Written and illustrated by one of the most famous factual entertainers of the earlier and middle twentieth century, Leroy Ripley, the cartoon strip soon evolved into something which was read and enjoyed by more than eighty million fans a week, eventually evolving into a radio and then television series.

Leroy Ripley was born in 1890 in Santa Rosa in California and from a young age it has been said that he displayed exceptional talent as both an artist and an athlete, playing semi-professional baseball at the tender age of thirteen (apparently he even produced the posters for the games) and selling his first cartoon to LIFE Magazine for the rather impressive amount at the time, of eight dollars.

By fifteen Ripley was working at the San Francisco Bulletin, moving on to the San Francisco Chronicle before leaving the east coast and going on to New York. By 1913, after changing his name to Robert Ripley, he was at the New York Globe newspaper, sketching sports cartoons and it was during this time that he was having a particularly slow day and so decided to draw up nine unusual sports events in small sketches, originally calling it “Champs and Chumps.” He realised the title wasn’t quite right though and so “Ripley’s Believe it or Not!” was born.

The cartoon proved to be extremely popular, with Ripley expanding his subject matter to include more than just sporting feats; facts, figures and achievements from around the world were included, which spurred Ripley on to embark on one of the greatest passions of his life, which was travelling to discover and unearth things for his cartoons.

In a time when travel was not a usual occurrence and most people, especially Americans hardly ventured further than their home towns, Ripley turned out to be a compulsive traveller, exploring places and continents that most Americans, it should be said, had never even heard about. In fact, one of Ripley’s favourite destinations was the Orient and especially China, even signing his name “Rip Li” after first visiting the country and picking up the many strange and unbelievable souvenirs which have formed the basis of an extensive collection still fascinating people today.

As a person, it could be said the Ripley himself was considered rather eccentric. He owned over a hundred cars but couldn’t drive, bought a Chinese Junk boat, even though he couldn’t swim and kept a twenty eight foot boa constrictor and squirrels and chipmunks as pets. He also thought smoking and playing cards were evil but seemed to have no problem with heavy drinking, especially at social events and was not averse to the ladies, even keeping five or more live-in lovers at the same time (kind of like Playboy’s Hugh Hefner).

Even his death was almost unbelievable, as he died at the age of fifty eight, while taping the thirteenth episode of his television series, the subject of which was rather unbelievably, death and death rituals from around the world. He passed out during the show, was rushed to hospital and was soon pronounced dead, apparently from a heart attack.

He may have died at a relatively young age, but he was definitely not forgotten. His name’s daily cartoon is carried across two hundred newspapers across forty two countries and in seventeen languages, while the objects and exhibits found in all of the thirty one Ripley’s Believe It or Not! Museums around the world are mostly based on the collections he obtained himself while he travelled the world.

Other than reading the cartoons, one of the best ways to see for yourself just how many amazing things Ripley had collected and exposed for the “western world” to see would be to visit one of the museums. The first exhibition was actually at the famous Chicago World Fair in 1933, which was rather humorously called “Ripley’s Odditorium” and which attracted over two million visitors. The success of the odditorium led to Ripley arranging for his collection to be taken across the country in a series of trailer shows.

In 1950, a year after Ripley died, the first permanent odditorium was opened in St. Augustine in Florida and since 2009, there are now thirty five of the Ripley’s Believe It or Not! Odditorium’s around the world some of which are rather basic and simple, displaying a few oddities, including a special bed in case someone faints.

There are rumours that a movie based on the life of Leroy (Robert) Ripley is being made, which should hopefully show us the amazing and rather eccentric life of the man who challenged the world to believe it. Or Not.

If only he could have lived to see me.

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts. 
For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAY 62: Proudly Cypriot

There is a strong sense of patriotism working its way through the island of Cyprus.  This contagious pride seems to be flourishing overnight with a sudden boom of social media campaigns, working feverishly to restore the island’s credibility.  I willingly joined the ‘protest’, creating my own Facebook page titled, “Proudly Cypriot” in an attempt to promote my island, and support the local business scene in Cyprus.

Less than twenty-four hours ago, this community page has attracted a large number of supporters who share a similar vision: promoting Cyprus, supporting local businesses and protecting consumer’s rights. 

In order for the campaign to thrive, our united team of ‘protestors’ need to revert to the root of the problem, and alter a mindset that has unfortunately tarnished our reputation as an affordable holiday destination.

Cyprus needs to become more customer-oriented; the belief that one should overcharge the consumer is a thoughtless gesture – a contented customer will generate ongoing business, whereas a disgruntled one will never return.

Unfortunately, only a few businesses have grasped the concept of “competitive pricing;” the majority continue to display inflated rates on their products.  This gluttonous approach has encouraged foreign supermarket chains to cast their anchors on our shores, steering the locals from their own home-grown products.

Cyprus relies primarily on tourism.  I am delighted to acknowledge that Cypriot hotels offer a high standard of service across the board.  But the hotels continue to charge offensive prices to the local community, particularly during the high season; a holiday overseas often works out cheaper than a weekend stay at Ayia Napa – Cyprus’ world-renowned hotspot.

As tourism is a key contributor to our country’s economic growth, wouldn’t it be wise that businesses remain open, especially on Sundays?  I was astounded to hear that a large cruise liner docked at the Limassol harbour last Sunday, and its passengers were greeted by a closed shopping centre, less than a mile away.

I am certain that most locals will profess to an overcharged taxi ride from Pafos to Larnaca Airport.  A one-hour drive from the west coast to Cyprus’ major airport will cost more than a flight to London, including the airport taxes.  And let’s not forget the influx of budget airlines parked on our runways as our own national carrier charges three times the amount for a short flight to Greece.

Granted, things move slower on the “island of love,” but a twelve year discussion for a possible highway linking Pafos and Polis is simply unheard of.  One of the comments posted on a sister site, proposed the idea of a train linking all the major towns in Cyprus; a wonderful thought, but highly unlikely.

The multiplying coffee shops dotted around the island have also played their part in exorbitant pricing; a small cup of coffee should not cost more than two Euros; a familiar chain recently presented me with an invoice of fifteen Euros for three cups of coffee.  After questioning the exorbitant price, I was provided with a ‘reasonable’ explanation: the fresh cream topping contributed to the escalating price rate.

I was delighted to hear that President Nicos Anastasiades had proposed and accepted a “grooming” of his own salary.  This action should encourage other politicians to do the same.  Perhaps one should also consider that there are too many politicians in the market; one could easily do the job of three. 

Pafos is a small town with a population of approximately seventy thousand. Yet, within the town there are four mayors. I wonder how Boris Johnson, the mayor of London, gets to manage eight million people on his own.

I remain optimistic though that Cyprus has what it takes to revive its local industry.  The outcome of the Cypriot bailout was simply unacceptable, but it has managed to unite the nation under one umbrella.  People are beginning to question everything, and only reasonable explanations will suffice.

Despite the economic Armageddon, Cyprus remains a favourable destination, boasts an amazing culture, brilliant food, hospitable people, championship golf courses, five star hotels and spa resorts, wonderful beaches and weather.

The “Proudly Cypriot” campaign encourages the nation to buy local products and make use of local services, in an effort to stimulate the local economy and help create jobs. “Proudly Cypriot” also promotes national pride, patriotism and social cohesion.  “Like us on Facebook,” and join us in making a difference to this unique part of the world.

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts. 
For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com

Day 61: Emotional Eating

As an “emotional eater,” my body has fallen victim to a playground of emotions; some individuals will blame their overeating practices to depression, while others confess that happiness is their food stimulator.  But there is a select group of people referred to as the “all-rounders;” no matter the mood or temperament, the visit to the local drive-thru is simply inescapable.

Welcome to my world.  As an openly self-confessed all-rounder, I find that my mood not only instigates the urge to abduct the fridge or grocery cupboard, it also dictates the quantity of food ‘warranted’ to cope with the level of emotion.  In fact, if there was such a thing as an emotional scale indicator, my monstrous eating habits would trigger off a warning light, implying self-destruction.

So how does one cope with an all-rounded affair with food?  I’ve spent most of the day trying to research an answer, but Google seems to be re-directing me towards an encyclopedia of cooking websites; The Barefoot Contessa was offering her professional advice on how to drizzle strawberries with a creamy mixture of chocolate Ganache, Jamie Oliver presented readers with a chance to win a cooking lesson in London (flights and accommodation included), and Food Network’s Paula Deen was offering advice on how to relieve “cooking stress.”  

I’m officially “out of the closet!” It’s been ages since I last examined its interior, but the truth is that none of the clothes inside seem to fit.  My dress sense has mirrored a 60s version of Demis Roussos, and a kaftan appears to be the most suitable option to help conceal those monstrous eating bumps. 

As soon as the Cyprus government resolves its banking issues, my emotional levels and eating habits will stabilise.   There’s another public holiday coming up, and one of the prerequisites is to steer clear of all possible political upsets.

But how does one keep away from the Easter Bunny?

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts. 
For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAY 60: Don't shoot the Messenger

Cypriot banks are finally opening their doors, nearly two weeks after they closed; progressively stricter limits have been placed on all banking transactions, and armed police have been deployed to “keep the peace.”

Severe new rules have been imposed on money movements to prevent a torrent of money leaving the island, and credit institutions collapsing.

I’ve been ‘married’ to the internet this morning, reading every bit of information from numerous sources. The majority of these publications outline the severe austerity measures imposed by the banks, echoing economic restrictions similar to those enforced by the pre-apartheid South African government. 

I am in favour of the Central Bank of Cyprus enforcing restrictive measures in order to avoid a mass exodus of funds, however, the unprecedented restrictions represent a profound breach of an important principle of the European Union: “capital, as well as people and trade, should able be to move freely across internal borders.”

Facebook also serves as an informative, to-the-minute source, as thousands of people post on their walls their own opinions over the Cypriot financial controversy.  The unanimous verdict is one of anger; after all, this is a community which continues to suffer under the oppression of ruthless powers, stripping them of their possessions. 

In 1974, the unlawful invasion of Turkey expelled the Greek Cypriots to the southern corners of the island, and a third of the country falling to the hands of the enemy; a barbed wire fence now separates the internationally-recognised south from the occupied northern areas – acknowledged only by Turkey as the “Northern Republic of Cyprus.”

Most of the comments which followed highlighted the possibility of turmoil when the banks opened their doors at noon.  The anger manifested within the Cypriots has mushroomed into a volcanic mountain on the verge of eruption.  But the message conveyed by another, appealed to the public “not to shoot the messenger.” 

To be honest, my initial response was to head over to my branch, hoping to enforce mayhem and destruction.  However, the sympathetic plea reminded me that the banking staff was not accountable for the procedures outlined to them by higher management. On the contrary, they were merely following instructions – it’s the higher management that needs to face the firing squad.

One hour before the banks bravely lift their veils and a multitude of people have already lined the streets. Cyprus Finance Minister Michalis Sarris insists the controls are temporary, but many economists predict they could be in place for months.  Whatever the outcome, our banking sector has been tarnished and unfortunately Cyprus will have to pay the price.

“Don’t shoot the messenger.” Cyprus as an island should not have to suffer at the fate of its collapsed banking system. We are still proud of our culture, world-renowned for our hospitality, delighted with our five-star hotels and resorts, and eager to welcome anyone to our island. 

When Nelson Mandela was inaugurated as the first democratically-elected president of South Africa, he commented on the past by saying: “Wat is verby, is verby,” what's past is past.  The Cypriot nation is determined, now more than ever, to rebuild their island and open a new chapter in their history books.

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAY 59: Where is Home?

In November 2011, I celebrated the launch of my second novel, Where is Home? – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  The overwhelming success of the book, particularly in Cyprus, inspired me to produce The Paul Lambis Comedy Shows. 

These performances proved to be a pivotal point in my career; I was privileged to stand up before live audiences and confess my story in a comical and truthful tone.  The entire experience was equally rewarding as a myriad of people began to share a part of their own history – identifying with similar stories as I worked my way through the various stages of life’s familiarities.

I was fortunate enough to meet several directors, all of which expressed an interest to develop the show further; be it a comedy slot, television series or even a movie, the overwhelming feedback proved to me that everyone shared a mutual quest: to find out where home truly was.

As humans, we exhibit a nomadic quality; our needs are constantly evolving, inspiring us to hunt for a better alternative – a destination that unveils a sense of security and self-fulfillment.  

My thoughts are endlessly toying with the idea of resettlement.  The angels seem to be transmitting their own messages, encouraging me to move to London.  Despite the economic tsunami whirling its way through the island of Cyprus, I remain optimistic over its long-term recovery. 

However, at this present moment I feel I have exhausted the dream of “a place in the sun,” yearning to return to a fast-paced world.  Some may consider it a “gap year,” or in my case a “gap decade,” but the truth that my years in Cyprus were as hardworking as those in South Africa, is certain. 

The extended lunch siestas and moments spent at the coffee boutiques tend to free up a portion of your day, allowing one to think.  It’s those thoughts which plague one’s mind to act on their dreams, whether feasible or not.  I’m not denying that the thought of relocating to London conjures up feelings of enthusiasm and rebirth, but realistically my emigration would also secure a way forward for my son’s education.

For the first time in twelve years, I find myself standing at a crossroad asking a familiar question: “Where is Home?”  Admittedly, I feel I have already answered the question, but I’m hoping the angels will transmit a clearer message – certainly one of reassurance.

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAY 58: Empty Promises

I’ve been feeling slightly hypocritical this morning.  I spent most of last night addressing my frustration through my blog, inheriting a bout of self-pity as the Cypriot politicians continued into the early hours (on television), arguing hysterically.

I’m beginning to feel irritated myself; it seems that every hour, during the course of the day, another legislation or plan is revealed, encouraging the government to delve deeper into our pockets. The proposed thirty percent haircut is on the table; rumour has it that the amount could be extended by a further ten percent.

My world these days is besieged by a stream of empty promises.  The proposed “opening date” for banks in Cyprus has been postponed, yet again.  Capital restrictions are enforced, echoing the rationing system of a post-World War 2 Europe.

My hometown is overwhelmed by a low-lying dark cloud; there’s another storm brewing – I can sense it.  Three days ago, Cyprus was hit by a destructive whirlwind, causing severe damage to shop fronts and properties; the locals dubbing this freak of nature as “the wrath of God.”

As for my own hypocrisy, I feel the need to confess my excessive eating rituals over the weekend.  The stress surrounding the current economic crisis in Europe has converted me into a food junkie.  Every free moment is absorbed by my craving to satisfy the cries of The Three Tenors occupying my monstrous belly; I am constantly fooling myself with empty promises of a renewed attempt to dieting.

If only we had the power to rewind the clock, avoiding the path of self-destruction. 

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAY 57: Cyprus - The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

Forgive my naivety when I make references to political circumstances; unfortunately my knowledge of politics is slightly distorted, but I feel I am able to voice my opinion concerning the grave state of affairs in Cyprus.

As a citizen and tax payer for almost twelve years in Cyprus, this gorgeous island has served as a haven following my exodus from a post-apartheid and crime-torn South Africa. 

More than a decade ago, my wife and I mutually agreed that South Africa had mushroomed into a “gangster’s paradise,” and the thought of investing our future in a crumbling society brought us to the shores of Aphrodite.  South Africa’s baptised image of a “rainbow nation” was perfect in theory, however unrealistic in practicality; a surge of warlords had swallowed the concrete jungle of Johannesburg, transforming the metropolis garnished with Mediterranean panache, into a third world image of looting and murder. 

And so, on a brave September morning, we boarded a one-way flight to an optimistic and hopeful future.

The Good

Cyprus fulfilled its promise of a picture-postcard image; a crime-free society where unlocked front doors and open verandas invited the warmth of its Mediterranean sun into our homes.  The Cypriot hospitality extended itself wonderfully in all sectors, primarily tourism. 

Foreigners flocking to the “island of love” were treated with traditional flavours of Cypriot men, juggling a tower of glasses above their heads as tourists joyfully connected with them on the dance floor, seizing the moment through their digital lens; an image transported back to their country of a time-honoured Cyprus that had not submitted to the commercialised notion of western franchises.

Cypriots were eager to join the European Union in an attempt to resolve the ongoing ‘cancer’ on their divided island; our ‘brothers’ were finally going to help unite our illegally divided country, following the unlawful invasion from Turkey in 1974.  After all, Makarios’ cries at the White House were filed away in a storage cabinet, and a sympathetic tap on the back was all our American friends could offer as a consolation package; four decades on, Nicosia is acknowledged as the only divided capital in Europe, if not the world.

And so, after a celebratory show, Cyprus was sworn in as a member state with the hope of reunification, a flourishing banking sector, a thriving tourist and property industry, golf courses, five star resorts, blue flag beaches and a new currency.

The Bad

On the 28 February 2008, communist party leader Demetris Christofias was sworn in as president of Cyprus, vowing to resolve the Cyprus problem by making it his “top priority.” 

I had the opportunity to interview the then First Lady of Cyprus, Elsie Christofias who painted a wonderful image of a sensible and dedicated husband, leaving me with an impression of optimism. Perhaps my judgemental impression of Christofias, and his unfortunate stigma of “communism,” steering the country into an abyss of economic downfall, should be overlooked?

But on the morning of 11 July 2011, the island of Cyprus was plunged into darkness following an explosion at the Evangelos Florakis Naval Base.  The incident, referred to as the “worst peacetime military accident,” was attributed to the communist government’s oversight of storing confiscated explosives, for two-and-a-half years in the blazing sun, causing them to self-detonate.  The resulting explosion killed thirteen people, injuring a further sixty-two, damaged nearby buildings including the island’s largest power station.

The president of Cyprus remained neutral, claiming no responsibility, and is yet to apologise for the untimely death of all those people.

Business as usual, the president returned to his post as the monopolised electricity authorities cleaned up his mess by burdening the common folk with an abominable levy on all accounts, hoping to recover their losses. 

In the interim, the Electricity Authority of Cyprus chose to expand their services into a newly-built edifice, costing the tax payer an unheard-of fifteen million Euros.  And, almost one mile from the new, macabre-looking electricity centre, a novel water feature adorns the traffic roundabout, contributing another two million Euros to the escalating and unwarranted costs.

Oblivious to the country’s corruptibility, the pitiable president travels to Brussels and is warned by the Eurogroup that Cyprus is heading in the same direction of Spain and Greece.  Having already signed a staggering ten billion euro gift to “motherland” Greece, throwing his country into a debt exceeding the size of the local economy seven times, Christofias decides to spend Christmas with his family, overlooking to inform his government that Cyprus is officially bankrupt.

The Ugly

Cypriots were presented with three ‘promising’ candidates for the country’s 2013 presidential elections: The first adopted a slogan that Cyprus needed a “leader through the economic crisis.”  The second, although not a communist but certainly backed by the outgoing government, guaranteed the country (under his presidency), would ensure “reliability.”  The third, a shadow caught between the two, would promise “zero tolerance” to any grooming of depositor’s accounts.

And so, after a battle of marketing promise, the first emerged as a “messiah” to the crucifixion of Cyprus.

The daunting sight of empty shops – pleading for tenants, continued to paint a picture of economic strife.  The absence of the church tested my patience.  The collapse of the mismanaged Orphanides supermarket chain sent thousands of employees packing.  Restrictions and salary cuts were emerging as common practice, while protestors took to the streets voicing their concerns.

After two weeks in office, newly-elect president Nicos Anastasiades confirms an immediate “grooming of accounts” before consulting his nation. I recall waking up on a ‘bright’ Saturday morning, informed of the sudden, undemocratic decision.  The ill-targeted solutions contrived by a vindictive European Union ‘family’ began to surface, as calls from family and friends encouraged one to head to the nearest cash point to withdraw funds; the forthcoming public holiday implied that the banks would remain closed for three days.

Two weeks after the fateful revelation, Cyprus’ banks remain closed.  Daily withdrawal limits have been reduced as the banks are made aware of a mass exodus of funds.  The Cypriots have lost faith in their own banking sector as its inexcusable actions have brought the Cypriot economy to its knees.  The thriving Church of Cyprus finally submitted to the cries of the nation by donating all its assets for the benefit of its people.

The former president’s daughter is questioned over the astounding amount of cash (approximately seven million Euros) found nestled in her bank account; she attempts to justify the amount as “wedding presents,” but that fails to convince the disgruntled public.

The wife of the ‘bankrupt’ Orphanides supermarket group is questioned at the country’s International Airport over the two million Euros discovered in her vanity case. 

Our European ‘brothers’ fail to offer Cyprus a helping hand, pushing the island into a corner, forcing them to submit to their demands; acknowledging that friends are few, Cyprus surrenders to a second bailout plan, forcing the island’s second largest bank to shut down and punish innocent victims with a larger percentage cut on their savings. 

The rich have finally reduced themselves to the level of the poor, as the European Union’s communist antics redefine the vision once inspired by the founding fathers of this corruptible entity.  

Tomorrow morning, the Cypriot nation will greet a ‘new’ Cyprus.  The “rainbow nation” residing on the island will certainly redefine the concept once bestowed on my beautiful South Africa.  The island reverts to acts of desperation as it continues to open its doors to non-Europeans, altering the face of the once “traditional Cyprus.”  After all, we need the money, right?

An unfamiliar wave of marketing reassures the traveller that Cyprus is no longer a Greek-speaking colony, and the local dancer at the village tavern, begins the evening’s festivities incorporating a Chinese dragon dance with Russian squatting and kicking. 

“We aim to please,” as the tourist is presented with a menu in five official languages: Greek, English, Russian, Mandarin and Farsi.  And, as soon as the European Union decides how we should resolve the Cyprus problem, Turkish will soon be included.

The expression, “at the end of every rainbow is a pot of gold,” certainly reassures us that as soon as our natural gas announces its arrival, the communist beliefs recently exposed by the European Union will ensure that everyone, including Germany and Brussels get a piece of the pie.

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAY 56: A Touch of Silver

It was the 29^th April, 2011.  The bells of Westminster Abbey were playing joyfully as Kate Middleton stepped outside the cathedral, holding onto the arm of her dashing prince.  Tens of millions watched worldwide. Thousands of spectators lined lawns in downtown London, waving placards and holding flowers, jostling each other to catch the slightest glance of the newlyweds. Others shed tears of joy over a glimpse of the splendour Britain maintains as a regal and respected nation.

For most in the crowd, it did not matter if they knew the bride or groom personally. A living symbol of Britain’s power and history was married. An heir could now be produced and the nation’s stately lineage continued.

The pomp and circumstance of the event, royal protocol, lavish accommodations, ornate preparations, VIP guests, designer hats and pageantry, captured the fascination of millions. 

But why is the world fascinated with the royals, and what sets them apart from us regular folk? A research study shows that the majority of the world’s population believes their fascination with royalty stems from a ‘culture of celebrity’.  We are swiftly moving into a time of when just about anybody can become a celebrity – and royalty is clearly a celebrity.  So when major events come along such as the royal wedding, the world joins in momentarily to relieve them from their dreary lives.

Most of the royal houses of Europe exercise no political power, and their sheer presence is associated with ceremonial duty and nothing more.  It’s my opinion that the British Monarchy has survived for many years, largely due to their interest in supporting a great number of charities, using their ‘celebrity statuses’ as draw cards to generate revenue for their associations; and why not?

Monarchy has sometimes been described as an expensive institution, with royal finances shrouded in confusion and secrecy.  Research shows the cost of maintaining the royals, and in this case the British Monarchy, sets the average taxpayer less than seventy pence a year – hardly an exorbitant amount that will cause a dent in the pocket.  

Associating the royals with the world’s celebrities is one thing, but classing them as ‘blue-blooded’ is another.  As a child, I recall naively asking my teacher if the royals literally had blue blood, despite the knowledge that the human body is circulated by approximately thirty-five trillion red blood cells. 

It was the Spaniards who gave the world the notion that an aristocrat's blood is not red but blue. The Spanish nobility started taking shape around the ninth century in classic military fashion, occupying land as warriors on horseback. They were to continue the process for more than five hundred years, clawing back sections of the peninsula from its Moorish occupiers. A nobleman would demonstrate his pedigree by holding up his sword arm to display the filigree of blue-blooded veins beneath his pale skin – proof that his birth had not been contaminated by the dark-skinned enemy.

The  European aristocracy always admired paleness – Queen Elizabeth I used to cover her face with white powder, allowing her veins to appear blue under her skin, hence the notion that the idle high-born have blue blood. 

Another theory to the ‘blue-bloodedness’, dates back to Alexander the Great, and the side effects of Colloidal Silver.

Colloidal Silver was known to persons of high rank including kings, emperors, czars and sultans. These people ate their food from silver cutlery, plates and bowls, and drank their liquids from silver goblets and chalices. As a result of their eating practices, small amounts of silver were ingested into their bodies over an extended period, immunising them against most viruses and bacterial infections – simultaneously turning their blood into a slightly blue colour. The common people never had the luxury of being able to eat from expensive dinnerware and, as a result, were frequently sick and prone to a host of infections. Those fortunate enough to have the luxury of eating from silver dinnerware afforded them the freedom of sickness.

The use of Colloidal Silver is not new.  Silver has been used as a disinfectant for thousands of years. It dates back to Alexander the Great, who lined drinking water bottles with the metal for the disinfection and sanitation of water. The Egyptians used silver in a thin paper product to wrap around wounds. At the turn of the century, Colloidal Silver was considered an invaluable medicine, and reintroduced into the industrial and medical arena.

So why is the world fascinated with the royals?  Despite their ‘celebrity’ or ‘blue-blooded’ status, I remain spellbound by their discovery of Colloidal Silver. I am hopeful that its healing properties will introduce an element of pomp and glamour for those who may need it.

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAY 55: Japanese Diet

I’ve been given a diet from a colleague at work outlining the benefits of eating meals, belonging to a specific food category.  For example, if I chose to consume meat on Monday, all meals for the remainder of the day would have to include meat.  Should my preference on Tuesday be cheese – breakfast, lunch and dinner would comprise of a platter of dairy products.

As peculiar as it sounds, my excitement levels urged me to follow her suggestion; after all, Asians are world renowned for their alternative healing methods.

My work colleague advised me that if I adhered to this “Japanese Diet,” I would see extraordinary results in a short period of time.  After careful consideration, and almost an hour of intense debate, I was convinced that her method would prove ineffective towards my expectant, rapid transformation.  Voicing my concerns over my outsized body – resembling that of a sumo wrestler, my work colleague proceeded to supply me with an alternative plan: The Japanese Sumo Wrestler’s Diet.

A healthy man is thought to have a BMI (Body Mass Index) of 18. The BMI of a professional sumo wrestler is rarely found to be below 45. The sumo wrestler’s diet and lifestyle is the key to his exceptionally large weight, and despite the general opinion of most people, this is achieved through very rigorous eating and sleeping strategies rather than a mass indulgence in foods with high fat content.

The diet was supplied to me in Japanese – I looked to Google for an immediate translation.  As I continued to read my way through the peculiar methodology, it appeared that my work colleague was ‘slightly’ misinformed; I was appealing to her for a weight-loss programme, and she was inviting me to sign my own death warrant. 

This Japanese eating regime encouraged an increase of the daily calorie intake from three thousand (the average consumption for an adult male), to an alarming twenty-thousand.

My colleague was under the impression that my heftiness was intentional; an attempt for me to break the world record in sumo wrestling at the forthcoming Olympic Games.

The Japanese Sumo Wrestler’s Diet included drinking beer with meals, exercising on an empty stomach (a procedure known to decrease ones metabolic rate), socialising with every meal – we tend to consume more food as it takes us longer to get full, and taking a nap after lunch. 

I noticed the disclaimer at the bottom of the page, reduced to a line of miniature dots; the average life expectancy on the sumo wrestler’s diet was between 60-65 years.  There was even a possibility of reducing the years by ten, due to life-threatening illnesses such as diabetes, liver disease, heart disease, arthritis and high blood pressure.

The global economic crisis and the Cypriot bailout plan have certainly played their part in my sudden weight increase.  My stress levels have encouraged a contagious carbohydrate plague which is rapidly spreading into my daily eating programme.

The government has advised us to “calm down, and face each day as it comes.”  They continue to reassure us that “all will return to normal within a period of three years;” a sufficient amount of time as I prepare for the Sumo Wrestling Division at the 2016 Summer Olympics in Rio de Janeiro.  

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAY 54: The Last Supper

I went home last night – eager to dismiss the pandemonium looming over Cyprus; I was hoping to transform my melancholy to happiness by surrendering my emotions to a cluster of cupcakes, waiting for me on the kitchen table. The celebrations continued into the night as my mobile phone alerted me to an on-going string of messages from around the globe. 

My service provider generously credited my account with additional talk-time; a wonderful birthday gesture acknowledging my existence, and a means to generate more wealth into their monstrous bank account.

TGI Fridays personally called me to offer a significant discount on my next meal, provided that the visit was within five days of my birthday.

After speaking to my brother-in-law this morning, he encouraged me to take advantage of Friday’s offer; after all, it could be our own “last supper” – one final opportunity to consume steak before the country’s collapse.  Unfortunately, the Cypriot crisis continues to control the media scene, and the fact that Monday is a public holiday certainly places restrictions on our care-free weekend spending habits.  Whatever cash we have managed to strip from the local ATMs, should be stored in a vault and guarded by a twenty-four-hour surveillance team.

I’ve been informed that after twelve years of hard work and sacrifice, my provident fund is to be seized by the government and used to credit the bad debt in our banks.   As a consolation, the Cyprus government believes that a piece of paper, offering me shares in our natural gas reserves, will warrant this “daylight robbery.”

I’m off to the ATM again, hoping to withdraw the last of my hard-earned pennies.  The daily withdrawal limit has been reduced to € 260; an adequate amount to keep us going through the long weekend, and treat the family to a birthday dinner at Fridays.  

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAY 53: Celebration

Amidst all the turmoil surrounding the Cypriot crisis, I’ve managed to fulfil another year on this planet.  The countdown begins, as I enter the final stages of the light-hearted thirties; a decade of maturity is lurking around the corner.

My son pounced on me this morning, eager for me to open my gift and read the ‘essay’ scribbled in my birthday card.  There was a childlike excitement in the home, and I chose not to dampen his spirit. After all, birthdays evoke feelings of enthusiasm, and even the Eurogroup’s demands were certainly not going to rain on my parade.

I ended up embracing my son’s elated tone, as we cuddled together on the bed, pretending to escape from the madness that was gripping the real world outside.

Celebrating a birthday or an anniversary is a wonderful experience when one is surrounded by the warmth of loving individuals.  Admittedly, I’ve been preoccupied with my hectic schedule of commitments that I almost forgot to acknowledge my own birthday.  But the continuous beeping sound emerging from my mobile phone, reminded me that a world of Facebook friends had been notified of my birthdate, extending their wishes for a healthy and prosperous year ahead.  I remain indebted.

I was determined to disclose a piece of optimistic news today; truthfully, I think we all need it, but I am required to hold the mute button for another week.  Acting on the rumour that one of Cyprus’ popular banks is heading for closure, I dashed off this morning to the nearest ATM, only to be greeted by a series of multiple crowds, threatening to throw the doors down.

I finally got my chance to use the cashpoint, withdrawing my daily limit – foolishly convincing myself that the money in my hand would act as a safety net in the event of an emergency.

My wife informed me that a tray of cupcakes were created by her precious hands in honour of my birthday.  All dieting (and banking) has been suspended until further notice, or at least until the celebration is over.   

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAY 52: Spotlight on Cyprus

If I had known that Cyprus would receive so much attention from the entire world, I would have worn my best clothes to work.  And so, after a unanimous (or so I’d like to think) decision to reject the bailout offer from the European Union and the International Monetary Fund, Cyprus is back to square one, hoping for some genie to pop out of the lamp, and grant us three new wishes.

The atmosphere in the workplace continues on a peculiar and macabre path.  Unfortunately, my diet has joined forces with this depression, allowing me to binge extensively in front of the television; I’m beginning to feel the results as I attempt to buckle the belt around my waist.

There’s an influx of beggars knocking on our door; today’s ‘merchants’ presented a luscious home-grown selection of oranges and strawberries.  Judging from their accents, it was evident that they had arrived from Greece, searching for a better tomorrow.  Despite their cries of persuasion, we were compelled to ask them to leave, hoping to avoid the temptation of spending our limited funds unnecessarily.

Cyprus is under the spotlight, governing the media scene; it seems that the European Union has turned against us, and the thought of Cyprus seeking refuge from a power outside the union has infuriated the leaders. 

Our unfortunate demise is due to the inexperienced group of individuals who had the island under their wings for the last five years.  It appears that every president in Cyprus wants to be celebrated in the history books for solving the Cyprus problem; Cyprus has been a divided island since the unlawful invasion of Turkey in 1974.

Despite President Christofias’ unsuccessful attempts to reunite the island with the unrecognised “Northern Republic of Cyprus,” he did leave one legacy behind; a surcharge imposed on consumers following the explosion that damaged Cyprus’ main electricity plant, killing thirteen people in July 2011, and an island financially bankrupt, drowning after a tedious period of communist rule.

Prior to Christofias, numerous presidents appealed to the world, hoping to resolve the unfortunate division of the island.  Countless visits to the United States, meetings with world leaders – creating awareness to a problem as if Cyprus’ division was a marketing campaign; solutions seemed shelved for “another day, another time.”

The European Union emerged as a “knight in shining armour,” promising to stand by the tiny island of Cyprus, offering hope that their unification with other member states will inherit a ‘brotherly’ support.  Where are our brothers now?

But let’s not forget the natural gas bubbling under our waters. When the world realises Cyprus’ self-worth, all our prodigal brothers and sisters will return to sample a sip from our champagne.  Knowing the Cypriots, we’ll probably welcome them with open arms.

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAY 51: Black Tuesday

I’ve dubbed today “Black Tuesday” for many reasons; the dark colour describes the mood in the workplace – peculiar and dull.  There’s an uncomfortable silence – the quiet before the storm, as most of Cyprus waits ‘patiently’ for the government’s decision on their hopeless bailout plan.

As I drove to work this morning, the lifeless streets mirrored a scene from a horror movie; the winter chill was echoing the mood of a nation, chanting an eerie tune.  There were fewer people on the streets, and the crowds protesting outside the banks and town hall had reduced in number. 

Back at the workplace, my colleagues openly aired their concerns over the country’s rapid demise; hardly the clichéd postcard image of a “sunny Cyprus” or “the island of love.”

The thought of returning to South Africa was briefly addressed last night, but the escalating levels of violence and corruption reminded me why I left in the first place.  Perhaps I should exercise some patience, but as a child I was always taught to be observant of the signs.  Could the angels be transmitting messages of relocation?

I greeted my diet this morning with extreme caution. After all, if the government is concerned with budget cuts, then I should exercise the same with my eating programme; my breakfast of bran flakes and dried fruit was accompanied by a smaller dosage of low fat milk. 

I spent most of the morning following the news, working my way through the pending task list, responding to comments emailed from last night’s blog. 

A colleague from Leeds visited the office, answering my questions of a possible move to the United Kingdom.  She painted a realistic picture – one that tempted me to book a flight to London.  I’m not closing my doors to Cyprus, but I’m hoping to reverse the situation with a working home abroad and a holiday retreat in Cyprus.

So, after twelve years in Cyprus, I’ve resumed the hunt for a promising career overseas.  The outcome of tonight’s decision will determine how soon I get there.

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAY 50: Lifeline

I’ve been monitoring the news extensively throughout the day; Cyprus is on the brink of a financial war.  For the first time since my arrival on the island, I am at a loss for words. It’s a matter of “damned if you do – damned if you don’t.”  If Cyprus accepts the bailout plan with haircuts on all deposits, foreign investment will come to a standstill.  Should the government decide to reject this suicidal grooming, then all of Cyprus’ major banks will cease to exist.

I’m finding it difficult to accept Cyprus’ unfortunate economic position.  It seems that our small island has taken centre stage; the world is waiting eagerly for us to either turn off the machines, declaring our banking system penniless, or to literally “sell our souls to the devil,” surrendering entirely to the hands of a voracious group of individuals.

I was hoping that my bank could reassure me that my finances are protected, but the government has announced that all banks are to remain “closed for business” until Thursday.  Electronic banking has been suspended, the local ATM rejected my debit card and the Cyprus Stock Exchange is refusing to trade.

I intended my blog to be light-hearted, given that today is Green Monday and we should be outside celebrating; my son was flying his kite, directing its flight journey from the string in his hands.  It appeared to me that Cyprus was being manipulated by its own kite-flyers, leading the island into unknown territory.

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAY 49: Sound of Music

As the week draws to an end, Sunday invites a tune of laziness into the home; the perfect time to unwind on the sofa, barring oneself from any physical or mental activity, and choosing to watch a Hollywood classic that conjures up all those wonderful childhood memories.

It was in 1965 when the world fell in love with The Sound of Music. The film, which starred Julie Andrews and Christopher Plummer, captured the real life Von Trapp family's escape from Nazi-occupied Austria. Forty-seven years later, it remains one of the most popular movie musicals ever.

Julie Andrews portrayed Maria von Trapp, the nun-turned-governess who made clothes from curtains and won over her hard-to-please charges with music.

Five months before shooting began in Salzburg, The Sound of Music’s director Robert Wise set out to find seven perfect children to play the Von Trapp children. He interviewed more than 200 hopefuls, including a young Richard Dreyfuss, Kurt Russell and Mia Farrow.

In the hours before shooting, Robert cast the final members of the most popular family in cinematic history; forty-seven years later, some of the actors have families of their own and say they love watching the film with their children.

To be honest, I refrained from stepping out of the house today; work commitments have confined me to my desk while Julie Andrews and her onscreen family’s singing kept my motivation levels intact.  Admittedly, I escaped for a few minutes, but the disturbing sight of people trying to withdraw funds from cash points reminded me that Cyprus was on the verge of a suicidal bailout plan.

As developments continued following the Eurogroup’s decision to impose a haircut on deposits to agree to a bailout for the Cyprus economy, the House of Representatives plenary session that was due to convene today to vote on the relevant bill was postponed for Monday.

The atmosphere is choked up with a cloud of mixed emotion.  Most of the islanders are concerned that Cyprus’ bailout conditions will tarnish our reputation as an ideal investment destination.  Other Cypriots have decided to overlook this tidal wave, as the weekend’s carnival celebrations continue to dominate the street scene. 

There are, however, those concerned few who are anxious for the great loss of personal wealth; either way you look at it, Cyprus is on the verge of a financial war, and there’s nothing we can do about it.

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAY 48: Father and Son

I found myself at the movies last night, spending quality time with my son; my wife was off on her own mission to paint the town red with her intimate group of girlfriends.  This infrequent occurrence presented the perfect opportunity to catch up on another movie genre, not favoured by my spouse. 

We purchased our tickets, stocked up on enough popcorn (caramel and buttered), hard candy and cool drinks, and headed off into the newly refurbished theatre. 

I noticed my son tagging behind as I bellowed through the halls, ordering him to keep up with my pace, eager to find the most central spot in the auditorium.  But he continued to slug behind, pausing at regular intervals to sip his iced tea and seize a popcorn kernel with his tongue. 

After an eventful five minutes of trying to adjust my overflowing lard into the seat, I noticed my son withholding his distance as he seated himself two chairs away.

“Are you embarrassed to be seen with your ‘old’ man?” I questioned him, hoping to reassure myself that this was not the case.

He remained silent, as I noticed his eyes locking onto the giant screen before him; his devious grin confirmed my suspicions.

I was surprised to observe an almost empty theatre last night; it seems the movie culture has not yet caught on with the locals, or that there absence was due to the carnival preparations which were programmed to start this weekend.  After an intense ninety minutes of witch-hunts and sacrilegious cursing, the modern adaptation of Hansel and Gretel proved to be a riveting piece of work; fast-paced special effects and a house of candy that fulfils every fat person’s desires.

But our “father-son” evening did not turn out to be a series of dodging corners in the entertainment complex; even though it seemed at times to be exactly that. There were wonderful moments of mutual bonding as we worked our way through the crowds, sharing jokes and laughing at our own childish pranks.  At my son’s request, we completed the evening with a visit to the McDonalds Drive Thru, casually submitting to a soirée of junk food and milkshakes. 

Passed out on the couch, I was woken up by the sound of jingling keys as my wife arrived home; her eminent smile provided ample evidence of a wonderful night out with friends. 

My extraordinary sense of smell followed a buffet of Chinese takeaways resting on the kitchen counter.  And in accordance with all unethical beliefs, I surrendered to a midnight snack of egg-fried rice and sweet-and-sour pork.

When I woke up this morning, I was greeted by a new cloud of adversity lingering directly above.  The news was announcing that Cyprus had surrendered to an unforgivable bailout plan with an unjustifiable list of requirements.  Turmoil ensued as multiple crowds of people drove to the nearest cash points, attempting to withdraw their hard-earned cash. 

Sadly, the thought of immigration has once again knocked on my window.  I am standing at a crossroad searching for Utopia.

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com