Fifteen minutes before the critical point Rybakov ran out of the shop with his bike, and we bolted for the promenade, from where, according to our intel, the bus to Limassol was supposed to depart. I must say, practically everyone in Cyprus speaks English, and Russian is exceptionally widespread, so the problem of communication practically didn't arise.
I had found out in advance whether they transport bikes on the bus by calling the Intercity Buses company from my computer back in Latvia, and when our jalopy arrived, we loaded our bicycles into it without a hitch. 7 days later, when we were on our way back, we were in for a shocking surprise during the exact same process, but the thread of the narrative doesn't allow me to jump ahead, as it has currently only woven its way to the city of Limassol, a.k.a. Lemesos.
Where we successfully arrived on that very bus, having asked to be dropped off where we could catch a bus to the city of Paphos. What with all these chores, I still hadn't bothered to eat since early morning, and considering that dinner was ages ago, even before the flight, a complete quantum vacuum had formed in my stomach. Which, as is well known, spawns virtual particles, manifesting themselves in this case as an increased background rumbling. The caring Rybakov, who had himself already wolfed down more than one sandwich brought from home on the way, found a restaurant where we urgently demanded burgers.
Me - a vegetarian one, because, according to the seasoned hunter and meat-eater Rybakov, I "went completely nuts" (quote altered for age censorship reasons). I went nuts, by the way, not all at once, but gradually, though it's been about two months now. Not permanently yet, to be fair, and I avoid meat only whenever possible, which, fortunately, happens often. I stuffed the hamburgers into myself at unprecedented speed, because there was barely any time left before the next bus. Fast-eating competitions immediately come to mind, after which the participants at best decorate the pavement with intricate vomit, and at worst they are taken to the hospital to have their stomachs pumped. Luckily, nothing of the sort happened to us. Since Cyprus frequently gets people with a screw loose (oligarchs' kids and their pals), who sometimes get infected with vegetarianism and other New Age stuff, the hamburger wasn't just a bun with veggies, but actually carried a decent spiced soy patty inside, which you can't find for love or money in our neck of the woods.
We were served very briskly, and we dashed headlong to the bus stop. After waiting around there for about half an hour, and having chewed the fat with local bored taxi drivers, who are so idle that they are ready to even roll up to cyclists and entertain them with conversation (albeit with an ulterior motive), we discovered that it was the wrong stop, and the bus departs right from the hamburger restaurant! Moreover, there are no identifying signs there, and no way to find this out either, not even on the bus company's website. Once again, I became convinced that you have to ask the locals everything, and then double-check a hundred times, just in case they're wrong.
Gobbling local ice cream to pass the time
In the end, we did manage to leave Limassol, but so late that we arrived in Paphos at half past five. Just imagine, just imagine, the southern sun is briskly heading towards sunset, we haven't slept for thirty hours, and we still have 50 kilometers of pedaling through the mountains ahead of us, with luggage to boot. "We've been through worse," we thought, and popped into a supermarket just in case, to fuel up on chocolate. The supermarket turned out to be a suburban hypermarket, where everyone fills up a shopping cart with grub, and you have to stand in line for half an hour. Luckily, the world is not without kind people, and some ladies let me cut in front of them, even without me asking, they offered it themselves. So I made it almost to the end of the line, until I stumbled upon an angry dude who started cursing me out for all he was worth in Russian, not knowing that I perfectly understand all his poetry. You immediately want to apply the stereotype that Russians abroad behave like assholes, but here's the catch – the ladies who let me through were also Russian-speaking.
This comrade ruined my mood quite a bit, because I usually don't cut in line in public places, and generally behave myself, and here I simply took advantage of the kindness of people who offered help themselves.
A long way ahead
Wildlife
When we got moving (not losing our minds, but hitting the road), we soon stumbled upon the first orange orchards. The aroma of citrus is simply magical. Apple and cherry trees are great too, but the exhilarating, invigorating scent of orange trees is beautiful beyond measure. The aggressive dude from the shop immediately melted away into the distant haze, along with all our other worries and problems. Despite the lack of sleep, and all the obstacles on the way, we were now firmly on track, and moving confidently into the future, which, no matter how you look at it, is the most important thing for a person.
Ahead, however, a solid climb awaited us — about 600 meters of elevation gain. For those not well-versed in cycling terminology, I have to explain that the elevation gain of a track is when you add up all the uphill slopes you had to ride. Since the road rarely goes only up, but more often winds in all dimensions, on very small hills 50-100 meters high, like in Latvia, over 100 kilometers of the route you can easily rack up a kilometer of gain. I'll tell you more later, but on this day our highest point, which we had to get over, was a whopping 700 meters, and we did it already after sunset, as expected. In total, we gained almost a kilometer in a day, which is quite a lot.
We descended already in the dark, good thing it was at least on asphalt. The speed was constantly 30-40 km/h, and we didn't even have to pedal. Just as you manage to hit 50, there's a turn right away, and you have to brake. On the way we came across a couple of smashed cars surrounded by police and onlookers, which prompted me to brake even more actively. We reached the town of Polis, which is by the sea, at around 9 o'clock, and then there was a terribly dull pedaling along the asphalt to the Astrofegia Apartments.
While I was looking for the printed booking and documents in the dark, the host came out and kindly showed us to our rooms. Turns out he had been texting me, but in roaming they are delivered leisurely, and my phone is often in airplane mode to save battery anyway. After a day so packed with events and difficulties, getting to our lodging was very pleasant. When we finally made it to our rooms, our jaws nearly dropped at the comfort and abundance of perks.
Every kind of household appliance: a stove, an oven, a washing machine, flat-screen TVs, a Wi-Fi router in each apartment for better reception, two bedrooms, each with a double bed and also a cot. A large living room studio with several sofas, a bunch of dishes and knives. Everything perfectly clean, and a lot looks brand new. Sweets and oranges on the table, a filter in front of the tap so you can drink clean water and not buy it for a euro a bottle. In the bathroom, a soap dispenser with a motion sensor!
Attached to all this splendor was a manual on how to use everything, where the nearest shop was, and so on, and so forth. Amazed by this comfort and bliss, we gratefully fell asleep on snow-white sheets. A substantial day lay ahead tomorrow, and we needed to get a proper night's sleep.