Back round again to the end of August and the Champions League draw.  Michel Platini’s influence has crept in and the process has changed again but Chelsea benefited as despite finishing third we went straight into the main draw in Monte Carlo.  But there still remains a load of juggling to do the draw and come up with a series of groups and six games.  Being at home to see some builders I should have been able to watch it unfold but had unaccountably not taken the one-hour time difference on board.  So got into my flat to a text saying “could have been worse!”  We are back to Porto again and finally get to go to Madrid but to play Atletico.  The newcomers to it all were Apoel Nicosia from Cyprus, in it for the first time and as it turned out down to be our first away game.

So the usual round of booking flights and hotels follows with Madrid and Porto being straightforward, though I’m going to Porto via Lisbon for a change.  Cyprus is harder to book because of the locations of airports and towns.  So I go for flying to Larnaka and staying there and then going on to Nicosia for the match.  Getting the hotels isn’t as straightforward as usual and Expedia seem to have changed how they do things so I wasn’t paying for these up front, just a credit card number wanted when I’ve thought I’ve paid already by debit card?  One by one my friends say they’re not going at all on this trip and it looks like four days on my own in a strange place!  For other reasons too I get to the weekend before the trip and am closer than ever before to wondering why am I going?  But it is all booked up and I decide I have to go for it.

So it is an early morning journey to Heathrow via train, bus and underground.  As ever there are people I know on the flight and there are quick chats about where people are going to be staying before we board.  It is round about four hours in the air one of the longer possible flights in the Champions League.  The choice of films available is poor and I probably should have spent more time reading!  At the other end I’ve worked out there is a bus I can get to the centre of Larnaka and eventually track down where it is leaving.  The driver sounds like he is from London and it leaves early with me as the only passenger for the grand sum of 1.30 Euros.  We go a slightly circuitous route and pick up one more passenger who knows the driver; I even suspect he detoured to collect her.  So I’m dropped on the seafront and find the tourist information to get a street map and directions to my hotel.  It is a ten-minute stroll and the temperature is pushing 30 degrees without a cloud in the sky.  My hotel looks very smart from the outside and doesn’t quite fit with the surrounding area.  It turns out it has just had a refurb and is having a bit of a do later to celebrate.  After unpacking I go for a wander round the town and the centre isn’t very large at all.  Quickly decide I need some lighter footwear and buy a bag too as I won’t need a jacket for the entire stay.  Once I’ve rearranged all this I go for a longer exploration though it does get dark quite rapidly.  I end up going for a fish restaurant that is recommended in my guidebook and is right on the sea front.  In fact it is so close that the waves crash right up against the windows, though being on my own I don’t get the best table next to this feature!

Back to the hotel and the launch party is in full swing.  When I ask at reception about when it is ending the young lady seems to think I ’m going to complain but I say I’m just curious.  Turns out that the card about the event in my room is in fact an invite and she says come down and join in, as it is all free drinks.  I do so but feel slightly odd with all the locals in their finery and I settle down to people watch a bit, though the wine offered wasn’t too good.  Then I spot a gatecrasher, the Supporters Club vice chair has come in to see what it is all about.  No one is in the least bothered by now so we have a few free drinks, not the wine, and a long chat before he goes back to his hotel.

The Tuesday dawns with a cloudless sky again and it is already pretty warm.  Turns out a couple of other friends who came out on Sunday are in my hotel and we have a leisurely breakfast and they update me on some of the local scene.  Main thing seems to be how relaxed all the locals are and they don’t mind sitting around as you finish your drinks into the small hours!  During the day I think I exhaust the fairly limited supply of local sites, going right down the beach towards the south, then the small fort and the marina.  I do try and track down the ancient ruins of Kition following signs first and then a white line painted on the pavement.  It is really hot by now but thankfully not humid.  I get round the final corner at 2.20 to find that it closes in ten minutes.  Presumably there was no one looking around the ruins as they’ve all packed up and gone home.  So I don’t know what I’ve missed.  I go back to the centre for a late lunch and then lounge around on the beach in the sun reading for a couple of hours.  After a brief break back at the hotel I decide to go to the restaurant my friends had recommended for my evening meal and the recommendation is a good one.  The place is absolutely rammed but the service is geared up for this as I think it is typical.  Every time I went past this place was the busiest one going.  I wander round town after but don’t feel particularly like watching the football on the TV, though there are loads of options with both English teams featured almost exclusively.

I’ve almost decided to have an early night when someone shouts hello across the road and I find a group of people I know a bit at a bar across from my hotel.  It turns out Maureen is among them and I join them for what turns into a few drinks.  Lots of old football talk follows on a warm pleasant night.  They had been in another place earlier on where they’ve been offered a lift up to Nicosia so we arrange to meet the next day, as there is a spare seat.  Another leisurely breakfast the next day and my friends in the hotel seem to have been out most of the night.  I go for a final wander before check out and a local asks me about my t-shirt, the 1970 FA Cup one - (click here).  He claims he was on the club’s books in 1972 but I don’t ask him his name, as I’m pretty sure it is fantasy talk.  Back at the hotel I bump into Stan who says we’re in the same hotel until I point out I’ve just checked out.  I ask where the diving centre is as that is my rendezvous point; the receptionist says which one, as there are several!  After several texts I establish where the others are and set off.  Somehow my luggage has grown probably due to the fact I’m wearing half the number of clothes I was when I left England.  Everyone else appears to just be finishing what is really brunch by now and our driver Michael needs a bit of prompting from his work colleague to get ready to go.  He is a very small chatty bloke and later we spend ages trying to work out just how old he is.  Round the back of his place he offers the choice of his ordinary Mercedes or the one he describes as his limo.  Not hard to guess what the four of us choose.

On the way up Michael takes over organising the rest of our trip to Cyprus.  He’ll drop us in Nicosia then pick us up later for the match and then again afterwards.  He then throws in a drive back to the airport the next day.  We’re slightly reticent about all this, as it seems a bit OTT.  Though travelling the next day will be affected by it being Independence Day.  We get a running commentary at the start of the journey but then he quietens down though bizarrely turns off the air conditioning and opens the window instead.  The countryside is pretty barren and uniformly brown apart from the stony areas, which are white.  As we approach we get the low-down on Nicosia with a special emphasis on the fact that Debenhams has more than one branch!  The strangest sight is the huge Turkish flag painted into the hill on the far side of the divided capital.  We are dropped at the central hotel where everyone else is staying and agree with Michael that we’ll pay him 50 Euros now and then the same again the next day at the airport, a deal that seems to suit everyone.  I say see you later and go in search of my hotel and the fun then starts.  I’ve looked on the website map that showed the hotel just to the east of the old city walls but decide to stop at tourist information to double check.  There I meet my one and only unfriendly Cypriot and get given the worst map ever.  They have photocopied and reduced the map into a tear off pad.  It is virtually illegible and she circles where my hotel is in red.  It is to the west and twice as far out as I’d thought and wouldn’t have booked if I’d known.  On looking more closely she has actually circled the wrong number on the map but it isn’t too far off.  Problem is the road names are blurred and the road names in the city vary on the English spellings from the map.  Hard to tell the distance and I foolishly walk as I keep thinking it can’t be that far.  Eventually I arrive and go to check in.  They’ve never heard of me!  The guy is about 90 and says I’m not in the book, looking at it upside he is right but they only have one person checking in that day so not busy.  So he says do I want a room for 45 Euros, over 20 less than I thought I’d be paying, so I say yes please.  He also has a decent street map.  The hotel is frankly slightly ramshackle with a very lived in feel but I’m not planning on spending much time there.  I have a large twin room with a balcony overlooking the mountains and it does have working air conditioning.

I walk back to the centre and it is a lot quicker when you know where you’re going.  I explore some of the old centre before meeting up with the others again.  We then bump into Scott and Andy and end up going to a restaurant in the old town.  It isn’t busy but it is not really a mealtime and it is friendly with good food.  The other two had hired a car and been in Nicosia since the day before.  Turns out they’re on my flight home the next day and again it proves it is who you know as I now have a lift for the next day too.  We go to a couple of bars, the first being very quiet though quite welcoming.  The second is full of Chelsea and quite raucous at times.  There are a few youngsters there who are worse for wear and trying to get songs going.  The old hands are interested in drinking and chatting.  We did wonder what would happen if the younger ones ended up riling the wrong people but they manage to avoid doing that and leave surprisingly early.  There is a Chelsea fan that has travelled down from Sofia in Bulgaria without a ticket and he is really chuffed that a spare ticket is available at less than face value.  We go up the road for our rendezvous and our driver is soon there.  He says it might take a while to get there despite being only a few kilometres as they’ve built a 23,000 capacity ground with no public transport and only one road!  He is not wrong and once we hit the tailback you begin to think walking would be quicker.  All the young locals are whizzing past us on their scooters and we are crawling.  However just as we’re thinking we’ve left it a bit tight we go through a big junction and it all eases off and we’re there in five minutes.  Not having to park helps too and we agree to get picked up at the roundabout just by the ground.

The ground is neat and modern and already full of rowdy local fans.  Lot of familiar faces in the away end though a surprising number of strangers too; I think a few spare tickets have been doing the rounds.  Nothing to say about the game and at least we are not kept in for long.  Back on the roads it is chaotic and at the roundabout everyone is going in one direction irrespective of where they should be driving.  But we find Michael who has been home to Larnaka in the meantime!  It doesn’t take that long to clear the traffic and we get back to the centre and he announces he is going for a drink.  We think he is coming with us but turns out he has other plans.  So we go back to the bar we’d been in before which has livened up further in our absence.  I don’t stay for long as I am flagging a bit and the game hadn’t finished until gone 11.30.  So I return to my quiet suburban hotel for a deserved sleep.

In the morning it looks like there are very few guests and the breakfast is not up to much.  I check out and the price quoted the day before was the one charged.  Back in the centre I wander up to the green line between the Greek and Turkish sides of the city and decide to go through and see.  They don’t stamp your passport but have to give you a form.  After 35 years the other side of the city appears to have established a quite different identity and instead of lots of Western shops it is more Turkish bazaar style stalls.  I don’t spend long there as I have a rendezvous at my friends’ hotel so go there to wait.  We try and fail to check in on line though it won’t be any inconvenience anyway.  Andy is also contemplating ordering his Bolton ticket for the cup too!  We have a pleasant drive down to Larnaka and the traffic is okay.  We’ve decided to find somewhere to eat so end up in the one restaurant I’d kept passing earlier in the trip.  Luckily it is fine, if busy, and we eat and chat away about various trips.  We are actually very close to the airport so are there in plenty of time to check in and relax. 

Unfortunately after boarding there turns out to be a fuel leak in the wing and we’re all off again.  Scott rings his wife who works at an airport to see what sort of delay we can expect and the prognosis isn’t great.  At this time none of us believe we’re going anywhere tonight, especially when they offer us some refreshment vouchers.  Everyone then starts arriving for the Luton flight and there is a lot of ribbing about our delay.  It almost seems that Chelsea fans are the majority of people waiting now.  After about three hours when we’re expecting more bad news we are suddenly told we can board.  There are in fact two sets of buses going out on to the tarmac, one for Heathrow the other for Luton.  This time round we manage to stay on the plane and get off the ground okay.  The trip is uneventful and seems to take a long time.  There is one of those maps on a screen and we seem to crawl across the eastern half of the Mediterranean, which is obviously a larger area than you might normally think.  We’re going to be in just before midnight and I ask a cabin crewmember about transport and she has no idea!  I reckon the underground will be closed and I know the trains stop at about the time we land.  This isn’t helped by landing miles from the terminal and walking for ages inside it to get to passport control.  However I spot a friend of a friend who I know lives not far from me and ask what he is doing about getting back to south London.  His mate is picking him up and I can have a lift!  I’m embarrassed to say I can’t remember the guy’s name but don’t let on.  I get a lift to my front door and am home just after 1 a.m. 
I’ve fallen on my feet again for the third time in a couple of days!  Now if only that could continue over into other aspects of my life…