Do tourists know Cyprus is divided?

What do visitors know about the occupation of the island? Alix Norman speaks to a selection of tourists to find out

Cyprus is billed as sea, sun and sand – a Mediterranean paradise, an idyllic getaway for tourists. But how many of our visitors actually realise they are coming to a divided island; a country which, for nearly 50 years, has been occupied by invading forces?

Granted, most holidaymakers are unconcerned by politics: visitors to Cambodia are unlikely to look beyond the temples and beaches to the country’s limits on political freedom; those cruising blithely down the Nile may not be aware of Egypt’s human rights record.

But the majority of Cyprus’ tourists come from the same continent. And when a fellow European country has been illegally occupied for half a century, surely that should register with foreign visitors, right?

So we went out and asked them. On the beaches of Napa and the streets of Nicosia, we spoke to as many visitors as we could, asking what they knew about the division. The answers were surprising, to say the least…

First up was the Famagusta region, an area that takes its name from a town no longer directly accessible. And, when the heat haze lifts, it’s the one place from which you can clearly see the Ghost Town of Varosha – a clear indication that all is not as idyllic as it seems.

“That’s Ayia Napa, I think,” says 23-year-old Paul, who is sunbathing on Vrysoudi Beach with his British friends. The group are out here for a week on a lads’ holiday, and have spent the last few days “swimming, clubbing, and drinking; it’s fantastic! But that town – that’s where we went last night isn’t it?” he asks a mate. “Yeah, yeah, it is. What was that bar called?”

We clarify the town we’re seeing is not Ayia Napa but Varosha, a casualty of the invasion. There are blank looks. So we ask if the group know that 36 per cent of the island is occupied by Turkey. One of the young men pipes up: “Yeah, there was a war wasn’t there? Like in the 50s? Someone invaded Cyprus, my mum told me. It was something to do with Greece and Turkey.”

On Fig Tree Bay, we fall into conversation with an elderly Hampshire couple who are visiting Cyprus for the first time. “I remember it from the news,” says Gerald. “Turkey invaded the island in the 70s; before we came we looked it up and saw that we could cross to the other side if we wanted. But we won’t; we’re happy here.”

It’s much the same whoever we speak to in the Famagusta region. Visitor knowledge is limited and, as long as nothing is directly affecting the interviewees’ holidays, sadly nobody seems too bothered. The one exception is 19-year-old Jenny, the sole London Cypriot in a group of five enjoying frappés on Nissi.

“My grandfather grew up in Kyrenia,” she says. “So I was brought up knowing all about the invasion, about the night the Turkish came, about the way my family had to flee their home. Even though I’m British by birth, I kind of feel Cyprus is my home, so it’s my responsibility to know what happened, and to let others know.”

“She explained it to us before we came,” her friend interjects. “We were shocked. We knew that there was something about Cyprus – like it didn’t all belong to the Cypriots anymore. But we didn’t know the full extent – we didn’t know there were people who had had to leave everything and couldn’t go back. It’s tragic. If that happened in, like, Brighton, everyone would know. And nobody would ever forget.”

In Nicosia, on Ledra Street, the proximity of the checkpoint ensures most people we speak to are better informed.

“This is where you cross from the Republic of Cyprus to the Turkish occupied territories,” says Polish lad Tomasz, who is staying in Larnaca and visiting the capital for the day. His use of precise terminology suggests he has studied up on the subject, especially when he can give the exact year of the invasion.

But there was still a great deal of misinformation and outright error.

A Bulgarian family whose 11-year-old son acts as interpreter are less sure of the facts. “So, my mum says there was a war a long time ago,” we are told. “That is why we must give our passports. She says that over there it is Turkey, but that this part is Greece.”

Aada and Julia from Finland are also unsure, though very willing to learn. They’re visiting Nicosia for the day, in the capital “to see something different. We know there was an invasion by Turkey,” says Aada, conferring with her friend. “We think in the 1970s or the 1980s? Now the other side is independent, no?”

We put them right, and both are eager to understand the issue. “We want to get this correct,” says Julia. “We are guests in your country, we must know these things. We do not want to offend anyone.”

There are a great many other visitors we speak to. At times we’re disheartened by the lack of knowledge.

“The Turks control that side, the Greeks control this side. I don’t know why,” says one elderly Brit.

“I just thought it had always been this way,” says a young Romanian.

But, as we’re concluding our interviews, we encounter a middle-aged German couple, Stefan and Sara. “In July 1974, Turkey invaded Cyprus,” says Stefan. “Gradually it pressed forward and took over the northern part of the island; Kyrenia and Famagusta. I can tell you about the tanks, about Atilla, about Makarios,” he adds. “I can tell you about the Annan Plan.

“No,” he laughs, in response to our surprised queries. “I am not a historian. I work in IT. But I would like the people who visit Germany to know about our past, so I feel it is my duty to respect the history of the places I go to. It is my responsibility as a visitor to your country. I am sorry,” he says, “for what has happened to this beautiful island.”