ABSTRACT
I well remember the thrill of my first visit to Famagusta. It was September 1971 and my wife and I had driven over in a hired car from Nicosia. Excitement and anticipation were palpable. And then there it was: the skyline dominated by the former catholic cathedral of St Nicholas flanked by other reminders of Famagusta’s heyday, and in the foreground the massive bastions of the Venetian walls. Here was a place about which I had read, and which now exceeded all expectations.
