By Charlie Charalambous
THIS IS the time of year when the sleepy fishing village of Ayia Napa shrugs off its winter coat and transforms itself into a bustling, sprawling, hub of tourist activity.
Ayia Napa may have a gaudy reputation for being a kitsch dayglo strip with a summer population of brawling beer-swigging louts, but it’s still one of the island’s most popular destinations for the millions who arrive searching for sun, sea and sex – if they can get it.
Tourism is the lifeblood of the area, with hundreds of families dependent on the tourist economy for employment and survival.
But enter the all-important introduction of a £7 million sewage system, à- la-Limassol, and Ayia Napa is turned from a sun trap into a huge man hole.
Hoteliers, shopkeepers, and local residents are none too pleased that the work, which started in the winter, is continuing unabated into the spring.
Despite this, Ayia Napa mayor Barbara Pericleous says all the gaping holes will be filled in and things will be back to normal by the end of March.
“We started last October and we will finish the work on March 31. There have been no complaints,” Pericleous told The Sunday Mail.
“Everybody knew this was going to happen and everybody was happy. In six months, we did work on a sewage system that normally takes years to do,” she added.
But the locals are not exactly overjoyed at their livelihoods being put at risk by a huge public works project that has turned Ayia Napa and nearby Protaras into no-go areas resembling a huge set for Oscar favourite Saving Private Ryan.
“This project will never be completed this month or even next month,” said local resident Demetris Christou.
Moreover, it is no exaggeration to say that the sprawling village has become a death trap, as in January a Norwegian tourist was killed when he fell down an open road ditch in Ayia Napa.
It is difficult to get a grasp of a how a network of road works and dangerously deep trenches can scar the daily lives of the tourists and locals in Ayia Napa unless you venture in person to the south eastern coast.
Approaching the Famagusta district village, you’re not struck by the sun- soaked horizon, but by the endless pyramid-shaped heaps of ballast and sand stretching for miles.
The next test is actually finding a way into the place, which isn’t blocked by a no-entry sign, barriers, or huge boulders.
Once on the scene, the scars on the road tell their own story as do the forlorn figures of shopkeepers whose faces are seemingly wishing the road workers and bulldozers would disappear into the trenches they have dug.
“As soon as they open one road they close another; it takes for ever to get to work and then when I open the shop there is nothing because tourists won’t venture down here; it’s a shame,” said souvenir shop owner Maria Mavrou.
The endless rows of bric-a-brac shops selling kitsch souvenirs, dodgy music tapes and the odd lace tablecloth are – besides the neon discos and ubiquitous theme pubs – what give Ayia Napa its ugly duckling’s charm.
It is also what sells to the hoards of Finns, Brits and Russians who gingerly make their way round the cones and rubble on road work avenue.
Even the scenic harbour with its fishing boats and tavernas has not escaped the demolition man. Access to it is rather difficult, what with the road being closed off and completely ripped up.
Unluckily, Maria has her souvenir shop washed up between the nonexistent road and something called a pavement – three metres above sea level.
“Everybody is complaining about the situation, but nobody is listening. It’s too risky for the elderly tourists to walk around, especially at night because they might fall down a hole.”
Maria says her earnings have slumped from the usual £200-a-day at this time of year to big fat zero.
Other shopkeepers had the same story to tell, but expressed the wish the nightmare would end before the “English invasion”.
“This has caused us lots of problems, but we hope it will be fixed in a month,” said an Ayia Napa mini-market owner, who didn’t want to be named.
A group of Scandinavians cyclists seemed oblivious to the dangers until they started looking for a piece of tarmac that hadn’t been dug up. In the end they fled to the safety of the pavement.
“Ooh it’s very bad, too dangerous for us,” said one of the cyclists in broken English as the group sped in search of a comfortable ride.
A British couple who took a more conventional means of transport – they let their feet do the walking – were not too happy with the sight of bulldozers and the thumping din
of men at work.
“It didn’t say anything like this in the brochure. I’ve come here for a quiet two weeks and it’s a complete mess,” said Sean Carter.
It seems he got the wrong travel agent, because at the moment no sightseeing tour worth its weight in holiday snaps would include Ayia Napa as part of the scenic route.
Meanwhile, cars are legally allowed to roam the pavement for a change, and those hapless tourists just have to keep ducking and diving for cover.
