Sunstroke, kebabs and grockles

By Sara Whitaker
British expat in Limassol, Cyprus

Millions of Britons fly south every summer, in search of sun and relaxation. But what's it like for expat residents of popular destinations, when their new homes are invaded by their former countrymen and women?

Summer is a mixed blessing for us expats living here in Cyprus.

True, Aphrodite's isle may boast great wine, wonderful fresh food, beautiful beaches and the chance to swim in clear, warm seas.

Cyprus' beaches are a major draw for tourists

But there is also the downside of island life - water shortages, extreme temperatures (never "officially" above 40C) and high humidity to make the nine-to-five of office life unbearable.

And, here's the clincher: it is also the time of year that we welcome plane loads of our fellow Britons, as they descend on our Mediterranean home for a fortnight of escapism.

For permanent residents the tourists' arrival marks the start of grockle watching season, that time when we amuse ourselves with the antics of our sunburned, alcohol "enhanced" cousins.

Hot and dishevelled

Make a trip to Larnaca airport in July or August and you quickly discover that it's mass invasion time.

Off the planes, through the arrivals hall and on to waiting coaches trudge thousands of hot, dishevelled holidaymakers laden with luggage and accessories.

Some even insist on bringing their beach umbrellas with them. Do they really think we don't have them?

Many of the buses head straight to the big resorts - Paphos in the west, Limassol and Larnaca in the south, or Protaras and Ayia Napa in the east.

Most are worth driving straight through, unless it's out of season, but even in these towns at the height of summer you can still see fairly empty beaches during the day and quiet restaurants at night.

Sunstroke and kebabs

It may be quicker and cheaper to fly to Spain, but for those who endure the four-and-a-half hour flight to Cyprus the rewards are great.

Apart from sunstroke there's also the chance to enjoy mosquito bites, Keo beer and kebabs.

The bold might also hire a car to explore more of the island, an activity made easier by the fact we drive on the left, although I use the word "drive" loosely.

For our less adventurous visitors there is always fish and chips or a full English breakfast, a pint of John Smiths, yesterday's newspapers and Sky sports on TV.

We either sink further into our gin bottles or we head for the hills

Stay put and you find your hairdryer will work on the same plug as it does at home.

Those who don't fancy yet another burger or pizza, or a night at the pub, might care to try a taverna for meze - the Cypriot speciality of numerous small plates of local dishes and delicacies.

Such a choice often leads to cries of: "Oh, no snails for us, thanks mate!".

But after one two many glasses of local wine and brandy, the grockles need far less persuasion to get up on the dance floor. Luckily improvisation is a characteristic of Cypriot folk dancing.

Inhibitions and morals

It's normal to see families out and about during the day.

But the young and the beautiful are nocturnal in their habits - usually sleeping off the excesses of the night before.

The clubs of resorts like Ayia Napa attract hordes of young Britons

Much to the delight of the local males, the typical young British female appears to leave her inhibitions and morals at the check in desk.

She'll go from bar to bar down Limassol's Galatex street, before clubbing until dawn at one of the discos, accepting the free shots of unknown booze and the leering looks of the local men.

It doesn't take too many high-alcohol turbo shandies before she's legless.

Fortunately for her, British military police on the tourist strip to look-out for errant squaddies seem to curb any unwanted ardour.

Gin bottles

The standard holiday uniform for the average British male in the 18 - 30 bracket is based around a vest proclaiming allegiance to his homeland.

On his lower half you'll see those funny little shorts that joggers wear and can only hope that there is some support underneath.

Tattoos, earrings, baseball cap and sandals - thankfully never worn with socks - or trainers finish the look.

So how does the expat cope?

Well, we either sink further into our gin bottles or we head for the hills.

There, the air is clear, the temperature is below 30 and you can't feel the humidity.

There's also the small consolation that you won't hear another English accent.

We know the island needs them, we know they have every right to come, but it doesn't make giving up our island paradise any easier.