Mason Ross
For our final group expedition outside the relative familiarity of Larnaca, our overlarge bus traveled up the Troodos mountains and foothills to the village of Lefkara, one of my personal favorite stops from last year. The municipality of Pano Lefkara has allegedly been occupied since the neolithic period, but the trip was not about taking in the wonder of ancient cities or temples or mosaics. There would be no burning alive at an archaeological park while Tom gives some background information in between vending machine stops. Instead, there was to be tourism, souvenirs, and picturesque views! Last year, Riley and I visited a beautiful church looking out over the mountain which was our first stop once hopping off the bus.
Lefkara is famous for its historical lace and silver production (we’re talking early modern history here, nothing ancient, as promised) which is still practiced in the village today. Every other shop front has lace flowing out the door and silver glinting in the window. I was on the hunt for souvenirs, and I wasn’t looking for just any old trinkets. Last year I made acquaintances with a very friendly and very talented, old silversmith, and I was intent on purchasing my silver from the one and only Michalakis of Lefkara. He has been hand crafting silver jewelry for decades and his experience shows. The walls of his corner store are full of displays of impossibly fine and intricate bracelets and necklaces between which are magazine and newspaper clips of Michalakis receiving awards and being interviewed while holding a variety of small hammers. A large poster outside the shop describes him as a “mastre silversmith,” and that combined with a mustache/beard wikipedia informs me is called “friendly mutton chops” or “side whiskers,” told me all I needed to know. I bought my wares and we continued to wander the village streets.
Some day I hope to retire to a small village on a mountain top with winding streets and cobble walls. I will master some dying craft and sell my goods while sitting on a covered porch and forget every word I’ve read on JSTOR.
