Frozen in Time - the Cyprus buffer zone
22 images Created 6 May 2014
If you look at a map of Cyprus, there is a line that cuts across the island like a scar. This is the buffer zone, a United Nations-controlled no-man’s land, also called the ‘Green Line’. It is a constant reminder that the country remains physically and symbolically divided.
The zone is a product of Cyprus’ turbulent history. When the island became independent from Britain in 1960, tension simmered between Greek and Turkish Cypriot communities, boiling over into political disputes and violence in 1963. Soon the first peacekeeping troops were sent in and the capital was effectively partitioned.
The situation escalated in 1974 when the Cyprus National Guard, who favoured union with Greece, staged a coup and Turkey responded with military action. The island was left split in two along the ceasefire line – and it remains so today.
The buffer zone is some 180 km (110 miles) long, and is controlled by United Nations peacekeepers. According to this U.N. force, the Green Line is almost seven and a half kilometers across at its widest point, and takes up about three percent of the island.
The buffer zone is most visible in Nicosia, where it is common to see streets blocked off by concrete walls, barrels and barbed wire. Outside of built-up areas the Green Line seems more symbolic. It is monitored by checkpoints and watchtowers, but is not marked by a great wall or fence. Occasionally roads will be blocked off and abandoned towns dot the route.
There are checkpoints allowing movement between the north and south of the island if you show your passport and both Greek and Turkish Cypriots are able to cross.
Many of the older generation still bear strong grudges and refuse to cross the divide.
The buffer zone in Old Nicosia is a surreal oasis of calm. Overgrown houses and shops stand slowly crumbling along the winding route and there is hardly a sound to be heard.
A common description of the buffer zone is that it is “frozen in time.” However, to me it was not so much a forgotten city as a testimony to conflict. Many of the houses bear the scars of war: bullet holes, sandbag fortifications and firing positions hint at the conflict that took place.
Many of the shop signs still remain and some buildings give the impression that the owners will be back in five minutes. In a former cafe, bottles, pots and pans seem hardly touched.
Some of the most famous residents in the Green Line are imported Toyotas stored in an underground garage. They were brought to the island from Japan but fighting broke out before they were sold. Dusty and rusting, some still have their import stickers and just 32 miles on the clock.
Similarly, further out of the city, the old Nicosia International Airport looks more like a scene from a post-apocalyptic horror film than a travel terminal. A Cyprus Airways passenger plane still stands outside, never to fly again.
The zone is a product of Cyprus’ turbulent history. When the island became independent from Britain in 1960, tension simmered between Greek and Turkish Cypriot communities, boiling over into political disputes and violence in 1963. Soon the first peacekeeping troops were sent in and the capital was effectively partitioned.
The situation escalated in 1974 when the Cyprus National Guard, who favoured union with Greece, staged a coup and Turkey responded with military action. The island was left split in two along the ceasefire line – and it remains so today.
The buffer zone is some 180 km (110 miles) long, and is controlled by United Nations peacekeepers. According to this U.N. force, the Green Line is almost seven and a half kilometers across at its widest point, and takes up about three percent of the island.
The buffer zone is most visible in Nicosia, where it is common to see streets blocked off by concrete walls, barrels and barbed wire. Outside of built-up areas the Green Line seems more symbolic. It is monitored by checkpoints and watchtowers, but is not marked by a great wall or fence. Occasionally roads will be blocked off and abandoned towns dot the route.
There are checkpoints allowing movement between the north and south of the island if you show your passport and both Greek and Turkish Cypriots are able to cross.
Many of the older generation still bear strong grudges and refuse to cross the divide.
The buffer zone in Old Nicosia is a surreal oasis of calm. Overgrown houses and shops stand slowly crumbling along the winding route and there is hardly a sound to be heard.
A common description of the buffer zone is that it is “frozen in time.” However, to me it was not so much a forgotten city as a testimony to conflict. Many of the houses bear the scars of war: bullet holes, sandbag fortifications and firing positions hint at the conflict that took place.
Many of the shop signs still remain and some buildings give the impression that the owners will be back in five minutes. In a former cafe, bottles, pots and pans seem hardly touched.
Some of the most famous residents in the Green Line are imported Toyotas stored in an underground garage. They were brought to the island from Japan but fighting broke out before they were sold. Dusty and rusting, some still have their import stickers and just 32 miles on the clock.
Similarly, further out of the city, the old Nicosia International Airport looks more like a scene from a post-apocalyptic horror film than a travel terminal. A Cyprus Airways passenger plane still stands outside, never to fly again.
