I read online that the Cyprus government has offered vaccinations to non-residents, asylum-seekers and refugees since I was last in Cyprus over a month ago. One is to go on Fridays, on a first come first serve basis with the required ID and form filled out.
Friday, 9:30am. I park a purple-blue Suzuki van I am borrowing from a friend and walk in the already hot morning to the entrance of the vaccination area. A general hub-bub of people is gathered. "Hello, you want vaccination?", enquires a large man whose belly is bursting out of a beige t-shirt. He is sitting next to a police officer against a wall on a fold-out chair. "Yes, I am".
"You Cypriot?"
"Err, no". I say. He pauses, as if this is disappointing information.
"You have Cypriot passport?"
"No". Again the pause, but the kind of pause an amateur actor makes, it is obvious he already knows the lines to come,
"You have job?",
"Yes, I do" I say, feeling happy it is some nugget of gold that may help me pass through the gates to be vaccinated.
"OK, you have social security".
"No not yet-"
"-You cannot, I'm sorry"
"Err, sorry, I cannot be vaccinated?"
"No you must have a social security number otherwise no vaccination".
"Oh, right, because it says on the website-"
"-Without it you cannot get vaccinated", his eyes frank, still friendly.
"Oh, right, OK, thank you" I say and walk away.
Later the 148, a compact, 15 person bus is flying over speed bumps through the warm evening air. One by one the passengers disperse. A teenager to my left is staring at me while I'm reading a book. I look up and turn to his mahogany brown eyes, and after a moment of silent confrontation he looks forward.
When I get back I open the windows and sit down at a round polished table with a cat on it. A brief breeze sets the leaves on the bush outside rustling, comes in and makes a cooling pass across my chest before fluttering the cat's fur. My life is intensely exciting because I bought some Nespresso pods manufactured by Starbucks. The morning can't come too soon.
It comes gently, as it does. A cold water shower briefly dowses the strange hot fogginess my brain lies in during the heat of the night. I peel the lid of a cat food pouch and empty the gloopy stuff into a bowl. Finally, a Pikes Place® Roast pod is placed politely into the machine. The button is pressed and a demented cow-like growling issues forth. I accompany it with the soft whisking whooshes from the milk frother, whose button is softer and rubbery. Then the soft swishing sound of a single sachet of brown sugar being emptied like sand falling in an hourglass. Finally, a silver teaspoon is dipped and spun, clinking once against the tea cup whose pink rose pattern is faded from use.
I taste - a collaboration between Howard Schultz's North American business skills, Eric Favre's Swiss ingenuity, South American coffee plants, Avra natural mineral water from Greece and my tongue. The taste reminds me of the smell the stores have: hints of greed, notes of all for profit soullessness, and whiffs of ambrosial coffee. Mmmm, yum, keep it coming.
Keep what coming?
Me, by feeding me new.
New what?
New everything. New iPhone, for example.
But what number do you want us to stop at, 19?
Never.
So you want us to go on forever? There aren't enough numbers.
Don't stop. I'm almost coming.
From where are you coming?
From here.
Can I come to?
No. Just keep going faster.
How much faster, we're going at 42 Mbps already
Faster!
But should we ever stop going faster?
No, I'm almost coming.
Ah finally, I've been waiting for the second coming.
No, I'm the opposite of peace being with me.
I look outside - the bush outside is dead still in the mornings, only an occasional quiver of pink bougainvillea petals. Today I'm planning to get in the blueberry coloured Suzuki van and drive to a beach. I'll spend the night sleeping on a mattress with the smell and sound of the Mediterranean sea in my nostrils and ears. The salt scent a collaboration between rock, sea and air.
But first I must check my Tinder messages - oh gosh, someone has replied to me with a hello plus a brimming with glee smiley with love hearts floating around it emoji. Only to never reply again. People are misusing smileys etc. in messages all the time. Several of my friends put several 'x's at the end of their messages and haven't once kissed me. God was the first to use it at the end of his last message as a symbol of surrender. Which is in fact where our modern usage of it originates. I am more interested though in the origin of my life's latest excitement:
"From our first store in Seattle’s Pike Place Market to our coffeehouses around the world, customers requested a freshly brewed coffee they could enjoy throughout the day"
Should Starbucks customers not then be put on a drip? Or do I misunderstand the word throughout? Perhaps I have also misunderstood capitalism. I thought it was about making customers want things to make a profit, not customers making companies make things they want. The line is blurred. However, if I can make a request as a customer of this world, I request that the great engine called greed that runs the machine along this path of ceaseless, malignant expansion be detonated as soon as possible.
But please don't stop manufacturing coffee, especially my new favourite and day's highlight - Pikes Place® Roast Nespresso pods, also don't stop increasing the pixelation of cameras, or my internet speed, and don't ever stop opening more stores, but whatever you do, don't ever, EVER encourage me to be fulfilled with what I already have.
The first rains of the season have started to fall. Thunder is slamming across the sky and rattling the window panes. It is almost exciting, and even better, is probably one of those things MasterCard claims money can't buy. I'd love to meet the creative that coined that famous phrase, I'd enquire of her - is a soul one of them?
A what?
