Petrofani
The Abandoned City

On the surface, Cyprus is a carefree country — a sunny Mediterranean island with a leisurely vibe. The locals are welcoming, the beaches are dazzling, and life moves slowly in that island sort of way.
It’s so charming, it’s easy to forget that not long ago, Cyprus was a warzone.
Before the War
Cyprus has been occupied by the Greeks, the Romans, the British, the French, the Turkish, and just about anyone who showed up with a boat and some military ambition. Lying at intersection between Europe and the Middle East, it’s always been valuable — and vulnerable. And with a small population and government, it’s incredibly difficult to defend this island.
While Cyprus has had its share of unrest — including colonial rule and uprisings in the mid-20th century — life on the island was relatively stable before things unraveled again in the 1970s.
The Turkish Invasion
Cypriot culture has a strong divide between Cypriots of Greek and Turkish background. And during the early-to-mid 20th century, tensions were rising between the two groups. Under British rule, Turkish Cypriots were given citizenship and, controversially, disproportionate representation, which caused civil unrest with the Greek majority. Despite calls for peace both domestically and abroad, this conflict gradually snowballed into something which could be called a small-scale civil war, to the point where NATO forces were almost deployed.

Petrofani
This back-and-forth struggle lasted until 1974, when the Turkish Army officially invaded the island, taking the northern portion of the island. The United Nations condemned these actions, and even today does not officially recognize Northern Cyprus. Although there has been no action since the seventies, the war is fresh in the minds of Cypriots.
Villages like Petrofani were caught in the crossfire — and then abandoned.
A Village In Ruin

Petrofani
The remains of Petrofani serve as a poignant reminder of war. Rubble lines the streets. Buildings collapsed. The only sign of life was a flock of goats. Fortunately, they seemed to be thriving.
Directly to the north of the ruins is a UN buffer zone. A “No Man’s Land,” separating southern Cyprus from the Turkish occupied north. Unlike the heavily guarded DMZ between the two Koreas, it remains surprisingly unguarded. I accidentally hiked a few hundred yards into it while my map glitched. No fences. No guards. Just the silence of a desert valley.
An unsettling vibe surrounds the area— a kind of tension, as if the fighting could resume any minute. Perhaps someday Cyprus will reclaim the upper portion of their island, or come to a peaceful arrangement with Turkey. We can not say for sure. It feels unresolved — because it is.
Faded Painting
One of the few surviving remnants is the above mural, painted on an abandoned house — a defiant splash of life to juxtapose the surroundings. Such a stunning piece of art gives hope that someday the village will thrive again.
But for now, the ruins remain.