What was I thinking?

As the Spring weather starts to pick up in Melbourne, there's a lot to like about being home - the Daphne's scent in the backyard is intoxicating, the dappled light streaming through the trees tries to lull you into the "nap window", and the smell of the gyoza steaming on the cooker makes me wonder why I'm even considering leaving home.

But I am.

And after a long cold Melbourne winter, this taste of Spring just leaves me thirsting for more. Sure, I've been lucky this year - my paid gig has seen me travel extensively, and to far warmer climes than here, but it was still work. Nor is it any fun travelling without my partner in crime and tourist cynicism, she whom can pick a fight with a pushy Chinese tourist within seconds of being shoved or queue-jumped. The heckler's heckler. She whom fights for all that is good and right (and which serves our game plan). My Madelene, or as I'm oft-to refer her as She-of-Cloven-Hoof, Beelzebub, or the simple (yet classic), Spawn of Satan. Quite simply, the love of my life.

So I shall not be on my own.

And as we've done a few times before, we have planned yet another adventure abroad. Our last voyage was with the mighty Freebs, which made us a triumvirate of good times, dodgy suitcases, and far too many shoes (not on my part).
You may recall our tales from the left-on-the-shelf and largely ignored blog, Franco-Bogan, which saw us travel around France, into Athens, and then a far too brief sojourn on the enchanted island of Santorini.
I get all warm and fuzzy just thinking about it to be honest. The wine, the cheese, the menus none of us could read! Oh the fun we had as I drove all over a country with magnificent views passing by the window which I've only seen in photos - the concentration required rendered my ability to appreciate anything until I locked the car and walked away from it meant I didn't see much. But what a blast we had in celebration of a significant birthday of Madelene's.

This time around, we are travelling to Turkey, joining an Intrepid Tour for a couple of weeks, and touring the country in a loop from Istanbul and back again. I must remember to pack my elasticized pants. From Turkey, our trail leads us to an island just off the coast, but from a political/territorial  perspective, a million miles away. I am of course referring to Cyprus.

The decision to travel to Cyprus is a poignant one. Madelene lost her beloved mother this year, and that was after losing her father only the year before. It was a long, slow decline for a woman who's heart was as big as her generosity, and has a been quite literally a Greek tragedy for a number of years.
Maroulaki came to Melbourne from Cyprus in the 1950's, and after having returned only once back in the mid 90's, always looked back with great fondness of her motherland. I can't really relate as I've always lived about 10kms from where I was born, but I can understand the sentimental attachment.
Long before her passing, Mad and I discussed visiting Cyprus, as her brother had done before. And I take solace in the fact that we discussed our plans for this trip with Maroulaki prior to her slipping away back in July.
So the plan is for a mini family reunion to take place. Perhaps a meeting is a better way to define it, as Mad & I have never met the cousins (bar one whom will not be making it unfortunately).

So here's where things get interesting.

A family isn't necessarily just two people, so when the discussions began last year about this trip, there was great interest from Mad's siblings. Mad's brother Tony (and wife Julie) had been to Cyprus before and loved it. Mad's sister Lizy had always wanted to travel to Cyprus but for one reason or another had never made it. Lizy's son Seb had no interest in the trip, but her daughter Izabella was up for it, so the foundations were laid at that point for a full blown invasion of their ancestral home.

Fast forward to January of this year, and as the family was gathered together for Xmas, this plan evolved from an idea, to a possibility, into a full blown itinerary.

So that's it. As the Moors invaded Spain in the middle ages, the Germans into Poland in the late 30's, and the Americans into our lounge rooms in the sixties, so shall the Scironni family invade Cyprus in 2014!

To sweeten the deal, a family recovery party has been arranged in Santorini for a few days after our Cyprus take over, before a final "Last Supper" in Athens. From there, we all disband, heading to various other locales from Europe.

So what the Hell have I gotten myself in for? Can I adequately write the true story of what unfolds here when so many personal family matters are at stake.

The short answer is SHIT YES! I will dish the dirt, tell the tale, name names, and elaborate to my heart's content, so by the end of this, there could be huge unrest across Europe (not to mention Melbourne's North West suburbs).

Feel for me. I will suffer for your reading pleasure. It's the kind of suffering which involves some char-grilled octopus in one hand, a fine ale in the other, the sun on my face, the wind in my sail, and a lot of laughing for sure. Did I mention that we are ALL a massive pack of shit stirrers? No

All I can say is "Release the Kraken!"

Wish me luck (I'll need it)...