Larnaka in March

Friday, 20 March

This wasn't my first flight to Larnaka. I had it filed in my head as a hot summer city by the sea — a promenade full of people, cafés, scorching streets, and that particular Mediterranean pace that makes you stop rushing anywhere within a few hours. This time, though, it was March, and Cyprus decided to explain, right after landing, that this would be a slightly different visit.

Waiting for the bus from the airport to the hotel, a proper storm rolled in. Not the romantic kind you photograph through a window with a coffee in hand. By the time the bus arrived, I was completely soaked. I stood there with my green backpack and could only laugh. You fly out for the Mediterranean and the first thing you get is a shower before you've even reached the hotel.

I checked into Zodiac Hotel Apartments on Athenon 102, right on the coast. The storm was already passing, leaving only a light drizzle. I could have changed, lain down and called the day done. But I wasn't ready for sleep yet. So I went back out.

I walked the same streets I remembered from that hot summer. They weren't empty — there were still plenty of people — but Larnaka had a different energy. Calmer. Less summer rush, less heat, wet pavements, air after rain. The places were the same; the mood was completely different. That's when it first hit me that returning to somewhere you already know doesn't have to mean repeating the same thing.

Saturday, 21 March — the flamingos

Morning brought maybe the nicest possible surprise. The sun woke me up. I opened my eyes and, straight from the bed, saw the sea. No need to step onto a balcony or go to the window — it was simply there. Blue, still rough from the night before, just a few metres away. And with it, the smell of the sea. That detail is hard to describe, because no photo ever captures it. But when you wake up by the coast and the first thing you notice is salt in the air, you know you're somewhere completely different from home.

I had my morning coffee, then set off on foot along the coast toward the Larnaka Salt Lake. Almost four kilometres, a bit over five thousand steps. No taxi, no bus — just the sea beside me and the road ahead. This is exactly how I like to travel, when I don't need every hour planned and can simply walk a place.

I already knew the salt lake. I'd been there in August 2025, when it was completely dry — a huge white plain of salt, hot, almost lunar. So I roughly knew what to expect.

Except I knew nothing at all.

When I reached the lake this time, I stopped for a moment, stunned. In front of me wasn't the dry white plain I remembered from summer. There was a lake. Water. Life. Birds. And among them, flamingos.

To someone else, maybe just an ordinary tourist stop in Larnaka. For me, it was one of the strongest moments of the whole trip — maybe precisely because I knew exactly what this place had looked like only a few months earlier. I stood on almost the same spot and looked at a completely different landscape. The same lake, but two entirely different worlds.

And the flamingos put the exclamation mark on it.

Not every travel experience needs to be big, expensive or complicated. Sometimes it's enough to return to a place you already know, and have it show you something you never had the chance to see before. For me, that was the moment from Larnaka 2026 that stayed with me the deepest.

From the lake I carried on to Mackenzie Beach. No rush anywhere. I walked the beach, then slowly headed back toward the centre and the hotel. After all those kilometres, hunger caught up with me, so a very welcome stop followed on the terrace of Grill Chef on Pavlou Valsamaki. I ordered a grill mix — no fine dining for effect, just honest food after a long walk. And right at that moment, it was perfect.

Later I walked the city again. Actually, walking was most of what I did on this trip — no constant need to be heading somewhere. Larnaka suits that kind of travel very well. The sea, the alleys, small places, the harbour, people. You just set off and let the day arrange itself a little.

I ended the evening at Joel Drinkery on Ermou 106. What started as one drink turned into a conversation with the locals. And those are exactly the evenings I like — sitting in a city that isn't yours, talking to people who live there, and for a moment not feeling like just a visitor. I got to bed around two in the morning. Counting back — the morning coffee, the kilometres along the coast, the flamingos, Mackenzie, lunch, the city, the evening drink — it had been a properly long Saturday. But one of those you fall asleep very content after.

Sunday, 22 March

Sunday was completely different. Quiet. And after Saturday, that was exactly what I needed.

I started with a morning coffee, then took a gyros in hand and walked through the harbour to the beach. No real plan. When I reached the sea, I took off my shoes and waded in wearing my shorts. I walked the shoreline for a while, tested the temperature, ran through the waves.

Then it occurred to me that, since I was already there, it would be a shame to stop at just wet feet.

I went back for my swimsuit.

March in the Mediterranean isn't exactly a thermal bath. The water was cold. Properly cold. But the sun was warm, and after the first shock it was actually great. I had a swim, and when I came out, threw a towel over a sunbed and lay down in the sun. The sea still cold, the sun already pleasantly warm. And there I was, lying on the beach, aware it was March.

Sometimes a holiday doesn't need anything more than that.

Later in the afternoon I stopped at Alexander Restaurant. Not quite lunch any more, more of an early dinner after a day by the sea. I ordered a fish platter with fish and seafood, and after all that sun, water and walking, it landed exactly right. Then back to the room for a short rest.

In the evening I went back out into the city, this time just to enjoy the quiet Sunday atmosphere. No big plans, no chasing last experiences. Just the city, the lights, people, and the feeling of a weekend slowly winding down. I closed it with a drink at Duende Cocktail and More.

Monday, 23 March — packing the backpack again

Monday morning already had that familiar last-day feeling. Still on the trip, but somewhere in the back of your head the airport bus, the departure and the flight home are already running.

I had a coffee and a fresh orange juice right next to Larnaka Medieval Fort and Djami Kebir Mosque. I sat there, enjoying the last morning by the sea a little longer. Then back to the room for the familiar ritual of every one of my trips — fitting everything back into the green backpack.

The same backpack that had stood in front of Bratislava airport's doors a few days earlier was ready to travel again.

Before leaving, though, I didn't want to miss one last good lunch. At St Lazarus Square I stopped at Stoa Café Restaurant and had an excellent moussaka. The kind of meal where you know very well that in a little while you'll be sitting on a plane, and shortly after that, somewhere completely different again.

After that, there was nothing left to figure out. Green backpack on, bus toward the airport, and the afternoon flight back to Bratislava.

Two versions of the same city

When I flew into Larnaka, I thought I was returning to a city I knew. When I flew out, I felt like I'd met a completely different version of it.

Summer Larnaka meant heat, busier streets and a dried-out salt lake, for me. March gave me a storm right after landing, the smell of the sea the moment I woke up, long kilometres along the coast, a cold swim, sun on a sunbed, drinks, conversations with locals, and quiet mornings with coffee.

And, above all, flamingos.

I keep coming back to that moment by the lake. Maybe because it summed up the whole trip so precisely. I thought I knew what I was going to see. Instead, I got something completely different.

The first photograph was the green backpack in front of Bratislava airport's doors. The last moments belonged to the same backpack, packed again for the way home.