Shemaine Bushnell Kyriakides
There are evenings in Nicosia that feel like they belong somewhere between history and a fairytale, and the Polish National Day reception last week at the 1888 Club was one of them.
Held in honor of the 235th anniversary of the Constitution of 3 May, the event brought together diplomats, officials, business leaders, and friends of Poland under warm garden lights in one of Old Nicosia’s traditional buildings, the kind of setting where conversations feel softer, music sounds a little warmer, and time slows down just enough to notice it.
Guests were welcomed by Ambassador of the Republic of Poland Marek Szczepanowski and Honorary Consul Leandros Papaphilippou, who hosted the evening with a clear focus on friendship between Poland and Cyprus.
The ceremony opened in a simple but meaningful way: both the Polish and Cypriot national anthems were played, drawing a respectful silence from the crowd before the evening shifted into speeches, conversation, and celebration.
Cyprus was represented by Transport Minister Alexis Vafeades, alongside members of the diplomatic corps and local business community.
One word stood out in the ambassador’s remarks: “solidarity.” For many in the room, it was a diplomatic term, but for me, it carried something more personal.
It immediately pulled me back decades, to a classroom in school, when headlines about Poland were impossible to ignore because of one man: Lech Walesa and the Solidarity movement. It was the first time I remember even hearing the name "Poland," not through geography lessons but through a sense of courage, workers’ rights, and a country pushing for change. That memory quietly resurfaced as the ambassador spoke about solidarity today, this time in the context of Cyprus and its own long-standing division.
After the formalities, the evening unfolded exactly as receptions like this should: good food, easy laughter, music in the background, and conversations that move from polite introductions to real connection.
And then, of course, there was the food.
The pierogi stole the show, soft, comforting, and dangerously easy to go back for. I considered a second round, but the queue suggested I wasn’t the only one with that idea.
Beyond the speeches and the diplomacy, what lingered most was the tone of the evening itself. The Polish guests were warm, open, and genuinely welcoming, the kind of hospitality that doesn’t need translation.
Under the lights of the old building, with Cypriot stone walls and a courtyard filled with conversation, it felt less like a formal reception and more like two cultures simply enjoying each other’s company, exactly what nights like this are meant to do.
