Shemaine Bushnell Kyriakides
I’ve been saying it for years: Limassol is turning into Los Angeles.
Santa Monica, to be exact. I grew up there, palm trees, surfboards, and all, and I’m telling you, our morning commute here has officially joined the ranks of “what fresh hell is this?”
Every morning, thousands of poor souls leaving western Limassol or driving in from Paphos crawl their way into the city, only to come to a dead stop near the Alphamega stadium. It’s where good moods go to die. One minute you’re sipping your coffee, singing along to the radio; the next, you’re in an eight-kilometer queue wondering whether this is real life or a bad simulation of the 405 freeway.
For those of you who’ve never driven the 405 in Los Angeles, lucky you. It’s the highway that can turn a ten-minute drive into a forty-five-minute existential crisis. Sound familiar? Because that’s exactly what Limassol’s morning traffic has become: a rolling therapy session in patience.
People are stuck so long they’re posting photos online just to prove they’re not making it up. “Eight kilometers today.” “Ten, if you’re unlucky.” “If someone so much as sneezes near the Alphamega stadium, the whole city stops.” (And don’t even get me started on what happens if there’s a minor accident. Cue the collective sigh of western Limassol.)
But here’s the funny part: just like Santa Monica, we live by the sea, the joggers, the dog walkers, the health nuts with their morning smoothies, and the sea-air breathers who swear they’re calmer because of the salt breeze. And maybe they are. Maybe that’s why no one’s jumped out of their car yet to direct traffic themselves.
Because at the end of the day, Limassol really does have that same coastal vibe: sun, sea, and stress. The kind of place where people do yoga at sunrise and then curse traffic by 8:15.
So yes, we may not have Hollywood, but we’ve definitely nailed the L.A. traffic experience. All that’s missing is a podcast about it.
