Those who know and love the island share the spots that hold the most memories and magic
Beyond Protaras lies a tiny harbour, faded boats bobbing in the waves.
The surrounding cape curls north. But if you slip into the water and swim out – where the seabed shifts, and the turtles glide – you discover the cape also hides a windswept island, invisible from shore.
Paddle far enough along its edge, and a hidden cove unfolds. Out here, basking on the crescent of sand, saltwater dries quickly on your skin, the air is still and silent.
This is my favourite place in Cyprus: just sea, sand and sky, untouched by time or tide. It’s the place that always brings me joy; unspoiled, undisturbed and (to me) the best spot on the island. This is my fourth place.
What, I wonder, is yours?
Sociologists often speak of first, second and third places. Our first place is home – the anchor of our lives. Second places are where we work; where purpose and productivity shape our days. And our third places are the spaces in between: cafés, parks, village squares – neutral, welcoming spots where community is built, and life unfolds.
But the places we hold most dear – the ones that speak to our very souls – are something beyond. They’re not about connection to others. Instead, they’re places that mean something to us and us alone. Deeply personal, shaped by moments and memories, these are our fourth places. And Cyprus has many…
“There’s a quiet bench on a side street in Ayios Omologites,” says Terry Kyriakides. “Tens of people pass it on a daily basis without a second glance. But to me, it means everything…”
From the age of five, 51-year-old Terry spent summers with his grandparents in Nicosia. “Every Friday evening my pappou would come home from work, and take me to the souvlaki shop on the corner. We’d get a melt-in-the-mouth mix – pork and chicken and sieftalia – and eat it together on the bench. Just the two of us, watching the world go by. It was perfect.”
The souvlatzis is long gone, though the bench remains. “Sometimes, when I get a quiet moment to myself, I go and sit there, remembering the past. When you hear tourists talk about Cyprus, it’s all Aphrodite’s Rock-this and Nissi-that. But for me, Cyprus will always be sitting on a quiet bench, eating souvlaki with my pappou while the sun sets over the rooftops.”
According to Trip Advisor rankings, the top attraction in Cyprus is Nissi Beach, closely followed by the Paphos Archaeological Park and the Aphrodite Waterpark. Tombs of the Kings gets a mention, as do Curium and the Paphos Zoo. For those who know the island a little better, there’s the Venetian Bridges, Lara Bay or Lefkara.
“But that’s not the real Cyprus,” says Limassol resident Elisabeth Villiger Toufexis “or at least, not to me…”
A podcaster and travel guide, Elisabeth has journeyed the whole of the island. But nowhere, she says, speaks to her like the hill above the Baths of Aphrodite.
“In 2020, I felt quite down: thanks to Covid, my kids couldn’t return to Cyprus for my 60th birthday. So I took myself off for a walk to the last unspoilt area of Cyprus…
“Though the Baths are well-known, few people bother to walk up the trail above. But now, I take this hike each year on my birthday – often with my children,” Elisabeth adds. “It’s a place that has a very special meaning to me.”
Such fourth places are more than just locations; they’re anchors of our identity, spaces to which our hearts return time and again. They’re not in the guidebooks or on tourist maps. They’re not specific to locals or expats or the diaspora; not connected to geography or heritage. Instead, they’re places shaped by love – a personal, enduring love of our island memories.
“For me, Ayios Sozomenos will forever be my favourite place on the island,” says 75-year-old James Price, who now lives in Gloucestershire. “An abandoned village just outside Nicosia, it has a harrowed history. But when I think of Cyprus, this is the place I remember most fondly: the haunting beauty of the old church arches, the sunlight filtering through the ruins. Like the island itself, it’s a place of much sorrow, yet it offers such peace.”
44-year-old Peter Markou also lives abroad. “But my spiritual home has always been the church of St Lazarus in Larnaca,” he suggests. “It’s not the religion aspect. It’s the serenity I think. Every time I return from the States, I’m moved by its harmony and history. For me, it feels like no other place in the world.”
Even younger people, whom you might expect enjoy fourth places such as clubs and the beaches, also have profound connection to certain places on the island.
“When I visited in August recently, my uncle took me to Konnos, where he said there were loads of hot girls!” says 23-year-old George Andreou. “But when we went, it was the drive down the cliff that blew me away. I actually got out of the car and walked – I’d never seen anything so amazing: glimpses of blue, blue sea and white boats through the ancient pines!”
Everyone, it seems, has their own favourite spots in Cyprus; the personal fourth places that hold unique meaning…
“Pedoulas from a distance in winter, lights sparkling out from the dark. It’s magic made real,” says Niki Christofi.
“That spot on the road up to Anogyra where you can look down over the whole bay,” suggests Edward Barrett. “It’s like time has stopped.”
“The gorge,” says Anna Stylianidou, “that runs down from Peristerona to Steni, in the Paphos district. Everyone knows Avakas,” she adds. “But this is Aetofolies Gorge – Eagles’ Nest. And it’s my favourite place in Cyprus.”
Not only does this unique ravine offer total quiet, it’s also uniquely connected to the island’s history.
“It’s laced with caves that, in the 1950s, were hideouts for Eoka fighters. You can imagine them slipping out at night from their secret hideouts. Even today, the gorge is well-hidden – you’d never know it was there. But like the true Cyprus, its beauty isn’t famous or obvious. It’s magical, meaningful and very personal.”