In April 2007 I was invited by a close friend of mine to visit Dubai (who happens to be a top level executive in a Tourism Authority of an Arab Country) during the famous Arabian Travel Market. I took the opportunity and I though that a good present to my friend would be an exact copy of an archaeological finding.
I have called the Paphos District Museum and they told me that I could buy copies from the archaeological site of Kato Paphos and from the Tombs of the Kings. I went to both sites and chose 3 pieces.
I then rang (+357) 26306295 - Tombs of the Kings. At the other end of the phone line a gentleman answered with a dry “nai” (yes). I kindly asked where I was calling since I thought I had made a mistake dialing the wrong number. I asked if it was the Tombs of the Kings site to which the gentleman answered, “yes, don’t you know where are you calling?” (Nai, den kseris pou tilefonas?”).After this very friendly and professional first contact, I felt encouraged to visit the premises and see if there was any pottery I could buy.
At the entrance of the site, putting up with the midday heat while waiting to be attended, there were 6 tourists: an African American family of 4 and a British middle- aged couple. In the small reception at the entrance, there were 2 policemen, both of them smoking and reading the newspaper (Alithia and Fileleftheros), about to drink their freshly made coffees.
The American tourists were trying to find out the price of the tickets and the time needed to visit the site from the British couple since it was obvious that the policemen were having a coffee break.
Being really inconsiderate, I dared interrupt the civil servants moment of undoubtedly deserved relaxation in order to ask if the potteries for sale were the ones displayed in the glass cabinet. One of the gentlemen in uniform grunted an affirmative answer without rising his eyes from his newspaper- which made me feel much better about having interrupted him since I realized he was interruption-proof.
Anyway, the pieces on display were too big , so I went to the Archaeological Park near the harbour to see what I could get there. The policeman there was really helpful and tried to overcome the difficulties that arose with imagination. First of all, they did not have any paper or boxes to wrap and protect the earthenware souvenirs they are selling. He managed to wrap mine taking from the boxes other statuettes - Strange? It might seem strange to you and me , less intellectually talented people than the brain behind the management of our archaeological sites.
Then, I tried to pay with my Visa Card. Wrong! No credit cards accepted. One should always have several hundreds of euros on him. After withdrawing money from the ATM, I went back, paid and asked for a receipt. Wrong again! They issue no receipts. They simply do not. But I was intending to leave the country with three reproductions of ancient statuettes and I could be stopped at the customs and be suspected of trying to smuggle archaeological heritage out of the country. I needed a receipt! I needed proof of my purchase! – at some point while I was trying to make myself understood I remember wondering if I had been the first person with such an odd request.
Fortunately, the policeman sympathized with me and thought of scribbling the name of the statuette, the price and his signature on a piece of paper he tore from a cardboard file and which he stamped. The proof of the stamped “receipt” is at the top of this article. I am wondering what would be the reaction of the tax officer who will see this expense in my books when I do my tax declaration.
