“Don’t move there, you’re going to be bored out of your mind!” was the advice of the only person I knew who had visited North Cyprus. We were sitting in the dusty bar we frequented in Lilongwe, where she was probably as unique in being a Turkish person in Malawi as I was being an Ecuadorian one. I didn’t say it, in case there was a Malawian nearby who might have taken offense, but we had both — separately and at different times — managed to move to one of the most low-key capitals in the world. How much quieter could it be to move to the exotic island of Cyprus?

I didn’t know anything about Cyprus then. I read and read about the conflict and the partition between the Greek side and the Turkish side, and I was completely unable to visualize how could one small island live with its population divided in a perpetual cold shoulder situation for nearly 40 years. The information on the web was basic, and sometimes contradictory.

In any event, there I was, finally in Cairo, nothing more than an Olympic jump away from my destination at the end of a continent-long backpacking adventure, when I received my first lesson on what not to talk about with Cypriots. There is no North Cypriot embassy in Egypt, actually, there is no North Cypriot embassy anywhere, because most of the world refuses to acknowledge the existence of the Turkish Republic of North Cyprus (TRNC). Yet I needed a visa, so I figured, in my infinite wisdom, that I would march myself into the Cypriot embassy, and tell the officer my intention to enter his country for the purpose of crossing the no-man’s-land border in order to arrive to my new residence, in what his huge wall map marked as occupied territory. “Do you realize what you are doing? That is a militarized zone! There is nothing there; only Turkish military barracks” yelled the officer at me, completely outraged at my ignorance.

I think about that Turkish girl and that Cypriot officer sometimes. Had I been persuaded to avoid the TRNC, I would have missed out on living in a breathtaking villa perched on a hill, overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. I would have never known the kindness and uniqueness of the North Cypriots, and most importantly, would have missed out on what is by far the best food of any country I have lived in.

There is a lot of propaganda on the internet trying to cast shadows over the TRNC, but if you, like me, somehow push through that and get there, you’ll be glad you did, as am I.