Holidays: the ninja way
Matthew d’Ancona’s young sons show him a good time in Cyprus In the end, as so often in life, it boils down to the basics. What you need is three things: a persuasive working knowledge of ninja philosophy and nutrition; a reasonable grasp of the best musicals of modern times; and an aquarium.
But I am getting ahead of myself. How does a father keep his two young sons (seven and five) amused and healthy for a week in Cyprus? Obviously, you have to pack the essentials: factor 40 sunblock for the first day or so; an inflatable turtle; a copy of Fantastic Mr Fox by Roald Dahl; a bag of Transformers toys; a portable DVD player and the first three Indiana Jones films on disc; an Indiana Jones costume (ages six to eight); mobile phone and charger; iPods (two); morale-boosting pictures of David Tennant as Doctor Who (assorted); and some glue.
It helps, of course, to go to a terrific spa resort like Le Meridien in Limassol which seems to cater for families effortlessly, with no hint of the noisy shambles into which some ‘child-friendly’ hotels quite understandably descend. The smooth elegance of its halls, airy avenues and peaceful gardens seems immutable. And yet families crash about quite merrily around the pool, the bars and the restaurants without raising eyebrows or being made to feel uncomfortable. Somewhere hidden in this mysterious hotelier’s formula, I suspect, is the secret to life, the universe and everything.
We spent most days by the biggest of many pools, which also has a top-notch aquaslide: very important, this. Game theorists and neurologists ought to study the behaviour of children on aquaslides. However listless or bored they might initially claim to be, the very first go releases some sort of kid endorphin which will keep them going almost limitlessly. And 40-year olds, too: I managed 20 suc cessive slides one afternoon, alternating children on my chest. This was a good day’s work.
Food: always tricky, especially on holiday, and any parent who claims otherwise is a liar. Yes, you: the smug one sitting in your Robinson & Cornish kitchen, shaking your head, muttering: ‘Well, Cassiopeia always eats her steamed endive.’ No, she doesn’t, you know.
At Le Meridien, they are smart enough to give the adults a serious grown up and often exotic buffet option every night — superb Moroccan, Greek and Indian evenings when I was there — while providing a completely separate selection of child basics in the adjoining Mickey Mouse Club. This lowers the hurdle considerably.
Still, you do need to get them to eat fruit and veg, don’t you? This is where I fell back on spurious ninja knowledge. On day one, as the cucumber and carrots sat unloved on the plates, tapping their watches and wondering whether to order a cab home, I blurted out: ‘Well, all ninja eat lots of fruit and vegetables. No, really. If you want to be a ninja assassin, you have to. To question your ninja master on this involves instant expulsion from the temple. Oh, yes.’ When I looked up, the cucumber and carrots had gone. That’s the wisdom of the orient for you.
Evening ents: it is another obvious lie that children go to bed at the normal time on holiday because they are ‘so exhausted’. Put it another way: would you, if you were seven or five, in a huge pleasure dome? Again, Le Meridien excels itself with a big show every evening: tongue-in-cheek repro versions of Hair, Grease, and Mamma Mia! Intriguingly, the Euro-troupe per forming the skits invariably added the French definite article to their productions: Le Hair, Le Grease and so on. As the boys danced around, I wrestled with this mystery. It’s up there with the ironic quotation marks on ‘Fish and Chips’ and ‘Chilli Con Carne’ on the blackboards outside pubs. Why? I would welcome readers’ explanations.
Once a day, we headed off to the bowling alley to hone our tenpin skills. The kids consistently beat me. Again, very successful. Late in the afternoon we would wander down to the beach and look out at the Mediterranean, shimmering in the mellow light. There was usually a breeze to rely on by now, and we swam out, looking for interesting rocks on the seabed.
And the aquarium? Well, see the picture for details. I now think every hotel should have a rock pool in which parents can make fools of themselves, with an observation point for children. It really does seem to touch the spot. The boys took all too many pictures, with which to embarrass me when I am a grown-up.
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