The European Capital of Culture. But what about nature?

Last Friday, we took a bus away from the European Capital of Culture to the actual capital of Cyprus: Nicosia. On the way there, I was surprised to find out that the hill appearing on my left-hand side was in fact called Mount Olympus. Even though much smaller in size, this mountaintop reminded me of its Greek namesake—the actual ‘Olympus’ that is also the stage to the many mythological stories I used to read throughout my childhood. More generally, this moment made me aware of the immense cultural associations we sometimes have with regards to a natural environment. For today’s blog, I’d like to focus on this very thought: what role does nature play in the making and representation of culture?

■ Disclaimer: I intend to write this blog on the basis of very innate and perhaps rationally unreliable impressions I have experienced during this trip. Nonetheless, I think such impressions can be a useful tool for discussing how we think about cities and human presence in nature, especially in a context like Pafos2017 ■

The nature on this island can feel uncomfortable and unappealing, but also beautiful at the same time. Because of the temperatures, one might encounter a dried-out and seemingly lifeless landscape as far as the horizon reaches. Yet, at the same time, there are examples of a romanticized idea of ‘heavenly’ nature—one of rocky coasts that are juxtaposed to untamable waves and fiery sunsets. Indeed, if godly figures of Greek mythology—or any other religious tradition, for that matter—were to actually exist, this Mediterranean decor would surely prove an appropriate setting. In some distant way, then, it also makes clear sense to me that many tourist couples choose this as the ideal place to take their wedding photo.

It is in this tourist setting, however, that the inevitable paradox immediately shows its face. What I mean with this is that, arguably, civilization partly exists here because of the wonderful natural surroundings. But exactly the presence of civilization is what blinds me from the actual splendor of nature that stands at the very basis of the local tourist industry. And especially in Pafos, I have felt that not many signs of human activity are needed to diminish my awareness of natural beauty. For example, I have seen a few wild, rocky fields that could portray a pure kind of wilderness—a nature sui generis. But then I would notice just a single electric wire sticking out of the ground, which suddenly claims most of my attention and veils everything in sight under a new impression. Similarly, I noticed the other day that just a single Coca Cola bottle in the ocean water managed to make the entire scenery of waves and rock formations feel a tiny bit polluted.

In other words, it is always through the presence of a tiny bit of ‘culture’ that I have been perceiving the larger natural surroundings. In that sense, we are reminded of the large impact that even the smallest traces of civilization have on our impression of nature. Ultimately, I think that—contrary to traditional and stereotypical tourism—the projects that are part of Pafos2017 can take this notion into account thoughtfully, and through art rethink how culture is made both through what is natural and through what is man-made. A title such as European Capital of Culture does not present a romanticized image of nature to attract tourism (which is only bound to destine this nature to be affected and polluted). Rather, it offers creative platforms and projects through which we might arrive at larger ideas about the complicated role that nature plays as an important element to culture.