Downtown Nicosia has been closed, on and off, for more than a week. On the terraces of the upmarket coffee shops, the torches flicker and the disco music babbles. When the Cypriot government shut the banks, many retailers decided to close as well, so the mannequins stare each other out across semi-deserted streets.
As the president tries to negotiate the final bailout in Brussels, I hunch over a cappuccino with a senior MP, who lists the country’s future options. They are limited: tourism, gas, financial services — though without a banking sector, that’s going to take some doing. As we talk, I realise the MP is also quizzing me: I am a veteran of four bailouts. The Cypriot government has had four weeks in office.
Up against the might of the ECB and IMF, and with Germany pulling the strings, the Cypriots have proved almost incapable of statecraft. The president’s threat of resignation sealed a deal in Brussels, but at every juncture the government has seemed as frozen as its country’s cash.
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