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Typical
view across the course
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Tsada Golf Club
Cyprus Golf Resorts,
P.O.Box 2085,
8062 Pafos,
Cyprus.
Tel: +357 26 642774/5
Web: www.cyprusgolf.com/tsada.htm
Email: golfers2@cytanet.com.cy
It all got a little confusing even before we reached
the course...
Harry, our Cypriot cab driver liked to talk. We were
introduced in graphic detail to his entire, extended
family enroute to the club. How he kept his 20 year
old stretch Mercedes (they all seem to drive them out
there) on the narrow, winding roads while continually
passing photographs of his grandchildren and getting
us to pronounce their names, even the little wavy thing
that sits above the "ae" bits of some their
words, is beyond belief. He then unfolded a large map
of the UK, one handed, in order to point out Inverness,
while overtaking a couple of coaches. The story goes
that about 20 years ago the then postmaster of Inverness
got in his cab and they have been friends ever since.
When, on arriving at the club, he unloaded the cab and
gave us both a big, friendly hug, it was easy to see
why.
Harry didn't play golf so he couldn't give us any tips
on playing the course, which was probably not a bad
thing.
The first thing I noticed about the complex was how
new it all looked. I guess the romantic in me prefers
to walk into a haunted old club house, steeped in history,
with great portraits on every wall and a bunch of dead
looking old men in dusty armchairs. This place could
not have been more different. We were simply here for
18 holes and a few beers before the cab ride back, but
if you fancied making a day of it there was a very tempting
outdoor pool, Tennis court, a restaurant on the veranda
over looking the 18th green, a sauna (like you need
it in this heat) and the standard driving range and
putting green. I asked if they had any rooms to let.
Imagine it, ease yourself out of bed, glance outside
at the clear skies, wander down to the range with your
7 iron, then a quick dip in the pool to wake up. By
then you're ready for a good breakfast followed by 18
holes. Lunch on the Veranda, another 18 in the afternoon,
an hour in the pool, then off to the bar to eat, drink
and discuss the highs and lows of the days golf. Heaven.
Oh, did I mention the beauticians college for young
ladies adjoining the clubhouse and sharing the facilities?
No, well I made that bit up... And no, they don't have
any rooms to let.
Being a roving reporter for the MIGC certainly has it's
moments. We stood on the first tee at 8am, the temperature
was already in the 80's and we virtually had the course
to ourselves.
Despite being high up in the mountains, the course itself
is layed out quite naturally in a valley. The land belongs
to a small monastery which sits quaintly next to the
6th green. There's only one monk left there now but
according to Harry there used to be 20 or 30 at one
time.
The course was immaculate. The fairways were lush and
the greens slick but true. Vines and fruit trees lined
most fairways, which in the summer months bear all kinds
of exotic wares, consolation as you hunt around for
a wayward tee shot.
To score well at Tsada you must drive straight and putt
well. You'll do little else but chip out sideways if
you miss the fairways and you will 3 putt all day if
you are not careful. The course is not particularly
long, the altitude/thin air helps the ball on it's way
and there's little to fear in most of your approach
shots if they are following a good drive. The par 5's
present good opportunities to score well and if you
play the par 3's sensibly, you could be in for a good
day.
I, as per usual, took none of my own good advice and
knocked it round in an uncomfortable 94 shots. I started
badly, but drove well in the end and managed to find
most of the fairways, only to struggle big time on and
around the greens.
Most memorable hole was the 14th, a par 3 of about 160
yards. From an elevated tee, you have to carry a huge
ravine, (you don't go looking for balls in there!) to
a pretty green set at the foot of a hill.
Epilogue - They all have such great fridges!
The walk from 18th green to 19th tee is thankfully a
short one and in no time the ice cold beers were being
downed. We met three of the locals who were from Arbroath,
Brighton and a little place near Stoke-on-Trent. At
least we didn't have to play the sign language games
trying to order a drink. (Except with the one from Arbroath)
The cab firm said he would be there in 20 minutes, but
at least an hour passed before we saw him. You could
hardly find the ashtray on the table for all the empty
bottles of Keo beer. We shook hands with everyone at
least 3 or 4 times before we left, and just as Harry
started telling us about his wife's side of the family,
I dozed off.
A fine day was had by all.
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