Christmas in Cyprus: The Island Magic Behind The Witch’s Room

Christmas in Cyprus does not look quite like the Christmas scenes I grew up seeing in films.

There are no endless frozen streets or months of grey winter. Down by the coast, the Mediterranean is still blue. The sun can be warm even in December, olive trees remain green, and there are days when sitting outside with a cup of coffee feels perfectly reasonable.

And then you drive into the mountains.

The road begins to climb into the Troodos Mountains, the air changes, and the sea slowly disappears behind you. Pine forests surround the roads, and in parts of the mountains, cedar trees rise among them. Stone villages appear between the trees, smoke rises from chimneys, and small streets glow with Christmas lights. In winter, the higher parts of the mountains are sometimes covered in snow, and suddenly Cyprus feels like an entirely different island.

This contrast is one of the things I love most about living here.

And naturally, the landscapes, mythology, traditions and atmosphere of Cyprus find their way into Letters from The Witch’s Room, becoming part of the world and the stories I create inside the letters I send around the world.

Christmas Villages in the Mountains

Every winter, traditional villages across Cyprus transform for the Christmas season.

In recent years, places such as Kakopetria, Kalopanagiotis, Agros, Kyperounta and Lefkara have been part of Cyprus's Christmas Village celebrations, alongside other villages around the island.

They are old villages with narrow streets, stone houses, small workshops, churches, fruit orchards and traditions that existed long before the Christmas lights arrived.

At Christmas, stalls appear with local food and handmade goods. There are craft workshops, music, sweets, warm drinks and small fires. Children run through decorated streets while adults stand talking over cups of coffee or mulled wine.

The decorations are lovely, of course.

But what interests me most is what exists underneath them.

Hands making things.

Recipes being repeated.

Plants grown in the same mountains for generations.

Objects made slowly instead of manufactured by the thousands.

Stories attached to places.

That feels magical to me, because it carries memory.

And that idea is deeply connected to the way I think about witchcraft.

An Island With a Very Long Memory

Cyprus carries evidence of human settlement stretching back around 11,000 years, making it one of the oldest continuously inhabited cultural landscapes in the Mediterranean.

The island sits at the meeting point of Europe, Asia and Africa, and different cultures have passed through it and left traces behind them: prehistoric settlements, Greek temples, Roman remains, Byzantine churches, Venetian walls, Ottoman architecture and traditions that have changed and mixed over centuries.

You feel that history here in a very physical way.

Ancient things are not always hidden inside museums.

Sometimes they are beside the road.

Sometimes you are eating lunch a few minutes from ruins that are thousands of years old.

Sometimes you look across a completely ordinary landscape and remember that people have been walking through it, gathering plants, making offerings, telling stories, falling in love, grieving, celebrating and trying to understand the world for an extraordinarily long time.

For someone who works with magic, mythology and symbolism, it is a joy to be surrounded by all of this, and impossible not to be affected by it.

Aphrodite Still Belongs to the Landscape

And then, of course, there is Aphrodite.

According to ancient Greek mythology, Aphrodite rose from the sea and came to Cyprus, and the island became one of the places most closely associated with her worship.

Her presence is still woven into the way Cyprus tells its own story.

There is Petra tou Romiou, the dramatic stretch of coast traditionally associated with her birth from the sea. There are archaeological sites connected with her ancient cult, stories about Adonis, and landscapes that still carry her name.

Myths survive because people keep finding something inside them.

Birth from water. Desire. Beauty. Fertility. Death and return. Love powerful enough to transform.

These are old human themes, and they are also themes that appear again and again in magical traditions.

Sometimes I will stand beside the Mediterranean and think about how extraordinary it is that people were looking at this same sea thousands of years ago and creating stories to explain what they felt when they looked at it.

The landscape becomes part of the mythology.

And mythology changes the way we see the landscape.

The Forests of Troodos

If the sea feels like one side of Cyprus, the Troodos Mountains feel like another.

Troodos is the green heart of the island, filled with pine and cedar forests, valleys, fruit orchards, mountain villages and walking trails.

In winter, the highest parts can even receive snow.

There is something wonderful about leaving the Mediterranean coast and, within a relatively short drive, finding yourself among pine trees, cold air and mountain roads.

I collect inspiration there constantly.

Not necessarily objects.

Mostly textures, colors and ideas.

Tree bark.

Roots pushing through soil.

Moss on stone.

Mountain herbs.

Old doors.

Basketry.

Handmade lace.

Clay.

Dried fruit hanging in village shops.

The deep green of the forest beside the warm brown of an old stone wall.

A gold church icon catching candlelight.

Even when none of these things appear literally in a monthly envelope, they enter my visual language.

From Cyprus to The Witch’s Room

When I create each month for Letters from The Witch’s Room, I begin with an idea.

Sometimes it is a magical practice.

Sometimes it is a season.

Sometimes it is a question I have been thinking about for months.

From there I write the letter, create the spell, paint the artwork and develop the next pair of oracle cards.

Slowly, a small world forms around the theme.

And Cyprus is part of that world.

You may see it in olive branches, wheat, honey, soil, pomegranates, herbs, gold, sea colors or old stone.

You may see it in an altar that feels Mediterranean.

You may notice that my witches do not always live beneath dark northern skies.

Sometimes their windows open toward blue water.

Sometimes magic happens under an olive tree.

Sometimes abundance looks like wheat, honey and a handful of coins on an old stone table.

Sometimes winter magic smells more like pine, cinnamon and orange peel than snow.

That is the landscape around my Witch's Room.

Where the Old Magic Still Feels Close

I live here, and I am constantly researching, learning and becoming more curious about the island's old traditions.

I collect recipes and remedies from elderly women in the villages. I search through antique shops for old tools and objects that carry meaning. I learn about the ancient crafts of the island and the skills that have been passed from one generation to another.

I breathe in the old magic of this place and keep finding new ways to connect with its deep roots.

What I love most is how close the magic still feels here.

Not polished. Not packaged. Not separated from ordinary life.

Raw.

There are hidden corners filled with fragments of sunlight only a short drive away. Forest paths, stone villages, ancient ruins and pieces of landscape that can make another century feel surprisingly close.

Mythology still belongs to the land here.

Tradition is still alive.

And old customs quietly continue beside completely modern life.

I love that I can walk past a shop in the morning and see smoke rising from burning olive leaves, the space being cleansed and blessed for protection, luck and prosperity, as naturally as someone elsewhere might simply unlock the door and switch on the lights. The use of blessed olive leaves in Cypriot cleansing and protective traditions has deep roots on the island.

That coexistence fascinates me.

The ancient and the everyday are not always separate here.

And if I allow it, the island can carry me very easily in imagination toward times when women knew the work of blessing, protection, herbs, divination and magic as part of the knowledge of everyday life.

That feeling has become part of my Witch's Room too.

A Different Kind of Christmas Magic

Perhaps that is why I love Christmas in Cyprus so much.

It contains contrasts.

Sea and mountain.

Sunshine and snow.

Ancient stone and strings of Christmas lights.

Aphrodite and Santa Claus somehow sharing the same small island.

Old village crafts sitting beside glittering decorations.

It is not one perfect aesthetic.

It is layers.

And magic, to me, has always existed in layers too.

What we inherit.

What we study.

What we experience ourselves.

What we make with our own hands.

What we decide to carry forward.

That is also what I hope happens inside the envelopes I send.

Every month, a letter leaves my little corner of Cyprus and travels to mailboxes around the world.

Inside are words I have written, a practical white witchcraft spell, two new cards, a print of an original watercolor painting, and small pieces connected to that month's work.

By the time the envelope reaches someone thousands of kilometers away, perhaps a little of this island has travelled with it too.

A touch of Mediterranean sunlight.

A little ancient mythology.

Something gathered from the forest.

The memory of stone villages.

The sea.

And, at Christmas, perhaps even a little of the light glowing between the houses in the mountains.

That is one of my favorite things about real mail.

A letter can carry much more than paper.