Cyprus — Part II

In my last column, I was at the beautiful Merit Crystal Cove Hotel in Northern Cyprus. I would have been more than happy to spend the entire trip there. The area for the poker tournament was huge and opulent, the poker room first-class, the rooms with ocean views unreal, and the Mediterranean absolutely stunning (although a little chilly, but that didn’t stop me from taking a little three-hour swim).

Our hosts, however, wanted us to go to another Merit property, located in the city close to the airport, to have dinner with the president of the Merit group of hotels. Since they were paying the bills, it was hard to argue, so we left paradise for our next locale.

This hotel was newer and had a few more amenities, but no ocean. Also, the nightlife wasn’t as good as it was on the shore. The casino, however, was breathtaking. It was located in the basement of the hotel, and they obviously had copied my architectural plans for Todd’s Tavern, as it had a 23-foot-high ceiling and was a cavernous room.

They showed us several spots where they were considering holding a poker tournament, and to prove to us how competent their staff was, they insisted that we have an impromptu tournament (which I quickly won). From there, we went to a restaurant that was cleverly situated toward the top of the casino.

We were met by many of their top executives, and discussed the possibilities of poker in the Merit casinos. The dinner itself rivaled anything that Vegas offers (with the possible exception of N9NE Steakhouse). It was topped off with a dessert that featured a poker hand. We each chose our own plate, and then a cake with the flop came out, followed by one with the turn and the river.

The A-K suited that I chose was beaten by not only a full house and quads, but also a straight flush that scooped us all. It was kind of like online poker without computers. After all of this, some of the younger guys attempted to hit the nightclubs.

But at dinner, we had made plans to go to Istanbul the next day for a one-day excursion, so I excused myself and went to bed. It was a good thing, too, as I heard that the night was a horror story, with 45-minute cab rides to find closed, deserted clubs, or if they were open, they were rented out for private parties. Thank God that I passed.

Istanbul was a one-hour plane ride, and we hit the ground running. We saw the Blue Mosque (built in the early 1600s) and the Grand Bazaar (built in the mid-1400s). I didn’t get to see the aqueducts, as I had wanted to, but I did get to see one of the giant underground cisterns (the Basilica) that they emptied into, built by the Romans centuries ago.

Our most gracious tour guide David, whom we had met in Cyprus, said that he wanted only one favor in return for all of his efforts. He wanted me to meet a friend of his who is a big fan. Obviously, I agreed, and we were off to perhaps the nicest hotel I have ever seen. It was a palace for the last reigning sultan, but, incredibly, I can’t remember the name.

The gentleman I met was soft-spoken and very friendly. He said that he had a poker game planned for that night, and David told him that he should invite me. He looked at me hopefully, but said it was for very low stakes. I agreed, and he said that he’d have a driver come to my hotel and pick me up.

I knew right away that this guy must be extremely wealthy when the car was a BMW 750 with a TV in it (I couldn’t figure out where the satellite dish was). That turned out to be an understatement. As we drove up through a series of hills, we went through a gate. There were two guards there, and two more opened our doors for us.

We then walked through another gate that had another two guards, one of whom was watching a row of video monitors. Keep in mind that this wasn’t a community; it was his family’s compound. From there, we walked up five flights of spiral stairs that circled a house on the side of the mountain that his houses were built on. Yes, I said houses, plural. He pointed out all of them for me: “This is my parents’, that one is my brother’s, that one is my sister and her husband’s, those three are mine; they are connected by underground tunnels.”

We got to the top, where there was a big open area with a pool. Above and behind it, there was a giant clubhouse, where we would play poker. On the way up the steps to the clubhouse, we passed a fully staffed kitchen. We had two waiters and four busboys waiting on us. When I asked David how many of the staff were on duty at that time, he said that probably 40 were, and this was at 11 p.m.! He said there were all kinds of security personnel whom we couldn’t see, like armed guards with dogs who were patrolling the hills of the compound.

Once we sat down to play, I was introduced to all of the players. They all knew me, and seemed excited that I was at their home game. One was a rock star, one owned one of the largest shipping companies in the world, and on and on (some, I can’t mention, because poker is still looked down upon in Muslim countries).
It seemed that I was the only non-billionaire in the game — and I wasn’t going to become one, as the game was way too small (the blinds were $5-$10), and these guys were top-notch players. They obviously took their poker very seriously.

At least most of the time they did, that is. You see, when anyone laid a bad beat on another player, he made this strange “laap laap” noise. When I asked what it meant, they told me that it was the sound of … lovemaking — kind of. Poker players really are sick, the world over!

Anyway, I had a great time, made some new friends, and managed to squeak out a $1,500 win; yaahoo! The rest of the trip was uneventful, with one exception.
While we were waiting in line somewhere, a policeman with a dog walked by. As always happens in a spot like this, the dog came over to me and wagged its tail — not because I had drugs or a bomb or anything; it just smelled my five dogs. I said hello and patted his head, and they moved on.

Bobby Bellande said that was a big waste of resources, and he wanted to bet us that the dog had never caught anyone — ever. Not 10 seconds later, the dog signaled on some young guy, and the cops swarmed him. You could tell that he had drugs, as he didn’t even try to plead his innocence. Nice call, Bobby.
LOL!