Cyprus rose from the sea millions of years ago and would only be inhabited long after its geological formation. The geological processes that shaped the island created areas of solid ground in some parts, while other regions were composed of unstable rocks, unable to support buildings or withstand natural forces.

One of the most geologically “sensitive” areas is the Paphos district. Its story reads like a fairy tale – but it’s based firmly on the rigorous research of the Cyprus Geological Survey Department, which has studied the island’s geology in depth over decades.

According to their findings, much of the Paphos region is covered by displaced and metamorphosed rocks dating from the Triassic to the Cretaceous periods. In simple terms, Paphos stands on a geological foundation that dates back around 70 million years. These rocks, known as the “Mamonia Complex“, were transported to their current position from areas south of Cyprus, and can trace their origins back to Africa.

Interestingly, the famous “Petra tou Romiou” (Aphrodite’s Rock) and the lava formations exposed along the cliffs of its namesake bay are in fact exotic rocks belonging to the Mamonia Complex.

Even the brightly coloured stones used in the mosaics of Kourion and Paphos were sourced from the erosion of these multicoloured Mamonia rocks. However, the complex geology of the area – together with the nearby Kannaviou Formation – has led to problems with landslides across parts of the district.

The geological history of Paphos tells us that the Mamonia rocks were deposited during the thrusting of African plate rocks over the advancing edge of the Troodos ophiolite complex as Africa moved northwards beneath the Eurasian plate some 70 million years ago, during the Maastrichtian stage.

Fast forward millions of years, and unaware of the geological risks, the people of Paphos built homes and villages on these unstable foundations. Over time, several communities, including Pentalia, Choletria, Melamiou, Agios Fotios, Statos, Fasoula, Foinikas, Korphi, and Kivides, had to relocate to more stable ground.

One of these was Theletra. In a somewhat “informal arrangement” with the government, the villagers cited instability to justify their relocation – though the real reasons seem to have been a lack of space for expansion and the Cyprus Electricity Authority’s inability to fully electrify the area.

A visit to old Theletra: a village frozen in time

We recently visited the abandoned village of Old Theletra. Leaving the main Paphos-Polis road, one approaches the village where some farmland and a few structures mask the sense of abandonment.

On the outskirts, large boulders the size of barrels – and larger – litter the roadside. At the entrance to the village, two forlorn construction columns point skyward, while next to them a partly concrete-block-built stone house stands precariously. Across the road, homes sit atop retaining walls.

Electricity poles and overhead lines remain in place, though nature has reclaimed much of the village. Many houses are roofless, missing doors and windows, with obvious signs of decay and decades without maintenance. A large patch of reeds has overtaken an area just outside the village, and a beautiful stone arch hides behind a prickly pear tree.

On higher ground, other stone houses resemble what Odysseas Elytis might have described as “beautiful ruins”. Further down the village’s central path, there are more series of arches, amid dense wild vegetation.

Walking further, we found the old road leading to the abandoned church, a date scribbled on a crumbling wall, and even graffiti adorning a few surfaces – signs that despite its abandonment, people still pass through.

Interestingly, among the ruins, a few homes appear to have been renovated and are possibly used as holiday homes, judging by the occasional car parked outside. A worn cement fountain bearing the emblem of the Republic of Cyprus stands proudly among the decay.

On the left side of the village, towering hills remind visitors of the constant threat of landslides that once loomed over the community.

According to the village’s official website, during the presidency of Archbishop Makarios III, the Republic of Cyprus decided to relocate the village. Officially, the reason was the danger of landslides and earthquakes, given the steep hillside on which Old Theletra sat.

When Makarios visited by helicopter and saw the village clinging precariously to the mountainside, he reportedly described it as resembling “pigeon nests”.

New Theletra: a community reborn

Land was expropriated for the relocation, with the government covering around 70% of the costs and residents paying the remaining 30% in instalments. Thus, New Theletra was born.

Efforts to move began in 1968–69, and by 1980, the villagers were resettled atop the hill, in a new amphitheatrically built settlement offering stunning east-facing views toward the Paphos Forest and the Troodos Mountains. A new church, dedicated to Panagia Chryseleousa, now crowns the community.

Although the old properties remained under the ownership of the villagers, the new plots were officially compensated at prices between 25 to 50 Cyprus pounds of the time.

When asked whether Old Theletra was truly at risk, a former village leader said that during past earthquakes, “not even a pebble fell”, suggesting that the threat might have been exaggerated.

In recent years, there have been efforts to restore some of the old houses, with hopes that people might return or repurpose the buildings. Around half of the 200 houses were deemed salvageable, most built side by side in traditional stone masonry, which helped them survive.

However, building regulations now make any new extensions impossible, as the old village has a zero-development coefficient.

In the past, companies showed interest in developing Old Theletra for agritourism, but negotiations with private owners stalled. Nevertheless, if restoration efforts had succeeded, Old Theletra might have become a unique attraction.

Even today, despite its dereliction and narrow streets that fit only one car, the village retains a timeless charm – a place where, as a 1970s visitor once put it, “they live hidden away from God”.

Landslides: the hidden curse of Paphos

Much of the Paphos district sits on clay-rich soil, prone to landslides and ground cracking.

The Geological Survey Department mapped the region, recording over 2,000 landslides – some dating back centuries. This mapping aimed to ensure future construction would be safer, as many owners had found their newly built homes developing cracks within months.

The clay (including montmorillonite) found in some areas can expand up to nine times when wet and then shrink dramatically during dry spells, damaging both buildings and roads.

While some damage stems from poor foundations, in many cases, the soil conditions themselves are to blame. In such areas, “white zones” are declared, where construction is prohibited.

Affected communities include Episkopi Paphos, Choletria, Nata, Armou, Marathounta, Fyti, Lasa, Agios Dimitrianos, Kritou Marottou, Mamonia, Statos, Pentalia, Koilinia, and more. In western Paphos, Arodes and Droushia also suffer, while in central Paphos, Stavrokonnou, Episkopi, Filousa, and Salamiou face similar challenges.

Further north, Drinia, Peristerona (Paphos), and Makounta also bear the scars of an unstable underground.

(Translated and summarised from the Greek article in Philenews)