The following article appeared in the Telegraph of London on 19 August 2000, written by Nick Foster. The article includes some atrocious descriptions of the occupied north of Cyprus and makes the mistake of referring to "Turkish refugees". The Turkish Cypriots who moved to the occupied north following the Turkish invasion of 1974 are not refugees as they moved to the occupied zone due to intimidation and coersion by the Turkish government and Turkish Cypriot leadership. The article does however, illustrate the parasitic approach of those who have usurped the properties of the ethnically cleansed Greek Cypriots who fled mass murder, torture and rape at the hands of the invading and occupying Turkish army. While the Greek Cypriots are indigenous to Cyprus for 3,000 years plus, one of those who has enjoyed the stolen property of the Greek Cypriots who were focibly evicted in 1974 makes the following incredulous statement: "This place will be a bloody building site if the Greeks ever try to get their houses back… We'll raze the place rather than let them get their hands on our homes."

"Bad karma in Karmi

When the Greeks fled, the expats moved in. Now they fear for their future in the village. Nick Foster reports from North Cyprus

YOU reach the whitewashed village of Karmi along a dusty, winding road leading through citrus groves out of the port of Kyrenia. The heat of high summer relents a little as you climb farther into the mountains and the appeal of the place grows more seductive with every potholed mile.

After the Turkish invasion of Cyprus in 1974, Karmi became the focus of a unique housing experiment. Its exclusively Greek residents had abandoned the village to flee to the south of the island, and its rocky, steep ground held little appeal for Turkish refugees, so the North Cypriot authorities invited foreigners to renovate Karmi's derelict buildings in return for a small ground rent. As part of the deal they were each given a 25-year lease.

Initially, the new villagers were vaguely bohemian, attracted perhaps by the soft-focus idyll portrayed in Lawrence Durrell's Bitter Lemons - an account of his stay in the hills above Kyrenia in the 1950s.

Almost all came from Britain and Germany. They have worked hard on their homes and prospered. But, gradually, the village has taken on a more staid air: many residents now rent out their properties for part of the year, as tourism to the Turkish Republic of North Cyprus (TRNC) - as it styles itself - begins to pick up.

Karmi gives the outward appearance of being prosperous, which it is. And if there was a North Cyprus "tidiest village" award, Karmi would win by a mile. But it also seems contented and at peace with itself, which it is not. There are signs of trouble in this colonised corner of paradise.

For a start, the hippy ideals of love and peace are strained. There is friction between the German and British communities. Despite being neighbours in the village, the two nationalities are virtually divorced from each other - the Germans retire to the Levant bar each evening, the British to the Crow's Nest, two minutes away.

And now, the expats (British and German alike) have something else to worry about: the impact of North Cyprus's two main money-spinners - casinos and private universities. A vast number of casinos have appeared on the island and many residents are wary of the clientele they attract. There are also five private universities, catering mainly for rich students from mainland Turkey. Their drinking, partying and ability to make a nuisance of themselves means that they are known locally as "problem pupils".

"Let's just say, North Cyprus is getting rougher," says Irene, a British woman who lives near Bellapais Abbey - Lawrence Durrell's former stamping ground - and who is considering whether to return to Nottingham after 10 years on the island. "Some foreigners even find it sinister, particularly the heavy military presence."

There are about 30,000 Turkish troops stationed in the territory, most of whom are young conscripts. "We feel sorry for them," Irene continues, "but how comfortable would you be with thousands of heavily armed teenagers on your doorstep?"

Paradoxically, the expats are among the strongest supporters of a divided Cyprus - the very thing that led to the large number of troops. This has less to do with a love of the ethnic Turkish government than fears that a peace deal may mean relinquishing property to the Greek former inhabitants.

"This place will be a bloody building site if the Greeks ever try to get their houses back," I was told by one Londoner, who preferred not to give his name. "We'll raze the place rather than let them get their hands on our homes."

New, long leases have been signed to give Karmi's foreign residents an extension of another 50 years. But villagers are still nervous about the outcome of this year's United Nations-sponsored peace talks in Geneva and New York. Property rights are, as ever, high on the agenda. If the talks progress to discussing the fine detail of a settlement, how determinedly would TRNC negotiators defend the rights of Karmi's foreign residents to stay put?

Flying out of TRNC's tiny international airport near Turkish Nicosia, I struck up a conversation with Brenda, a primary-school teacher from Manchester in her late fifties. She and her husband plan to retire to North Cyprus and have just bought a five-bedroom villa outside Kyrenia, near the improbably named Celebrity Hotel.

"It had been abandoned for years, ever since the Greeks left, in fact. We paid £38,000 for it, and it even has its own vineyard," said Brenda. "In Manchester you can't buy a small terrace house for that kind of money." You can see the attraction - the food, the climate, the beaches. But, with pressure on the Turks and Greeks to reach a settlement over the island, how much longer will the expats of northern Europe be able to enjoy the lifestyle of North Cyprus? "