The Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus was born in August 1974, the war child of a conflict that split Cyprus into its constituent Greek and Turkish parts. Shunned by the world, this tiny territory of 1,300 square miles promptly dropped through a loophole in the fabric of time, joining a shortlist of places seemingly immune from the march of history. However, as the people of East Berlin know, the world comes calling sooner or later. History repeated itself here on April 23rd when, to everyone’s amazement, the much-vilified Turkish Cypriot leader suddenly reinstated free movement across the border.

The days following this seismic shift were frenzied. Up to 30,000 people per day, many of them tearful, squeezed through overwhelmed checkpoints to revisit homes they had thought lost forever. Some stayed behind, reluctant to show their passports and thereby acknowledge the legitimacy of the TRNC. Other less principled souls headed straight for the casinos and cabaret bars of the north. Unscrupulous taxi drivers sensed a major payday. Going in the opposite direction, Turkish Cypriots packed onto free buses to goggle at the sprawling changes in the south. In short, almost everybody grabbed the chance to do something they’d been denied for 29 years.

As the wave of euphoria subsided, I ventured over to the island’s original glamour resort of Famagusta. At first everything seemed disappointingly normal. However, a closer look revealed the beach hotels to be bombed-out carcasses, every window long since darkened by shellfire. Beyond a chain-link fence marking the buffer zone stood an entire ghost city. Here, tattered rags still hang on washing lines, dinner plates fester on tables, 1974-vintage cars disintegrate under decades of dust. More surreal still, a handful of apparently oblivious tourists perched on the white sands, sipping at cold drinks. “We come here for the peace and quiet”, one explained to me. I had to concede that if it’s tranquillity you want, a ghost town takes some beating.

I was learning fast to expect the unexpected. Even in the hushed Kyrenia hills, a pretty village church in the distance can suddenly mutate into a desecrated shell, filled with rubble and graffiti. Equally unforeseen is the warmth of the Turkish Cypriot welcome. On one occasion the car was surrounded by beaming schoolchildren, delighted to meet a stranger and repeatedly wishing me “welcome”. I heard this word many more times on my way to Kyrenia, shouted out by passing drivers. I felt like somebody’s long-lost relative.

Kyrenia turned out to be the jewel of the north, a picture-perfect harbour town already geared for the tourist influx it deserves. I recovered from my initial disorientation by indulging in some mock-serious haggling with the kind of back-street tailors rarely found in western Europe, and stocking up on sticky Turkish delight (referred to as “Cyprus delight” in the south, which tells its own story).

Thus refreshed, I turned inland for a whistle-stop tour of the north’s historical highlights. The city kingdom of Salamis, the main archaeological site on Cyprus, boasts a Roman gymnasium and a fully intact amphitheatre. The modern capital, north Nicosia, is dominated by the glorious Selimiye Mosque alongside the fine Ottoman-era Great Inn. Famagusta’s Venetian walled city is notable for Othello’s Tower, so called because Shakespeare’s character was apparently based on a Venetian soldier serving here.

Travelling between these sites made me increasingly aware of the north’s pristine environment, the main advantage of its lack of development. Many regular visitors commune with nature by trekking or mountain biking through the orchid-filled forests of the Kyrenia hills, or scuba diving into the clear blue yonder. Indeed, the ultimate endorsement of the fabulous beaches of the Karpas peninsular is provided by the loggerhead turtles. These magnificent creatures need absolute peace and quiet to nest, and they’ve been returning for one hundred million years. The north has 88 suitable nesting beaches for turtles; the south has just one.

Now that the reunification bandwagon is rolling, it’s uncertain whether the north can retain such serenity. After three decades of economic isolation, the lure of the tourist dollar must be strong. However, let’s hope the north can progress without succumbing to the Ayia Napa-style excesses of the south. The world has plenty of discos, shopping malls and high-rise resorts; what it lacks is destinations with the enigmatic charm of north Cyprus.