Varosha is the fenced-off southern quarter of Famagusta (Gazimağusa) in Cyprus, long renowned as a sunlit beach resort and now a symbol of the island’s division. Spanning about 6.2 km², it was once a thriving district of high-rise hotels and luxury amenities lining wide golden beaches. In 1974, amid the Cyprus crisis, approximately 15,000 Greek Cypriot residents fled as Turkish forces advanced, and Varosha was sealed off by the military. For nearly five decades, it remained a “time capsule” – empty hotels, sunbeds, and personal belongings left in mid-use. In October 2020, Turkish Cypriot authorities controversially opened a small beachfront zone (about 3.5 km²) to visitors. Below are key facts about Varosha’s location, history, and status.
Varosha (Greek: Varósi, Turkish: Maraş or Kapalı Maraş) lies immediately adjacent to Famagusta’s historic old town and port. Until 1974 it was the modern resort quarter of Famagusta, often likened to the French or Italian Riviera due to its stylish high-rises and beaches. In 1974, following Turkey’s military intervention, Varosha’s entire population was ordered to evacuate; residents left hopes of a brief absence but the city was instead classified a military zone. For decades, Varosha lay frozen – an alien landscape of sun-bleached apartments and silent boulevards where objects from the 1970s remained untouched. Only Turkish troops and occasional UN peacekeepers entered its streets.
Even in the 21st century, Varosha’s status is unique. Unlike most of Northern Cyprus, it was not repopulated or rebuilt after 1974. Its legal status remains governed by UN resolutions; Resolution 550 (1984) calls any settlement “inadmissible” and demands transfer to UN administration. The fenced zone stands as a potent symbol of the unresolved conflict: properties still legally belong to their original Greek Cypriot owners, who have maintained claims and hopes of return.
In the 1960s and early 1970s, Varosha epitomized Cyprus’s tourism boom. Independent Cyprus invested heavily in resorts, and by 1970 tourism accounted for 57% of the island’s GDP. Varosha’s miles of beaches and modern infrastructure earned it the nickname “Las Vegas of the Mediterranean.” Countless visitors from Europe and beyond flocked here for sunshine and nightlife. By 1974, Varosha housed more than 100 hotels—including grand names like the Palm Beach, King George, Grecian, and Florida—and its luxury apartment blocks and villas were at the cutting edge of 1960s Mediterranean modernism.
Varosha was also famous for its celebrity clientele. International film stars spent summers on its shores: Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton vacationed here, Brigitte Bardot sunned on Glossa Beach, and a young Paul Newman lived in Varosha during filming. The town buzzed with chic cafés, nightclubs, and boutiques. Local Greek Cypriot residents enjoyed relative prosperity: many owned businesses catering to tourists, while their salaries often reflected the destination’s success. Anecdotes from the period recall bustling days by the pool and nights of dancing under neon lights.
Tourism figures from 1973 illustrate Varosha’s peak: tens of thousands of visitors annually, bringing in a major share of the then-burgeoning Cypriot economy. This heyday abruptly ended with the 1974 crisis, freezing Varosha’s golden age in memory and in decay.
The Greek military junta’s coup on 15 July 1974 and Turkey’s subsequent intervention on 20 July shattered Varosha’s dream. Within days, Varosha’s Greek Cypriot community fled southward, many carrying only passports and essentials. British bases at nearby Dhekelia even assisted evacuation by helicopter. Turkish forces then took control of Famagusta. Varosha was declared a closed military zone overnight; barbed wire fences and warning signs went up. A line of UN Peacekeepers took positions along what became the cease-fire Green Line, but Varosha lay to the north, out of reach.
Turkish air raids on Varosha’s skyline caused serious damage. In August 1974, the Salaminia Tower Hotel and several other high-rises were bombed, collapsing upper floors and destroying elevators. Ordinary residential blocks and shops were hit as well. In the immediate aftermath, the Turkish military conducted thorough looting: furniture, appliances, and even copper wiring were removed from buildings. Eyewitness accounts speak of valuables hidden in walls, cars abandoned mid-drive, and kitchens left with pots still on stoves.
By late 1974, over 39,000 Greek Cypriots had been displaced from the entire Famagusta area. The once-vibrant district sat silent. In November 1984, UN Security Council Resolution 550 explicitly demanded Varosha’s handover to UN control for resettlement by its original inhabitants. A follow-up resolution in 1992 reaffirmed that stance, but Turkey and Turkish Cypriot authorities never complied. The legal dispute froze Varosha’s fate for another generation.
For nearly five decades, Varosha remained untouched by its former residents or any civilian, virtually a time capsule of 1974. With no maintenance, buildings decayed under the Mediterranean elements. Salt spray rusted metal balconies; earthquakes caused undetected structural damage. Over the years nature marched in: cacti, oleanders, and even fig trees sprouted through sidewalks and lobbies. One long-time observer noted that “prickly pear bushes have overrun the entire six square kilometres” and “trees [grew] through living rooms”. In 2014, BBC reporters filmed loggerhead turtles nesting undisturbed on the Varosha beach.
Inside the fences, time truly stood still. Storefront mannequins faded in shop windows, long after the shops closed. A 1970s-era car dealership still held models with unpaid tabs on the windshield. Ghostly traces of civilian life became tourist lore: restaurant menus hanging behind glass, shop shelves stocked with decade-old inventory, and a solitary school desk left in an empty classroom. This surreal scene attracted “dark tourism,” with tour boats from southern resorts circling the barred shoreline, and occasional trespassers braving razor wire for a peek. However, any landing or exploration beyond the main road remains officially forbidden.
Decades of military control also carried a psychological toll. Generations of Varosha refugees grew up never having set foot in their hometown. They organized associations, held memorial meetings, and kept the memory alive through stories and art. For them, Varosha became the ultimate unfulfilled promise of “return.”
International law has long framed Varosha as a special case. The UN Security Council declared Varosha’s status in successive resolutions: 550 (1984) and 789 (1992) bar any change in its status and call for UN administration and eventual return to the 1974 residents. According to the Cypriot government and much of the international community, Greek Cypriots are the legitimate owners of Varosha’s properties. The European Court of Human Rights has ordered Turkey to pay compensation in cases brought by displaced Varosha residents (e.g. the Lordos and Loizidou cases) for violation of property rights.
The Turkish Cypriot administration counters that much of Varosha was “evkaf” land (Islamic religious endowment) before 1974, and it has begun appointing its own administrators. In 2022 it announced a plan to use Varosha’s land revenue for community benefit, a move rejected by Cyprus and the EU as illegal. Notably, when Northern Cyprus sought accession talks with the UN, Varosha was often mentioned as a precondition of any settlement; Greek Cypriots insist Varosha is non-negotiable territory.
In short, Varosha remains a legal flashpoint. Any development there is widely viewed as contravening UN mandates. The EU position is clear: Turkey must respect previous resolutions. For now, the houses, hotels, and shops lie in legal limbo, technically private property in exile.
On 8 October 2020, Turkish President Erdogan and Turkish Cypriot leader Ersin Tatar announced the partial reopening of Varosha to visitors, choosing the 37th anniversary of the self-declared “TRNC” for symbolic impact. About 3.5 km² of beachfront and adjacent streets (roughly 3–5% of the old town) were designated open to civilians for the first time in 46 years. The zone, including the central Kennedy (JFK) Avenue and the Argo Hotel area, was cleared of debris and had security fencing, allowing tourism businesses like cafes and water sports to operate by the ruins.
The announcement triggered immediate international outcry. The UN Security Council and UN Secretary-General criticized the move as illegal, reiterating that Varosha’s status must follow existing resolutions. The EU, U.S., UK, and other governments condemned it as a provocation. On the ground in Cyprus, Greek Cypriots – including former residents of Varosha – voiced anger and grief. They had hoped that any reopening would be bilateral under UN supervision, not unilaterally imposed. Meanwhile, Turkish Cypriot officials defended the decision as restoring rights and boosting the north’s economy.
Since 2020, modest expansions have followed. By late 2021 and through 2023, additional streets and blocks (totaling roughly 3.5–4 km²) were cleared for Turkish Cypriot planning. Small-scale renovation of buildings and installation of utilities began in the opened area. A Turkish Cypriot government plan unveiled in 2022 envisaged building new hotels for year-round tourism. However, the core of Varosha – most hotels and housing blocks – remains sealed. The fenced perimeter stands, and former Varoshans still cannot reach their family homes.
Visitor numbers have been limited. In the months after opening, only a few thousand people (mostly Turkish Cypriots and tourists from Turkey) ventured into Varosha. Stray Greek Cypriots have periodically travelled to border checkpoints to peer across or leave flowers on the barbed wire.
For travelers curious about Varosha in 2026, here’s the latest practical information:
Among the many shuttered buildings, a few stand out as Varosha’s landmarks. From the visitors’ side they include:
For each, imagine their former function: grand lobbies, swimming pools, air-conditioning units — now all frozen in time. When strolling with a guide, you may learn which families owned them or see old nameplates.
Comparisons help understand Varosha’s place in history. Like Chernobyl’s Pripyat, Varosha’s emptiness is due to human action rather than disaster. Unlike Pripyat, Varosha’s decay is gradual (no radiation) and the town is much older architecturally. Both attract “urban explorers,” but Chernobyl is off-limits internationally, whereas a part of Varosha is now advertised for tourism.
Varosha remains unique: a large, modern city area made ghostly by war. It is one of the few post-1945 European towns held shuttered for decades. As tourism expert Justin Corfield notes, Varosha’s “urban decay” scenes attract comparison to post-apocalyptic fiction, but unlike those, Varosha sits in a geopolitically sensitive buffer zone.
The human side of Varosha’s story is told by those who lived it. Many Greek Cypriots of a certain age speak tenderly of Varosha as “the place of my childhood.” Their testimonials (collected in documentaries and books) recall summer beaches with their families, schools they attended, and nights out at the discotheque. One former resident describes returning years later to find her old home in ruins, with clothes and toys strewn on the floor.
Some Turkish Cypriots, who grew up next door to the fenced line, recall seeing Varosha on the opposite hill like a mysterious “tomb” of another community. A popular story: children’s soccer balls kicked over the fence were never returned, reinforcing the invisible barrier’s permanence. In fact, decades of poignant anecdotes have been published: Greek Cypriot novelist Costas Montis wrote poems about Varosha’s loss, while Turkish Cypriot artists have painted it as a symbol of division.
Oral history projects, such as Vasia Markides’ 2017 documentary Varosha is Us, compile dozens of interviews. These personal narratives reveal Varosha’s dual identity: beloved home for Greeks and symbol of loss for both communities. The consensus among storytellers is the same: Varosha was emptied too quickly, and all sides still bear the emotional burden of what was left behind.
Varosha has inspired a wealth of media coverage. Major documentaries (e.g. Across the Divide: Ghost Town of Varosha [2014]) combine archival footage with interviews. The BBC, Al Jazeera, and CNN have produced TV features on Varosha’s history and reopening. On YouTube, numerous travel vloggers have filmed guided walks in the reopened zone (often labeled “Turkey’s forbidden beach”).
In print, journalists from The Guardian, NY Times, and National Geographic have written in-depth features. The New York Times called it “a bizarre relic of the Cold War” (Sept 2020). Books by historians like Justin Corfield (Historical Dictionary of Cyprus) include sections on Varosha’s legal saga. Fiction also taps Varosha’s mystique: novels such as 2020’s The Count of Nineveh by Zeina Rifai weave characters through its streets.
Essential Viewing: Documentary La Piscine de Varosha (2011) by Burak Pak is one of the first films on the town’s plight. Recent YouTube reports (e.g. BBC Focus on Varosha, 2020) offer current visual tours.
What lies ahead for Varosha remains hotly debated. Key scenarios include: continuing the current status quo under Turkish Cypriot development (with more tourist hotels built); transferring sovereignty in a future Greek-Turkish federal Cyprus settlement (returning properties to original owners); or designating Varosha as a UNESCO-protected “heritage zone” to preserve it without returning it as a residential area.
Rebuilding would require massive investment. Estimates by Cypriot officials suggest billions of euros to restore infrastructure and remove hazards. Environmental studies show many buildings are structurally unsalvageable, implying demolition of some blocks. At the same time, reunification negotiations have repeatedly listed Varosha as a top bargaining item.
In recent years the EU has urged that any development respect human rights and prior agreements. Some envision a joint administration or a trust fund to compensate owners. Varosha could even become a symbol of reconciliation: in 2008, a Turkish Cypriot architect and a Greek Cypriot designer co-led a “Famagusta Ecocity” project to envision a sustainable revival.
Time and politics will decide. For now, Varosha matters beyond its ghostly fame: it is a living lesson in the costs of conflict.
What is Varosha?
Varosha is the abandoned resort district of Famagusta (Gazimağusa) in Cyprus, once a luxury beach neighborhood. It was evacuated and fenced off in 1974 after the Turkish invasion.
Why was Varosha abandoned?
In 1974, a Greek-backed coup prompted Turkey to send troops to Cyprus. Varosha’s Greek Cypriot residents fled the advancing army, and the Turkish military then sealed the area as a military zone. It has remained closed until recent years.
Can visitors go to Varosha now?
Yes, but only partially. Since October 2020, a small zone (the beachfront and nearby streets) has been opened to tourists by Northern Cyprus authorities. Entry is free, but you must cross via a Northern Cyprus checkpoint with passport. Most of Varosha remains off-limits behind fences.
Do UN resolutions affect Varosha?
Absolutely. UN Security Council Resolutions 550 (1984) and 789 (1992) declared Varosha can only be returned to its original inhabitants and ordered the area be transferred to UN administration. These remain the legal basis cited by the Republic of Cyprus and many other states.
When did Varosha reopen to the public?
Part of Varosha was reopened in October 2020 (the 37th anniversary of the Turkish Cypriot state declaration). This first phase allowed visitors to beach areas. Additional streets were cleared in 2021–2026, but no full reopening has occurred.
Is it safe to visit Varosha?
Yes, in general it is safe — the only hazard is dilapidated buildings. Military and police patrol the open area. Visitors should stay on designated paths and avoid entering ruins. Following simple precautions (sun protection, sturdy shoes) is advisable.
What is the future of Varosha?
The future is uncertain. Possible outcomes range from continued Turkish Cypriot development (potentially as a resort), to an eventual return under a UN/bi-zonal agreement. Many expect any solution will be tied to a broader Cyprus settlement. Some experts have even proposed making Varosha a UNESCO World Heritage site to preserve its unique history.
Where can I learn more?
For detailed history and updates, see reputable sources like major news outlets (AP News, Guardian, BBC) and academic works on Cyprus. Visiting museums in Famagusta and UN archives can provide further insights. Always check the latest travel advisories before planning a visit.
