Cyprus is full of surprises. Most visitors arrive expecting sunlit beaches, Byzantine mosaics, and ancient ruins scattered across olive groves. All of those things are here, of course, but every now and then the island serves up something wholly unexpected. In the quiet village of Episkopeio, in the Nicosia district, two slender wooden churches rise above the fields: Agia Kyriaki Megalomartyra and Agio Ioanni Hozeviti, a Romanian Orthodox pair whose steep, pointed roofs look as though they’ve traveled straight from the Carpathian Mountains and landed in the Mediterranean.
Driving into Episkopeio, the first impression is almost disorienting. Among the usual Cypriot landscape — low stone houses, citrus orchards, sunlit hills — suddenly appear dark wooden spires with pitched roofs climbing skyward in elegant layers. The construction style is unmistakably Romanian, recalling the Maramureș region where tall wooden churches dominate the villages. The effect is both charming and slightly surreal: a northern, alpine aesthetic reinterpreted under the fierce Cypriot sun.
These churches were built to serve the Romanian Orthodox community in Cyprus, but they’ve become a landmark for anyone interested in unusual architecture. They remind us that the Orthodox faith, while shared across many cultures, takes on unique visual forms depending on where it is expressed. Here, Romanian carpentry traditions and Cypriot landscape come together in a striking dialogue.
Unlike the massive stone cathedrals of old Europe, these are intimate churches, scaled for village life. Their beauty lies in detail and proportion.
The roofs are shingled in overlapping patterns that catch the light, their steep pitch both decorative and practical.
The spires rise like fingers pointing to the heavens, slim and elegant, breaking the skyline with a sense of aspiration.
The woodwork is warm and natural, aging gently under the Mediterranean climate, offering a tactile counterpoint to the whitewashed houses around it.
Walking around them is a pleasure in itself. You can trace the joinery, admire the way the eaves extend outward, and notice how every angle of the building frames a different view of the village. In the late afternoon, when the sun dips low, the wooden surfaces glow with honeyed tones, while the shadows deepen into strong geometric lines.
What makes Episkopeio even more fascinating is that the Romanian churches sit next to a Russian Orthodox church. Within a few minutes’ walk, you can move between distinctly different Orthodox building traditions — Cypriot stone chapels, a Russian dome, and Romanian wooden spires. Together they create an unlikely microcosm of the Orthodox world.
This little cluster reflects Cyprus’s role as a crossroads. The island has always been a meeting place: ancient Greeks, Byzantines, Crusaders, Venetians, Ottomans, and British have all left their marks. Today, new waves of migrants and expatriates leave their own imprints, and the churches of Episkopeio are living examples of that continuity.
Although visitors are drawn by their photogenic qualities, these are working churches. They are places of worship, community gathering, and cultural continuity for Romanians living far from home. On feast days, the wooden spires are filled with song, and the air carries the scent of incense. Services are held in Romanian, but the faith they express resonates with the wider Orthodox community.
In a sense, the churches are both new and old at once: new in that they were only built in recent years, but old in the way they embody centuries of craft traditions carried across borders.
If you’re planning a stop:
Pairing the visit with a slow drive through nearby villages makes for a rewarding half-day outing. Stop for coffee or a simple meal in one of the small local cafés, and you’ll get a taste of Cypriot village hospitality alongside your architectural exploration.
For photographers and travelers, what makes the Agia Kyriaki Megalomartyra and Agio Ioanni Hozeviti churches linger in memory is the contrast: the unexpectedness of Romanian wooden towers standing in the middle of Cyprus. They embody a story about migration, adaptation, and faith expressed in timber rather than stone.
But beyond their novelty, they also invite reflection. They remind us that Cyprus is not only a museum of Byzantine art but also a living, changing island where new layers are constantly being added to the cultural landscape. Just as medieval crusader castles stand next to Venetian walls and Ottoman mosques, so too do Romanian spires now rise beside Cypriot chapels.
If you’re in Nicosia and want to spend a day outside the city walls, consider this route:
In the end, these little wooden churches are more than curiosities. They’re emblems of continuity, faith, and identity, rooted in tradition but alive in a new place. If you want to see Cyprus not only through the lens of its ancient history but also through the eyes of the communities shaping it today, Episkopeio is a stop worth making.
Telephone: | +357 96 304329 |
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Address: | Episkopeio, Nicosia, Cyprus |