As intensive negotiations between Cypriot leaders struggle to find a way to reintegrate the Greek and Turkish communities of Cyprus , a group of emigrants from the divided island seems to have established a functional peace in their London neighbourhood.

The residents of Green Lanes have carried with them some of their prejudices; but for the most part, they seem to have avoided the tensions that jar their Mediterranean homeland.

On a soggy, slate-gray afternoon in north London, Green Lanes seems a less delectable place to spend some years of one's life.

However, for the residents of London's "Little Cyprus", Sabri's words still ring true: "We are all friends, though very different." Of the estimated 200,000 Cypriots (one-fifth of whom are Turkish) living in the United Kingdom, some 100,000 reside in London. The majority live or work in and around Green Lanes.

London's Little Cyprus

On Cyprus, tension between the Greek south and the occupied north is ever present. But in Green Lanes, Greek and Turkish Cypriots have proved they can live together in relative harmony, as they did for centuries before the infamous Green Line was etched onto their nation's map by a British officer in 1963.

History has an acute sense of irony: As refugees on British soil, Greeks and Turks have rediscovered a sense of solidarity, of belonging to one nation. Divided on Cyprus by language, religion, and political affiliation, they are united in London by cultural similarities, the struggle for survival, and the desire for peace in their homeland.

"London is the decisive model in the peace process," says barrister Nicos Trimikliniotis, who is also political editor of the Parikiaki Haravgi , London's only Greek-Cypriot newspaper, now in its 25th year.

"Citizens on both sides are taking the initiative here to create real solutions that serve real people, not military or economic expediency or party political interests," Trimikliniotis says.

While the dissidents and emigrants who make up London's Cypriot community might not be perfectly representative of the compatriots they left behind, they do provide a working model of Greek and Turkish Cypriots coexisting peacefully.

Unspoken Borders

The first immigrants from poverty-ravaged Cyprus arrived in London during World War II; some were servicemen who had fought for the Allies, others adventurers seeking their fortune in the colonial motherland.

Mostly Greek, their entrepreneurial spirit, work ethic, and close family ties helped these early settlers establish profitable businesses in the Camden area. As their small businesses thrived, they literally moved up in the world - to the north and the well-to-do Haringey area on Green Lanes.

After the Turkish invasion and partition of Cyprus in 1974, half the island's population was displaced. Many chose to emigrate to the relative security of Britain, the country where they expected to feel most welcome.

Whether Greeks who had been evicted from their homes in the Occupied Area, or left-wing Turks opposed to the invasion, they gravitated to Green Lanes. In this environment, newcomers-who were optimistic they would return home as soon as "The Troubles" were over-could ease into British life with few disruptions, and with minimal interaction with non-Cypriots.

Twenty-eight years later, Cyprus is still divided and refugees (primarily Turkish-Cypriot dissidents) continue to arrive in London. Haringey remains the commercial heart of the local Cypriot community.

Upwardly mobile

But the upwardly mobile Greeks have migrated northward to Palmers Green, while the Turkish community is clustered at the bottom end of Green Lanes in the poorer borough of Hackney.

The borders dividing the two communities are unspoken but obvious - defined not by barbed wire but by social, economic, and political differences.

One of the longest streets in London (and, incidentally, not at all green), Green Lanes is both cosmopolitan and parochial, like Cyprus itself. I emerge from the London Underground at Manor House into a curious global village where Cypriots, British, Italians, Mauritians, Asians, and Kurds live side-by-side. Shopkeepers know most of their customers by name.

Fat women in headscarves squeeze and squabble over the ripest tomatoes at the fruit stalls. There are zaharoplasteia , pandopoleia , Cypriot barber shops, travel agents, banks, and takeaways. There is Trehantiri music shop, which boasts "The Largest Collection of Greek Music in the World."

And there are countless greengrocers, their rainbow of produce a dazzling contrast to the London drizzle.

The only thing missing is a kafeneion : As the Greek-Cypriot population has gradually dispersed, they have all closed. The nearest equivalent is the back room in the Cypriot newsagent where locals gather to read Greek papers and offer running commentary about the issues aired on London Greek Radio.

Residue of resentment

The newsagent, Nicholas Serapheim, is a quiet man with haunted eyes. I blithely ask which part of Cyprus he is from. "The Occupied Area," he replies tightly. After losing everything in 1974, Serapheim could not bear to return to Cyprus for 18 years.

Despite a residue of resentment, he is on reasonably good terms with his Turkish neighbors here: "It would be impolite to ignore them. We talk-but we never discuss politics."

Opening hours are erratic in Haringey, with many shops open 24 hours. Cypriots and Greeks, Turks, and Kurds come here to stock up on dolmadakia and baklavadakia, haloumi and tahinopittes . Many shops bear signs in both Greek and Turkish, an indication of their mixed clientele.

Yacar Halim-a greengrocer, bakery, patisserie and delicatessen all rolled into one-is a particular favorite with both Greeks and Turks. "His prices are very competitive," explains one Greek Cypriot who wished to remain anonymous.

"Why should I be loyal to a Greek shopkeeper if he's ripping me off? Business is business. "I was surprised at how many people asked to remain anonymous. Others claimed they were "too busy" to talk or mumbled excuses about "not wanting to upset anyone in the community."