After months of Cyprus reunification talks, what comes out of the negotiating room more often than anything else, is shouting.

Greek Cypriot President Demetris Christofias and Turkish Cypriot leader Mehmet Ali Talat, appear to have made little headway in the conundrum that has defied generations of international diplomats.

Western diplomats and analysts on the divided Mediterranean island are starting to wonder if the euphoria that surrounded the launch of the talks in September 2008, was justified.

“They went back to the drawing board, that’s the main problem,” said Mete Hatay, a researcher for the PRIO peace institute in Nicosia.

High hopes were pinned on the two men, who come from leftist parties and enjoyed a strong relationship as opposition leaders, to make more progress than their predecessors - Glafcos Clerides
and Rauf Denktash, British-trained lawyers whose careers were identified with the Cyprus problem.

“Both of them have trouble grappling with the language and terms. They are not lawyers like Clerides and Denktash,” said a senior Western diplomat. “Christofias wants to lead by consensus but you can’t operate like that as president and Talat is in a tight corner.”

Christofias moves too slowly and Talat, anxious not to give up too much, stepped back from agreed positions, hoping to meet somewhere in the middle but frustrating his opponent, he said.

“The U.N. will not fill the gaps this time. The two leaders must finish the job and put the plan to a referendum,” the diplomat added.

Turkish Cypriots, tired of seeing little of the EU benefits enjoyed by Greek Cypriots and angered by European Court decisions on key property cases, voted in April parliamentary elections for a hardliner, Dervis Eroglu.

Talat, whose term ends in April 2010, may not be around to clinch a deal after that. With the April deadline looming, the pressure is rising for the two leaders.

“I’m not sure they can do it by April,” said Hatay. “It’s not hopeless but when Turkish Cypriots feel cornered, they can do unpredictable things.”

A case in point was the failure to open the Limnitis crossing on the eastern part of the green line dividing the island, at a time when any good news from the process was key to sustaining
momentum. Turkish Cypriot demands that petrol trucks, not just people, should be allowed to cross, have delayed agreement.

The European Union must be more directly involved and the talks must be intensified to have a chance of making it, diplomats said.

Some say there are some positive signs on the horizon - 70 percent of Greek Cypriots, who overwhelmingly rejected the last U.N. reunification plan in a 2004 referendum, voted for parties
backing a solution in the June 7 European Parliament election.

And the screaming that people close to the talks say often comes out of the negotiating room may not be all that bad either.

“Shouting and screaming is part of their intimacy,” said a Turkish Cypriot journalist. “The fact that they come out of the room smiling is proof of their strong relationship.”

(Turkish Cypriot leader Talat and Greek Cypriot leader Christofias shake hands after reunification talks in Nicosia)

The leaders of Cyprus’s Greek and Turkish communities sipped coffee and called each other “comrade” as they launched a new round of talks on reuniting the island, whose 34-year division has exasperated the most committed of mediators.     
                             
This time, foreign diplomats and analysts say, a solution is in sight, thanks largely to the two moderate, leftist men heading the negotiations - Greek Cypriot Demetris Christofias and Turkish Cypriot Mehmet Ali Talat.

Although it has been years since any violence has erupted on the island, the simmering feud has far-reaching effects onTurkey’s EU aspirations, its relations with fellow NATO member Greece and politics in the eastern Mediterranean.

Fed up with former president Tassos Papadopoulos, who tearfully asked Greek Cypriots to vote down a U.N. re-unification plan in 2004, voters elected Christofias this year and turned the tide on an issue that has long baffled the international community.

Or have they? Local analysts warn against excessive euphoria, saying that the obvious positive climate between the two leaders needs to trickle down to the ground for a deal to be made. Both communities must approve any solution in simultaneous referendums.   

“Both leaders have good intentions but the atmosphere on the local level is polarised,” said Mete Hatay of the PRIO peace institute. “They must be in contact with the communities on a grassroots level to inform them and encourage them.”

Turkish Cypriots are still hurt by the Greek Cypriot rejection of the 2004 U.N. blueprint, which the north overwhelmingly approved. And with every passing year, the distance between the two sides appears to grow. 

A walk down towards the central Nicosia Ledra Street crossing, whose barrier was pulled down in April as a prelude to the talks, speaks volumes about the differences that need to be bridged.

Wealthier Greek Cypriots enjoying a booming economy and the benefits of EU membership, shop at international chains and bask at Starbucks during a hot, humid afternoon. 

A few meters past guards and crumbling neoclassical mansions, Turkish Cypriots are quickly renovating cafes to tap what they believe will be an influx of foreign tourists. Layers of Nike and Adidas knockoffs cover the front of old shops. 

“God willing, this time they will find a solution,” said Mayrem Ozyeser, 80, a basket seller in the nearby market. “Turks and Greeks used to live together, help each other but others have come between us. If it was up to us Cypriots there wouldn’t be a problem.”

The opening of the Ledra crossing has increased visits from both sides but mainly Turkish Cypriots who come to the south for window shopping and, as many say, better ice-cream.

The owner of the Heracles ice-cream shop was happy to get more business since the crossing opened but did not sound as upbeat as foreign observers on the prospect of a solution.

“People in general are not that optimistic,” said Herakles Vrontis, 36. “I don’t believe anything will come out of these talks. Talat does not have the authority to negotiate. It is up to Turkey.” 

As the two leaders prepare to delve into complicated issues such as power-sharing and restitution of property to refugees of the 1974 Turkish invasion, prompted by a Greek-inspired coup, many wonder if the dispute will again defy the most noble of intentions. 

“There is a bigger chance for a solution than before,” said Greek Cypriot political analyst Christoforos Christoforou. “But it’s a difficult process because it does not depend only on the two leaders.” 

 In Cyprus, stepping out of line can be a deal breaker.
Ahead of Thursday’s dismantling of a symbol of the island’s division, it almost ended in disaster.
Balloons were released into the air, champagne corks popped and there were smiles all around when both sides opened the gates to a flood of human traffic at Ledra Street.

 But two hours before the fireworks, Greek Cypriots were in a flap over the movements of Turkish Cypriot policemen, in a spat which could have threatened the reopening of  Ledra Street after about half a century.

    “There was a complication overnight, they installed policemen in the demilitarised zone, but we seem to have overcome the problem now,” a sleepless Greek Cypriot official told Reuters. “I had been on the phone all night.”

    The 80-metre corridor of land linking the Turkish Cypriot and Greek Cypriot ends of Ledra forms part of a United Nations corridor of land splitting Nicosia east to west. But like most things in Cyprus, even a few metres of land is disputed, in this case about 10-20 metres of it.

    Arriving more than an hour before the ceremony, I was ushered by smiling U.N. soldiers through an abandoned shopping centre, along a decrepit alleyway with towering mud-brick buildings. Here, only the facades and rusting cast iron gates drawn across archways were standing.

    That is what crossing Ledra would have looked like, had local town workers not engaged in a last-minute sprint to erect scaffolding, and cover them with sheets of bright colours. It all looked rather artificial.

    I was asked to leave because organisers said they were “not ready”. On my way back, a U.N. soldier was talking into his mobile phone. “Does that mean there will be no ceremony?” he barked.

    But 40 minutes later, I was standing among a throng of journalists charting a moment in history not even 10 metres of disputed land could spoil.