Why living with less made me love Cyprus more

By Dina-Perla Portnaar Spend enough time with content for people moving to Cyprus and a pattern begins to emerge. Alongside questions about residency permits, where to find the best **** (fill in as appropriate) and so on, there’s an almost ritual confession from people who have already made the move. If they could do it all over again, they would bring more stuff with them. Possessions they assumed they could replace once they arrived, only to discover that choice here is limited and prices are higher than back home. Cyprus isn’t a vast consumer society built upon the illusion that every conceivable object should be available at any hour of the day and delivered to the front door before dinner. As a true minimalist who lives on a budget, I’m happy here. I don’t own a television, have no collection of electronic gadgets, and I rely upon an absurdly old and empty laptop that I got for free. I got most of my clothes for free. I don’t even own a car! Many residents cannot imagine surviving Cyprus without one. I’d support a considerable expansion of public transport because public transport is a national investment that improves life for everyone. All those expenses, the maintenance, and responsibility that inevitably accompany a car; to me freedom means none of these. Now that my mundane life has started, my ‘lack of stuff’ continues to be a blessing, as I prefer buying what I absolutely need from small businesses, and I love people who make things. During my first road trip with a friend, we wandered through Omodos, where she bought local wines, olive oil and beautifully woven tablecloths. I had the most delicious homemade rose ice cream. No multinational or factory makes it that way. I love islands, because their greatest gift is proportion and simplicity. It makes people notice one another instead of searching for whatever lies beyond the next purchase. The real wealth of Cyprus is found in its nature, people, and, yes, culture and intellect. I can walk to the Markideio Theatre, spend an afternoon at the Municipal Library, and wander through neighbourhoods where people recognise one another. That nourishes me, not possessions. Mundane life has introduced me to veterinarian Katerina Wiedel, whom I mention by name because integrity deserves honour! Faced with my senior dog Pommie, she was honest about what she could offer and where another veterinarian would be better suited to perform a needed operation. She thought first about what would serve Pommie best. When Pommie began shedding fur while my belongings were nowhere near Cyprus yet, she lent me scissors, nail clippers and a comb. She could have advised me to buy replacements, but she was happy to make my life easier. Encounters like this mean more than the number of shops Cyprus boasts. Or my neighbour, living here for three decades, sitting with her friends in her garden across the street, who waved at me while I was cleaning and painting my terraces. My Greek lessons have just begun, which means that our conversations rely upon translation tools. But the heart and soul speak a universal language. Or a courier who sent me a message because he spotted me walking through the neighbourhood, while I had failed to notice him. Or my cashier who smiles because she recognises me. None of these interactions would qualify as extraordinary, yet together they create something that cannot be bought. People who have intrinsic motivation to move here should never consume books with titles such as A guide for expats, created to minimise people’s inner compasses and personal blueprints. They should stay away from people who dare to say things such as ‘you won’t fit here, because this has always been the level of ethics here’. As if doing better isn’t a great thing to strive for, and as if people hold no collective responsibility. Small business owners stand at the heart of this, because they preserve craftsmanship, ethical standards, conversation, and the kind of personal accountability that disappears with overconsumption. And by the end of our lives, we will remember the people who filled our days with honesty, generosity, and warmth, not our possessions.