The Old VW Buggy

My German–American wiring goes into full alert every time I drive past this ancient, rusted, completely falling-apart VW buggy. I mean… how is this thing still here? Why has no one claimed it, towed it, rescued it—or at the very least hidden it from public view? It’s an eyesore of such magnitude that I feel personally offended every single time I see it.

And yet… apparently, I am the only one bothered.

My deeply ingrained need for order, beauty, and just a hint of aesthetic dignity is being thoroughly challenged by what I can only describe as a collective shrug. The nonchalance is almost… impressive.

But then again, maybe this very nonchalance is exactly the secret ingredient behind the contentment I feel in the Cypriot energy field.

People here are warm, open, and genuinely kind. No one seems rushed. No one seems stressed. Back where I come from, I would send a message proposing three different time slots for a Zoom call, carefully optimizing everyone’s schedule like a small project manager of human interaction.

Here? No one needs to make time—they simply have time.

Time for a coffee.

Time for a conversation.

Time to share a story, a laugh, a moment.

And no invisible clock seems to be chasing them downstream.

In shops, I see people truly connecting—laughing, greeting one another, waving across rooms. There’s a sense that human connection isn’t an interruption to daily life… it is daily life. Like an invisible thread weaving everyone together.

So perhaps the old buggy stays exactly where it is for a reason.

A quiet reminder that not everything needs fixing.