The One Euro Encounter

I had my first begging experience in Limassol, and it was… unexpected.

Back in South Africa, people living in poverty is part of the landscape and you become desensitised to it. You can’t leave your house without at least a couple of people asking you for money – outside your front gate, at the traffic lights, when you park your car. It’s constant, and it weighs on you.

Here in Cyprus? It took three whole weeks before I met my first beggar.

It happened on one of my morning walks along the Molos Promenade. I was sweating profusely in the relentless 38°C heat, forcing myself to keep up a brisk pace, completely focused on envisioning the icy embrace of my car’s air-conditioning. Out of nowhere, a tall, well-built, very well-dressed man stopped me. I thought he was going to ask for directions.

Let me emphasise this: he was dressed much better than I was. Stylish clothes, good shoes, and one of those trendy man-bags slung across his shoulder. He was about 6’4″ and this guy had never skipped gym-day in his life.

He then asked me, in good English with a thick Russian accent:
“Do you have one euro?”

One euro???

That’s more than twenty rand! Doesn’t he know how much one euro is to me? I’m unemployed, living in a brand-new (and expensive) country, and still spending my hard-earned South African rands. And right now, my rands feel like Monopoly money — pretty colours but basically worthless.

For a split second, I imagined sitting him down, explaining my financial situation, and then seeing who ended up giving who a euro.

Instead, I just awkwardly mumbled “no” and started scurrying away. My brain was stuck in a loop, “But he’s dressed so nice”.

I have not seen many beggars or people living in poverty here, there are a few homeless people that I sometimes recognise on my morning walks but they keep to themselves. It’s so different to what I had become used to back home, it feels so much lighter here.