6 Suitcases. 4 People.
October 31, 2025. Key handover. Our house belongs to someone else now.
The house we built with our own hands in 2014. Every brick, every tile, every brushstroke. My wife and I, together. Our home for 11 years.
Next morning we're standing at Hannover Airport. November 1, 2025.
2 large suitcases. 4 small ones. My wife. Our daughter, 8. Our son, 6. And me.
Everything we own fits in 6 bags.
The 30-kilometer radius is gone
In Wagenhoff our life was 30 kilometers wide. School, kindergarten, supermarket, friends, family. Everything within reach. Everything familiar. Everything safe.
11 years of the same. Every day the same roads. Same faces. Same routine. We functioned. But we didn't live.
Now: Paphos. New country. New language. New school. New streets. New people. Nothing is familiar. Nothing is safe.
The kids
The kids took it better than expected. Kids are good at that. They just handle it. New friends on day one. New favorite ice cream shop on day two.
Our son desperately wanted a pretzel at the airport. They didn't have any. That was his biggest problem that day.
We adults are worse at this.
The first days
Apartment found. School sorted. Supermarket discovered. SIM card bought. Car rented. Bank account opened.
Everything you build up over years in a normal life — from zero in 2 weeks.
My wife was incredible. She took over the entire organizational chaos while I was still processing what was happening. Without her I would have sat in the apartment staring at the floor.
No big words needed
I could write something profound now about new beginnings and letting go and courage. But the truth is: it was just a day. A day we stepped off a plane and started living in a different country.
No fireworks. No epiphany. Just a moment. Then the next moment. Then the next.
Big changes never feel as big as you think they will. They feel like Tuesday.
— Alex, Paphos, November 2025
6 suitcases. A new life. And 2 weeks later: a black screen.
Everything I'd built over the last 5 years — gone. Not lost. Deliberately let go. And then I sat in Paphos in front of my laptop and what came was: nothing.
💡 What this means for you:
Big changes never feel as big as you think they will. They feel like Tuesday. If you're waiting for a change that feels "big enough" — you'll wait forever. Start. It will feel normal. And that's exactly the point.