Greece Is Not Florida!

Two years ago, Karen and I left Florida.

I wrote about that little act of geographic self-defense here:

Two Years After Ditching Florida

I keep saying we “ditched” Florida, although technically that may sound harsh.

We did not run out in the middle of the night wearing fake mustaches.

We packed.

We planned.

We said goodbye.

We dragged our luggage through the airport like two people who had made a very serious life decision and were now hoping Delta would not lose the evidence.

And for the record, full disclosure to all our fellow Florida escapees:

We inspected our luggage very carefully.

Florida was “not” accidentally packed.

No palm tree slipped into the side pocket.

No HOA president crawled into the carry-on.

No alligator was hiding inside Karen’s suitcase.

No Publix shopping cart rolled itself into checked baggage.

We left Florida in Florida.

At least, that was the understanding.

Then I read a Capital.gr article by Nikos Rousanoglou asking whether Greece can become the “Florida” of the European South.

The article points to growing interest from retirees in northern and western Europe who want to settle permanently in Greece, helped by climate, natural beauty, new holiday-home developments, relatively lower property prices, and Greece’s favorable tax framework for foreign retirees.

Oy vey.

Florida has found us.

Apparently, we did not escape.

We merely relocated to the Mediterranean branch office.

According to the article, the main interest is coming from buyers in the United States, Holland, Germany, England, Belgium, France, and Australia, with Crete, the Peloponnese, and the Ionian islands high on the list.

Naturally, as someone who actually escaped Florida and moved to Greece, I had questions.

Mostly one question:

Did we accidentally bring Florida with us?

Because this is how it starts.

First someone says, “Look at the beautiful climate.”

Then someone says, “Look at the lower prices.”

Then someone says, “Look at the tax benefits.”

Then a real estate agent somewhere starts rubbing his hands together so hard he may ignite a small fire.

In Greek, we say:

τρίβουν τα χέρια τους
trivoun ta heria tous
They are rubbing their hands.

Meaning: business is good.

And to be fair, for some people, business really is good.

Hospitality people.

Real estate agents.

Lawyers.

Notaries.

Developers.

Accountants.

Anyone who can say “tax residence” with a straight face while pointing at a sunset.

The article also mentions the special Greek tax regime for foreign retirees, introduced in 2020, which taxes qualifying foreign pensioners at 7% on income from any source for 15 years, provided certain conditions are met.

That is not a small detail.

That is the kind of detail that makes northern Europeans suddenly discover a deep spiritual connection to Messinia.

“I have always loved Greece,” they say.

Of course you have, Klaus.

Especially after the accountant explained the 7%.

Now, before anyone gets upset, let me be clear.

I am not against people coming to Greece.

Karen and I came to Greece.

We are part of the story.

We are not standing at the village entrance yelling, “No foreigners allowed,” while holding two U.S. passports and a suitcase full of Florida memories.

That would be ridiculous.

Also, I still occasionally miss Publix.

Not enough to move back.

But enough to mention it in therapy, if I had therapy.

People move.

Greeks certainly moved.

Greeks moved everywhere.

America.

Australia.

Canada.

Germany.

South Africa.

If there is a diner in Manitoba, a shipping office in London, or a cousin in Melbourne, there is probably a Greek nearby explaining how the coffee is wrong.

Movement is human.

Retirement dreams are human.

Wanting sunshine, sea, good food, and a slower life is human.

But turning an entire country into a retirement product is something else.

That needs care.

That needs balance.

That needs planning.

And above all, it needs respect for the people already here.

Because when foreign retirees arrive with northern European pensions, American savings, or favorable tax treatment, they are not competing in some separate magical market.

They are competing for the same homes.

The same apartments.

The same plots of land.

The same neighborhoods.

The same villages where Greek families are trying to live, work, raise children, care for parents, and maybe — wild dream — buy a home in their own country.

And this is where the joke gets less funny.

Because “Greece as the new Florida” sounds cute until you remember what Florida became.

Expensive.

Overbuilt.

Overmarketed.

Overheated.

Sinking.

A place where many regular people who actually worked there could no longer afford to live there.

A place where every quiet corner eventually became “an opportunity.”

And Greece has many quiet corners.

That is part of the danger.

We have villages that still feel like villages.

Small towns where the baker knows who belongs to which mother.

Neighborhoods where people still argue from balcony to balcony like it is a recognized communication system.

Places where the sea is not a lifestyle accessory but part of daily life.

Places where the mountains are not a “view premium,” but where someone’s grandfather kept goats.

Please do not turn all of that into a brochure.

Please do not make every old stone house “a hidden gem.”

Please do not describe every village as “authentic” five minutes before authenticity gets priced out.

And please, for the love of all things holy, do not bring Florida landscaping philosophy to Greece.

We do not need palm trees everywhere.

We have olive trees.

Fig trees.

Lemon trees.

Cypress trees.

Plane trees.

Ancient trees that have seen empires rise, fall, and return as Airbnb listings.

Northern Europeans, please listen carefully:

If you need palm trees that badly, Florida already has plenty.

We are full.

Not full of people.

Full of bad ideas.

The article looks at the economic opportunity. It even references older estimates suggesting that demand for holiday and secondary homes in southern Europe could be enormous, and that if Greece captured part of that demand, it could mean hundreds of thousands of homes over twenty years and billions in annual GDP benefit.

Fine.

I understand the argument.

Money comes in.

Construction happens.

Jobs are created.

Local economies get activity.

Restaurants get customers.

Lawyers get paperwork.

Notaries get very serious stamps.

Everyone claps.

But here is the question I keep coming back to:

Who is Greece for?

Is Greece only for people who arrive after cashing out somewhere else?

Is Greece only for people who can sell a small apartment in Munich and buy half a village in the Peloponnese?

Is Greece only for retirees with foreign pensions and accountants who understand tax treaties?

Or is Greece also for the Greeks who work here?

Can a teacher afford to live near the school?

Can a nurse afford to live near the hospital?

Can a young couple buy an apartment without needing four grandparents, two loans, one miracle, and a priest?

Can a local family stay in the village when every house becomes an investment property?

Can the kafeneio survive when the village becomes a destination?

Can Greece welcome people without selling itself piece by piece?

That is the real question.

Because there is a big difference between loving Greece and consuming Greece.

There is a big difference between moving here and trying to turn it into the place you left.

There is a big difference between becoming part of a community and treating the community as a backdrop for your retirement fantasy.

So yes, come to Greece.

Come for the light.

Come for the food.

Come for the sea.

Come for the mountains.

Come for the ridiculous bureaucracy that will either destroy you or give you enough material for a Substack.

Come because you love Greece.

But please do not come here to recreate Florida with better feta.

Do not bring the gated-community brain.

Do not bring the “investment opportunity” disease.

Do not bring the idea that every place exists to be optimized, branded, renovated, flipped, and monetized.

And please, please do not ask where the nearest pickleball court is before learning how to say kalimera.

Greece is not empty.

Greece is not waiting to become someone else’s retirement village.

Greece is a country.

A complicated, beautiful, maddening, generous, underpaid, overtaxed, overworked, over-photographed country.

It is not perfect.

It is not easy.

It is not cheap for the people who live and work here.

And it is definitely not Florida.

At least not yet.

Let’s try to keep it that way.