By Massimiliano Sfregola
Once overshadowed by controversy over unregistered universities—a scandal that drew scrutiny from Brussels—Cyprus has quietly reinvented itself as a rising destination for students across Europe. In a fiercely competitive global education market, Cypriot universities are holding their own, with the University of Cyprus ranking a respectable 150th in Europe. This influx of students is widely seen as an opportunity, a chance to revitalize Nicosia’s Old Town, a district long weighed down by division, economic downturns, and the lingering effects of the pandemic.
For the city center, it seems that the municipality is betting on students...one question remains: what role will the actual residents play in this transformation?
At the heart of this transformation is the government’s push for student housing, backed by €11.3 million in EU Recovery Plan funding. The initiative, which covers up to 75% of renovation costs, promises to reshape the city center—but for how long? With rent caps in place for only five years, many fear that market forces, not social planning, will ultimately decide the city’s future.
For now, Nicosia has largely avoided the sweeping gentrification seen in other European capitals. With relatively few tourists and a limited number of Airbnb rentals, changes have been gradual. But as student housing projects move forward, one pressing question remains: Who is this transformation really for?
Antonis, the owner of Pieto café on Ledra Street, isn’t convinced. “A few hundred rent-capped temporary residents? That’s hardly going to make a difference,” he scoffs. “The municipality is footing only 70% of the bill, and given all the grand statements, their budget isn’t exactly limitless. They keep talking about turning the city center into a ‘university hub,’ but what’s actually changed? We’ve got professors and administrative staff at the CYENS Center of Excellence—a project pushed by the previous administration,” he points out. “That’s all well and good, but they don’t live in Old Nicosia. If anything, they’ve just made parking even worse.” In his view, the real problem lies elsewhere.
“The city center has a thousand problems. Focusing too much on individual projects risks distracting from basic concerns like maintaining public spaces and ensuring public order.” Hope amidst decay, Kyriakos, the owner of one of the last remaining traditional kafenios in the Old Town, takes a more optimistic view. “The opening of student housing is great news,” he says. “Between shuttered shops and rising crime, the city center is in serious decline. An influx of young people, even foreigners, could bring social and economic benefits for everyone.” But does he fear that Nicosia’s center will turn into a playground for students, alienating other residents? “The municipality has assured us that won’t happen,” he replies, though he acknowledges that poor communication from local authorities remains an issue. “So far, neither business owners nor residents have been involved in the plan. We only learned about these projects after they had already been decided.”
Architect Andreas Papallas sees a bigger problem: decisions about Old Nicosia’s future are being made without input from the people who actually live and work there. He’s studied the city’s regeneration plans—especially around Faneromeni and the so-called university hub—and says the push for student housing is no accident. “Student housing rules are more flexible when it comes to density,” he explains. “I think the idea is the same as what we’ve seen with migrants: bring in low-income residents with fewer demands as a stepping stone before big investors take over.” Nicosia may not see the kind of large-scale gentrification happening in cities like Paris or Barcelona, but Papallas believes these changes will still shift the city’s demographics. Instead of just filling empty buildings, he says, EU Recovery Fund money is being used to renovate properties under the feel-good label of student housing.
But, he warns, the true objective may be different: “Old Nicosia is not an empty shell of abandoned buildings—it is densely populated, mainly by migrants. The arrival of temporary residents could have a significant impact on them.” A public office source familiar with the project’s development echoes this sentiment, placing the initiative within the broader framework of EU funding.
“The municipality’s goal was simply to transform the area, and since student support aligned with the Recovery Fund’s objectives, they followed that path. Without those funds, this plan would likely never have happened.” According to the source, the final number of student accommodations will be far lower than initially announced—perhaps 300-400 units at most. Crucially, the rent cap will last only five years, after which owners will be free to use the renovated properties as they see fit. Could they be put on the open market? “Absolutely. And, in fact, it could happen even sooner—the regulations are solid on paper, but enforcement will be key.” For the city center, it seems that the municipality is betting on students, although it’s still not entirely clear how this approach will take shape. However, one question remains: what role will the actual residents play in this transformation?
