House or home.
Two points must be noted with reference to this word.
Point one is purely linguistic in that separate words for house and home do not exist in Greek. The second is that the house is seldom if ever simply a house in the eyes of a Cypriot. The major distinctions seem to be based on the age group and economic status of the user.
Thus for this word we see:
Simply enough, a place where one lives or stays.
2. A shrine to external validation.
Marble verandas, five or more bedrooms for a family of three, floodlit exteriors, walls of glass bricks, sweeping exterior staircases and other architectural white elephants in a vain attempt to spend the maximum amount of money the bank will advance. An urge to stylistically imitate tastelessly vulgar television series like "Dallas" with their vulgar displays of crude wealth is notable both in construction and furnishing.
It is not uncommon for these mausolea to be built on the site of earlier more modest family houses to economise on the price of land. The ageing relatives who contribute their property are sometimes offered a "Granny flat" or voithiticon in grudging exchange for their semi-voluntary sacrifice.
Small box-like structures behind a larger house.
Normally these are two roomed sheds with a bed/sitting room and a minuscule kitchen with a shower/toilet. The occupants are shunted into geriatric homes at the first opportunity and dispatched to hospital for every Christmas or Easter celebration with real or imaginary (as imagined by the families) complaints.
This is to avoid the risk of having to entertain these understandably smelly, rumpled unattractively aged benefactors in front of fellow shrine-dwellers since they tend to look terribly out of place in white marbled, Italian furnished splendour.
4. Kitchens, or kouzinoua. After the ageing relative has the eventual good taste to go away or else die, their "house" is converted into a spare kitchen to avoid dirtying the one indoors.
Alternatively a house servant may be permitted to stay there as a legal ploy to cut her wages and increase her hours whilst at the same time demonstrating the owner's plouti or riches.
With all the complexities of this vulgar posturing and preening, it would probably be best for all concerned if Cypriots sadly afflicted with the need for these peacock-like displays had their yearly income tattooed on their teeth by a suitably zoppo-friendly qualified accountant.
Their confident smile would be evidence enough of their success, and in situations where they knew themselves to be fiscally outclassed, the resulting disappointment would ensure they did not embarrass themselves by revealing how rich they were not.
After all, they can always lie about both of their indoor swimming pools having Jacuzzis.