A Patmos Sunday

After 33 hours of travel during which we had intermittent airplane sleep followed by about a four hour "night" and a very full day of errands and touring the island, it became clear last night from among other things falling asleep mid-sentence that Michelle and I needed a good night's sleep. Fortunately, we had a Patmos Sunday ahead of us. 

Patmos Sundays are one of the most glorious types of Sundays to have. Nowhere to go, nothing in particular to do and everyone you know and/or love on the other side of the world asleep while you enjoy the day. I can set my phone aside in peace and take a breath knowing there's no brewing situation – work or personal – for at least one day a week. Meanwhile on Patmos itself, some businesses are closed – but all the essential ones for enjoying life  - restaurants, most shops, bakeries and supermarkets are open. But there are no contractors, electricians or any of the people that I might engage for the house (not that I have as much of that this year). There is no getting anything local done beyond retail purchases. Really, there is just the beach – or the beaches – and they are very patient and care little about time.

All of that to say, Sundays are a blank slate and perfect for resting and recharging. 

While I knew this to be true – waking at 11 am – Michelle must have instinctively intuited it, waking reluctantly at 11:30 am. But after a night of falling asleep mid-sentence, waking up late but rested was a good thing.

The traditional Greek style of stone houses with white paint has several purposes – one of which is keeping cool on a hot day. However, even this effective ancient technology has its limits and during a Greek summer – even with a gentle breeze venting the island – houses slowly heat up. I'm pretty sure I woke because the air conditioner was off and Helios was slowly raising the temperature. I took it as a sign that it was time to get a few things done including testing the comfort of the corner of the sofa while I responded to accumulated emails and texts and then figured out clever uses of extension cords and power strips to effectively move and multiply outlets into the configurations and places I need them. It turns out the sofa is exactly how I imagined it feeling.

In fact, the strangest part of the changes in the house is how much softer it feels. It's a little hard to describe to someone who hasn't experienced it, but a lot of Greek environments are hard – and my house was no exception. Stone walls, stone tile floors, cheap wood furniture, hard beds, tile kitchens, tile bathrooms – nothing about the house felt comfortable when we walked in last year. This year, the living room has a large, plush sofa and a giant rug. The bed is more comfortable than what I have in Westlake. Even the concrete and plaster bathroom with its textured walls, sculpted shower and wood cabinet supported sink feels gentler than the bathroom of last year. There are literally no sharp edges left. In fact, while showering last night with the bathroom lit by candles and some soft music wafting in from a nearby cafe, it felt like a spa. Most of my showers last year were about getting clean as quickly as possible so not to spray water all over the bathroom. Even the new blue kitchen floor tiles are matte ceramic and therefore not as cold or hard feeling as the smooth, hard white tiles that predated them.

Of course, none of this is a happy accident. I'm not a hard edges guy and I like an inviting environment. I set out to soften the house for myself, guests and Airbnb guests. Perhaps because I spent ten weeks last summer in what felt like a hard and at times sweaty house (I had the air conditioning serviced this year too), the idea of the house feeling soft in any way is still a shock.

A classic Patmos Sunday  - at least for me – involves three important elements: lunch, blog writing and beach. These are exactly what Michelle and I have set out to do with one additional ambition – taking some garbage to the bins. Michelle had some work to catch up on and plan so we sat at Sagittarius eating and working/blogging, enjoying the marina across the street and fresh Greek food prepared by the warm, kind family who owns the place. In fact, Sagittarius has a special place in my heart because during the Spring of 2022 when I came to Patmos alone for my trial separation from Emily, Sagittarius was one of the few open restaurants. I worked there often, enjoyed the mom's amazing gigante beans on cold afternoons and they took care of me during a hard time. They still welcome me warmly and always provide friendly service.

Michelle and I plan to take our aqua socks to Petra, swim, relax and read – exactly what a Patmos Sunday afternoon should entail.

However, she caught on to an important truth of Patmos. There's no hurry to get to the beach to start experiencing what's important about Patmos. It's beautiful everywhere. Writing at a table outside a cafe can be as beautiful and enjoyable as the beach. The cool breeze blows and the water sparkles all the same.

For me, there's another truth of Patmos just as important and more exciting. There's blue. Everywhere. Radiating up from the water, painted onto the houses and buildings, literally woven into the fabric. Above all beaches, Petra and Livadi Geranou have palpable blue you can submerge yourself in and see it all around you. For me nothing is as fun or energizing as finding myself not only surrounded by the vivid sapphire blue of the Aegean but able to swim among the multiple shades and colors, seeing the blue all around me – being part of it. My friend Brendon works for Pantone – but for the rest of us, how often do we get to live in real, vibrant color? How often is our environment almost exclusively color? Any color? Let alone the color that resonates most for you? I suppose if you are a Pantone 14-1139 TPX or 18-1664 TCX lover, perhaps Patmos, let alone Greece is not the place for you. See Brendon and perhaps he can find somewhere to which you're better suited. But for all of us 18-4320 TPX, 18-4231 TPX and even 16-4411 TPX people  - welcome home.