The fate of postwar Greece was far from certain. As the Iron Curtain fell in Eastern Europe – the Soviet Union's version of a buffer zone between itself and an unstable, aggressive West, Communist movements spread throughout Europe. In some cases, even victories Allied nations like France had significant Communist parties growing and after rescuing themselves from the jaws of fascism, it became entire possible for a moment that Europe could swing to the opposite political extreme, which in reality was no less oppressive.
If America had a finest moment, it could arguably be the launch of the Marshall Plan which stabilized Western Europe and turned Germany from an enemy into a positive contributor to a more stable world order. The United States had learned a critical lesson from the aftermath of the First World War – that reparations and onerous punishments only set the stage for the next major crisis. The Marshall Plan is a true example of American exceptionalism and a moment that proves forgiveness and generosity can indeed win the day.
The Marshall Plan was also a significant factor in keeping Greece on our side of the Communist divide. The influx of capital and ability to rebuild both infrastructure and an economy allowed republican forces to take the day in Greece keeping it part of a Free Europe. That was reenforced when founding members of NATO very smartly welcomed Greece and Turkey into the Charter in 1952 – keeping the two of the furthest eastern countries whose fear of an all-too-close Russia firmly on the side of the Western World while also providing NATO two additional, different and logistically significant positions against the USSR.
From then on, Greece became ever more firmly European and in 1992 was one of the original founding states of the European Union. But unlike most of its fellow founders or even the expanded NATO membership, Greece's history and culture aren't so firmly rooted in Europe. In many ways, Greece has retained a unique identity since ancient times – never giving up its language, religion (except for the transition from pagan Hellenism to monotheistic Christianity) or distinctiveness despite finding itself part of various empires over the course of centuries. And not always part of the same empires. Following the collapse of Rome, some of Greece's Western and Southern islands were taken by Venice and even controlled for a few hundred years by Crusaders (like Rhodes) while the majority of Greece fell under Ottoman control – and yet a few islands such as Corfu became British protectorates.
Due to the Ottoman Empire's relative tolerance of minority communities and territories, Greece retained the Orthodox Church and many aspects of local self-government. But there is no way to be part of an empire and have nothing about it affect you. This is most visible in Greek foods which include baklava, dolmades (stuffed grape leaves, also knows as dolmas throughout Turkey and the Levant), tahini, lots of cinnamon, coffee, ouzo (which is nearly identical to Turkish Raki), and Greek halvah which resembles Turkish and Persian, not Arab halvah. In the non-edible category incredible barbering, whitewashed homes (traditional in Mediterranean Turkey too), and the occasional mosque or remnant of a hammam still exist. While Greeks and Turks tend not to reserve much love for one another, the unacknowledged truth is that they may be more similar than different. As a Turkish TV producer once told me in an Istanbul cafe, "Greeks, the people of Yugoslavia and Turks – we are all the same people who have taken this turn and that – but we have the same history, we are the same," one Turkish man told me. "The only difference between us and the Greeks is that Turks work."
Sitting in its crossroads between East and West, Greece still retains rather hard, less comfort oriented homes and furnishings. One reason I chose Patmos was because it has uncomfortable furniture – this time isn't for getting too comfy like I might in Bali or France. No, hard chairs, often uncomfortable beds and messy showers characterize Greece. Here in Patmos, most homes are made of stone and some of the newer construction uses bricks that are then covered in stone and whitewashed. Local ordinances require all construction to be either whitewashed or use natural local stone for the exterior (which seems to be the trend in some of the newer construction). Floors are also tile or stone. As a result, it's easier to keep a home cool than warm (which makes sense for at least half the year and probably saves more energy), but there's rarely that fuzzy, cozy feeling more common in America with wood flooring, rugs and carpets.
Initially, I thought perhaps the more spartan (no pun intended) conditions of the Greek lodgings Emily and I encountered were because we stayed in relatively budget accommodation. Our 2010 adventures in Greece were characterized by some of the most uncomfortable beds on which I've ever slept and I often woke up feeling stiff and sore. Summer 2019 made me realize that while there are certainly high-end places where you can get a comfier bed, the hardness of Greek housing is more or less ubiquitous. The much more expensive Airbnb we stayed in was quirky charming with decent beds and a lot of hard furniture and surfaces. It was shocking how many Airbnb options were plainly unattractive and poorly appointed including when I looked at options for this stay.
When we caught real estate fever and looked at homes in Patmos, it was surprising to see how generally spartan people's living situations were. Not only are there plenty of rather shabby homes, but even some of the more expensive ones were gorgeous on the outside but fairly plain and even unattractive inside. One place we looked at was a small farm with a Cycladic house – a very traditional style Greek home originally inspired from the Cyclades island chain. While it had a certain very Greek charm that might have been fun for a week or even a month, it was not comfortable and would not have been a place we would want to return time and time again. It also only had one bathroom which is a deal-killer for Emily.
Only one home – or set of homes – we looked at was magical and it cost the magical price (at least by Patmos standards) of $700,000 – the most expensive thing we saw. But the one developer built homes that not only had a breathtaking panoramic view over Sapsilla beach and the larger Aegean, but it was built and furnished in a style to which an American could immediately relate. Little things like insulated walls, built in air, plush and stylish furniture, gorgeous bath fixtures and a kitchen I'd be thrilled to have at home with appliances I didn't know you could find in Greece! Add in the plunge pool and hot tub on the patio and it was a paradise within a paradise. It took several reminders to ourselves that we didn't have that amount of money sitting around and that US home loans weren't available for foreign property. Had we a checkbook on us, it would have come popping out of my pocket. Interestingly, that set of houses are still for sale and the couple who built them make then available as vacation rentals in the meantime.
Our first two stays in Patmos where at Nicholas Studios – a reasonably priced apartment-hotel set back from the New Marina and owned by a family we came to love. The studios were fairly new at the time and while furniture was especially uncomfortable and the shower flooded everytime Emily used it, the farm with the goats and rabbits around it and the view of the water made it a good value. We stayed in a large unit when we came with 15-month-old Sennen. For summer 2019, we Airbnb'd a three bedroom two-bath in the middle of Skala with a quirky layout and an even quirkier host/landlord who was kind of like having a Russian Mr. Furley downstairs. The central location was fun, especially with the kids and Matheus. We could walk town easily and quickly and got to know the community. The kids felt comfortable running around the "streets" or pathways of town and the square. Town was our base and we drove to the beaches. If Matheus had them at home while we worked in the afternoon, he had plenty of options of things to do with them. In many senses, we experienced a life more similar to what a lot of locals might lead and in the process, got to know a fair number of locals.
This time, my Patmos experience is very different. My apartment is closer in construction and style to the very nice house at Sapsilla than it is to either Nicholas' or Victor's (the Russian Mr. Furley in question). The bed and linens are exquisitely comfortable. The bedroom is light, airy and gorgeous. The kitchen appliances are a pleasure and counter-space generous. The refrigerator is not quite the American custom-kitchen style at Sapsilla, but full-size and well-functioning. There are two sofas in the living room - both reasonably (but not very) comfortable and a working flat-screen TV (something we've never had). But the main thing is that my front yard has a panoramic view of the sea. I'm not centrally located and in fact, most days never see another person in my entire neighborhood (unless you count horses and donkeys). Much like the Sapsilla house, the property is removed and completely focused on the incredible view.
As I made my weekend rounds through other parts of the island – looking for any signs of beach life or favorite tavernas/work locations come back to life, I had the time and freedom to ponder how many different kinds of experiences exist on this small island. Perhaps because of its jigsaw-puzzle-like-shape with tons of coves, hills and small farm-filled valleys and ravines, Patmos is a cornucopia of lives lived. As I drove around Northern Patmos, I stopped into the breathtaking Agriolivadi beach area and could see very modest traditional homes that looked quite lived-in adjacent to new, large presumably vacation homes whose traditional stone facades might hide their fanciness to the unacquainted. The people living in these homes – local or vacation – are living a totally different experience than we were at Victor's house in the middle of Skala. How we knew and related to the island came from two different centers of gravity.
Of course both of these might contrast someone who stays each year up in monastic, intellentsia-filled Hora which is nothing like a beach vacation or even the vibrant, warm life of Skala. And these might differ further from someone staying in a Cycladic house and farm in a ravine in the center of Northern Patmos or a modest Airbnb overlooking the somewhat more remote and less-visited Vagia Beach or yet again from someone staying in one of the full-on hotels along the Skala port. Part way down the hill from my place is a home that with or without the stone veneer could be transplanted into Beverly Hills with ease – only it has a perfect view of Meloi beach and the cascading farmland leading down to it. What the person/people in that house get from Patmos must be quite different that anything we experienced with Nicholas or Victor. And probably different even from the house in Sapsilla or the British couple Emily and I once had dinner with who spend their summers in Hora.
To me, Patmos is a place of both community and beauty. The charm of the people and the town mixed with enjoying some of the most enjoyable beaches I've ever known is the essence of Patmos. But perhaps for some it's life with their goats and loved ones – with a rare trip to town. Or to others it's spending their summer enjoying breezes and views – having most of their needs brought to them. Several restaurants and both the major and minor grocery stores deliver. Even one of the cafes – CoffeeMe – delivers throughout the island by motorcycle. Someone has to be using that – whether it's because they don't feel like leaving their ravine-farm for a cup of coffee or because it would mean abandoning their panoramic-view retreat. Or just that there's no grocery store in Hora and you don't feel like going down the hill and schlepping, so you phone it in and let Valentis the delivery guy do the rest. That is a completely different Patmos life than mine. Not to mention, I would feel almost embarrassed having my gyros delivered when it's a five minute drive into town. Unlike at home with Doordash, I actually see these people everyday and they would know what I do and don't do.
I wonder how many people are also comfortable in their beds versus how many are just used to the hardness that characterizes Greek furnishings? Or how many visitors love the island in spite of really uncomfortable beds and sofas? I wonder what it must be like for a Patmos family to have their well-worn, modest home next door to a new-construction vacation home owned by foreigners? I wonder who has CoffeeMe deliver and why? I wonder whether spending your days over the water is as fulfilling as being out among the people – or is it heaven on Earth leaving no desire to go anywhere? Certainly, I spend less time in town that I used to in part thanks to my view and comforts. At the same time, it also doesn't usually peak above 65 and that's a warm day. I'm sill waiting for the warmth to return and the beaches to open. What is life like for a Patmian at the top of Hora? Or one raising goats on land overlooking Livadi Geranou Beach? After all, it was their family farm long before anyone started coming to sun themselves on the beach.
In my mind, travel is about learning and expanding yourself as you understand a world that is largely not at all the way you framed it based on your upbringing. If we traveled the world for a lifetime, we still wouldn't be able to absorb all the perspectives, all the ways of living. I'll never know what it's like for the people in each of these little nooks and alcoves of Patmos. Even though we share only 13 square miles, there are universes of mystery that remain opaque to me. But then, isn't that true everywhere – including home. What goes on in the homes of friends and neighbors is mostly unknown to us. We know what people present, not what their lives are truly like. We understand the way our communities work on one level, but not completely – not in depth. The experience of someone seemingly just like us may be vastly different. Sometimes, we don't even know the inner workings of the people we know the best. How does their inner experience really feel? How does it feel to be them? To quote a line from Sex and the City, "How well do we ever really know the people we're sleeping with?"
If the last year and a half has taught me anything, it's to be curious. Our couples therapist encouraged us to be curious with each other. Ask questions. don't assume. Learn about the other person's world – it may not be what you think. While that certainly holds true in relationships, I've come to realize it's good for almost everything. We know far less than we don't. Our templates for how things work are often wrong. As my friend Conlan said recently, "Questions are where it's at."
In this respect, Sennen might have more figured out than the adults around him. His insatiable curiosity and unceasing questions are amazing. Sennen wants to understand the world and seems to innately recognize that there's a ton to learn. He doesn't rest on too many templates and paradigms and is open to learning what almost anyone has to offer – and then checking what one person tells him with another. Perhaps that's his real intelligence – knowing how to learn.
I have come to realize, I could stand to be more like Sennen. My adult brain has learned the clever path of shortcuts – the quick assumptions we make for expediency because most of the time they work. Adults have a lot to manage, tons on our minds and not enough resources. So we quickly categorize, sort and use mostly reliable shortcuts. But maybe those shortcuts have gotten me in trouble. Maybe driving by a home and not wondering what's going on for the people who live in it has left me less informed about the world. Maybe thinking I know what Patmos is about blinds me to all it really is. Perhaps wanting my world to work a certain way has kept me from seeing what it really is. Could it be that trying to do the right thing has blinded me from what the right thing really is? I have no answers. But maybe it's been long past the time to start asking questions?
A few photos from the Sapsilla dream home
