Today, our landlord/host Victor came knocked on our door in the late morning. He very courteously wanted to find out what time it might be convenient for us to allow him to access our attic as he had some boxes stored up there he needed to retrieve. "I have decided, to sell part of my house," he said, "And in Greece they need architecture paperwork – everything in Greece is about the papers, so I must get them."
Victor plans to spend part of the year – probably the off-season – in Odessa to have more time with his teenage daughter who lives there. In the course of the conversation, it became clear that Victor had been figuring out how he wanted to manage his property and finances to make this work for him and using Airbnb to rent our his other units was part his original plan. "Now I know what it's like to have a family of five living upstairs," he said. In other words, our recent issue with Victor worried about our electric and water costs may have stemmed from his miscalculation of what the costs – and therefore profit margin – would be on renting out his large upstairs unit to a family. And given we occupy a three-bedroom, two bath unit – a family would always be the most likely candidate for a tenant. Whatever his original assumptions were, they didn't quite pan out. He seemed at peace with that – like he probably should have known.
This is not Victor's first failed attempt at renting. We know that he previously rented for at least a year, if not a few to an American couple he considered good friends. That somehow ended poorly. We didn't dive into the details.
So Victor's new plan is to gain governmental permission to sell our unit as a condominium. He thinks he can line up a buyer fairly easily, "Some Swiss people or maybe some Russians." Then he could get a chunk of money in one sitting and let go of the need to rent – or do the even more laborious work of being an Airbnb host.
Lately, I've been struck by how many different assumptions on which people operate and how frequently there's a margin between those assumptions and reality.
One night in January, Emily and I sat down on the sofa, pulled out some paper and wrote down all of our assumptions about what this summer would cost. We understood they were big guesses, but we needed to start somewhere. Because Emily teaches adjunct for so many schools, her income varies from month to month along with her course load. Naturally, summer is usually her low season. So, we used her earnings from last summer along with my pay as a guideline for income. We had a better idea of the fixed costs at home, and which costs we could drop while away. And then we had to make a series of semi-educated guesses about our costs in Patmos. We have a vacation fund – so we knew how much we might be able to have as a supplement, cushion or backup.
Two days ago over lunch in a taverna using combination of a spreadsheet on my laptop and a pen on the paper tablecloth, we calculated our realities and made adjustments. We happily used numbers for the way we like things to be – the comfortable and easy-living version of life on Patmos. It turned out that the summer cost about $2,000 per month more than we expected. It also turned out that Emily is making about $2,000 more than we expected. Amazingly, our assumptions in January had been wrong – both negatively and positive and it all came out in the wash. We also could easily have been a more conservative here and there – but that's not the summer we prefer, and we're blessed not to have to make that choice. Gelato for all!
Yesterday on our excursion boat, we met a very nice 60-something year-old mother and 30-something year-old daughter from Australia enjoying their first trip to Greece. They are Chinese Malaysians who immigrated to Canada for 17 years before immigrating again to Australia. Their family was one of the many overseas Chinese who left when Malaysia implemented its "Bumiputra First" constitution – meaning the "sons of the soil", aka Malay ethnics have greater rights than the Chinese and Indian ethnic minorities. In my opinion, it was Malaysia's fatal mistake that has cost it dearly in economic development and political stability both because a society with prescribed social and legal barriers will always struggle to advance and also because it drove away many of the country's greatest talent. Many Chinese ethnics fled to Singapore, Australia, Canada and Britain where they could enjoy equal protection under the law and get a fair shake.
The mother could not have been kinder and talked with the kids, told them stories and was very warm. When she asked Sennen if Matheus was his uncle, he replied, "No, Matheus is my au pair." Many people have been surprised that we have a male au pair and Emily and I have had many discussions about it with friends, family and the au pair-curious. I can't recall another time when someone said directly in front of Matheus or Jesper before him, "Wow, I didn't know you could have male au pairs! That's really different!"
She certainly isn't the only one on the island who has struggled with it. When I explained to Nichola that Matheus was our "nanny" (to put it in terms he could understand), he just stared at me as if I was a martian landing my spaceship in his neighborhood. When we saw Nichola again a few days later and we discussed our working situation and how Matheus enables it, he referred to Matheus as "the boy" in the same way that he or Victor refer to the ladies who clean for them as "the girl" – never mind that Victor's "girl" is about 50.
The idea of the au pair relationship is tricky for a lot of people and actually varies from family to family and situation to situation. Emily has taught academic courses for an au pair education program that helps them earn their required college credits in a three-day weekend intensive. She has taken that opportunity to learn about how different au pairs and their families work together – and there is such diversity in how families and au pairs relate. Many do not share our values or approach. But I don't think Nichola, Victor or a lot of people could imagine that to us, Matheus isn't "the boy" or someone who serves us, but has become part of our family. We actually enjoy Matheus' company and he is very much a part of this trip and experience.
I have also discovered we defy most Patmosians assumptions when we tell them we're staying for two months. It takes them aback. For while there are a good many families who come to Patmos every year, it seems that a couple of weeks is the norm. And even those families make up the minority of tourists. A few days ago, I stopped at the nutrition shop to ask about some vitamins. "
We just sold out. We probably won't get any more in time for you." the very nice store owner told me.
"When will more come in?" I asked.
"Early next week – Monday or Tuesday"
"We'll be here for eight weeks. I can come back when you have more."
"Oh, wow! Amazing! Yes, please come back, it will be great to see you."
After 11 days here, we can already see a change in how people are relating to us. if we've been to their shops or restaurants a time or two or simply said hello on the street regularly, their tone has changed. The lady at the gelateria I like to work at told me about her bad day and a rude customer she had earlier. The supermarket delivery guy knows our house now, says hi to the kids and brings the groceries inside. The lady at my favorite bakery asks me our plans for the day and tells me genuinely her day is going. I somehow run into the guy who runs the laundry and the man who gave us a tour of the monastery all around town – and even elsewhere on the island. They always give a warm greeting. Patmos is a small enough community and it doesn't take too much to find a place in it.
Of course, we'll always be "that American family" – because you can never be Patmosian if you're not one of the 2000. I'm told even Greeks from elsewhere are foreigners as far as Patmosians are concerned. However, it is nice that Patmosians seem to regard Americans positively. Perhaps it's because as one woman who was born and raised in Ohio but returned to her family home in Patmos at age 19 explained to us, there are several very large Greek communities in America – most notably in New York, Ohio and Florida. While some have settled permanently in America, others have gone, made their money and returned to life in Greece.
This is probably why many Patmosians have told me about how they have relatives in America and have visited from time-to-time. They all have positive things to say. Tassos the butcher, in particular was very excited that I'm from America and despite his limited English couldn't be friendlier when I come into his shop. His meat-based English is his strength and he can definitely distinguish sirloin from porterhouse from filet mignon. He can also manage to tell me how to season the fantastic marinated chicken he sells which went over very well with everyone last night.
Maybe it's because Americans tend to tip more than Europeans? Maybe we're less demanding that I see some of the French and Italian families behave? Maybe it's just that they assume we have money to spend. Who knows what their assumptions about us are. But I like to think Americans are generally polite and respectful travelers – especially in a less-traveled place like beautiful, remote Patmos.
I suppose it doesn't matter really. The beauty of travel – and even more of living somewhere for awhile – is the opportunity to challenge assumptions, both our own and those of others. It's easy enough to assume Greeks do this, Americans do that, au pairs or nannies are like this, and families of five barely consume electricity (??!!), but when we're together, interacting and turning the pre-existing fictions in our heads into new, truer stories we can do more than make each others' days nicer or forge relationships – we have the power to reshape how one another sees the world and from that, many great things are possible.
