"Maybe there will be a French versus Italian flight on the beach!" Sennen said.
Ailyn had suggested that the numbers of French and Italians around the island are rising, meaning that for an eleven-year-old boy it must lead to a brawl. I'm not sure what over – although Sennen suggested it could be like the Napoleonic Wars without Napoleon. I have no idea where that leaves the very underrepresented British, but an accurate reconstruction of history may not be the real goal.
Perhaps the more important truth is Patmos reaches a roughly 20,000 population in the peak of the tourist season – which is August. Its base population – depending on whose numbers you go with – is roughly 3,300. Most residents will say this is an overstatement because for large portions of the winter, many native Patmians leave the island for second homes in and around Athens and/or to travel. Many Patmians cash-in on the tourist economy – working five to six months a year to enjoy six or seven off – which means the late July and August peak season is critical to their financial health.
As Sennen realized last night, by August Patmos will have a roughly six to one visitor-to-resident ratio. That's a lot. For a brief period, the Patmos community gets significantly diluted and in some ways, their island is handed over to tourists. Obviously, this is the devil's bargain Patmians are willing to make.
"We have our health and all is well," Andreas who runs the lounge chair concession on Agriolivadi told me yesterday. "We work these long days, but it's okay."
Andreas works about 12 hours per day, seven days a week from May through September – maybe once in awhile being relieved by his dad who ran the family business for decades prior.
"So what do you do during the winter?" (Patmians conglomerate October through April as "The Winter")
"I cook, clean, take care of my family," he said in his calm, British voice.
"Do you then miss being here?"
"Not at all! I love it. Being together is our blessing. During the winter all this work pays off because we get to be together and enjoy our families. That's what we do here."
It's hard to argue with that.
Unless you're Melanie the cleaning lady and property caretaker for the holiday apartment complex I stayed in in 2022. Melanie is a Dutch woman who works for a property manager of a collection of higher-end residences as boots-on-the ground being something between a custodian and a housekeeping manager. During the spring of 2022 she personally cleaned my apartment because there was no other staff around.
Melanie's always critical take is that Patmians have become lazy, living off the fat of the land. They're used to boom years of growing tourism they barely have to market and have structured a lifestyle around making a year's worth of revenue in a condensed five-month period. And that's bad. What happens if tourism doesn't sustain? The economy is not sufficiently diversified. Patmians are not investing enough in other means of income says Melanie's inner Jerome Powell (or maybe Janet Yellen?).
To Melanie, most Patmians are riding a wave of convenience to crash on the shores of disaster. That said, they have a really great island she enjoys – so you know, it's working out for her.
I'm not sure where I come out on the issue. I see Melanie's point, but so long as Patmians create some savings for themselves, why not work hard to play hard? Why not use the assets you have – especially if you own land – to get ahead? After all, two generations ago many Greeks emigrated because the post-war economy and political landscape was so troubled. Patmos had never been a wealthy or powerful island. The tourist economy brought value to land heretofore considered relatively worthless. Families who farmed for subsistence suddenly had real assets. Why not make hay while the sun shines? Besides, what would Patmos' next most valuable asset or economic strategy be? It seems to be Patmians are probably best off making all the profit they can and investing in a diversified portfolio that may have nothing to do with their island.
Either way, the Italians are coming and inverse to the course of the Napoleonic Wars, the French will give way. The French who come to Patmos do so largely in July while the Italian wave is strongest in August. We're in the narrow window where Italian-French beach fights might still be possible. And the Andreases of the island are happy to take all of their money.
Our own family togetherness is about to change. Tonight Matheus boards a 10:30 ferry bound for Kos while at 12:15 am, my mom boards a different boat bound for Athens. By tomorrow morning, we'll go from five to three and our dynamic will shift. This past week has been a very special time for all of us – but especially for the kids being able to enjoy two people they love so much.
As much as that is true and important, I'm also happy to have our three-and-a-half weeks being just the three of us. The single hardest part of divorce has been losing 50 percent of my time with my kids. Having blocks of time where we can fall into a rhythm and just stay in it is the best. Our five weeks of summer together is the longest we get each year. This is the good stuff – the meat of the sandwich, the substance of our lives – the uninterrupted time together.
Unlike the Patmians, my options are more limited – at least when it comes to time together with my kids. There is no diversification or alternate economic strategy. Jerome Powell, Janet Yellen and Bernard Bernanke can offer me nothing. So, I'll go with making hay while the sun shines. We'll enjoy this time – we'll be together. We'll find our rhythm and enjoy our time as makes sense to the three of us. For these weeks, we're living our life out of the bounds of secular space and time – away from the demands of the school year and what it takes to run a household in America. We can live in our house here, enjoying our other life. We'll have our Patmian winter in the summer. Christmas in July, so to speak. Only without the Chinese food. They don't have that here. Nor a movie theater. So it'll be Jewish Christmas in July with gyros and streaming Disney or Max. Or the beach and the town and the breeze and each other.
