"Hi, I'm so sorry to tell you, but last time where you were here, when you had thee eggplant and feta, you forgot to pay when you left," the waitress at Agriolivadi Beach told me after greeting me.
"I am SO SORRY!" I said mortified. "I didn't realize – I feel terrible! PLEASE add it to my check today."
"No, it's no problem at all. Don't feel badly," she said. "We knew we'd see you and I told everyone it's you. Everyone is fine with it."
That's what's so great about Patmos – they do know people and generally, everyone comes back. In fact, I know Stefanos, the owner of the restaurant and cafe – so of all places to have made the mistake, I feel better about it being at Agriolivadi.
After a Sunday sleep-in for us all to recharge – with Ailyn and I sleeping the longest at 10:30 and 11:00 respectively – we grabbed some pies from Ta Kardasia for a quick beachside lunch and headed to Agriolivadi. My mom had really wanted to see Agrio again (and for the first time this year) and the kids seemed ready for it. Yesterday they chose Kampos Beach which in many ways resembles Agrio in shape, size and sandiness – only Kampos is even more family-oriented than Agrio. Sennen remembered Kampos as a place with great sand and lots of other kids. And while it did have lots of other kids and plenty of available lounge chairs, the sand was not as fine and imminently usable as Sennen's recollection.
Sennen tossed aside what he had previously deemed his favorite beach with surprising ease in favor of its fraternal twin and seems to like the sand better here. This suits me and my mom just as well since Agrio for almost subtle reasons more pleasant. From the aquamarine color near the shoreline to the stronger breeze to the more comfortable lounge chairs to the undeniably better taverna and cafe, Agriolivadi is unpretentiously nicer. Plus there's that really great baked eggplant and feta (like a meatless moussaka) one can apparently get for free under the right circumstances.
"Welcome, so nice to see you again this year," Andreas who manages the beach chair concession told my mom as he found us a spot on the first row – in front of the water. I didn't expect first row at 12:00, but somehow there was one improbably spot. Andreas who speaks like a British gentleman and who at the end of the day stops to fawn over his one-year-old daughter – himself adds to the enjoyment of Agrio. A British mother, a Patmian father and natural charm make thirty-something-year-old Andreas one of the best cultural bridges on the island. His dad seems to understand Andreas' value and has allowed Andreas to become the face of the operation, likely with a planned generational hand-off afoot.
On a Sunday with a number of non-tourist oriented businesses and government offices closed, more locals are at the beach too. It's always great to see what sometimes feels like the cast of an ongoing production taking time to be real people. In the sea of tourism this time of year, it's easy to forget Patmians aren't just here to serve visitors but are people who live here. It's their island and their Sunday too.
For Sennen and Ailyn, everyday is Sunday. Or Saturday maybe. Their goals seem to be to go to the beach, occasionally shop, eat some of their favorite foods, work part-time jobs at the local shops on occasion and chill.
"I love Patmos!" Ailyn told me.
"I'm so happy to be back on Patmos with you, Daddy!" Sennen said over his first gelato of the season last night.
Already, I've sent them each on errands around town. Ailyn bought her donkey milk hair mask and swim googles. Sennen ran to the bakery. He's planning to go play soccer and basketball with the local kids at night. This summer, "I'm going to be a Greek boy!" he has proclaimed. As any actual Greek boy knows, if you want to be Greek, out on the soccer field is where you start paying, in sweat. Sennen says he's ready.
Ailyn too wants to reconnect with and make more Greek friends by going to the beach in the front of town where locals take their kids to swim. Last year she made several friends with whom she really couldn't converse, but all the same played with well. She plans to continue her quest to have a Patmos social life.
I enjoy how within a day, they are back in the saddle. Patmos is part of their world and lives.
"I don't feel like a visitor. We belong here and are part of here," Sennen told me last night. "People know us and we know Patmos. We have a place here."
I couldn't agree or love it more. I often wonder what this aspect of life, this experience will do for my kids. Whatever it is, I feel it will be positive.
"Daddy, do we have to go to Hora?" Sennen asked me at the supermarket yesterday afternoon while buying deli slices for future beach lunch sandwiches.
"No, I don't think we do – why?"
"It's kinda creepy being so quiet and empty up there," he responded. Ailyn nodded.
They made it clear their Patmos is down in the lowlands in Skala and the beaches. The Patmos of energy and kids milling about town, the playground and sports fields at night. The Patmos of international visitors and long outdoor dinners under the night sky – which last night included goat with spaghetti for Sennen and moussaka for Ailyn. The Patmos in which they swim for six to eight hours in crystal clear, calm water without getting bored. And the Patmos in which they know the people they pass and the narrow roads and paths to get around town.
It may their second day – and just an average summer Sunday with no plans – but Sennen and Ailyn are living their best life. They're back!
