"For this one," one of the furniture delivery and assembly guys pointed to my bed frame, "Can we come next Friday to finish?"'
"But this is my bed…. I've been waiting to sleep in a bed again…. Can you finish it today? Next Friday is a LONG time to wait….?
"Ummm, ok, we see…."
In Greek that means, "I'm very sorry, but no." It means the same thing in Thai and Indonesian too, for that matter.
It was bad timing – I had had left a work Zoom to quickly talk to the delivery guys when they called me over and I know my only possible solution was to get ahold of Christina at the furniture shop. So, I tried to discreetly text her while on my call. It did the trick. One of their phones rang and after that, they completed the work. I tipped them – which is highly unusual in Greece, but I wanted to acknowledge they had stayed past their quitting time and I appreciated it.
Sure, they left the bed in a corner of the room – nowhere near where I asked them to place it. But that didn't matter – I could solve that. What I had was a BED. And not just any bed, but on with the thickest mattress I have ever slept on that was custom-made on Rhodes and a model made for supposedly superior comfort – recommended to me by the salesperson based on what I described as wanting in the feel of a mattress. I know I put a lot of trust in a stranger on another island – but I felt like this high-end boutique mattress shop and maker had a reputation to maintain – and moreover, they understood my predicament.
For reasons I can't understand – and I think this goes under-communicated by the guide books and travel agents – Greece is the land of really hard mattresses. In fact, it's a country of generally uncomfortable furniture: lots of hard surfaces and little ergonomics. Often, things look great but the furniture leaves you shifting around trying to get comfortable – especially in restaurants where ironically people dine for hours.
When I told the mattress salesperson that I'm American with a house on Patmos and that the mattresses in Greece are way too hard, he laughed. He heard this a lot and I'm sure any Greek who has traveled knows that most of Europe and America have a different standard for mattresses. Even neighboring Turkey had much more comfortable furniture. The small, moderate priced hotel in Istanbul where Emily and I spent 17 days had one of the most comfortable beds of our entire year of travel – leaving us struggling to get up in the morning. A marked change after months in Greece where I woke up with my side aching.
One thing I felt committed to from the time I got this house is that I would stop the cycle of mattress violence against people. Not in my house. I intend that to extend elsewhere too – which is why I've spent so much of the week researching sofas.
All of this to say that at the end of my workday/night when it was finally time to go to bed and I had made it up with the special mattress pad and pillows from Rhodes (included with the mattress), and the nice Greek-colored blue and white percale sheets I had ordered from Amazon and brought with me across the ocean – an expensive moment of truth arrived. I climbed into bed tentatively – acting like the bed frame might be as feeble and ready to fall apart as the one that came with the house. Only it wasn't. It was stable and steady. And the mattress was thick as any I've ever known. I laid down and waited for the comfort to overwhelm me. It was subtle. Supportive but soft, contouring but not squishy. I hadn't fallen into a pile of down or a cloud – but there were no hard edges. It was like Goldilocks skipped all of Papa Bear and Mama Bear's stuff and went straight to everything Baby Bear – it was just right. Unlike Goldilocks, I got a great night's sleep without being awoken by anything, let alone a family of anthropomorphic bears.
Like so often happens with a new home, when you get something – particularly furniture – it becomes obvious what else you need. I took inventory within minutes of the delivery guys leaving. A long, wide dresser and end tables for the master. A dresser and maybe a desk for the second bedroom. Lamps – floor, table – some combination. At least what I need feels clearer.
Yesterday, before my Zoom call and furniture assembly crisis, I spend much of the afternoon unpacking IKEA boxes, opening up packaging and putting kitchenware and bedding away. With all the boxes and furniture arriving, it felt like "move-in day" – only exactly a month after showing up. Nonetheless, it was a victory and a happy moment – the kitchen was coming to life and furniture that is both comfortable and aesthetically pleasing was coming in. Something was beginning to shape up.
At about 6 pm, I got a text from Katerina, the architect. We had said we would meet in the afternoon, but I hadn't heard from her and figured something had changed for her. It turns out she was busy volunteering to help stray cats and simply forgot. She offered to come right over and I took her up on it.
At first we visited, as is culturally proper. Then I brought up the crux of things: can a second bathroom be added? At first she seemed doubtful. Where in the house would I like it? Where in the house would be possible and make the most sense, I countered. She would need to see the fully detailed plans for the house so she could understand the plumbing and other factors. Then we walked the house inside and out.
She asked me how much of the front lawn and garden was mine. I showed here where the property markers are painted on the walls. She said that because I own half of it, we can probably do whatever we want. Then, from the middle of the lawn she stared back at the house and the machinery began working. The easiest thing would be to add a bathroom to the master bedroom – extending out to eat up some porch space. Because I have so much porch, it shouldn't diminish the enjoyment of the outside and the window already present would be easy to convert to a bathroom door. Use light bricks instead of stone – given a facade to meet the Patmian style of course – and I could have my bathroom. She would need to check how the pipes were laid, but unless it was very unusual, this plan should be possible and not very hard.
Now that the energy was flowing, Katerina had no shortage of comments about the house ranging from a fervent desire to pull down the blue railing the lines the roof to how stupid the front steps were planned. The almost random steps on the side yard also baffled her.
"I always wondered why they did the house like this? Who did this? The location is lovely, but someone didn't know what they were doing," Katerina went on.
She kindly broke it to me that the shutters are illegal. Aluminum is not allowed on the island and if we want the permits to do a bathroom or anything else, we'll have to promise to replace the shutters with wood.
"But this is good. Houses here need to breathe – even in the winter. The humidity affects the stone and the walls need to breathe at all times of year to be healthy. The aluminum doesn't allow that – so it's better for the house."
"Why did the previous owners choose these shutters? I thought maybe it was for security since they were gone so much."
"No, you don't need shutters for security! This is Patmos! There is no theft! They chose it because they were cheap. Wood takes maintenance – it needs painting. They didn't want that – that's the only reason why."
"I think we should extend this bit of porch outside the living room to make a true veranda. It will be great since the bathroom will take up some of the veranda on the other side. It would be easy, we just need to lower the well box here, which I think we can do and then create doors from the living room to the veranda where the window is now. Yes, this will be much better."
Before leaving, Katerina gave a few more missives. Keep the tiled floor in the foyer and living room. Its traditional and very good quality – enjoy its beauty. Get rid of the tiles in the kitchen, they're ugly. And the wooden counter/cabinet thing the oven and cooktop are in – that needs to be redone also. "It's very cheap. They needed more space, but they were very cheap."
I told her my plans to redo the bathroom with Yorgos the contractor. She was confused by which Yorgos I meant. When I told her that he was a recommendation of the man who owns the hardware shop, she reminded me his name is Prokopis and if I was introduced by Prokopis then it had to be Yorgos who lives near Sapsilla - he is the best for these sculpted showers. Very good choice.
Katerina reminded me to authorize Manos to allow her access to the files for the property and she can get back to me with a proposal While I'm a little scared of what a second bathroom might cost, I also know the value it will bring – both for Airbnb revenue and the property value. So I'll be open minded.
Today, Mohammad visited me again. We reviewed the interior doors, closet doors and kitchen counters and cabinets. Being a painter and carpenter – Mohammad is the perfect guy for the work. Unlike George the carpenter who fixed the bathroom door last month, Mohammad didn't think there is any need for new interior doors. They can be sanded down and repainted. Same with the closet doors. And replacing the kitchen counter – and the cabinetry/wood counter that houses the oven and cooktop – not a big project. What's there is really bad, he said – echoing Katerina. These are all things he can solve (and I'm guessing fairly affordably).
Mohammad – whose Greek is amazing – took me to Prokopis' shop where we picked out the paint colors and got them mixed. The closets and doors will be the blue common to most Greek doors. Afterward, Mohammad took me a few blocks around town to show me his portfolio – numerous buildings he's proud to have painted. Then he took me up some narrow stairs up to the second-story home of a Norwegian man whose house he looks after to show me the quality of the carpentry work he did there as well as to see if the man's white stone counters were what I had in mind. The carpentry was gorgeous – incredible woodwork kept beautifully polished. The counters were exactly what I was thinking. Mohammad will return Monday or Tuesday once he finishes the job he's on and will get to work on my house. He'll also take the previous owners' dishes I no longer want. One-stop service.
While Mohammad wanted to establish his credentials by showing me his work around town – which was very good – his best certification was that Prokopis and his son really like Mohammad. It turns out so does Christos who owns Cafe Mostra. These are people whose taste I trust and they joked around with Mohammad, who has been part of their community for 15 years now. They have clearly allowed him in.
With these new projects underway and a sofa and armchair now selected, I'm feeling good about how things are going. I'm gaining the momentum and perhaps I can leave Patmos in three weeks feeling like there's at least a plan in place. Between that and the mattress, I can finally sleep soundly.
