It's become clear to me that, "How's business?" or "How's your business doing?" are not very Greek questions. Not only is this a common question among Americans, but it's actually a sign of care. Your financial health is part of your well being – it matters.
Between my desire to show the local business owners I visit and have come to develop relationships with that I care, I'm also very curious about the local economy. How does Stelios – whose gelateria and cafe seems to have an average sale value of 5 euros and which goes long stretches of the day without many customers – do? In the summer, he has a high volume of gelato-seeking families and crepe snacking cruise passengers. But this time of year? And he remains so content – maybe he's comfortable with the seasonal cycles of his business and sitting around for hours upon hours with little to do is just part of how he enjoys the Spring?
Inquiring minds want to know.
When I ask Stelios or any of the business owners how business has been lately, they appear surprised that I would ask – but also kind of like the question. While it may not be what Greeks ask each other, it's not offensive either – and they seem to appreciate the idea that I might care or be on their team. Maybe it's just that they don't expect anyone but a local to ask and I'm gingerly taking a step across a line they wouldn't expect me to cross?
I've learned that cruise ships make a difference for Stelios and the Christopolous Bakery at the front of town that has both baked desserts but also gelato. They make some difference to Manolis who runs the organic shop in the town square – who has some items designed to attract tourists such as high-end olive oils and donkey milk soap. Cruise ships absolutely help Petrino – the large cafe in the middle of the town square – and many of the merchants selling breezy Greek clothing, leather sandals and hand-woven beach towels (which I happen to like too).
Cruises do not help Giliakis at Flisvos whose restaurant is too far south and hard to reach for someone with only a few hours on the island. The same goes for adjacent Ktima Petra. Those two instead benefit from two other phenomena – their restaurants being highlighted in French travel guides and the month of May when many Greeks take their vacation before the summer foreign tourist rush. On Sunday, both restaurants were packed with Greeks enjoying their long family lunches – often with very large parties. Any day of the week – and I saw this in prior summers too – Ktima Petra in particular has a surprising number of French patrons compared to other restaurants in other parts of the island.
Michaelis' laundry is especially busy with heavy blankets and linens. Locals want their quilts and comforters cleaned, folded and sealed before being put away for the season – and at the same time all the various lodging providers need sheets and towels refreshed and ready for the increasing number of guests.
Tassos the butcher's business rides the waves of the holiday calendar – not the tourist season. Easter week was busy for him because of all the locals and Greek tourists who needed their roasts, pre-prepared souvlaki and lamb for the holiday. But foreign tourists mean little to him. In fact, Tassos has one of the most stable, non-seasonal businesses on the island and makes good money at Christmas when many other businesses are closed.
With time, in bits and pieces, everyone not only gives me their stories, but explains something about how the island or the even the country operate.
Sometimes I think about how I miss friends and social interactions that run deeper than these very enjoyable conversations around town. When I imagine what life could be like here, it's easy to see that there are few real friends to be made within the local population – although Giliakis might be an exception. We're about the same age and there's a genuine connection. However, when I think about going home and the social life there, I realize that some of the friends I feel closest to aren't within an easy radius of my house – and even those who are close aren't so easy to see regularly.
That's not to say I don't see friends. I join my friend Dan for one of his daily long walks once a week or two. I have a couple of friends I can occasionally wrangle for lunch or coffee during which we mostly catch up, maybe get into a little deeper conversation – but time is limited. I had one person who seemed to want to be friends who was talking about getting lunch, but cancelled so many times he suggested we go to yoga together and then juice or coffee afterwards so it would be easier to ensure he could do it. I wasn't sure what to think about that.
There aren't many people I wish were here – not everyone I know and love would hit the right note for this particular time. Not every friend is a good traveler either. I've had more than a few times where travel strained a relationship. I've become good at recognizing who I would want on my island, and who I wouldn't.
Of all my friends, I have traveled most with Conlan who is welcome on any island or anywhere with me. He has the distinction of being the only person I know who when asked if he wanted instructions or a map on how to get to a meeting point in Bangkok – on his second day no less – he said no. He just needed the name of the school where I worked and the general direction. This was in 2001, well before smartphones and Google Maps. Still, he showed up at the right place and time without a hitch. I gained mad respect for his travel skills and it was a kind of relief to have someone who I didn't need to worry about.
Conlan has another quality that works for travel. He's interesting to talk with. We may go here and do that, but in the end it's a moving conversation that can range from breaking down what we see to life philosophy to absurd, funny stories we make up until we're in tears with laughter. Frequently the conversation ends when there's a quote or punchline that can't be topped and out of respect for the story we've just woven, we have to let it be. Like all good friends, inside humor is a big part of our relationship.
I most miss and crave these kinds of meaningful conversations and humorous moments – as well as the creativity that goes into them.
In the mid-to-late 1990's, I loved The Late Late Show With Tom Snyder. Unlike prior or subsequent incarnations of the show, Tom Snyder had no audience, desk, sofa, band – comedy segments. No sidekick like Ed McMahon or Paul Shaffer. It was just two armchairs on a dark set filled with Tom and a guest. Snyder, who started in radio, had a rich voice and in fact had his show simulcast to radio. After a calm, inviting monologue – which sometimes involved turning to joke with off-set personnel – Tom invited his viewers to "Fire up a colortini, sit back, relax, and watch the pictures, now, as they fly through the air," before moving into his main segments.
In a subdued environment and with a relaxed, slow-paced vibe, Tom Snyder merged your living room with his and engaged viewers and guests alike with his warmth and affability. His interview style was magnificent. Tom could take any guest – entertainer, politician, athlete, television personality, journalist, world leader – and get the best out of them. His technique, as I observed, was to create a safe, relational space using his trademark affability and then, once comfortable, go for a more delicate question. Once he got a decent answer, he swiftly backed off into more comfortable territory for a bit and next round went in a little deeper. Some guests would then open up about their pain and challenges. Others would reticently address Snyder's questions and he would stay with it for only as long as he felt the guest could tolerate without feeling too pushed or invaded. Then back to something comfortable and easy.
People revealed to Tom – and his viewers who they often seemed to forget existed – their inner-selves, or at least some of it. Tom's goal was the same thing John Mayer coined in a song lyric, "I want to know the real thing about you."
Unlike Barbara Walters who always seemed to know what she was chasing in someone – often something shocking or salacious she knew the viewer wanted – Tom Snyder just tried to bring out something real. Something that turned the personality into a person.
I wanted that job. I wanted that to be my life. Sure, I was in student journalism at the time – so it dovetailed well with an active interest. More than that, Tom was doing what I valued most in friendships and relationships in general – getting to know the real thing about people. That truth, often delivered with vulnerability (which Tom treated with care and respect), is humanity itself. It's the basis of being a human being in the world and the best part of knowing a person (unless they happen to be a sociopath).
No armchair or dark room is required to have these kinds of exchanges. In fact, I have enjoyed them surrounded by lush tropical beauty, in second-rate apartments and sitting on the steps of public buildings. The best is when things get real and deep enough that time stops and you forget what else you had to do that day or evening. Suddenly nothing is as important as seeing through the conversation and whatever is going on between you and the other person. Those moments fill me like oxygen for my soul and they are perhaps the most important one ever has in life.
My theory is that we all have the real thing about us, but we don't easily give it up. We're protective – even against people we know well. Maybe especially with people we know well. We have to both trust someone is safe in the moment and believe they will continue to be safe and honor us well afterwards. Sometimes, we protect us from ourselves – keeping parts of us tucked away, under lock and key or spending tremendous energy cultivating a persona that we can't acknowledge isn't true – or else risk falling apart entirely. We are scared of both our own beauty and ugliness – or the things about us we have laced with shame and think will be seen as ugly.
Revealing ourselves to others means being honest with ourselves – which takes courage. That's part of why those moments when someone cracks open and allows something inside to come out are so incredibly beautiful. And it's why people who live open-heartedly, in comfort with themselves are so delightfully attractive.
If I could wave a magic wand and do anything right now, it might well be bringing my island-approved friends and loved ones to Patmos, one-at-a-time and having them join me in the two deck chairs on my patio for lengthy, relaxed conversation. Or maybe at the table – that's okay too. We could sip colortinis and discuss how exactly the Aegean is that blue or what we want to do before we die or what the most beautiful thing we've ever seen is. I would like to know about people's hopes and dreams. I'd want to know how the business of their life is going. I'd want to know what they're proud of and what broke their hearts. I'd like to hear their most interesting stories they've never shared with me before. I would want to ask them all the questions I have about why they went this direction and not that, or about that time when….. And I'd love to answer all of their questions. We could have all the time we want until the conversations naturally end. Then we would know a little more of the real thing about one another – our relationship and friendship refreshed and deepened – and I would give him or her a hug and send them back home.
