Little Wonders

"Daddy, do you just like really humid places?" Sennen said as we walked out the door for the kids to go to work.

I looked up and there was an unusual cloud cover which ratcheted the humidity up from its typical July average of around 60 percent and breezy to 88 percent and stagnant. Sennen called it – 88 percent is right on par with Singapore, Bali and Thailand. And – as he said – I was kinda' fine with it. So while the temperature was a modest 78, it felt much worse  - and this is after the "hot spell" of the past couple of days broke with temperatures up to 87 degrees.

Humid or not, the kids marched forward proudly heading to Nektar for Ailyn's second week and Sennen's first day of work. As we got there, they peeled into the shop to report for duty and I headed onwards to my errands – knowing that my even walking with them as far as the shop was already cramping their style.

Patmos has entered its tourist season bloom. The front of town was bustling with tourists staying on the island, a few heading to the ferry to leave and cruise tenders pulling up with guests previously anchored offshore. The gasoline boat was at dock and the trucks which move essential fuel from boat to gas station (there are one and a half gas stations under one company) struggled to pass through the bumbling crowds in the harbor  - making their job take much longer.

Cruise tourists – who the kids now hate – are usually obvious between their "strolling around" attire often including backpacks and hiking clothes that aren't endemic to those staying on the island, and their constant looking around with looks ranging from bewildered to amazed to deciding whether or not to purchase at some shop. I have two problems with cruise tourists. First, they often impede my ability to walk easily – slowly moving along narrow paths, eating up their width so that it's difficult to pass them. Secondly – and this seems largely limited to Celestyal Cruises passengers – they wander to the back of Skala where it's mostly local residences and shops and meander in narrow streets that are vital to those of us trying to get in or out of town on a vehicle. It's hard enough when two cars are coming from opposite directions on one-lane roads. Oblivious tourists just make the whole operation that much more complicated – especially when they have strollers or walkers. It's understandable they might not recognize a one-lane street making an acute turn at a small bakery and a paint shop would be one of the most vital thoroughfares of the largest town on the island – but it is, and making the traffic work during busy season involves a lot of signaling and negotiation.

At dinner last night, at the beach yesterday French could still be heard, but it is giving way to an increasing amount of Italian. Italians seem to descend on Patmos in August. So these may well be the scouting party. Prices for sun beds at the beach have increased, parking is tighter, restaurants sometimes fill-up. One of the owners of Flisvos – a favorite restaurant near Petra – said she was working until 4am because some hard-partying tourists kept drinking. The Greek philosophy seems to be that an establishment stays open until the customers are done – which is why Andreas who owns Marechairo Gelateria near us usually closes around 2am at this time of year. Apparently, everyone missed one of the better lessons of 90's taught to us by Semisonic, "You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here…."

All the same, Patmos at its craziest is pretty great. The strange humidity will have us all the more ready to go to Agriolivadi for a refreshing swim. The strange people in town will too.

After my usual rounds to the produce truck – where a cruise passenger photographed the produce man and his truck to his annoyance – the bakery and butcher, I headed home to find Sennen and Ailyn sitting at a table in the garden of Yiamas restaurant, across from Nektar, scooping nuts – I think Brazil nuts – into bags. They were also talking and fending off cats including Caramel who is a regular in our yard. The kids are now part of the rhythm of a Skala morning.

After a week and a half, the novelty of Patmos is beginning to wear off. The kids have been to all-but-one of their favorite beaches, all of their favorite restaurants, walked just about everywhere, started training, joined a basketball team, barbecued – pretty much all of the key stuff except going out on an excursion boat for the day (aka Boat Day). We're now shifting from Patmos as vacation to Patmos-as-life mentality. The kids are less eager to get to the beach early and more okay to leave in the late afternoon. Not that they would skip it – it's essential to their day. Just that it's less novel. We've slipped into the routine.

If anything, at least Sennen has fallen more in love with Patmos. He regularly discusses wanting to live here, how he could get his key friends to move here, how he could get family members to move here – and that he might fine even if they didn't. Of all ironies, I have to remind Sennen how his life at home is important and benefits him. I also remind him Patmos in Summer is not how Patmos is year-round. However, I think he understands. Like me, Sennen likes the values, people and rhythm of Patmos. He wants a piece of it. He also says he likes this house better – which is surprising because he has a pretty cushy setup in Westlake.

Ailyn is much more balanced. She loves her Patmos time – is in no hurry for it to be over – but also really looks forward to starting school and seeing her teacher and friends. Ailyn more than Sennen checks in with friends by text and FaceTime. She is anchored in her Westlake life with no desire to upend it. For Ailyn, it's important she and we have our place in Patmos life and this time together here – but it's a special part of her year. She doesn't need it to be more than a summer experience.

We all take what we will and what we need from Patmos. What matters is that it serves us all and the kids make important memories and have formative experiences – which I think they both do.

We can never know what it's like to be another person, but I especially don't know what it's like to have divorced parents with my summer split in half where I spend three weeks in my mother's household, two at camp and five with my dad on a Greek island. It certainly doesn't sound so bad in the brochure and I'm hopeful it is indeed positive. Get rid of the divorce and split time and I still don't know what it's like to spend summer with my family in another country – that just wasn't something we ever did. 

How do weeks spending a lot of time with your sibling and dad compare to riding around the neighborhood, seeing friends when they're available? How do many afternoons on calm beaches compare to going to Zuma or Universal Studios with a friend? Because of all he time and familiarity, Patmos no longer feels very "foreign" to me. Does it to the kids? Have they just accepted this as one part of their normal world like I have? I think so – though I can't really know until they're adults and all the secret thoughts and feelings trickle or come pouring out.

I try to acknowledge it's convenient for me if Patmos and the house here work well for the kids. They're not shy to share their thoughts and feelings – but they don't decide and they aren't capable of understanding all the aspects and implications of most decisions (if any of us are). It could well be some other path would serve them better. I can't know. I hope this place, these times serve Sennen and Ailyn as well or better than they serve me. 

In the end, I feel comfortable I can say the Hippocratic oath holds true here – Patmos is doing no harm. I can see a lot of ways where it seems to do good. My kids are forming deeper, more sophisticated connections with another culture and way of life. They feel safe and empowered. Even when the excitement wears off, there's depth and enjoyment in the experience. They have perspectives atypical to their age and background. And at least one can instinctively identify when the humidity matches that of Singapore – which is pretty solid for a Jewish boy from Southern California. 

"Come on, we don't have that much time to swim!" Sennen said after lunch at the Agriolivadi cafe. They got home from work at 12:40, were slow getting ready to go to the beach and then some confusion at the cafe caused Ailyn's order to take a long time – so the kids were left with just under two hours of beach time before we need to go back so they can make their training time with Coach Thanasis at 5:00. 

It struck me that anything less than five hours a day of swimming feels rushed to the kids now. Two slips right by. That's not such a bad result. Lucky for them, basketball isn't until 8:00 pm tomorrow – so they can have all the swim time they need, even after a day's (aka an hour and a half's) hard work. If I'm right, it's these post-excitement, less vacation-like days that are the most important. Life's biggest lessons don't necessarily come from the biggest moments and times. The times in-between matter – they're most of life, really. Our time in Patmos is a big moment – but it's filled with lots of little moments and within in them is how we are with each other, the people around us, our community and even the strange cruise people who block my path from the parking lot to the road – because our little moment of driving off is part of their big moment of traveling to a distant and special place.