Nothing reminds me of living in Bali like visits from Mohammad the contractor and painter. Most of the time, when I think of Bali, I think of the fragrant, gentle air, the incredible vibrant green, temples, dances, kretek cigarettes wafting the smell of clove around airports and towns, how time warps and community and art are everywhere. Those are the highlights I'll remember on my death bed. But frequently present a benign form of insanity around my house and compound.
When I moved into my house outside of Ubud, I found the world worked very differently than I had ever experienced it. A curly-haired man with a dent in his forehead and TBI was my housekeeper and could pop in and out of my house at will through a special door in the back. He and his fifteen-year-old cousin, the gardener lived in a room under my dining gazebo next to the swimming pool. One morning I woke up to workmen digging a pond in front of my house – a project of the landlord he never actually mentioned. A year or so later, workers showed up to undo the pond – with no more warning or reason that the pond was installed. After about six months, workers showed up behind the house to build better, larger staff quarters so people no longer had to live under a gazebo.
Every four months a band of people clapped loudly and yelled to chase of birds when they were harvesting rice in the adjacent field – this went on for a few days. Sometimes a bat flew into the downstairs bedroom – which my friend Conlan happily photographed flying around the room when he was staying there. One day as my friend Chad and I were talking in the open-air living room, there was a loud rumble on the roof after which a coconut rolled off the roof, onto the grass in the garden in front of us and out crawled a green snake – which slithered away in the opposite direction.
In short, compound life was full of things that came and went inexplicably and randomly – and which were better accepted than questioned. In the end, things always worked out.
Mohammad is fair, reasonable, trustworthy, does great work – and he comes and goes like the wind. In peak season, he's very busy – especially painting projects which are best done in the good weather. He's as available as any other service provider at this time of year – which is why I try to arrange all my home improvement projects for the off-season when everyone is much happier to do the work. Only Mohammad left a couple of items from Spring dangling – in particular reinstalling the front retractable awning that had ripped and was sent to Leros for repair, patching some internal paint that had a moisture bubble and installing the organizer/shelves in the shower – which seems like something I could do myself, but it involves drilling into fiberglass and concrete – which are well beyond my skills.
None of them were urgent, but since I can see the end of our Patmos time on the horizon, I figured it was time to start reminding Mohammad.
At 10:30 a ladder, a bucket and a few tools showed up on the lawn. Around 2 pm a man I didn't know, but could surmise worked for Mohammad showed up with a case of tools in hand and looked around a little confused, but began setting up the ladder at the awning. Within 15 minutes, Mohammad walked up, we greeted one another and he and his employee began making all kinds of noise working on the awning. About 25 minutes later, Mohammad was in the house dealing with the shower and paint and then – like the Cat in the Hat – he picked up all of his things and left with a tip of his hat.
Only Mohammad came back at 6pm to introduce me to his friend, Yiannis the landscaper. Just like Bali, Yiannis came late and wandered into my yard confidently and casually – as if he belonged nowhere else on Earth more. His English was excellent. He looked, we talked, I showed photos of ideas I found online, he talked them through and amazingly, we came up with a seemingly workable and simple plan. The part he kept discussing and hammering home is that if I want to switch to a Greek-Mediterranean style gravel dryscape with potted trees and plants – which hold up well in a dry climate and with little maintenance – he's going to have to really kill the grass. Not only will he have to till the yard – but spray some stuff he finds a bit nasty around the edges because the grass has endless and pervasive roots that will cling to the sides and try to take back the yard.
I'm no fan of herbicides – but I also don't think a lawn on Patmos makes much sense. I have seen it at no other house and the gardener is highly unreliable. The yard just isn't as useful as it could be and it's not realistic to maintain a great lawn in a house that isn't lived-in most of the year.
So, Yiannis will get me an estimate and plan to work on the yard next Spring after the rainy season has passed.
Not only had Mohammad come through again, but I felt a giant relief at finding someone who seemed to understand what I wanted, agree with it (he felt a lawn was a dumb thing to have installed in the first place) and present as a professional who could handle the situation. I'm really into a turnkey solution. Landscaping is an area where I have little interest, no creativity and really no skill either. Yiannis appears to be my guy – and given he's a Mohammad connection, I know Mohammad will ensure the price is fair and the work gets done.
Mohammad is from a town along the Red Sea. He has been in Patmos for almost twenty years now, working and saving money. He has a wife – who I assume doesn't work – and his kids go to school here and are fluent in Greek. I see them around the island sometimes – they have Patmian friends and are part of the social order here. Mohammad himself seems to like Greek island life and is very casual, speaking good Greek. He's well liked by almost everyone I know.
During the ten or so minutes Mohammad and I waited for Yiannis, he showed me photos of his condo in his hometown in Egypt. He said he started by buying an apartment for his father and he just completed his own. It was truly beautiful – with lots of thoughtful features and very modern. Mohammad was very proud. He bought another condo for his oldest son and will begin working on it soon. He does this work on his brief visits home – usually a few weeks during his kids' winter break. Since there's no rush to use the properties, they're almost like a side-project at which he chips away.
The condos cost about 17,000 euros and he says he can remodel them "very cheap" – what exactly that means, I'm not sure.
It seemed like the plan is to work hard here to fund a better future for his family back in Egypt. When I asked him if that was the case, he shrugged and said, "I don't know…" with an air of disappointment. Perhaps he was just referring to the uncertainty of life – but I sensed the big wild card is his kids. They're growing up here. Egypt is a place they go to visit their grandparents and extended family. Their educational and economic opportunities are probably better in Greece than Egypt and based on the summer I've seen his boys enjoying at various beaches and around town with friends, they're happy on Patmos.
What happens if his kids go to college here? If they marry here?
In America, we expect immigrants to assimilate and the old country to fade away. Mohammad may have seen work in Greece as a way to move up the Egyptian economic ladder, but he obviously isn't sure that's how it will pan out. I felt for him.
At the same time, it was comforting to see the work he did on his own home. He's done great with mine – but it's nice to see some additional portfolio pieces.
At the end of our visit with Yiannis, as the plan felt complete and we had exchanged our information for follow-up communication, Mohammad reminded me of a surmountable, but un-ignorable wrinkle: the far parts of what is functionally my yard technically belongs to the neighboring cafe. I need Christos' permission to do anything on the other side of my property line. I told Mohammad and Yiannis I would discuss it with Christos and confirm with them.
Christos is a very nice guy and his interest in the few feel of property behind his cafe seems not to go much beyond collecting the occasional ripe fig from the very large fig tree.
When I spoke to him – or Google Translated with him – this morning, I learned thinks the dryscape is a bad idea. In his view, there's enough rain from November through March that the grass looks good for much of the year. To me, it seemed self-evident that grass which looks good for a few months thanks to the rains doesn't look good the whole year through…. until I caught what he wasn't articulating well. He feels it would be nice if I wanted to re-do the lawn so it's even and pretty again – and then with some summer watering, enjoy nice grass.
Fortunately, Christos borrowed some translation help from a friend to explain his preference for grass is a personal taste and he didn't want to hold me up – it's my decision. That was very kind.
Still, I want to honor his perspective by at least re-examining my options again before locking in a plan. I plan to contact a few friends – you know who you are – and run through the scenario. My dryscape concept was really just copying all the neighbors. Maybe there's something great I haven't considered? In the end, since Christos has no hard objection, I'll go with what I think is best for my house and yard – whatever that ends up being. It would be nice to make use of the large yard in a way we just don't now.
"We don't want to have a problem with Christos," Sennen said. "I think we need to take his view seriously."
The kids have come to understand the intricacies and ties among the people of Patmos. It would be much better to choose something Christos could buy into – even if it's not his favorite – than to completely ignore his views. Showing him the respect of hearing and considering him is an important part of our good standing in a tight community. After reexamining the options, if I come out in the same place, I'll bring Mohammad and/or Yiannis into the conversation as it will at least help Christos gain context and opportunities to have his thoughts addressed in a way I can't personally offer.
Like Bali, nothing happens in Patmos simply or without some mystery – but it does all come together in the end. Except the snake in a coconut that fell from the roof – the was a one-off with absolutely no discernible value.
