It was like an episode of “Seinfeld.” The laundry man saw me walk by with the big bag of freshly cleaned and folded laundry – his eyes widened, jaw dropped. He had charged us more than he quoted when we used his services, so we went to the other laundry operation further into town. But as I carried our load of clean laundry home, I didn’t think about avoiding the route that went in front of the laundry man. I was seen.
I figured it didn’t matter, it was our last load of laundry in Patmos. But I was wrong. Somehow, we ran through clothes sooner than we expected and we needed one last load of laundry. The laundry man has the closer shop and so, we decided to try again – but to see if we could pay upfront.
“Why do you need to pay now?!” he said, seemingly offended. He knew what we were getting at…. He said he wouldn’t know until after he did the laundry. Emily kept pressing. “Can you weigh the laundry for us?” He grimaced. He knew she was saying that we want a hard and final number or we won’t leave our clothes.
He looked our clothes up and down and determined it would take two loads and gave us a final price that matched the other laundry exactly.
We left, pleased that we had won that battle.
In town, we decided to try having lunch and working at a little place we kept passing that offers free wireless Internet, cheap lunches and gelato. It’s the nearby competitor to the gelaterria with the great cheese pies we often frequent while we work. The two shops are no more than 50 feet apart. When we left, we carefully watched the gelaterria to make sure the owners didn’t see us coming from the competitor. We didn’t want to get caught.
These are the intrigues of small-town, small-island life. At almost a month of living on Patmos, we have become one of the regulars. Waiters know us, the laundry people know us, the barber knows us, even the post office ladies know us.
We stayed longer than the average tourists and we do some not-so-touristy things. So, we have blended into the fabric of life here as much as foreigners blend.
We know where the three police officers on the island hang out and have espresso with their cousins and stand up and kiss their uncles when they arrive. I’ve never seen uniformed police kiss anyone before. But there it is….
When we go up to Hora, if we don’t go to our favorite pizza place – where the nice owner knows our order of pizza and salad and says, “Thank you too….” – we sneak through town carefully so that he doesn’t know we didn’t come to see him.
The little plots and intrigues of daily life on Patmos have become ours.
As I walked home on an amazing moonlit night – the moon having decided to return and display itself in full-glory in time for what will be Chinese Moon Festival tonight – I wasn’t surprised by the people landing on-shore in dinghies from their yachts parked in the harbor. I knew why the priest and a family dressed in black were making their slow walk to the cemetery – there was a funeral the day before. And when I heard the helicopter come in low and land at the helipad on the hill, I wondered who was hurt and about to be flown out.
We have come to understand the ways and the pulse of Patmos.
As we count down our final two days, savor our last walks and activities I find myself reminded of the immense gravitational pull of a small, beautiful island. They trick you into never wanting to leave them.
Emily and I are determined to come back – we have made The Patmos Pact. Our story with Patmos is not complete. This chapter is just coming to a close.
(Happy Birthday, Mom! – Happy Anniversary, Maz n’ Mac!)
“Thank you, too…”
Sent from my iPad
