"I'm driving!" Sennen yelled as we went 50 feet before he broke hard and we stalled out. He had successfully put the car in first gear and was almost shocked he had done it. Only he hadn't considered what would come next, including his exit strategy.
I had promised to help Sennen learn a manual transmission this summer – Patmos being the only place we regularly have one. It seemed to me it would be safe enough to let him try either at the large dirt lot/lagoon that's dry in summer at Petra or in the dirt parking lot next to the park near our house. Petra seemed the safer choice – both in distance from anyone/anything else and in chances of being scrutinized.
So, before leaving the beach, I took Sennen, drove the car as far as possible from anyone else and showed him the basics. He's been watching everything I do and asking questions for the past two weeks – so he already had the academics of it. But familiarizing himself with the pedals and stick was new. After getting him situated and educated on the equipment, I got in the passenger seat and guided him through engaging first year. It took three tries. He got shook up at stalling. Understandably, the whole idea the car can stall confuses Sennen still - it confused me. Automatics are so stable. Why can't the manual at least stay on? It takes time to get the idea that in every gear you're living with a ceiling and a floor – and the art is mastering the ratio between power and speed. Sennen still has only a basic idea of this.
Nonetheless, he drove 50 feet and was very proud.
"I am SO impressed with you, Daddy!"
"Why?!" I asked.
"You do this all the time! I had no idea how hard it is – and you drive us around like it's no big deal. I'm VERY impressed!"
I had expected maybe to be appreciated for allowing him the opportunity or being brave enough to sit in the passenger seat while a twelve-year-old drove – but I'll take being appreciated for my driving. Since selling my SaaB 9-3 in 2014, the only places I usually drive stick – Patmos and Bali – are challenging driving environments in general – let alone with stick. Sennen now sees it all with new eyes.
On Petra Beach itself, the kids and I heard something unusual – American voices. More specifically, New Jersey voices with that special tinge of Joe Pesci. Being curious, we introduced ourselves and learned – as with so many East Coasters we encounter on Patmos – they were Americans of Greek heritage who are on a trip to reconnect with distant family and their former homeland. These particular extras from The Sopranos also decided to do some island-hopping and came to Patmos for the first-time-ever. They have no relationship to the island.
"I would say this has been my favorite island so far! I'm really sad to leave it," said the non-Jersey-sounding boyfriend of the early-twenty-something daughter. They all agreed their three days here was great and they were sad it was coming to an end.
Apparently, a small white terrier with a penchant for swimming also didn't want them to leave either. As the boyfriend went for a swim, the little white dog who belonged to a French couple down the beach, swam out to meet him, perched itself on his back and shoulders like a two year-old and began licking the guy's neck. At first, this was cute. Whatever the man did, the dog stuck to him. The dog was clearly prepared to move from Paris to Paramus to follow his heart.
Meanwhile the girlfriend was videoing the entire saga with a growing number of people on the beach laughing. Every time it seemed the man might either swim away or exit the water, the dog was back on him like glue. The dog was moving from cute to French romantic to Pepe Le Pew. What seemed like it might last a minute or two went to five and then ten – to almost fifteen before the man was trying to escape the dog and its owners called it over.
So, maybe the New Jersey crew wasn't so sad to get on the ferry yesterday night. Either way, I guarantee they'll be watching those videos for decades.
Still, their pre-canine perspective is typical. Even at its busiest – which it will soon approach – Patmos' tourism is relatively small and exclusive – largely comprised of returning visitors or their referrals.
Ziv, for example, who is currently vacationing with his family on Cyprus said it's best his wife and kids don't know about how great Patmos is. He wants it for his own getaway. The secret hidden in plain sight is really protected by the ferries - it's relative inaccessibility compared to other islands.
For example, Santorini – the island I find most on the tip of people's tongues back home – received 3.4 million visitors in 2024, 1.3 million of which came by cruise ship. On a busy summer day, it can have up to 17,000 cruise ship passengers roaming the island. The also means 2.1 million visitors arrive vying for air, ferry or private yacht and presumably stay on Santorini for at least one night.
Mykonos – the second-most famous Greek island renown for its nightlife scene – reports receiving an average of 1.5 million visitors annually, 1.2 million of which arrive by cruise ship.
Rhodes – the largest island in the Dodecanese of which Patmos is a part – received 3.5 million people from January to September 2024 – 353,000 from 264 cruise ships and another 2.7 million by air.
Patmos has no official statistics like these other islands – but can host a maximum census of about 20,000 people sleeping on the island. It allows a maximum of three smaller cruise ships per day – not always having three. That means maybe 1400 cruise passengers per day – or 42,000 for a peak month like August. That's not nothing – but it's less than what Santorini received in three days at the same time of year.
A few years ago Condé Nast scared the shit out of me when it published an article on how Patmos was the up and coming island for savvy travelers in-the-know. While proud of Patmos – and with a greedy thought that perhaps it would be good for my ability to Airbnb – I was upset Condé Nast would threaten the secrecy of Patmos. No one wants it to become another Santorini – which of course it doesn't have the infrastructure to do even if it wanted.
Still, Condé Nast wasn't wrong. Patmos has become more upscale. New construction is invariably luxury homes geared to command high nightly or weekly rates for holiday rentals. The older hotels and apartment hotels that were the staple of Patmos tourism a decade and more ago are struggling – many closed. People today want a living room, kitchen, multiple bedrooms and bathrooms – all the things Airbnb made possible. A nice, but relatively small hotel room is so passé – especially in a place where vacationers often stay a week or more.
As Ziv said – it's Patmos' "innocence" that's so appealing. Nice restaurants, wine bars, cafes, shopping, beaches – and no nightlife scene or rough edges that make it so appealing, especially to the discerning traveler. Patmos is the kind of place people on yachts can pull up in their dinghies for a platter of lobster linguini at Kyma on Aspiri Beach – or rent a villa with a wraparound veranda where three sides overlook the Aegean below. Patmos offers unpretentious elegance. Except for that very forward white terrier who fancies American men.
In a sense, becoming an annual Patmos visitor is like joining an unofficial club. You're one of a group of people who knows. There's no restrictions from telling others. It's okay to recruit a few new members. But not too many. There's a mutual interest in Patmos remaining what it is – separate, apart and beautiful.
Emily and I were lucky enough to stumble into it in August 2010 – the sheer luck of flipping through the Lonely Planet looking for a Santorini that wasn't Santorini and catching the very brief Patmos Section. Having been to other Greek islands, we immediately realized Patmos was something special and were in no small part influenced by the number of families who returned every year at the same time both to the island and their vacation social-scene with friends they had made because of their regular Patmos stays. There was community not just among the Patmians, but among the visitors – and between the visitors and Patmians. THAT was unique in our travel experience.
And here we are with Sennen and Ailyn enjoying the fruits of that discovery – learning to drive stickshift in the dry lagoon on the southern part of the island – just nearby a now deeply depressed terrier.
We are exceedingly fortunate to have found a place like this – one that will continue to be our home in the summers – where we have a place and community both with our Patmian neighbors and with other visitors. Sure, we may never be the target of that terrier's affection – but we do seem to be Gingos and Ketchup's people – which is perhaps a safer position to begin with.
