When I’m alone, sitting in a restaurant is typically less fun. I do it once in awhile – more often at lunch. One would think because I’m home every night of the week for work that getting out on the weekend might be nice – but really, those are the best evenings to get some uninterrupted quiet time. Not that my entire day at Petra reading and swimming wasn’t some good quiet time – but it wasn’t completely personal.
At home, in the house that’s just as I like it, I get to stretch out on my large sectional sofa (an absolute requirement of feeling at-home) and watch or read what I want. Last night, in an attempt to be more present, I even put the phone over on a coffee table just beyond my reach and checked it only occasionally. It was the evening reciprocal to the day stretched out by the incredible sapphire water. I felt very safe, calm and refreshed.
Over the past year, I’ve managed to lose some weight – mostly just being more careful with what I’m eating. Fewer sweets and carbs do the trick for me and it’s not that difficult an adjustment. Cooking for myself here is great for health, cost and convenience – especially during the work weeks when I’m at home working online, often on Zoom calls. I work with the local meat and produce and make my own takes on Greek dishes – sometimes simplified. Tassos the butcher has a lot of pre-seasoned items which is great because the cost difference for pre-seasoned is negligible and why try to replicate Greek flavors when I can the Greek man who sells meat to everyone has done me the favor?
I generally cook two to three nights’ worth of food at a time – basically making the same amounts as when the kids were here. That makes the work-to-meal ratio convenient enough. With meals composed of things like eggplant, zucchini, peppers, spinach, carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, bulgar, gigante beans, red rice, potatoes and usually some form of chicken or tofu, I have a pretty healthy dinner.
A long, lazy day at the beach isn’t nearly as enjoyable when you have to come home and make dinner. So last night seemed a good time to order take-out and enjoy my luxuriously quiet evening at home. One advantage to take out is being able to mix and match. On the way home from the beach, I stopped at three different restaurants, assembling myself my perfect – and interestingly, vegetarian- meal: eggplant salad dip and eggplant rolls from Ktmia Petra, oven baked chickpeas from Flisvos, dolmadakia from Agora.
One common question I receive: “Chickpeas?!”
Not just any chickpeas. Flisvos chickpeas. Magic chickpeas. The kind of chickpeas that if this were a fairy tale would grow a giant beanstalk to a magic land with lots of gold and a giant. Who knows what bargain with the devil the family made generations ago to get this recipe, but it’s completely possible there’s a portrait of some chickpeas locked in an attic that are getting older and uglier looking as the years pass.
And try as I might – try as the kids might – the family is not giving up the recipe. Not even a rough outline of key ingredients. In fact, I have my own adaptation of the Flisvos chickpeas as part of the dinner rotation for the kids during the rest of the year. No matter what I have done, it never tastes like the original, so I gave up and at least made it a good recipe of my own with a respectful nod to the original.
All of this to say, “Yes, chickpeas.”
Which itself is in the service of saying picking and choosing off multiple menus and to create your perfect meal and then lounging on your big comfortable sofa watching the movies and shows you want with no hurry – following a day of reading and swimming at your favorite beach isn’t a bad Saturday.
Another common question I receive, “Yes, but doesn’t a month of this get lonely?”
Surprisingly, no.
One of the amazing things about Patmos is there’s always someone I know and like outside my property. Just on the way to Agora and back for a packet of dolmades, I must have talked to six people I know and enjoy and said hello to another six to eight.
I’m also friendly with the family that runs the beach and a Turkish woman who lives in Lisbon and went to a British school growing up asked me about the book I was reading, leading me to meet someone new. I even learned there’s a new limited series on Netflix of Orhan Pamuk’s Museum of Innocence which Pamuk personally worked on. I’m absolutely going to watch. Apparently, my new friend Terri grew up in the same neighborhood as Pamuk and vacationed each year on the same island within the Prince’s Islands – so she has seen him many times. She and her husband come to Patmos every year – so chances are good I’ll see them again. And I wasn’t even reading a Pamuk book when she inquired!
Patmos is like that.
As I was riding to the beach yesterday – almost to Petra – a man in a car coming opposite me rolled down his window. I stopped and he asked me in Greek how to get back to Skala. I responded in English telling him to continue ahead and make a left at the turn. He switched to English asking the incredibly reasonable question if he should really drive on a dirt road that seemed to also be the beach itself. I told him yes – that’s how it’s done. He asked how he’ll know to turn left. I said it will be the only place you can turn left, right before the hotel, it’ll be obvious.
I wasn’t sure whether I was happier to be mistaken as a local or that I got to explain to a Greek person how the absurdities of the island work. The road to Petra is absolutely one of the hardest things to accept the first time you take it – kind of like the motorcycle lane through the Monkey Forest in Ubud, Bali.
In fact, on Patmos – as when I lived on Bali – I can spend a fair amount of time alone and not feel alone. It feels like I belong. From a social perspective, Patmos actually offers me a lot more than Bali did. With time, I not only know more people, but the people I know increasingly accept and welcome me. I don’t have much anonymity anymore, but I never feel alone. Every errand I run has relationships – from each person I learn something about them, the island, their perspective on the world – all while grabbing chicken, produce and the occasional eggplant roll or dolma.
Something else I appreciate here that’s very unlike the US: I may chat with everyone, but no one verbally vomits on me. I cannot tell you how many conversations I have stateside where someone goes into a long monologue, whether or not I have the time, or even find it interesting. Sadly, there are many nice people I frequently avoid because I know if I’m in for a word, I’m in for a novella. I’ve spent a lot of time wondering how that phenomenon has become increasingly common in our society. It sadly hinders relationships I might otherwise enjoy.
For whatever reason, here, people expect a relatively quick exchange and then continue on – unless its a social situation like having a meal, a drink or coffee together where you’re expecting to engage for longer. I also find that within the short conversations I have around town or the island, I get more. In Westlake, there’s often so much friendly veneer. Sure, people here put on a smile too – it’s the grease that makes the wheels turn – but I find myself often learning something about them or the island. At Trader Joe’s, maybe I learn the cashier also goes to Moorpark College, or that their kids like the same fruit my kids like. Things usually stay quite friendly and superficial – except for that one checker at Whole Foods who gives out thinly veneered social commentary, which is uncomfortable for many reasons.
Maybe I’m just more interested to listen here. I have fewer things, feel less overwhelmed and there’s a lot that’s new and different. Each year has been adding a layer onto a depthful experience. So, if Prokopis at the hardware store wants to wax philosophical about why America has gun violence and Patmos – where every man over the age of 18 is required by law to have a gun for emergency defense of the island – has no gun violence, I’m not only not uncomfortable, I’m intrigued. He’s not saying strange things to me while I’m just trying to get my errands done – the way I feel with the odd checker at Whole Foods – he’s making my day more interesting. I want to put things on hold to listen.
Of course, it’s Prokopis’ shop – so he has every right – and nothing he says feels partisan or like he has an agenda. Prokopis more or less explores ideas that intrigue him and given he’s Australian and Greek – and deals with foreigners constantly – he has some interesting perspectives. Whereas the Whole Foods lady sounds like her head is infected by some form of media I probably wouldn’t choose to consume.
Whatever it is, on Patmos I can be alone – and not only not lonely, but like I belong. It’s a fantastic balance.
So, I’m going to spend Sunday repeating Saturday. Why fix it if it ain’t broken? The beach, breeze, swimming, reading and the collected meal of my choice paired with some sofa stretching under the air-conditioner. I already feel better just writing it.
