In 1893, celebrated American historian Frederick Jackson Turner stood before a crowd at the World’s Columbian Exposition being held in Chicago and presented his latest paper, “The Significance of The Frontier in American History.” He argued, in short, that American democracy, economic success, stability and exceptionalism were inextricably linked to having an open frontier. The room to expand drove American industry, culture and provided a social pressure-release valve in that the poor could always “Go West” and get free or cheap land and get their financial feet under them again (which oddly enough was not seen as a form of socialism).
The 1890 census yielded shocking data. Enough settlements now existed across the entirety of the continental United States to consider The Frontier closing if not already closed. With nowhere to expand, America could easily develop the same problems as Europe – crowding, congestion, abject poverty and even a move to imperialism (which for the purposes of this blog post we’ll call expansion outside the continental US, while recognizing many people consider Western Expansion to be a form of imperialism in and of itself).
Turned out he was not altogether wrong – although some argue overseas adventures and expansion like the Spanish American War were a self-fulfilling prophecy created by the alarm bells Turner triggered.
Another perspective (mine) is that The Frontier was like getting a zero percent APR credit card. It might help for awhile, but unless you solve your other issues, it will catch up with you. American expansion did make our country different than many others, especially because of our vast resources and room for a large population. Mixed with our democracy, free-market economy and industrious culture – the vast resources gave us the fuel to become a superpower. And social challenges exist everywhere and couldn’t be solved indefinitely by expansion.
Greece, by contrast, has never had an unexplored inch. People have been here since before recorded history. Pick a city or location mentioned in Greek mythology and it still exists today. Even the great city of Thebes which was famously destroyed in ancient texts was rebuilt and today is conveniently located just off the interchange between Highway 3 and E962 in Central Greece. There is literally nowhere unexplored, so sight unseen.
Yesterday on the ride home from the beach, I realized I didn’t need to get home for work and I had no kids to consider. I could take the long way and maybe branch off to look at some parts of the island I rarely visit – largely because their beaches, while beautiful, aren’t so usable.
Patmos has two kinds of paved roads (and a few unpaved/barely paved ones): nicely paved roads the people of Patmos want you on and roughly paved/mildly decaying roads that lead places tourists need not really go. The last time I went toward Diakofti Beach, I was in a car and while I could see the roughly paved road led to some amazing views, I could equally tell it would be very difficult to turnaround. Knowing the road itself was a message I wasn’t wanted there, I turned around.
However, with a motor scooter, good weather and plenty of light – even at 6:00 – the conditions seemed right to look at the cove from a different perspective. Unsurprisingly, it was gorgeous. I can’t imagine the beaches and cove weren’t made better for being inhospitable to beachgoers – one side of the cove being rocky and the other having a beach largely covered in washed up, dried sea grass which feels like stepping on a giant squeaky sponge.
While taking in the beauty of Diakofti from afar and grabbing a few photos which really don’t capture it well, I noticed two things I hadn’t seen before: an apiary up on a hill that seemed like no one would ever climb and a quarry at the end of the road. It makes sense there would be a quarry somewhere on a rocky island which has always built from stone. I had just never really considered where all the stone comes from. I would love to know who tends an apiary up on a peak that doesn’t seem to even had a footpath and ask them why….
All the same, I felt like I discovered something about Patmos. Something the people I overheard earlier on the beach who were exchanging information on favorite shops and restaurants surely didn’t know. Because what tourist needs to know about the quarry and apiary at the end of the roughly paved road with an unusable beach below? Getting reservations at upscale Benetto’s and Ela – that’s the currency of the realm.
For a moment, I felt a little more Patmian than most of the other foreign visitors. I was the equivalent of a French immigrant to Los Angeles who somehow learns about the landfill hidden in Griffith Park. While certainly a true locals’ piece of knowledge, it’s also kind of a “yeah, so…?” I’m sure every old guy sitting at their late morning coffee and cigarette klatch at Kavos Cafe knows every inch of this island and can tell me the story of who owns the apiary and the struggles that person faced three years ago with their health scare or kid’s problem or their house flooding in the really heavy storm….
In fact, I often wonder who has some of the very lived-in looking houses near “remote” parts of the island like Diakofti. Far from convenient for getting groceries or gasoline, I’m guessing they correspond to tracts of land that have belonged to families for generations. The funny part about living in Skala is that everyone throughout he island has to come to Skala for their needs. There’s only one bank and a handful of ATMs. Only one gas station. The supermarkets, appliance shops, gelato – all the infrastructure of life are here. Meaning there are lots of faces and personalities I know, but don’t necessarily have any idea where they live. In many ways, living on Patmos is like Springfield – the town where The Simpsons live. There’s a finite cast of recurring and often very defined characters who circulate in and out of every episode.
Navigating the liminal space between tourist and Patmian – in other words, finding ground as resident – learning the little truths of the island establish me. Knowing where and where not to shop. Having the numbers for plumbers, electricians and repair people. Understanding why paying cash helps business owners and is appreciated. Connecting people by their families and friend groups – ie, “Say hi to your father for me,” “How is your mom feeling?”, “I saw your grandson at the beach – he’s grown so big!” Knowing if I ever show up at Kavos, I had better be prepared to speak Greek and wow the crowd because foreigners and summer guests aren’t welcome… these are the things that give one a little more belonging.
In Westlake – and even more in cities I’ve lived in like Los Angeles, Seattle, Singapore, Hsinchu, Taipei, Bangkok – locals’ conversation usually resembles the ladies on the beach discussing their favorite restaurants. “Have you heard X is opening nearby?” “I heard Y went out of business.” “Z is the new trend – everyone’s talking about it. You should go check it out.” Because things change a lot and the people behind them – including those who experience financial hardship when their business venture doesn’t work out – are largely anonymous.
Not here. Just as there is no inch of the island unexplored, there is no resident unknown on Patmos. There is no, and has never been a social frontier. People’s successes, failures, struggles and joys create a movement felt throughout the web – for better and worse. There is no solving the problems of the poor – or anyone struggling in any other way- by giving them unclaimed land or any other untapped resource. Everything is known and accounted for.
I suppose, in a small and humble way, riding around and paying attention is a part of making my way further into the circle. Knowing the quarry and the apiary are a little bit closer to understanding the inventory of what exists, passing the standardized exam of what it is to belong on Patmos. More importantly than what I know, it’s the wanting to know it – the respect for its value – that matters. Especially in a small community, if you want to be accepted, you have to get inside it. You have to be able to assimilate to a reasonable degree. It’s not a surrender of who you are, but a respect for the people and place of which you want to be part.
For me, this frontier – of knowing and understanding – remains part of the joy of being on Patmos. However, should it ever close, it won’t mean Patmos gains the problems of everywhere else. It will just mean I’m home.
