At around 5pm, yesterday, Christos from Cafe Mostra and Michaelis the Gardener walked into my yard and called me out. Michaelis inspected the yard in the way a potential buyer or a farmer looking to sow his harvest might. He then wanted to know – via Christos whose English is mostly centered around serving foreign customers at the cafe – what I wanted of him. I explained I was looking for maintenance of the yard – maybe twice a month. Christos gave a nudge and a point and said "phone" which translated to "get out your Google Translate like you do for me so often". So I did. Christos read the results out in Greek to which Michaelis responded and Christos clarified – two times, one month. Every month? All year? Yes I said. It was agreed that for a very reasonable 20 euros per month, Michaelis would take care of the lawn and trees and I believe implied that I would pre-pay which suits me.
Christos then explained-ish that after Michaelis comes tomorrow to trim the grass, we need to water the lawn well. He then had me follow him over to Mostra, beckoned me inside and said something I interpreted as meaning I would need a longer garden hose – like this one he had just received, pointing to it. "Very big". I asked if I should get one from Prokopis' shop.
"No, this!" he pointed and pulled out a packing slip showing a price of 54 euros. "For you."
Then it hit me, Christos had lent me his hose once before to water the lawn, only it didn't have a fitting to attach it to my spigot. Therefore his next move was to simply order me a hose he thought appropriate and pay him back. I thought 54 euros for a hose was pricey, but the die was cast and Christos is the last person on Patmos I should run afoul of. Besides, I didn't know where to get a hose and even if I found one this size, it probably wouldn't come out cheaper – Christos doesn't strike me as spendthrift.
I paid, thanked him and brought my hose across the "street" home. It turned out we weren't done. Christos followed, unwrapped the hose and indicated we should uncoil it. I unwound it while he stretched it across the yard. Then he indicated he needed something to cut the hose saying something that I believe meant, "you'll use this half of the hose now and save the other half to use in the future when the first half wears out." I fetched scissors and like a mohel, he made the cut. He handed me back the scissors, restated the purpose of the second half of the hose and when I scooped it up and brought it inside, he said, "Bravo! Oreo (good!)". I was being mentored.
Christos then tried attaching the hose to the spigot – only to realize the same issue that plagued me with his hose – it had no fitting that matched my spigot. "I bring tomorrow" he said. Then he wound the hose through the trees so it wouldn't get mowed the next day and parted by saying "tomorrow we water!"
I would guess Christos is in his 70's. He seems to work most of the day at the cafe – keeping a calm, moderate pace at all times. I get the sense he likes the work – that it brings purpose and contentment. Something in the combination of his quiet demeanor, fulfillment in work and attention to detail in his various projects – including mentoring me on how to care for my yard – reminds me of my grandpa. Our interaction yesterday felt very similar to when my grandpa would teach me how to test the pH or skim leaves from the swimming pool. My grandpa had many practical, hands-on skills that didn't pass to me, but I still loved that he tried to impart them and enjoyed helping him.
Later in the evening I ran into a slightly intoxicated Michaelis (laundry, not gardener). He usually has dinner at one of a number of restaurants near my house and he was heading back to the laundry. "Another two hours. I have to load the dryer, run one more load and then go home and get sleep."
Michaelis, his wife Theologia and the people who work for them work hard. They have the only full-service laundry and dry cleaner on Patmos which Michaelis' family has run year-round for decades. I got to know Michaelis last year when I was here during the Spring – before the busy season when he was in the shop with a small crew and time to chat. At this time of year, Michaelis spends morning to night delivering and collecting laundry on his motorscooter - going to every nook and cranny of the island. In addition to island residents and visitors' personal laundry, he also gets the linens of restaurants, hotels and Airbnb operators which an expanded summer crew works hard to process as quickly as possible.
"I hope you get done quickly and go get some sleep," I said. Because he wore his fatigue which probably wasn't helped by a glass or two of wine more than might have been optimal for returning to work.
"Yes, I need sleep. And we have the best house – with a view of the water and the monastery. It's so beautiful and comfortable. You should come over and see!"
"Maybe when it isn't August?" I responded to his exceedingly kind invitation.
"You are right! Yes, when it's not August! You've got it!" he laughed – indicating that perhaps I was thinking more clearly than he was about his situation, which was true.
Shortly before I ran into Michaelis, the man who owns Glykanysos mezze restaurant and cafe gave me an unexpected high-five as I passed. I've only eaten at his establishment once with Sennen – but he seems to like me and we always exchange pleasantries as I pass.
Andreas from Naples – who owns and runs Marechiara Gelateria – now speaks French with me. I asked him one night as he changed from speaking his native Italian with a customer to Greek with an employee and then English with me how many languages he uses. Five – he also speaks French. I asked which he's most comfortable with after Italian. French, he told me – he studied it in school and speaks it best. I responded in French. We decided we could have better conversations this way and have used French ever since. We were able to have a lengthy discussion about the situation with this one beggar who sits down not far from his shop each evening for a few hours – and why Patmos allows a small group of regulars to beg – only from about 5 to 9 – in a specific set of spots. It's perplexing for an island so conscious of its tourism business, that wasn't afraid to turn refugees in boats away sending them to other nearby islands and whose police force isn't exactly overwhelmed with bigger issues. We ended with no answers, but had a perfectly good conversation about it that we never would have in English.
The number of people who know I have a house here has increased and the way I'm treated seems to change along with it. My position in the social dynamic of the community is distinctly different. I'm not altogether sure what it means and at least for now it seems to have both perks and costs.
Kostas from Expert, the appliance shop, veery kindly delivered my new TV yesterday and took away the old one for e-waste recycling. He brought his adorable 8 year-old son, Yorgos with him and we chatted in a way we never would have in the shop. As we loaded the old TV onto his truck, several people passing by stopped to say hi to Kostas and Yorgos. The community is all very tight – and there I was in the middle of the interactions, which only cements my place in things.
There is a kindness and familiarity people seem to be developing with me that I really like. I have little anonymity and exchange pleasantries anywhere I go in Skala or the beaches (I probably still have some anonymity in Hora). At the same time, as with family and close friends, sometimes you expect people to understand your situation and take less during challenging times. Ioanna at the gyro and grill restaurant complains of how crazy busy they are and indicated my take-away will take 20 minutes (even though they can get it out in five). I am not the customer she needs to worry about. I'm local and regular and she can knows I'll take a walk, do some errands and return.
Any tradespeople – like Prokopis The Contractor (not Prokopis of hardware store fame) who came to develop a proposal for new kitchen counters and cabinets – let me know I'm not their priority right now. He'll get back to me "soon" – but with no hard timeline. Implied is that my money will be there later, but other people's money may not be.
Mohammad who is bringing Lulaki into my house comes and goes as he pleases over the course of days, likely balancing my job with another. I don't care – at least he shows up and is incredibly kind and helpful and my doors and door frames get a little bluer each day.
"Eric, look! This is a very beautiful blue," Mohammad told me with a sort of genuine surprise this morning as he was applying a second coat to my bedroom doorframe. "This is a very good choice." We both agreed the old creamy yellow was not the right color.
Every evening when I pass, the man who owns Yiamas restaurant two doors down – and who perennially looks like an angry, brooding Christopher Lee – gives me an uncharacteristic wink, or nod. When I order take-out, he tells me 20 minutes and when I come back, he waves me off because my 20 minutes is shorter than his. As with Ioanna at Alas Grill, the tourists at the tables need timely service – and I'm not one of them anymore.
Perhaps the nod and wink is precisely because I have accepted the terms of coming further into the circle – the tradeoff of going from tourist/consumer to community member. I "get it" and work with the system. Or he expects me to join the secret villainous plot he stands there and formulates. It's hard to say.
"You're still enjoying Greece?" my business partner Matt asked me.
"Yeah – it's great here. Such a better lifestyle."
"But you're alone there, right? That's okay for you? You don't get lonely?"
Matt doesn't travel alone and needs a lot of social activity. So we've had this conversation before.
Nonetheless, my immediate answer was "No, I don't get lonely"
My answer sort of left out I don't just not feel lonely, but that I don't feel alone. The people here may not be my close friends, but they are excellent acquaintances – with some moving closer to being friends.
I read an article somewhere during the malaise-y days of COVID in 2020 that talked about how unlike most relationships, the word friend is very unspecific. We only have clear delineations between mother, step-mother, bio-mom, adopted mom, etc – but just have friend (and I suppose best-friend as a distinction) to describe an entire spectrum of non-familial relationships. In reality, the article pointed out, we have more limited "friends" we see at places like the gym, school drop-off, Starbucks, etc. – others who might be closer, but not necessarily "inner circle" like couples in a social circle we belong to or work friends – and then the best-friend type of people who we open our hearts to and support each other through life. And numerous other gradations and flavors of people who can be anywhere in between these types of friends. The point of the article was that one of the many challenges people felt during COVID was the loss of the more casual-types of friends and acquaintances who are actually important to meeting our overall social needs.
Here in Patmos I have no inner-circle people, but I have lot of casual acquaintances and friendships with people I see regularly enough for the relationships to grow in some way. In Thousand Oaks I know two neighbors and see neither on an average week. Most of my non-inner-circle relationships involve yoga and temple – which are places I go at certain days and times. I have a few close people who have come out of temple, which has been a blessing. I probably see them in-person the most. But my long-term inner-circle people who know me best, I see the least. We are closely connected and mostly misaligned geographically. I talk to them as much here as at home or anywhere I ever am. Sure, when I'm here, in a few cases we can't get together for a meal like at home, but in others we're not in the same state anyway.
I often feel more alone at home – lost in a life that feels shattered and reshaping – than I do here surrounded by people who mentor me on my yard (whether or not solicited and without asking if I want a 54 euro hose – which is surprisingly charming) , who give me unexpected high-fives and who make me wait for my take-out because I'm a quasi-local, not a tourist.
I have been reminding myself how temporal this period is. Patmos is not my whole life and perhaps it would not continue to feel this way were I here year-round – although I have some indication from being here for ten weeks off-season last year that it might feel something close to this. I also remind myself that the grass is always greener and what's charming today might become annoying and grating later. People who grow-up in small towns often want to get away from what feels tight or suffocating while urban kids often end up wanting the suburbs or a small town where life feels more personable and authentic. When we make these big changes, sometimes our pendulum swings too far. Like Joni Mitchell said, "don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you got 'til it's gone…." Sometimes it's hard to know if we're in paradise or a parking lot.
No matter what, my kids are in Westlake Village and given the present state of custodial arrangements and various factors that went into them, I probably can't have them here for more than five weeks a year. My choice – at least for now – is clear. I have time to mull on what works for me and maybe at a later date I can experiment with more time here. As Hannibal Lecter said, "You use Evian skin cream and sometimes you wear L'Air du Temps….but not today."
There is only one thing to do – continue to enjoy where I am and build the relationships here. Each visit, each year can form another layer on top of an existing foundation. Something beautiful and great can continue to form and perhaps, in the future, it becomes something I enjoy for longer periods. Clearly, I'm no longer a tourist or a simple visitor - and there's no going back from that. I have entered the netherworld of foreign property owner who is a semi-regular resident. I am neither Patmian nor stranger nor even just recurring visitor. I am not completely at home although I am working my way there. I am neither lonely nor alone. What an interesting place to be.
