My house is oddly positioned. Beyond the garden and what we'll call a "lawn" in the front, there are two small buildings: one for Cafe Mostra and the other for Kelari Pizza. Each of these owns a small sliver of my lawn, but in effect allows my house full use of it. On one side of the house is a fence with shrubbery dividing my parcel from the back courtyard of a small hotel – almost a B&B. On the other side from the street almost to my porch is the side of a women's high-end swimsuit and sunwear shop, with a name I don't consider very on-brand: Seahorse. These three buildings make my house practically invisible from the "street" or path through town.
And then, from the back of Seahorse paralleling the remainder of my property is unused property – kind of a sandlot. Unlike the famed movie Sandlot, this one is not used for baseball – but it does seem to serve multiple community purposes. Some contractor stores a piece of equipment roughly resembling a small shovel and each morning comes to drive it to who knows where. A few pieces of disused furniture from Yiamas restaurant which has some garden seating on the other side of Seahorse. A couple of discarded pallets, some 2×4's, some dirt, rocks and the rock wall in the back that ends the property. It's been like this since the first time Emily and I came to Patmos in 2010.
I don't know the story behind this sandlot in a location that should be prime real estate. I'm sure there's some legal issue that must tie it up. These kinds of things always have a story and usually someone's hands are tied. As happened with the Sandlot of movie fame, when adult hands are tied, kids can sometimes be the beneficiaries.
Last week upon returning to Patmos, I started to notice some young kids playing on the lot in the early evening. Local kids who run around Skala playing hide and seek, riding their bikes and then wandering back to check in with their parents periodically. This is what Skala summer nights are for children.
As night sets in – around 8pm or later – the population shifts. Suddenly the back of Seahorse becomes Dawson's Creek. small groups of teens gather. A late middle-school to early high-school aged boy and girl sitting on the steps, leaning in, talking occasionally kissing. Sometimes it's groups of girls the same age, forming a circle and dishing – or maybe preparing their plan for the evening. There's often a sense of mood and drama to whatever goes on there, just begging for some Paula Cole to be played softly in the background.
Sennen reported seeing Stefanos, the 14 year-old son of Dimitris and Christina who rent us our cars, kissing a girl. I'm guessing it was back in the sandlot – which would give Sennen an easy view from our window.
In another place, an empty lot might be filled with trash, broken glass and cigarette butts. It could easily be the place where illicit transactions take place or an unsavory element gathers. Here on Patmos – which is essentially a small, homogeneous town bound by strong values and family connections – the lot essentially becomes The CW. Sometimes I feel a little badly going out or coming home during prime evening hours because it can disturb the fragile little world next door.
My world on this side of the fence has a very different kind of drama – the adult mundane kind. I'm not waiting to see if my crush loves me back, but if the delivery guy will show anywhere near the time window given. At 11:45 I received a text telling me my IKEA delivery would come in ten minutes, so I rushed home from the cafe where I was sitting only to wait about an hour. As is becoming a theme, the delivery driver couldn't find my house and I stood out in front of Cafe Mostra. Luckily, he did at least have his truck within a few hundred feet. After a three-point turn in the middle of a pedestrian zone, the man and I unloaded the 12 or so parcels into the house. Now I have kitchenware to unpack. The kitchen is the one part of the house I have absolute confidence in planning and organizing.
This should pass the time until my next undefined delivery of bedroom furniture – which should get me off the sofa and into a bed once again!
Meanwhile, I have been plotting my next furniture move. Last night, my good friend Conlan was kind enough to spend almost two hours talking through the kitchen and living room with me. He and his new wife Sharon (who both visited us in Patmos in 2019 and have some actual context) had fully reviewed my videos, photos floorpan and Ailyn's vision drawing. Using Figma – a software usually used in website design – they created a to-scale mockup of the house with their recommendations for colors, furniture configurations and options. They contended with the unusual living room tile pattern. They parsed through the mismatched kitchen counters and bland tile colors. They rode head-first through the lighting challenges and opportunities. And very kindly, they accommodated my proclivity for large, loungy-sofas.
The result: I feel grounded. I have my colors and know options that will work. I am no longer afraid of the green tiles in the living room floor and I have identified some sofas that will fit the space and color requirements of the space. In fact, I felt so good that I went to Christina's shop and gave her a list of sofas that interested me so she could get pricing. Happily, the line of furniture in question allows for choices of fabric and configuration – so my number one choice is available in the Aegean blue I really like. I have one option online to compare it to – and then I'll pull the trigger.
Mohammad also contacted me last night. He'll have time tomorrow to select paint for the cabinet doors. I plan to also see if he can refinish the interior doors rather than replace them which will save a lot of money – especially since the current doors are made of nice, solid wood. It's just the paint color I can't stand. I'm hoping Mohammad can turn my beige doors blue…
A few days ago, I felt lost in the choices of how to continue to shape up the house. Aesthetic choices feel so daunting. But between the visit from Yorgos and the hardware store owner regarding the bathroom – and Conlan's consultation last night, I feel much better, much clearer. I can see how the rooms might look. I have a sense of a palette that will work. I know I want light bulbs with a CRI of 95 if possible. I can see my way through the woods (literally the kind of crappy, cheap woods that make up the coffee table, kitchen table and one of the counters).
I won't get it all done this summer. I may not be able to order it all this summer. But I can get a lot done and be well on the way to something I love and that I'll be proud to have my friends, family and Airbnb guests enjoy. It's important for me to like it, of course. However, in order for me to find satisfaction, I need my home to be hospitable. My parents and grandparents placed importance on being able to bring others into their (our) homes and make them comfortable, make them belong. There is no sense in having a home on a Greek island – particularly Patmos – and not welcoming others. I don't need to bring my American individualism to Patmos – I want to bring the Patmian sense of community to my own community – the people I love.
