The Value Of Time

One of the great parts of staying somewhere for awhile is that everyday, mundane tasks become adventures. This morning, we planned to get up at our leisure, have breakfast and get to a beach up-island we haven't taken the kids to yet. Being Emily's busiest workday of the week, she wanted to grab a bite and head out and get started on her work at a cafe until we came and grabbed her to head to the car. A simple plan.

Only, we had a few things that seemed like maybe 30 to 60 minutes of errands: drop-off our laundry, mail some spices and notes from the kids to Rabbi Feinstein, but a loaf of bread at one of the bakeries, get Sennen a haircut at the barber. These four simple tasks take place no more than 500 feet apart from each other around the central Skala town-square area. 

At about 10 am, Sennen and I headed out the door, four minutes down the hill and around the corner to the laundry where we dropped four bags off. Time taken at the laundry: 2 minutes. Check.

We walked to the barber 50 feet away who I had spoke to last week about bringing Sennen to him. Kris and I go back 10 years which means he seemed to vaguely remember me. His hours are 9 to noon and then 5 to 10. So, mornings are our only realistic window for Sennen's haircut. I stuck my head in the door and a waft of cigarette smoke came out. A line of three men filled the sofa and waiting chair. "Come back in one hour," Kris said. Not ideal – but better than not. I texted Matheus to let him know.

Next door to Kris is an organic foods shop that had popcorn kernels. Emily had those on her grocery list and the supermarket didn't carry them. So, we stopped and picked some up – we were in no rush. 

Across the square to the Post Office we went – running into Emily sitting at the cafe next door. Hello's, hugs, kisses and on to the tiny Post Office – the only on Patmos. It has two counters and a tight waiting area in which a crowd of locals seemed to arrange themselves without any discernible line or order. I've come across worse. We found some space at the other end of the waiting area and asked a nice man waiting "in line" if they had boxes there or if we needed to get one elsewhere. He said they had them and pointed to the "selection display" in an in an easily missed corner of the room.

"Daddy, why is there no line? How will know when it's our turn?" Sennen asked.

"Sennen, not everywhere does things like home. This is really different, isn't it? We're just going to have to watch and see how this goes."

We had much banter during our almost half hour wait. It became evident that while there were no numbers called or line to speak of, Patmos residents indeed had a system: first come, first serve except for those picking up a package who could walk up to a window and simply demand it. Obviously, everyone at the post office – the three employees and all the customers except us – knew each other. So, a clerk would simply grab a package and hand it over to its claimant. The system seemed fair and relatively efficient – even if each transaction took inordinately long. When we were next up, a very nice man who was also waiting mumbled something in Greek and pushed me and Sennen to the counter that was becoming available. The locals are very fair-minded and courteous.

Eventually, we made our way to the front. The clerk was clear, patient and kind if not enthusiastic or customer service oriented. We had to pay for the box separately from the postage – so it was a two transaction deal. They also didn't require numerous forms in triplicate or anything too bureaucratic – which was great, but begged the questions as to why it took quite so long. But Greece time is not secular. They are out of sync – in some parallel universe where time is abundant and pressures seem absent. So we went with it – besides we had time to kill until the barber anyway.

By the time the package was mailed, the wait time for the barber didn't seem that far away. Sennen and I passed by Emily again who gave Sennen half a spinach pie she didn't finish. We took that as a snack in case we had to wait further at Kris'. With 45 minutes under our belt, I figured we should check-in. Maybe we would get lucky and he would be running early.

"No, no – I told you an hour!" Kris said as I opened the door to his shop.

"Ok, sorry – can we wait?" His sofa was empty.

"No, no – not an hour yet!" We left and sat outside on the steps. Sennen had his spanakopita (spinach pie). We chatted. The 15 minutes passed. I peeked in. A man had come during that 15 minutes and sat down on the sofa. Kris was looking over his computer.

"No, not yet – see, he's first!" 

"I'm sorry, I didn't know who was first! Just checking!" 

From observing, I believe Kris has a system where various men come by and tell him they want haircuts. He keeps a list on his laptop and tells them their wait time – they come back. People were in and out of the shop constantly having 15-30 second exchanges.

The good news is we were clearly next. And how long could it take to cut the hair of a short-hair, semi-bald 35 year-old? Forty-five minutes is the answer.

Meanwhile, Sennen and I sat on the step. We talked. We played. We texted Emily and Matheus and told them to give Ailyn lunch. They reformulated the afternoon plan to be a closer beach Matheus and the kids could walk to. We bought water from the store next door. Sennen fussed and just two minutes before it was our turn, came close to giving up. We watched through the glass door as Kris was brushing off his client's neck. Our moment was in sight.

The customer opened the door – where he stood and chatted another three minutes. The longest three minutes of the day. Sennen's emotional composure was being held together with scotch tape. And then he left, a moment before the tape broke. We went in. Kris was now kind and welcoming and gave an exasperated look, "So many people – they all want haircuts today. It's a saint's day and many of them have off. They all choose now. Sorry for the wait… That's why I said an hour!" (??!!!!)

Kris introduced himself to Sennen, got out a special kids' chair that lifted higher and asked him to climb in. Sennen was confused by the orange chair that had a small steering wheel on it – like was this a functional steering wheel since it certainly couldn't be an attempt at something for kids to play with..? It was. Sennen gave a strange look and decided it was an odd attempt at a toy. Luckily, Sennen was up for the task of having his first real, adult-style, barber shop haircut. Kris was no kids' stylist like Sennen is used to back home with he goes to Sparkles and Spikes kids' hair salon. This haircut offered no iPads, toy train to sit in, bright colored walls or movies playing on a screen on the back wall. Just a skinny Greek man in a white coat who stared intently at his work. 

It turns out that Kris is extremely detail-oriented and Sennen's haircut also took 45 minutes. Kris did not offer numerous style options and he did not ask me what I wanted for my son. He asked Sennen what he wanted – and Sennen said the same as he had, but shorter. And that is what Kris did – with a little more of a Greek style to it – more tapered/trimmed on the sides. 

Being who he is, Sennen had questions for Kris – such as what a trimmer guard is and why it's used. Why Kris cut this way on one part of Sennen's head, but used a different technique on another. The funny thing is that Kris didn't do anything different that Sennen has experienced before – Sennen has always been too distracted taking selfies with an iPad or watching Frozen to notice exactly what his stylists do. They chatted about what saints' days are, why Sennen needed to look down at such a steep angle at one point, if Kris had ever been to America, where we were staying, where Kris lives – and in short, Sennen had a real Greek barbershop experience.

When we were done it was well past lunch time and Sennen had done a great job being patient. Kris charged a very reasonable 10 Euros and Sennen and I were both happy with the results.

I realized that while our initial plan hadn't come to pass, no harm was done and we simply changed beaches. We joined Greek time and Sennen had some great lessons in patience. cultural differences and taking the time to notice things – like how his hair is actually cut. Not at all worthless or "dead" time. 

I suppose that is the lesson of Patmos – time not filled with activity and transaction has as much or more worth that any other. The relationships in the post office and barber shop are important. Taking the time to give or receive a great haircut are worthwhile. And knowing how your hair is cut is a virtue not worth losing.

And in the end, the kids still played on the beach all afternoon and Emily and I got our work done.

Check.