It started with the most unusual sound – Hebrew being spoken. On Patmos. I was sitting on a lounge chair at Campos Beach, Matheus to my left, Emily coming back from getting changed into her swimsuit – not unlike any Patmos day when we heard more. A family of about 10 was sitting two rows of chairs behind us and heading into the water. My ears cocked like a spaniel that had noticed deer gently walking through the woods. We don't think about it much, but there are a set of nationalities and ethnicities one sees in Patmos and Israeli is about as uncommon as Indian or Surinamian.
I was compelled to say hello and learn their story. It turned out they were on a cruise which made a the typical four-hour stop here in Patmos. This made more sense because as we had never seen Israelis staying on Patmos. What made less sense was why they were on Campos Beach – it's pretty unusual for cruise ship passengers to go to the beach at all – let alone one beyond Skala. Mostly, they explore Skala and Hora and visit the monastery and the Cave of the Apocalypse – the standard tourist spots. But this family wanted a day at the beach. They had about an hour remaining before they had to return to the ship and I wished them a good journey.
When we returned to Skala, it turned out they were not alone. The cruise ship was filled with Israelis and the shop owners and employees were beside themselves with rage and exasperation. One couple we know has a shop that specializes in local, natural Patmosian products including foods, soaps and gift items. I made the mistake of asking how their day was and saying that it was a day with cruise ships – which usually means a good business day for the merchants of Skala who usually open their shops early just for the visiting passengers.
"Don't ask. They didn't buy anything. They're going back to the boat now, thank God! They can go! Goodbye!" Irini motioned pushing them to the harbor.
It turned out the Israeli tourists came to their store, tried all their samples, bought next to nothing and then picked lots of figs off their tree outside and stuffed them in their pockets. Irini and her husband Allesandro told us people were climbing on the walls and trees across from their shop and trying ti bargain with them for everything. Greece is a price-sticker country like most of Europe and the US. Irini found the haggling over clearly marked pricing insulting. According to Irini, the shop owner across the way from her came out to defend the goods displayed outside her shop and eventually yelled, "This is not Gaza! You cannot behave this way here!"
It was an awkward moment because as Jews, we're always rooting for Israel and Israelis. We feel connected – they're part of our identity. But anyone who has traveled to Thailand, Nepal, India or even hung out in Tarzana or Encino knows the rude, crude and sometimes destructive behavior of which Irini spoke. I don't believe anyone in Patmos knows we're Jewish. Our observable identity is American – and even at that, we get asked all the time if we're Greek or of Greek ethnicity. So, we were trusted confidants, and not linked to "those people".
The same thing happened when I made my way over to Stelio's Gelateria – my go-to cafe to work. The staff and owner all know us and the woman who usually does the afternoon and evening shift has – after several weeks of not giving a shit about us – become friendly and decided we're "in". As soon as I walked in, she unloaded about the unbelievable behavior of the Israelis who had come through her shop.
"They keep saying 'I want, I want…'! No hello, please, thank you – nothing. They were demanding, wanted everything at once. They didn't wait for their turn. These people are horrible!"
No reports of negotiating for gelato, at least.
I listened and told her that at least they were all headed back to the boat. Just then, two older Israeli women came in to order a coffee and some gelato. I claimed a table outside and listened as the women apologized for their countrymen's behavior and actually said, "Jewish people are usually very nice, but Israelis are not always." As an American Jew, I was grateful. The Gelateria lady appreciated the Israeli woman's gesture and after venting, listened to the Israeli woman who explained a little about Jewish ethics and even the kosher laws. She did a nice job of helping to mitigate what could easily be the creation or deepening of an anti-Israeli bias.
In the midst of an uncomfortable identity conflict, I texted my good, Israeli friend Ziv. His answer "Yes, Israelis act as if they own everything – another Holocaust surviving syndrome. They're horrible ambassadors." But the behavior of the Israelis in Israel isn't consistent with what we experience when we're there. He clarified that it's behavior that only comes out when traveling. "It's Holocaust – they hurt us."
I suppose this might make sense in Greece or Europe in general – but not sure how the poor Thais, Nepalis and Indians get treated so poorly. There are many Thai bungalow operators in places like Ko Phagnan and Ko Phi Phi that have "No Israeli" signs – for good reasons including having their bungalows trashed, furniture broken and being underpaid or even stiffed for a bill.
It's everything that a good Israel-loving, American Jew hates to see and is hard to explain away. And what haunts me just a little is that I walk away from the whole thing using the American side of my identity.
Emily teaches her beginning Sociology students about identity and role conflict – when one aspect of who you are runs up against another. We all face this everyday – such as being a good parent and a good employee can easily create internal tensions and stress such as when you need to attend a meeting at the same time as your kid's school play. Or being a good child and a good spouse when your parents' and spouse's needs become incompatible. These things are woven into our lives and they are never comfortable.
At the root is the Us-Them aspect of humankind, which I discussed in a post last month. Despite whatever educated, open minded, ethical, universalist views we may have cultivated in ourselves, the underlying platform of the human psyche developed over thousands of years of evolution remains firmly rooted in people identifying closely with some groups, and not others. We are always part of an "us" which stands clearly apart (and usually superior to) "them".
In the Israelis' case, a large group of people – most of whom don't know each other and might not even associate, let alone like one another back home – became the "us" against a perceived group of Greek "them" who may or may not have participated in the annihilation of some of their ancestors. On that topic, I will say that Greece has a reputation of doing little to protect its Jews and on Rhodes the islanders helped round-up their Jewish population and turned them over to the Bulgarian officers working on behalf of the Germans. At the same time, throughout the Dodecanese of which Patmos is part, locals somehow helped 1,100 Jews escape to Turkey. But either way, the Israelis decided who was the "us" and "them" and through that behavior ensured the divide will widen, rather than close as nice people like Irini see the worst in what Israelis have to offer.
For me, I decided that the "us" of being Jewish didn't require me to shoulder the shame of the Israelis' behavior and I shifted to the "us" of my nationality. When we travel, this is often the "us" of choice, particularly if we're in a place like Greece where Americans are well regarded.
But Patmos is a place with many interesting us/them dynamics. For example, when we hear American English being spoken, we often perk up. It's far more likely we'll talk to someone from our country with great friendliness and familiarity in Greece than we would on the streets of Los Angeles – where that person might well be the asshole who didn't signal before changing lanes or the annoying person taking too long at the postal counter, holding up the line. But here in Patmos, we act as if some stranger from Maryland could be our next door neighbor. "That's so great that you're here in Patmos! I'm Eric, this is Emily – these are our kids, Sennen and Ailyn! Yes, it's S-E-N-N-E-N. Yes, we love the name too. So nice to meet you! Hopefully we'll see you around!"
This can even extend to any Anglophone country. There's a couple who owns our favorite gyro restaurant in the town square. Today we discovered that wife's excellent English is because her mother is British. And lo and behold, her mother was sitting at the next table. We were introduced and suddenly the conversation became, "Oh, Yorkshire! That's great!" as if Yorkshire were five miles down the road from us. She was equally friendly as if we were Churchill and Roosevelt. Perhaps the best revelation was that her grandchildren which include Ailyn's "boyfriend" – who our kids have been playing with – actually speak English very well. For some reason, they have not let on that they do other than asking Sennen's name repeatedly and asking Ailyn if she knows Cinderella (which turns out is the nickname of another little girl in the square). And once the adults had figured this out, there was an a little sigh as if "great, now they can be betrothed!"
The Greek population in Patmos has its own set of us/them divisions. Obviously, there's the Greek vs foreigner gap endemic to an island whose economy its powered almost exclusively off tourism. But even among the Greeks, there are those who come from Athens and elsewhere for the summer tourism season and the actual Patmosians. As Victor told us, "Even Greeks from other islands are foreigners to them!"
Many of the shop owners and employees like Irini have told us that even though they own businesses and live here for a substantial portion of each year, they will never be part of the inner-circle of Patmosians. They are marked "them".
This was clear to Emily and me during our last visit with Nichola and his family. I asked what happened to the man who owned a laundry business not far from Nichola's Studios. Nichola knew only that the man was behind on his rent and packed up and left in the middle of the night. He went somewhere else never to be seen from again. It was obvious from Nichola's general indifference that this man couldn't have been Patmosian – so I verified. "He was from some other island…" The man had probably been on Patmos for no less than ten years and probably much longer. But he didn't matter.
By contrast, I asked Nichola what happened to the nice man who owned our favorite Galaxia pizza restaurant in Hora. We heard about how the man's wife died, so he was sad, decided to close the business and now gets retirement benefits from the government – and possibly some life insurance money, I couldn't quite tell. Nichola's heart went out to the Galaxia pizza man and he clearly felt a strong warmth for him. The pizza man is Patmosian.
Then we discovered that the Greek government understands identity and role conflict very well. Sennen asked why people here don't wear their helmets when riding a motorbike. Nichola said no wants to, but sometimes the police check and then everyone quickly put on their helmets so they don't get ticketed.
"But don't you know all the police?" Emily asked.
"No, no! I don't know the police! I don't want to know them because if I know them, they know me!" he responded.
It turns out the Greek government sends police officers from elsewhere in Greece because locals – especially on a small close-knit island like Patmos can't effectively police one another, especially when most of them are related.
The woman who works at the gelateria informed me that there's yet another divide here on Patmos – Greek vs workers from nearby countries such as Bulgaria, Macedonia, Albania and Russia. She and her family came to Greece from Bulgaria when she was 11 years-old and she speaks better Greek than Bulgarian at this point. But her job prospects are always challenging and she never feels accepted.
"It's bad. The Greek owners of businesses want to save money. So they don't hire Greeks. They ask people from countries like Bulgaria and Albania to come take their jobs. And then they pay them only 20 euros a day and have them work 10 to 12 hours. It's not right. And these are bad people."
She lived 11 years on Rhodes and has been on Patmos as a year-round resident for nine. There are of course people who treat her well, like super-nice Michaelis whose family owns the laundry we use. But she feels trapped because there isn't always work for her and she is at the bottom of the Patmos social structure.
The intriguing and sad part of the us/them paradigm is that there are infinite ways to tear us all apart and seemingly fewer ways short of a massive disaster to unite us. The human potential is stymied by the often artificial and meaningless barriers we erect. And of course, when there's an "us" who is superior to "them" – someone always ends up on the bottom of the pile. And we all know how that worked out for Yertle The Turtle.
