The rabbit hole kept going deeper. First we learned Andreas who manages the beach chairs at Agriolivadi's father was in a terrible accident when he was younger because he left a bar drunk on his BMW cycle. And he wore no helmet. Then we were relieved to learn he was a very strong man who survived and made a full recovery. Only to ride the rollercoaster back down when it turned out he was killed in Athens while helping a car accident victim – as he bent down to help an injured driver, a car ran right into his head. We were horrified. Then it turned out he was on the way to the hospital where his wife was giving birth to their daughter. At the same hospital, he died while his daughter was being born and they named her Panagiota in honor of her father, Panagiotis. It had all the elements of Greek tragedy, which even Dimitris who was telling us the story had to admit.
Just as the sadness of the story began to settle, Dimitris shared that some years later, Andreas' mother died of a melanoma – leaving he and his sister orphaned. It felt like the story had no bottom.
But then a detail raised a question. Dimitris thought the mom was Norwegian, but Andreas speaks English with a British accent and has told me his mom was British.
"So the man with Andreas at Agrio is Andreas' uncle?"
"We're talking about Andreas who runs the beach at Kampos, right?" Dimitris asked.
"No, I was thinking of Andreas who runs the beach at Agriolivadi."
"Oh, that's his cousin! There's an Andreas who runs the beach chairs at Kampos. I was talking about his father. He has a brother who looks just like him – that's the man you see at Agriolivadi. There are two cousins both named Andreas!"
"And you're right – Andreas at Agriolivadi – his mother is from England. This explains it!" Christina interjected.
By this point my head was spinning. There was the Greek Tragedy, the sadness about my friend's loss, the relief he hadn't lost his parents, the sadness of what happened to his cousin and family, and the confusion about how you get two cousins of roughly the same age with the same name. I was scared for what could come next.
It may have been the most extreme story of the evening, but it was not entirely unique.
Christina and Dimitris own the car rental I use so I have known them for MANY years – originally referred to them by Nicholas and Stefanos who I believe are cousins of some degree with Christina. They have always been very kind people, but then two years ago they also became neighbors – their house being a "block" if the term can be applied from my house. All summer they said we must find a time to have a glass of wine some evening, but between their busy work and mine, it just never came together.
So when Christina and Dimitris extended a dinner invitation a few days ago, I was excited not just to spend time with them, but also because theirs is the first Patmian dinner invitation I've ever received.
In Nepal, I've been invited to many people's homes for dinner – and gone. Nepalis are shockingly hospitable and will invite a kind stranger into their homes without a thought. There seems to be an attitude that they're making dinner anyway – there's always room for one more. Which is especially touching for people who have so much less than the visitors they invite with no expectation of reciprocation.
I attended a meal here or there while living in Singapore. In Thailand, I was invited to my girlfriend's family's home. However, despite my two and a half years living in Bali and the many other visits, I have never seen the inside of a Balinese home.
That said, with Nepal as a massive exception, I think the more tourist-oriented a place, the less likely you are to be invited into someone's home. After all, if Patmians invited tourists they liked into their homes, they might end up hosting dinner parties every night. Even more, they probably need a place for some respite at the end of the day.
I was prepared for a home cooked meal and figured it likely would have large portions – in congruity with Greek hospitality. I didn't expect seven different handmade dishes on the table – zucchini balls, breads with local goat cheese, cheese pies, gemista (stuffed tomatoes), papoutsakia (stuffed zucchini), chicken with peppers and potatoes, roasted potatoes nor the dessert of baked apples and homemade melomacromona (Greek Christmas cookies). And Dimitris kept the Greek wine flowing.
"My wife is a wonderful cook and the proof is right here in my kilos," Dimitris said patting his stomach.
Besides being involved in their business and Airbnb'ing the house in Hora she inherited from her mother, Christina makes three meals a day for her family – the most involved being lunch for which everyone comes home. With their daughter away at college and their older son doing a paid internship right now in Athens, Christina's load has lightened as they just have their youngest son, Stefanos – a high school junior – at home consistently. Still, sometimes the oldest comes back sometimes to work – especially in the summer and their daughter has college breaks so Christina isn't necessarily working her way toward retiring her kitchen duties. When I complemented her cooking and said it was better than many of the restaurants, she quickly said she wouldn't want to run a restaurant – it's too much demand. She's already had a lot of years of cooking for everyone and it's a lot.
For me, dinner with Christina and Dimitris was an opportunity for "Ask a Patmian". Both of them are from Patmian families that go back as far as anyone can remember and any records corroborate – which means they know EVERYTHING about Patmos including everyone on it. We caught up on some divorces and breakups, some tragic health situations and losses, the night of Nicholas' heart attack and the fiasco with the emergency helicopter that was too large to land and how when their son played hookie one morning while they were away.
Better yet, we learned about the tourist who drove a Fiat Panda rental car down a set of steep stairs in Hora and how glad they were it wasn't their rental car! They even had photos and the man's solution was to just keep driving. The car was returned severely damaged. Why did they have photos? Because a local saw, took a photo of the situation and texted it to every car rental owner on the island so the appropriate one would be warned and able to take action.
"Never trust Google Maps!" Dimitris explained. "We saw this problem begin to happen this summer and now we tell all our customers not to use Google Maps!"
Apparently it makes suggestions assuming narrow driveways, walking paths and pedestrian-only zones are valid roads. They said one tourist listened to Google Maps and drove a car into the pedestrian-only square in front of the town church – which was only possible because of a twist of fate – some gardeners had briefly moved the large potted plants that usually block the path from the road to the square. In another instance, one of Dimitris' customers almost drove into a dry creek because Google Maps told her what is essentially a driveway for a particular neighborhood connected through to another neighborhood she was trying to reach. Luckily she stopped with one wheel hanging over the creek bed, but the other three wheels still on land – and then called for help. Another tourist crashed a car down a steep hill following Google's directions between a church and a beach that have no road connecting them.
Fortunately, Patmos is a small enough place, you can really do just fine without Google Maps.
Christina is from Hora and we discussed Hora vs Skala life and what it was like to get married and move down the hill. Was it "Movin' on Down"? She said at first, but then not really. Skala was noisier but she enjoys being able to walk to everything she needs so easily. Christina also knows a lot of about Patmian history and explained how the roots of today's Patmian population came from the 12th Century when the monastery was built. People from a variety of locations including Crete, Izmir, Constantinople, Rhodes and Symi came to Patmos to work on the monastery. In fact, the Church leaders originally wouldn't include the local indigenous population who at that time lived at Kampos and were not allowed to migrate to Hora. The "immigration" led to different ethnic neighborhoods within Hora which - like many large, modern cities today – had names denoting which people lived there. So at one time, there were the equivalents of Little Izmir and Cretan Town.
We learned how poor families became immediately following World War II and how many Patmian men found work on cargo ships and cruise boats to make enough to support their families. Or how many families emigrated to Australia and America only to return when it seemed more possible to make a living in Greece again. Dimitris himself was born in Australia because his father was there working illegal triple shifts as a construction worker. They returned to Patmos when he was four, but he still has aunts, uncles and cousins who chose to remain.
One great part of travel is coming into contact with the history we don't learn in school. American curriculum doesn't cover Greece's post-war instability both economic and political. We generally know there are plenty of Greek restaurants in America, but few of us wonder why so many Greeks came to our country – or that there was a boat ferrying Greek workers to Australia in the 1950's and 1960's where they were the immigrant working class for Australia's expanding economy.
Hang out with Dimitris and Christina and long enough and you can learn many things you missed in school plus the tragic story of two cousins alike in dignity, whose life outcomes were dealt decidedly different terms on one tragic day in Athens.
My Grandma Adele grew up in and raised her own family in a rural town with a fair degree of antisemitism. She believed the best way to combat antisemitism was to invite people into her home. You can't break bread in someone's home and still objectify them – the relationship is forever changed, always more intimate. Thanks to Christina and Dimitris' generosity, last night we all became less customers and neighbors and more friends. At least for me, it was also another step down the path of becoming something closer to a resident than a visitor on Patmos. I hope to sometime have them over and keep the momentum going.
