Sometimes Patmos feels a little like living in Westworld. Every day, the same people are doing more or less the same thing and when I see them, we have the more or less same greeting. Based on the time of day, it's not hard to guess where people are should I want to find them. George who owns Oceanoc property management is at Agriolivadi each afternoon at 3pm for paddle boarding and he's in his office again at 6pm. Christos who runs Cafe Mostra is sitting at the table directly across from my gate both in the 11-12:30 period and again around 5pm when he meets with his Filipino sushi chef – because the cafe turns sushi bar at night and is the only Asian anything on the island. Alessandro at the neighboring Nektar shop is cleaning the pavement, taking out garbage and rearranging inventory from 8 am to 10 am, intermittently talking to passerby's. Stelios rides his bike home from his gelato shop and cafe at 1pm and returns at 5. I can go on.
I didn't know this in 2023 during my first summer in the house and I was even less aware when our family stated on Patmos the summer of 2019 or when Emily and I first visited Patmos in September of 2010.
I can't confirm this is the case for all people, but I suspect it is for most – it's an amazing thing how the way we actually see a place changes with time.
When I first visited the University of Washington campus it seemed vast and almost unknowable to any one student. By the time I finished college, it was a postage stamp. I knew every inch of the campus including some of its strange, tucked-away features like the power plant on the eastern slope overlooking Montlake, the salmon hatchery behind the fisheries department and the Sylvan Grove – a little Greek amphitheater and park – hidden in plain sight in the south end of campus. I even knew which bollards could be removed to allow university vehicles access to pedestrian areas. Having spent two and a half years writing for and editing The Daily was part of it – I had learned things about the campus I wouldn't have if I had just attended classes. Specifically, the day I delivered the papers because the distribution guys called in sick was how I became educated on the bollards. All the same, I had a detailed map of campus and the University District in my mind – and it all felt accessible and cozy, its own little world.
So it is that Patmos continues to change for me. The cute and quirky island Emily and I saw as a playground to explore in 2010 has become very known to me. I now think about what I want to do with my day and I know the permutations and possibilities. I see the map in my mind. If I want to mostly work, but also have a brief swim and I don't want to pay for a beach chair for the day, then Agriolivadi is my best choice. I can work at the cafe and they don't mind if you take a dip periodically – it's totally normal. If I have a lot of evening calls, then making dinner at home is usually most convenient – which means I need to get to the produce shop or trucks and butcher before 1pm – but ideally before noon for better selection.
There are fewer unknown roads and interesting turns to explore than in 2010 or 2019 – though there are new adventures like figuring out how to landscape the front yard – or even how to get the gardener to come and trim this month. As my adventures have changed from travel to domestic, the island has become smaller to me – the workings better known – and the resources more important.
In 2010, Emily and I had a 50 euro a day budget (exclusive of lodging) we tried to maintain. If we came in under on any given day (which was often), we could use the savings for another day when we might be more indulgent – mainly on the weekends. Somehow, that worked well for us for a month and given we never cooked, Emily had four cups of coffee a morning and I ate dessert every night – it was almost amazing. I'm not sure two people could do that anymore.
Today while costs are higher, I also have more levers at my disposal when I want to manage costs. I know which cafes are cheapest, where to get good pies and sandwiches for cheap lunches and of course, I can cook and eat-in. But I have also learned about places locals eat that I wasn't even aware of before last year. Places I had walked past and never noticed. Places that probably wouldn't kick a tourist out, but really aren't meant for them. But it seems I've made it far enough into the club, that I have been told about at least some of them – including some that do delivery (not that I need it).
In this time with neither guests nor kids – I don't have to approach the island as a daily source of fun and entertainment. I haven't had this kind of time since 2023, only that summer I was consumed with improving the house – desperately trying to make purchases and get tradespeople to show up and take my money. With that essentially behind me – and some of the lessons from Winter when the island was not at all touristy and I had more time with neighbors – I'm able to simply be. I'm not looking at my time with the same FOMO I used to have – that an afternoon at home was an afternoon at the beach lost. Some days are good to enjoy the beach and others just need a comfortable place to write (which often overlooks a beach or water in some way or another). I have a lot of writing and personal projects I want to accomplish which seem to mesh well with the novelty of Patmos wearing off.
The hard work of 2023 has paid off and I am able to enjoy the house. With that satisfaction, I can take the next step and use the mental and emotional space Patmos provides me to dive into things that seem so hard to tackle in daily life in Westlake. In Patmos, there's more room to think, write and prioritize.
My forever-since-I-was-five friend Leanne recently wrote about the Japanese concept of Yoyu. In her words, "Yoyū is an everyday very common expression in Japanese meaning “having extra.” The word suggests being able to do something with ease. It is having time and space—having a margin. I would say it also points to an ability to be satisfied with less, or just to be more easily satisfied with what is, instead of the self-clinging grasping that so often dominates life back in the U.S. At least that is how it feels to me."
That's how it often feels to me too.
And Yoyu (sorry, my keyboard doesn't have the cool accent thing hers does) is exactly what I have here – the margin, the room to do what is self-fulfilling rather than what needs to be done. For me, it's hard to write, go deeper, be creative when the clock is ticking and I'm trying to time dinner correctly before I pick the kids up from religious school or soccer. Or in the space of time between work meetings or after the day is done and my brain is done and my eyes don't want to look at a screen anymore. On Patmos I have until about 5 pm when everyone back home is asleep and I'm able to enjoy a beautiful day. Both with work and personal life, so much of the day is spent in communication with others – especially digital communication. The texts, emails, calls, Zooms, workflow platforms, apps – they take up tons of space one touch or click at a time. And they earn me a good living, let me talk with my kids when I don't have them, keep me connected to loved ones, ensure I know what time softball and soccer games are, alert me to pay my bills and more.
It's just nice to have Yoyu – the margin where all of that noise drops to the side for the majority of my day and then comes out in the evening. My day is for me and my night is for all my connections and responsibilities. It works well. Sometimes, if the night's work is challenging and I want some additional Yoyu, I walk with my phone – still on my call – down to the beach and talk from there. Because I can. And because whatever stressful or mundane work issue feels less intense on a warm night with a sky full of stars and the moonlight sparkling on the blue sea gone black.
