Our First Year: Everywhere

How Is Anyone Alive?

"How many tablespoons of oil do you think was just consumed?" Emily asked me.

"Five."

"Not including what's left in the bowl."

"Uhhh, five. At least five."

"Five?!"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Yeah, I guess five."

This was our brunch conversation after Emily finished her Greek salad - likely the healthiest menu item available at any restaurant.

This followed a discussion we have regularly entitled, "How is anyone here alive?!"

Patmos has a lot of Greek tourism from Athens and other places. So, we've watched the habits of Greeks on vacation as well as the people who live here. And we remain constantly astonished that they're all alive.

They eat grilled meat, oven roasted meat (stewed in its own fat), yogurt that's basically heavy cream with live cultures, cheese, cheese pies, meats covered in cream (i.e. moussaka, patistio, and similar), fried fish and seafood, fried cheese, cheese baked in olive oil, vegetables baked in olive oil and steamed vegetables drowned in olive oil.

You have a better chance of finding a needle in a haystack than finding a healthy meal in Greece. Even if they have fresh vegetables, Greeks drown them in olive oil. I ordered steamed zucchini once for a "healthy choice" as well as the joy of fresh veggies. It came out as olive oil with some freshly steamed zucchini. I have seen Greek tourists order that same dish and then pour extra olive oil on top of it.

Then there's the smoking. I've already covered Greek smoking habits - but let's just say that if there was an Olympics for smoking, Greece would win. First, they invented Olympics. And if they didn't invent smoking, they have perfected it.

So they eat like crap, they eat a lot, they eat very late at night, they drink and they smoke.

They also do nothing. Very few Greeks we've seen participate in sports or any kind of physical activity at all. They ride around on motor scooters without helmets and sit with their friends and family smoking, eating and drinking. If they have to show up for work - they take long smoke breaks and do as little as possible to exert themselves. Banks and government offices close by 2:00 - so that no one has to work too hard in their low-exertion jobs.

Yet, most people seem normal weight and healthy. In fact, most are skinny and attractive - and they eat like horses!

Sure, there are a few obese people. Even a few obese children. But definitely a lower percentage of them than you'd see at home.

We've had numerous people tell us that the olive oil is good for us and not to worry.

Okay.... so even if we assume every nutritionist on Earth is wrong - it still doesn't explain how these people don't all drop dead of cancer, heart attacks and strokes. How is it that our country faces epidemics and these people are on permanent jolly holiday looking like the statues of the gods they used to worship?

These are the mysteries of Greece.

However, it was brought to our attention recently by Hugo, our brother-in-law that from what he's read - we too discuss food a lot and exertion very little. So, on our last Patmos Sunday - in our farewell motorcycle and beach tour of the island, we stopped for a hike. Not the most strenuous hike I've ever been on, mind you - but a real and genuine hike down up and down a hill to explore where a trail led. Photographic evidence is below, Hugo.

The trail led to a church on the edge of a small cliff in a gorgeous cove with incredibly blue water.

Yes, Emily was panting by the end. No, I was not. Yes, we both drank water - but it was hot and dry.

So, as we enter our final four days on Patmos - and we mourn our departure already - there is a part of us that will be glad of some different cuisine. It's not that it's not great - because cheese stuffed peppers baked with tomatoes and olive oil is great - but we're hoping to escape with our lives. So far, clothes still fit and - to Emily's shock - mine are even a little looser.

Again, another Greece mystery.

When French diet looks like a diet - the world appears a little sideways. I can't wait for some veggies drowned in nothing but my tears of joy.

Sent from my iPad

Emily's Photography

Recently you may have noticed that the blog has suddenly shifted from having more photos of Emily to more photos of me. This is not the work of vanity and a tripod.

At the beginning of the journey, Emily showed very occassional interest in picking up a camera. We have two cameras - one of each of us to carry around - but she rarely even took hers along. So, I become the photo-dominant one.

But then, perhaps somewhere in Crete she began taking a few photos and they were very good. She picked up some steam in Israel and then - I like to think - the beauty and wonder of Patmos overtook her, compelling her to pick up her camera and explore the art of photography.

Accordingly, the blog's photo content took a turn. Her photos became more of what was featured - and now most of what we post. She has a great eye for composition and is getting really into it. Her photos are usually more interesting than mine and she takes a lot of time thinking them out when she's working.

These are a few of her favorites.

 
 
 
 
 
 
  

 

 
  
 
 
 

Darkness

I've never liked the term wicked other than in reference to witches. On Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement, the word comes out a lot in reference to people's bad thoughts and motivations. Judaism doesn't have the heavy "do it the way we tell you to or face damnation" feel that some religions do. So seeing that word popping up so much in prayer books on one particular day of the year has always struck me as odd.

Sure, it's the one day of the year Judaism focuses completely on our dark sides. No one likes to talk about the darkness. For the most part, when people come to pray, they're looking for hope, guidance, comfort, relief, compassion, faith, continuity, security, companionship, love, and peace. Bringing out long discussions of struggles with darkness generally doesn't offer much to people looking for these things unless you spin it very well.

The problem I always have is that I haven't met anyone I would call wicked. There's no one I would call evil either. These are such black and white terms. In reality, there aren't many villains who sit in dark caves, black castles or secret lairs and plot their vengeance on innocent people and protagonists - or who plot to use solar powered laser beams to take over the world as in storybooks, cartoons and James Bond movies.

If there were, life would be so much simpler. We would live in a polarized world where you're either an Auto-bot or a Deceptacon (Transformers reference). It was the aspect of the Cold War that in a strange way appealed to people - there was an us and a them. The politics of a polarized world were simpler because you knew who your enemy was. Today, the "bad guys" are here and there - and not all working together. In a way they're scarier because they have less incentive not to act. Hence the term "rogue states."

But people - even nations - aren't so simple. Everyone faces an element of what I would consider darkness, not evil. We face anger and depression. We're rattled by events of our past. We have traumas we get stuck on. And then there's plain ol' mental illness - which sometimes isn't as obvious as schizophrenia.

No one sees a sociopath coming and no one knows exactly what causes someone to fall into sociopathy. Sociopaths, in my opinion, are the closest thing to an evil human being there is. But I also believe they are sick because from everything I've gathered - they don't see right and wrong the way other people do.

Aside from sociopaths, those of us "everyday people" sometimes run into the walls of life and fall down on the floor. Sometimes we're stunned and we sit or lay down for awhile - dark and sad. When this happens, we make bad choices. We sabotage ourselves. We become neglectful and self-centered. We forget joy. We stop participating in life in a meaningful way. Worst of all - we lose sight of our blessings. We stop being grateful for what we have and in so doing lose touch with our humanity.

This is the challenge that people face. This is the darkness. I don't believe it's wicked - I believe it's human and it's what everyone battles at some point or another. Once in awhile someone succumbs to the darkness and in a sense they pull their loved ones closer to it. But no one intends the harm they cause.

Yom Kippur discusses this aspect of our wrong doings. We cause each other harm unintentionally, often without knowing we ever did it. The off-hand comment that offends someone, the thoughtlessness of forgetting someone's birthday or special event, talking on our cell phones and drifting on the freeway - they all cause problems for others.

They're either moments of self-centered behavior or times when we get caught up in human drama and become overwhelmed. We can and should improve.

But they're not evil or wicked.

In the end, I believe that in every day, in every moment - we choose what seems like the best choice in that moment. We choose what makes sense. Sometimes we're impaired - by sleep, fatigue, alcohol, drugs, or just inexplicable brain farts. Other times choices become complex and no matter which way we go, there's going to be a fall-out. We get caught in moral dilemmas that seem impossible to come out of without someone getting the shaft.

This is life - and it's one of the less pleasant parts of it. What we choose and the reasons we make the choices are what count. Sometimes we realize the mistake we made was a few choices back and all we can do is learn.

There's also anger. That moment when something inside sparks. Sometimes anger is righteous and the agent of positive change. Other times we lose judgement and make our worst mistakes in those moments. Sometimes mistakes also lead to clarity and change too.

Nothing seems so black and white to me as wicked and evil.

It's all part of being human. Shit falls out of the sky and we scramble to figure out how to respond. We struggle to find and create meaning. Some of us think back to one of the first lessons we learned - when we face danger, potential or real - hold hands. It usually works out better that way.

This year, while I can certainly think of ways to be contrite and there is no shortage of things to improve - as there always is - I find myself trying to think about darkness. Emily and I are so blessed and lucky to be in a period that feels so far from the dark places in life.

We are enjoying one of those wonderful moments and times when it seems we fly above them and live closer to the light. There's a line in an Indigo Girls song," Darkness has a hunger that's insatiable, and lightness has a call that's hard to hear." We're lucky that at this juncture in our lives, that call is loud and clear.

I try to remember that flying high and in the light - as such wonderful times as these allow - is special. We both value it everyday. Because even as we navigate our way through this year and through the world, we'll run up against people who are in their everyday world, with their everyday challenges, battling their everyday darknesses. We have to be compassionate and not remove ourselves to try to protect our bubble. And we have to know that it could - and at some point will be - us. The summers of life are seasons too, and one day there will be rain.

Fortunately, this Yom Kippur it hasn't come. And for that and for the health and happiness of our friends and family - we are grateful.

Sent from my iPad

Family Camp

"It's family camp in Patmos!" Emily exclaimed. She was absolutely right. In Kampos Beach, everyone at George's Place cafe and on the beach knew each other. A large group celebrated one man's birthday. And everyone greeted each other and said goodbye at their comings and goings. It was the friendliest place on Earth.

It was all made clear to us as we lounged at the beach after finishing our work. A nice Norwegian woman who spoke - as all of the Norwegians we've met - perfect English as natural sounding as ours explained to us that everyone there comes to Patmos every year. Some, like her, come twice a year.

There's nothing organized about it - they just all come. Because they're all regulars, they have all come to know each other and most have become good friends. It's a transient community of vacationers.

"If you come in June, there's the June people and July has the people who come every July, September has its group of people....you just keep seeing the same people year after year," the Norwegian woman explained. "You get to know this one, and the owners of this restaurant and you go to this party and that dinner and you all become friends."

She should know - she's been coming since 1982.

That was clearly how it was on Kampos Beach. They kissed, they wished one couple farewell, they all mixed around visiting each other's lounge chairs and lunch tables as if the whole thing was an ongoing cocktail party.

The ones with children bring their kids every year. The Norwegian woman stopped bringing hers now that he's 19. She's only 42 herself and you'd never guess it. "I guess we 'preserve' well with all the cold," she said.

The common theme among the travelers we meet here is that they all come regularly. Some once a year, some multiple times a year - but always annually. Apparently, once a Patmos person, always a Patmos person. And when you have vacation friends, and your kids run around together - why wouldn't you become a Patmos person?

Many are very interesting people too. Our Norwegian woman is an emergency/trauma nurse. She used to work in an ER in Norway but now is a civilian employee of the Norwegian military and goes on UN missions to places like Chad and the Sudan. She'll be deployed again soon after she gets back to Norway next week. She absolutely loves it and can't imagine doing anything she loves more. God bless people like her.

We began talking with the Norwegian woman because she sat down next to the Greek-American guy we were talking with before her. He lives in New York, is a professional drummer and his wife plays the bassoon for the New York Symphony Orchestra. He was born on Patmos and they've been coming every summer since 1984. Three quarters of the year, they play in all kinds of venues all over the world.

During the summer she stays a few weeks and he spends the entire summer sitting on a beach, collecting €6 per beach chair. He makes a nice chunk of change doing nothing but opening and closing beach umbrellas and putting out lounge chair mattresses. He's living the Greek Dream.

This group of Family Camp people use George's Place as their center of operations. The beautiful and relaxed cafe, renown for its incredible Greek pies (spinach, chicken, vegetable, cheese, etc) sits right on the beach and offers WiFi. Many - like us - come with their laptops. George and his family - hang out and chat all day. Our waiter spent most of his afternoon sitting with a group of patrons at their table.

George can only make his Place work from Easter through October. After that there isn't enough business, he closes shop. For the past two years he's stayed on Patmos. He tried an off-season restaurant in another location, but it didn't work well. He has no idea what he'll do this year. He doesn't have another business. So, it's either live off the fat of the summer, or go elsewhere (I feel like this is National Geographic).

George says some years he's gone to Athens, others abroad - wherever there's work for him. He finds projects to do with friends and family who invite him to work with him. He doesn't have a particular trade or vocation other than running restaurants, and wasn't clear about exactly what he does. But whatever it is, he clearly would rather not do it.

Litros is a physical therapist and massage therapist who comes to Patmos every summer and does on-call massage around the island. He lives the rest of the year in the far northern city of Thessaloniki. Litros came to Patmos for the first time more than ten years ago to stay for a month. He stayed for four years. Now he's married to a school teacher - so they have only summers. Besides, he can't earn a living here the rest of the year. But like the Family Camp people and George, he keeps coming back - and he knows everyone.

The island developed a sudden hush this week. Except for the few hours when the cruises pull in, there are amazingly few people. Only the regular September people and the locals remain. It's very clear that those who come this time of year like it low-key. So do we, as we plot to try to come back one day with kids so that they too can experience at least one summer of Patmos Family Camp.

Sent from my iPad

Our Dinner With Nicholas

"Hellas!" they yelled as the car pulled over. Nicholas, our studio-hotel owner, his wife and daughter were in the car too. "We go around, you come with us!"

So we hopped in. We had planned to go for a ride with them last night. We were on our way home, only they saved us the trip and somehow found us - although it helps that there's only one main road.

It quickly turned out that were expected to go to dinner with them and the fact that we already ate was sad. We didn't tell them, but the restaurant we went to serves pretty generously and we were particularly not hungry. We said we could at least drink - and off we went to a restaurant on a nearby beach.

Naturally, the restaurant was owned by one of Nicholas' numerous cousins and apparently has the best grilled meats. He said we would go there because his five year-old daughter, Anastasia, likes "bifteki" - aka beef steak which here means hamburger steak. She chanted "Bifteki! Bifteki!" the entire three minute drive.

Our dinner with Nicholas and family brought many things to light. But the main thing is that it confirmed an observation I've had for some time now - Greeks let it all hang out. They're out there, loud, open and they share a tremendous amount that we might not. Greeks are real.

As we sat down at the restaurant Nicholas greeted about three quarters of the patrons and all of the staff. Then he and his wife saw the people who live in the house next to the restaurant patio and yelled across the way to greet them and carry on a conversation with them.

He then tells about the problem of the neighbors with their Bangladeshi workers who fast during Ramadan and then are too weak to work. "It's crazy, they don't eat or drink all day - and sometimes they inside and do like this (he pantomimed praying)!" Nicholas didn't know if this went on for one, two or three months. He also didn't know the correct name for Ramadan. I clarified what it was called and that it lasts for a month.

No matter, everyone at the table was to eat - any protests about being full just meant that we had to eat less. If we didn't eat, food was set on our little appetizer plates by force. "I'm full" translates to, "Sure, I'll eat."

In the course of an hour and a half we learned how much Nicholas pays to the bank each month for a business loan he took out, that the police let his oldest son drive without a driver's license, which room of the hotel he and his wife sometimes sneak off to "to make love," that they have two houses on the island in addition to two hotels and one of the island's best restaurants, and how Nicholas plans to divide his estate among his children.

We also learned that he has a small house in Athens as do most of the people of Patmos because you need a place to stay when you go to the doctor, have a hospital-worthy emergency and when you need to go shopping.

That's not all. Nicholas also shared with us what he pays Anna, the 25 year old Polish housekeeper they employ for the summer - which is good - as well as what he and his wife think of her - which isn't quite so good. "Next year, I think we'll get someone new. They stay too long, they are like boss..."

Nicholas also shared about what keeps him entertained on a small island. Apparently, people who pick up Greek during their travels, "They learn all the bad words first. You know malakkas?" We didn't, but we do now - it's masturbation. Well, Nicholas told an Italian couple staying at the hotel that when they went up to Hora and dined at his friend Jimmy's restaurant (we met Jimmy when we shopped in his store up there - which made the story all the better), to tell Jimmy "You malakkas." Nicholas was roaring with laughter as he said, "Jimmy said, 'Who told you that?! Who told you that?!' And then they tell him 'Nicholas' and he says 'hmmmm, hmmmm.'"

Later, we learned that Nicholas loves octopus and seafood. He thinks Turkish food is the best and that American food is lame. And they had about 500 people at their wedding - which is small because the average wedding on Patmos has about 1,000 people show at the church and about 200 come to a restaurant meal afterward. They paid for 500 people at Anastasia's christening.

"Three times you pay - when you get married, when you put the baby in water, and when you die. Dying is the most expensive. It's cheaper to live! Better not to die."

Nicholas' job in the off-season has been doing home repairs. He "fixes houses" as he says - which I think amounts to something of a hybrid between a carpenter and a handy-man. Either way, he had the skills to build our current dwelling and has plans to build a wall to give Anastasia her own bedroom in their suite. Nicholas and his family live in a special, customized apartment on the bottom floor of the hotel. - at least during the summer.

When Anastasia gets older, he will build her a home because that's what Greek families do - they make sure their daughters have their own homes. Emily inquired about what do families who can't afford it do. Nicholas either didn't understand or skirted past it. Instead, he emphasized the nice inheritance each of his children will enjoy. He has done very well for them.

But the highlight of the evening was when Nicholas was talking and began to choke on a piece of his pork chop. He choked it up and spit it out. As he did, his wife began laughing hysterically. Apparently, she finds other people's pain hilarious. Nicholas then recounted a litany of times when he was hurt or embarrassed and she broke into hysterics as he snidely imitated her laugh.

She didn't care, she was in hysterics over his pork chop. Nicholas' wife even told us about one time when her mother tripped on the length of her own dress while walking up stairs and the dress was pulled down, leaving the poor woman somewhat exposed. She found it so funny that as she wiped the tears of laughter away she then busted up again. When another cousin passed by later and they chatted with him, Nicholas' wife made sure to recount the tale of the choking and again laughed herself to tears.

In the past, he's been stung by bees, slipped on a wet bathroom floor, and hit his head on two low-hanging lamps while "making love" in the secret hotel room and his wife laughed herself silly each and every time. She just feels it's funny and said, "Like Candid Camera!"

When Nicholas was 17, he and his father went to Florida to stay with his uncle who owned an Italian and Greek restaurant in Miami. That's where Nicholas learned most of his English. He enjoyed naming all the beaches and cities he knows in Florida - and he knows more of them than we do.

Nicholas also enjoyed revealing his unabashed racism. He doesn't like black people because a group of black teenagers snuck into his uncle's restaurant and put charcoal in the dishwasher. This aggravated Nicholas' father who was helping manage the kitchen. So, Nicholas took a long kitchen knife and found the kids in the back alley.

They threatened to fight him so he pulled out the knife and said, "You may be black, but I'm Greek and I'm part of the Greek Mafia. If you ever bother my father again, I'll kill you with this knife (as he pantomimed twisting the knife)!" they never bothered his father again. He is very proud of this and it's clearly one of his favorite memories of his crazy year as a teenager in Miami.

Emily started to try to point out how those were just one group of teenage boys - but it was clear that this point of view would only cost him the value of his story. It was too bad that this was his primary and one of his few ever experiences with black Americans.

Nicholas wants us to come back to Patmos with a baby and seems to feel that we should be working on it right now.

On the ride home, his daughter fell asleep in the car. As he lifted her out, he said, "Too many kilos! Many, many kilos!" She is kind of a big girl.

What was clearer than anything else was exactly how transparent, open and warm these people are. Like it or not, they put it all out there - and they are happy for you to do the same. It seems in keeping with everything we've seen on Patmos. After all, at least on Patmos, "If you're bad, no one will talk to you."

Rage Against The Machine

I thought her head would explode or that she would reach through the screen to strangle someone. Emily sat fuming, increasingly irritated at the computer which wasn't doing her bidding that day. Or rather, the school's server refused to respond. There was really nothing she could do about it except wait for the IT people to do whatever it was they needed to make things work again.

Emily has a short fuse when it comes to technological glitches and as it became clear to me that this one was not going away quickly, I had two choices - hunker down for the storm, or try to help her through it. I ended up doing a little of both which really didn't leave either of us happy, so we went to the beach for awhile.

By the time we returned, her school's server was doing its job again and Emily was able to complete her class posts.

These things don't happen often, but they are a dreaded occupational hazard.

For a few hours for each of the past two days, I encountered the same thing. Unknown server problems caused slowdowns which led to being unable to save my work or move an article along to be edited. Since my main writing source requires me to be logged into their website, server errors can stop me dead in my tracks.

With less anger than my wife, I too click in vain as if by force of will I can make the server on the other end work. In reality, I should take a break and walk around town. Instead, I usually check email and resume my willful clicking.

Luckily, unlike Emily, my work recently got easier and I can get caught up faster these days. Last week I was accepted to a project that supplies articles for Business.com. They chose most of the same writers as the Hearst/Houston Chronicle project I worked on in July and August.

Only while this project has the same higher pay, the articles have so far - knock on wood - been easier. I have more fun with them and polish them off faster. Instead of educating people about the fine points of anti-discrimination law, I now tell them how businesses benefit from making donations to non-profit organizations. Not more exciting - but it's actually way easier.

Even better, because of the higher pay, I can do fewer of them per day than some of the other kinds of articles and make the same or more money.

Still, no matter how you cut it, our ability to support ourselves rests on two things: reliable Internet and working servers on the other end.

That's why as we've spent time planning our next few months' travel, we've spent so much time researching and communicating with hotels. We can see the end of our time here in the Mediterranean - or what we call Region 1 - coming to an end.

On November 1, we make the jump to Region 2 - Nepal and India. Region 2 is a whole different game. While our cost of living drops dramatically, our ability to readily access appropriate infrastructure also drops dramatically. The key is that Emily must have high speed internet in our room for her four weekly online live lectures which are required by one of her four online universities. While most of her teaching can be anywhere, anytime - when it comes to lecture time, she needs quiet. We really can't have students in the US hearing a bunch of loud voices speaking Nepali while Emily tries to enlighten them about how people identify with different social roles.

Nepal, a country which didn't even have broadband when I was there five years ago, took a lot of research. Wireless broadband is there - but mostly in nicer hotels and a few guest houses. We opted for a nicer hotel than we might have otherwise chosen in part to be sure our means of livelihood is reliable. And I'm kinda' fine with a more comfy room in hectic Kathmandu.

Aside from a few server glitches, we have had no difficulty at all in accessing reliable wireless internet throughout Region 1. In room, at cafes and at restaurants - Internet is truly ubiquitous and usually free. Distant as Patmos feels, it is still Greece and part of the first world.

Sure, our days would be more fun if we didn't have to work. But if you're gonna' have to work either way - this is definitely the place and way to do it. Region 2 may present new challenges which include Emily wishing she could toss aside the computer, bust out the doors and let the Kathmandu wash all over her. That's also why we're going.

In short, work is good and when the servers work, Emily is the sweet, nice person everyone knows and loves.

God bless the IT people.

Sent from my iPad

Goodnight Moon

The moon appeared for the first time Saturday night. Emily says she caught a glimpse of it around the time we arrived, but I didn't. What we both know is that it has been missing for most of our time in Patmos. Saturday night, it was a beautiful crescent.

Yesterday at dusk, the moon was out in full force. I took pictures both because the sky looked awesome and because I felt the need to document the occasion. Good thing because when we came back from dinner two hours later, the moon was gone.

During the moon's first missing days, I assumed it was a new moon cycle. By my estimates, it was too soon. But what do I know about astronomy?

Then I thought that perhaps cloud cover was blocking the moon. The only problem is that the skies were so clear that we could see the stars perfectly. We often stop on our walks home to marvel at how close they look.

And then came last night's disappearing act. I have no idea what is happening here. Either the Greek gods with their ever tampering, petty ways are playing with the heavens, or we have a moon on the run.

Whatever the cause of it, one thing is much clearer than the moon - we've been around long enough to notice.

Yesterday was as average a day as could be. We did our weekday routine of work, go to a cafe for lunch and work, errands, dinner, walk around town. It varies a little here and there - but we do some form of this most weekdays.

There were no cruise boats in the harbor yesterday - they always stir the town up for the few hours they're here. There was no festival. There was really nothing at all happening in Patmos. People were just doing their thing - just like us.

As we went to the cafe, walked into town, had dinner, picked up laundry, etc - I realized how many people I wave to, smile at, know by sight. I'm sure my comings and goings have caught more interest as we've been around long enough.

Sometimes when we leave a restaurant or shop and I say, "See you again soon!" they look at me like I'm crazy since most of their customers are highly transient. Now they know that I indeed come back and definitely pass by frequently.

The tourist season is winding down. Some of the seasonal businesses are considering when to close. The weather has changed to warm days with cool breezes most of the time. This is the time of the year that Nicholas' son described as his favorite.

It also seems to be Patmos' lullaby. The last festival has come and gone, the town is quieter. The massage therapist Emily once saw passed me in the street last week and mentioned that now he's on "vacation" because he gets only a few calls for work a week now. Anna, our beloved 25 year old Polish housekeeper is making plans to depart on the 21st. The Farmhouse restaurant is figuring out which date to call its last for this year. The seasonal people are winding up as the breeze gently blows through town.

I have trouble imagining this town being much quieter than it is. It has just about the perfect level of activity much as Ubud did for me in Bali. Enough that there are things to do and places to go - but not so much that there's a mall or a movie theater. They are still small towns where people spend evenings looking at the same beautiful sights they see every night - the water, the lit up church on the hill, the brilliant stars and once in a while, the moon.

Sent from my iPad

Mastering Sundays

Every culture perfects something. Greeks, in my opinion, have perfected Sundays. One might think it's not possible, but Greek Sundays are even more relaxed than the rest of the week.

We've seen it most in Patmos and Rhodes. People get up and out late. Around 11am restaurants are just beginning to fill with people getting their first meal - calling it brunch as we know it would be misleading since they really skip to lunch.

Since things aren't really that busy during the week, it's hard to describe what's different about Sundays except for the vibe. People just move at an even slower pace as if (and perhaps they have) stayed out way too late the night before. In Rhodes this was completely possible, but it Patmos I have no idea what they would be doing. Still, they're tired all the same.

We fit right in. Getting up late and meandering into our day as we like to do on Sundays fits in perfectly.

This particular Sunday, we made farm-based restaurants and unspoiled beach the theme of the day. We were near a beach last weekend that looked even more awesome than many of the others. We decided to try it. On the way, we stopped by a restaurant we had been to last weekend that makes its own cheese on the adjacent farm. Some goat cheese, an arugula salad, their fantastic eggplant salad and some eggplant rolls and we were having Greek brunch overlooking the water.

One great Greek Sunday thing at this restaurant - while in the middle of the lunch hour, our waiter took a break to sit down and have lunch with his family at another table. Another family member took over as the only waiter in the place while his brother/cousin had lunch.

At about 12:30, we had hit primetime Greek brunch with the place practically packed. An hour after we left, the place was completely empty. People had returned to their beachside positions.

The beach we chose was amazingly not packed - with maybe seven other people on it. It really made no sense since it is the absolutely best beach on the island. I can only figure that with so many great beaches to choose from, perhaps this one was a little more work to get to than others where no one has to go to the work or riding or driving anywhere. After all, on Sunday who has the energy to ride five miles to the beach?

We did. And our "exertion" paid off in spades. Description is pointless - so see the photos below. However, I will say that it has one important characteristic that has become critical to me. Petra is what they call here an "organized beach" - meaning it has lounge chairs and umbrellas lining it and a small cafe. Some organized beaches have a restaurant or two and even some little tables between the deck chairs.

There is no room left in my world for disorganized beaches. I've always preferred beach chairs to sitting in the sand and having a ready supply of cold water and any other beverages or snacks one might want readily available is definitely the way to go. Why would I get all sandy and have minimal access to shade when there are well organized beaches?

In fact, America is one of the few places I've been where most of the beaches are disorganized as I will forevermore call it. While we often have lifeguards - which most of the world doesn't seem to have - it's always BYOLC. Not hospitable.

I first fell in love with the organized beach (although having no idea what to call it at the time) in Thailand where deck chairs are prevalent. For 20 Baht or about 50 cents, you can rent one for the day and people come along selling you cold, fresh fruit, massages, manicures, beverages - anything and everything you need to have a great beach experience. Back at Zuma, you're lucky if you can grab a spot not too close to a parking lot.

All this to say America, it's time to organize those beaches.

That said, after an afternoon of lounge-swim-lounge-swim-lounge, we headed home, cleaned up, did a little work on some travel odds and ends and then headed to Patmos' famous Farmhouse Restaurant. The Farmhouse is only open for dinners starting at 7:30pm - and it's far enough away that we need a motor scooter or cycle to get there, so Sunday seemed like the perfect opportunity since we always rent a bike on the weekends.

When we first read about it, the Farmhouse sounded simple - like a farmhouse. We expected homemade cheeses, breads, fresh vegetables - affordable, simple Greek fare direct from the farmhouse. It looks simple in front.

Then we found out it's the most exclusive restaurant on the island where celebrities and royalty go when they visit Patmos. As well they should. The Farmhouse's only farm quality is that there is indeed a farm adjacent that the owner himself tends growing his own vegetables....which he then turns into the finest gourmet meals we've seen in Greece.

In and of itself, it would be great. But the all-terrace gas lamp and candlelit seating along the water on an unpopulated stretch of coast overlooking the open Aegean took it the next step into fantastic. While there was nothing about the food so fantastic you couldn't find it in a great restaurant at home, there's nothing at home quite as fantastic as the setting and location to go with that food.

We arrived there at a little after 8pm. There was only one table seated. They asked if we had a reservation and all I could think is "have you looked around?!" In fact, we were stupidly early with our stupid American hunger because everyone else arrived at the proper dinner hour of 9:00. It turned out we were lucky to have been seated at all, let alone at our waterfront table.

While the owner cooked away in the kitchen, his American wife from Florida walked around greeting people, talking to them and paid special attention to the "regulars" who vacation in Patmos two to four times a year. Ah, to have European PTO....

Yadda yadda yadda, we befriended the owner's wife who seemed to like both what we are doing and that I have immigration knowledge. She welcomed us to come back and visit - even if we don't want to do a full meal (our most expensive in Greece to date). Of course, we'll have to hurry because the restaurant is seasonal and they're considering closing down in another week or so. They then spend the rest of the year gardening, traveling and visiting family in Florida.

Bravo.

All in all, a great Sunday for us and all the Greeks who led a fairly similar Sunday with their families. Doing even less than during the workweek takes some skill, but everyone on Patmos (except the Farmhouse owners) seems to manage.

Sent from my iPad

Dance Fever

At 6 pm, Emily said, "I think this one won't get the turnout of the concerts last week." The concert amphitheater at The Cave of the Holy Apocalypse had maybe a quarter of the attendees that we saw each night at the Patmos Revelations in Music Festival during the past two weeks.

It was the official start time of this weekend's Patmos Dance Festival and the turnout was meagre and seemed to include mostly the families and friends of the participants themselves.

What Emily and I failed to realize is that the music festival was an even aimed more at an international audience - and thereby had more international conventions, like adhering to start-times. This dance festival got rolling at about 6:45 at which point it was at least as full as any of the music festival concerts. By 7:45 it was standing room only with people lined up to the entrance way and sitting on steps and hillsides.

This is a festival of, by and for Greeks. Unlike the music festival, introductions and announcements were only in Greek. Our Greek-Irish actress who did the English announcements with the kind of British accent and voice you want to announce your plane or train departures was nowhere to be found at this festival.

Instead it was almost an hour of announcements, introductions and speeches in Greek during which it seemed even the Greeks were bored.

So, the performance called for 6 pm started at 7:45 And we were underwhelmed. As a result, we learned several lessons very quickly. First, we are not as cultured in regards to Greek traditional dancing as we had thought ourselves. Second, Greek traditional dancing is rather slow and involves a lot of holding hands, walking slowly in human chains. Some of the skill of the dance seems to lie in taking line dancing steps together in formations like circles and "S" shapes.

The more exciting parts of the performance involved some of the guys - dressed like Zorba - who can kick up their heels with giant flying jumps in the air and land in the timing of the music. To us, it was like the one "River Dance" move that took place to break up the unending human snake.

However, what mattered more was that the audience kept arriving and they LOVED it. People clapped along with the music, sometimes sang along and yelled and whooped at certain parts. Unlike the music concerts where we would hear some German over here, French over there and a group of British over yonder - this audience was almost exclusively Greek and we were the odd ones out.

We had been told that people came from other islands for the festival. From what we could gather from the groups in colored t-shirts that huddled together in the stands, the dance festival was also a team competition - dance groups competing or at least showing off their skills.

But if the concerts were dull, there were other, more interesting lessons to be learned. Looking out over the crowd, there was enough white smoke rising to proclaim a pope. People everywhere were smoking.

We quickly realized - again - that this was a dance festival for Greeks. In the music festival concerts the Greek-Irish actress woman always announced. "We kindly remind you that there is no smoking, flash photography is prohibited and to please turn off your mobile phones...." after which in my head I would hear, "Next stop, Changi International Airport. Passengers wishing to go to Changi International Airport should wait for the train to come to a complete stop before alighting...."

Clearly these announcements were apparently not standard to an event and were not made in Greek at this one. The crowd was rife with smoking, flash photography and mobile phone ringing. In fact, some took flash photos while smoking and talking on their mobile phones. These people were talented.

I was also impressed with the lack of boundaries when it comes to smoking. We watched a pregnant woman smoking, blowing her smoke onto her two little children sitting next to her. She made no attempt whatsoever to blow it in another direction. Dad and uncle too were smoking away. The young uncle started the evening chewing Nicorette, but gave up within about 20 minutes and lit up - most likely making for an extra special high for him. These kids must live in a cloud of constant smoke.

Greece is definitely a "Right to Smoke" country. One of the things that has impressed me most about Greece is their creative talent at where they smoke. Unlike other smoking countries I've been to - Turkey, France, China, Taiwan, Thailand, Nepal - Greeks take it to a new level.

They smoke while checking into hotels, in public restrooms, in small offices, in banks, in crowds - you name it, they'll smoke there. Our beloved studio-hotel owner Nicholas smokes walking around the hotel and even when walking into people's rooms. There is no assumption, thought or awareness that someone wouldn't like smoke.

Nonetheless, we stayed and gave the dance troops a chance. We tried to develop the cultural palate it takes to appreciate the skill of 30 people taking one step forward, one step back and one to the side as they slowly form a circle on a stage while dressed as if it were an 18th Century Greek village. But we lacked what it took.

Instead, we quietly excused ourselves while the crowds clapped and supported their teams with a community pride that beneath the smokey haze was still clear as daylight or the perfect crescent moon in the beautiful, autumn sky we saw as we rode to dinner.

Sent from my iPad

Time, Love and Nicholas

The man's hand grabbed Emily's wrist from behind just as she was mid-bite into her gyro. She jumped in alarm. He let go and started laughing. Nicholas, our studio-hotel owner was sitting at the next cafe when we were getting dinner yesterday, saw us and enjoyed a quick practical joke. As I've said so many times before - you run into everyone everywhere on this island.

He's such a nice guy. After asking us how we were, he let us know he had arranged for our motorcycle rental for the weekend and then took off with one of his sons to do something or other. He's always doing something - but we really have no idea what.

Yesterday marked the half-way point in our stay on Patmos and I was sad to think about it. Only two more weeks. Other than the two day dance festival that starts tonight, there's really not much on the island we haven't seen or explored.

At the same time, this feeling of mild dread washes over me at the thought of leaving. Patmos is one of the easiest, most beautiful, most manageable places ever. It rates extremely high on the quality of life spectrum - having enough "stuff" to be comfortable and yet, being small and quiet enough that it has the unspoiled magic of a Greek island.

This is probably why Julia Roberts recently bought a house up in Hora and apparently Tom Hanks and Richard Gere also have homes here. According to Nicholas' son - there are no paparazzi here and people wouldn't care if you're a celebrity or not. Julia Roberts can walk down the streets and locals aren't going to stop her or say anything. It must be very freeing for her.

However, people increasingly recognize us after two weeks and we have a lot more waving and saying hello as we pass through town. I can only imagine what would happen if we were here two months.

One thing I feel sure is that neither Samos where we'll go next nor Istanbul can possibly have the wonder we find here. My only - and very big - consolation is Cannes. Few places in the world appeal to me as much as the French Riviera. When I'm writing at a cafe across the street from the beach, enjoying un cafe au lait and pain au chocolate while exercising my French with people named Pierre, Didier, Sophie and Kouadio, I will not be lamenting Patmos.

I will be too busy conjugating verbs and hearing my high school French teacher's voice in my head speaking like Obe Wan Kenobe saying, "Use the subjunctive, Eric.... it occurs with change of subject AND expression an emotion or belief.....remember to conjugate with avoir unless the verb has to do with emotion or certain direct motions like climbing and falling....when the time comes, you'll know what to do....."

What amazes me far more than changes of tense are the passages and feelings of time. We've been in Patmos for two weeks and it feels much longer than our two weeks in Israel. We've been traveling two months and it feels much longer than two months.
Yet, days zip by in minutes. It reminds me of the warped sense of time in Bali where days were either minutes or eternities and I would never know which it would be. Some months flew by while others stood still. Some days, it was hard to be sure which day it was without the help of a calendar. Under Bali's perfumed air, giant skies, lush surroundings, and mystical feel, time has difficulty paying attention to its job. Bali is not a place where time is particularly welcome.

Time has been on my mind, though. My father and his wife, Esther are going on a cruise to South America in November. When I called him the other day he mentioned that Esther's sister passed away recently and they had a neighbor who died too. It made him remember that time is not something you can count on and that it's best to do the things you want most when you know you can.

My father who has muscular dystrophy which affects his legs most, fights against time as he works hard to walk and get around. But he remains determined and I admire that he has committed himself to taking advantage of life and using time well despite the difficulties.

In the end, my father recognized what - for our sanity and well being - we like to ignore most days of the week: we don't have any certainty, right, or entitlement to anything at all. Especially time. Everything is really on a day to day, moment to moment basis.

My former boss, Lisa said one of my favorite things I have ever heard. She helped interview someone I was recruiting and on the call, the person asked about how they can know, for certain that they will have their job long-term. Lisa answered, "I don't know, I'm working on a day to day basis myself. Luckily, the next day just seems to keep coming...." It was a very true and honest answer and one of the things I love about her.

Recently, Emily and I have been using this calm time on Patmos to take care of the travel odds and ends for the next few months - hotel arrangements, local and regional transportation and the hunt for in-room WiFi in Kathmandu. The time in front of us is assumed - and it feels very wonderful and very free.

When I hear the couple upstairs from us with their whiney, crying two-year old, about my father's vacation, or of Emily's parents who work hard at supporting and taking care of Emily's very elderly grandparents - I realize that you never really know what's around the corner. You live your life as best as possible now because the time you think you'll have and what you imagine will happen can come out differently. We have people to care for, kindnesses to pay back and challenges we never imagine lurking.

Emily and I have been blessed with this opportunity to have this time now. And hopefully the year will finish out the way we intend. We have taken some risks and made some tradeoffs to have this time. I believe than when the year is over, and this particular adventure complete, it will be like the largest painting or sculpture in our home. We will have this time to put on the shelf or the wall and enjoy for the rest of our lives. To take advantage of time and to create shared experiences of this kind is a fine art. There is nothing to do but to be grateful.

Sent from my iPad