EKGs, Warm Beer and a Global Community

I was a bit self conscious about making a solo trip to Santorini, Greece. I understood it to generally be a place of utmost romance and assumed it was structured toward people showing up in twos -- tables for two, two-person kayaks and so on. And while eating alone in a restaurant doesn't generally cause me too much angst, I do feel a moment of self-conciousess when sitting down while a host actively clears the second place setting -- "I can see we won't be needing this!" -- because, you know, the second place setting is just there doing no harm, and then the unsubtle expression that they think there's zero percent chance this scenario might change for while there. It's 2024 -- one swipe and maybe someone would be there in minutes. 

So I was so entirely caught off guard and thankful for some days on Santorini where I felt -- warning that a cliche is about to drop -- part of a global community. It was several notable moments the kind that hit deep when you realize some shared decency and humanity pays off in such profoundly simple ways, and you wonder how things went so astray to have the conflicts, hatred and inequities that exist today. I also didn't expect my first ever EKG would be in Santorini. 

The basis of this trip was to participate in a two-day swim and run event. The swim would be in the Mediterranean, and the run would be relentless series of up and down on a combination of trails and cobblestone. For the swim, the event required clearance from a doctor. I didn't really know what would suffice as a "clearance" so I took a guess a few months prior and during a routine physical, asked if they would provide some sort of "to whom it may concern" letter that I was unlikely to become fish food in the Mediterrean if I chose to go for a long swim.

Well, that didn't suffice. The clearance had to come from a cardiologist, and when I was told that, I instantly giggled and smirked at how impossible that would have been to get, had I read those details, or how much that would have cost me in the good 'ol US health care system. 

So they sent me off to the Heart Spot, home of Santorini's one cardiology clinic. I showed up thinking this was maybe some sort of pre-arranged event logistic with the clinic. That was not the case. This wasn't part of a larger "drop in for an EKG" day at clinic in prep for the swim. The nice people at Heart Spot reacted as a cardiology clinic should when a tourist drops in among a waiting room full of patients -- some with oxygen tanks and others outside smoking cigarettes -- and requests a "quick exam."  I actually used those dumb words, like some sort of "cardio light" exam was on the menu of options. In these moments where I am coming from a place of pure compliance -- in this case, compliance with event rules -- I just want co-conspirators to help move through the rules as quick as possible. Even if they are cardiologists, it turns out.

"What is the problem exactly?," the receptionist asked. " If you feel something serious you should go to the hospital." 

"No, it's clearance for the swim." 

"The swim?" 

"Tomorrow's swim event? The Santorini Experience" (the name of the swim).

It was at this point that I accepted that I had misjudged the magnitude of The Santorini Experience, that it was not an all-community affair the way the Boston Marathon is to Boston, or the annual summer Corn Feed is to Grey Eagle, Minnesota. I wondered this during my earlier interaction at the 'event headquarters', a folding table outside a sports equipment store.

Some Greek conversation was exchanged among the two office staff. I have no idea what was said, but it felt like there was a negotation between empathy and the realities of a packed appointment schedule.

"All of these people have appointments" and the receptionist made a graceful sweeping motion with her arm, like she was in a theater and introducing the patients to me collectively. 

"Yes, I can wait as long as needed. Or I can come back," leaving exactly two options for consideration, both of which would strategically result in an exam if they played along with my version of options. I didn't want to sound desperate -- though I was -- so I did my best to express desperation with my eyes. I'm not sure what the expression looks like exactly on the receiving end but when I replicate it in the mirror, I'm not sure it conveys desperate and more sure it conveys burglar-caught-in-the-act. 

We reached a compromise where I could wait as long as I wanted and if appointments moved faster than estimated -- also knows as "likely never"  -- the accumulated time could be used for an exam. I took this as a win. If I waited two, three, four hours, and even if not so much as a single minute was banked from prior appointments, they surely wouldn't send me off exam-less. There would be reward for my patience and commitment. For some reason, I was determined and steadfast about swimming a distance I've never swam before in a body of water with currents and a lot of literal depth. 

If there's one thing I excel at that is also a massive character flaw, it's (errantly) observing ways people do stuff inefficiently. Boarding planes, self-check out at supermarkets, everything that involves processing reimbursement at my place of employment, for example. And that same mindset was activated here where I needed to figure out where minutes could be banked and build up over an afternoon; my swim was at the mercy of appointment durations.

Waiting rooms -- despite their name -- have too much waiting. They are opportunity cost sinkholes. I was acutely observant finding the potential for 30 seconds of time saving here, 60 seconds there, and exactly no power to make any of it happen, odd as it would be even if I did. It had the makings for a wonderfully mediocre short film. A group of cardio patients brought together thru collective action and the shared goal of making the swimming dreams of a tourist come true. And we would be successful! Together in community, the cardio patients would move swiftly and even come to the event and cheer loudly! "We are one with the tourist," they would say! One of eight gazillion tourists who crowd the streets of Santorini and bring tremendous inconvenience to their lives.

In the end, the waiting room now empty, I got my exam. Wires were attached to legs, feet, chest and arms. Then an ultrasound. I proudly answered "never" when asked if I had ever received either procedure before. I resisted verbalizing the many dumb jokes and comments going through my mind. "Do you need an adapter since my body is used to 120V?" "Is it a boy or girl." "Hey doc, last time I was laying down with clamps....." And so on. None of it was impressive and therefore remained unspoken. There must literally be nothing to say that is both funny and new in those moments to a cardiologist.

All of that said, it was pretty interesting to watch the screen as the doctor patiently explained what he was looking at. But to be honest, if someone showed me the ultrasound of my heart and said it was an ultrasound of their baby, I would believe it. I bet 50% of the time someone showed me a picture of their ultrasound, I pretended to see the baby. Blob and baby are hard for me to distinguish, it turns out. Because that's the kind of bonehead I can be. 

Cleared to swim, I did exactly that the next day. We loaded up on a boat. Instructions were given in Greek and also translated humorously but technically correct in English. "After 90 minutes if you are not finished, the boat will come take you out." "The buoy is required in the case of your cramps makes you sink." This was only my third ever open water swim event, and what I remember from the previous two is the start feels like a mosh pit in the water. If we took the inverse of this scenario and dumped a bucket of minnows onto dry land, there would be chaos amidst the frantic movement and flopping around, and that's what the start to an open water swim is like. There is no order or structure, just a few minutes of chaos as bodies settled into their spacing and paces. Eventually it settles down. 

I finished -- that was the victory I wanted -- and I was only whistled at twice by jet ski marshals as I unknowingly veered too far off course toward Malta, and I considered that an additional victory.

At the end of the swim there are massive speakers playing inspirational sport music, the kind that I associate with filler music played while Olympians proceed to the podium but before a national anthem is played. There were flares sending off smoke and flames at the finish as well. There was an inflatable archway to run underneath after you exit the water. And cheering family and friends of participants. It was all so fantastically corny and appreciated that after I finished, I sat on the pier with my legs dangling over the side and took it all in, as other swimmers finished their race. It was there that I met other participants, all of us with free warmer beers in hand, everyone eventually sitting similarly along the pier cheering on the additional swimmers, and in between, covering the usual business of where they're from, how long they're staying, reactions to their swim, and so on. The dangling feet represented Italy, Hungary, Greece, Spain and Uzbekistan. Someone would finish their warm beer and go get more for the group, speaking the global language of "free beer, even if it's warm" is a good beer. There was no pretense or judgement to be detected in the slightest, only the genuine curiosity about other people's lives, and the unspoken acknowledgement that among this diversity of lives, we all ended up on a pier in Santorini at the same time. 

Before the swim I met Julia, a woman about my age from the United States, who shared that she had beaten cancer the year before, and this year she was focused on rebuilding her endurance for swimming and running. She said she didn't care if she was last; Santorini was her reward for beating cancer. We talked about the shared oddities of introverts trying to meet people while traveling solo -- we're introverts but not hermits; we do need some interaction -- and she spoke carefully but honestly about her diagnosis and treatment journey of the past two years. Julia wasn't last, and watching her finish the last few meters of her swim, I wondered what that must feel like, and I hoped it felt f-ing awesome to her. 

The next day was the run, a 15km out and back journey of which maybe 1km was on any sort of even surface. Loose trail and cobblestone comprised the rest. Also, Santorini lacks shade. Like it really, really lacks shade, because there almost no trees. It was a hot run carried out with heads facing down to be attentive to foot strikes on uneven ground. Right toward the end, another runner -- Filip from Poland -- and I were at a similar pace on a narrow stretch of the trail where it was only possible to run single file. He stepped aside for a moment to let me pass at the top of the final hill, I declined politely,as we were within 100m or so of the finish and this wasn't the type of event where passing people in a final burst seemed at all appropriate, but he said he wanted to take a moment at the top of the hill and see if he could locate his fiancee who was also running. As I went by he told me to " be fast like you know how," then clapped and cheered until I finished. I had literally just met him and he felt like my biggest fan for the last 20-30 seconds of the run.

At the finish, we high fived and got to talking while he waited for his fiancee, and learned they would be eloping the next day. Filip's energy and attitude was infectious. So upbeat, positive and geuninely happy, and he carried himself like it was his job was to spread that happiness broadly and ambitiously. Granted, he was less than 24 hours from getting married on Santorini, but still, this was a guy that if I lived in the same town, would be on my A list friend group.

Also in the run was a couple from Tampa, Florida. They left for their vacation two days before a hurricane, which they learned had destroyed their condo. Faced with the news while on vacation, they opted to continue their travels. He had a very pragmatic explanation -- it wasn't like they had a place to go home to, and it would be awhile before they could get the kind of remediation needed --- while she took a more restorative and almost spiritual approach, that maybe it was best they were in Greece, that it helped put things in perspective that the condo is just full of their stuff, and why give up an experience to get back and survey your damaged stuff. LIfe is about experiences, not stuff, and they needed to be true to that mantra, she said. 

There was Sam, a runner from the UK who ran the Berlin Marathon six days prior in a lightning fast time of 2:40, and learned about the Santorini run through casual internet browsing and figured "why not." I don't know what kind of recovery juice he's drinking, but a 2:40 marathon would take its toll on most legs and need some rest to fully get back to form yet he managed a 5th place finish in this race a week later. He was quiet, brainy and so, so nice. The quintessential nice guy. 

Filip's fiancee, Magda, crossed the finish line, and by that time several of us were now, I believe the term is, "hanging out." We had all fallen for Filip's big positive energy and we wanted to meet the person he would soon be marrying. She, too, gave off "good human" energy. Some people just have that vibe of sincere goodness, and are able to share it with others in such natural and humble ways by just....by just being who they are. We all knew something -- their impending marriage -- neither of their families knew, and I felt honored, as odd as it looks to write that, given my history with both of them was literally less than a full hour. But I think we all felt it, and that's why we spent more time that any of us anticipated standing in the hot Santorini sun drinking, again, free warm beer and with no clear agenda or obvious purpose other than being in that moment. Despite some of their previous plans or reservations for lunch, a kayak tour, or catching a bus, we hung around. It was too good, and for the most simple reasons. 

Santorini isn't just for the romance seekers, though I can certainly see why it works so well for that purpose too. Sunrises and sunsets are indeed other-worldly on Santorini, and there are literally hundreds of patios tiered one over the other to take it all in with a glass of wine and linen outfits that flow like they're supposed to in a sunset. It has plenty of over-touristed places and moments as well-- the middle part of the day when multiple cruise ships unload their thousands of passengers are unbearable, something that could be described as aggressive gelato-seeking. But like many places, you learn where to find the pockets of a place, its ebbs and flows, that align with who you are, and take advantage of those opportunities for yourself while tolerating the other parts. Shop owner and coffee shop servers are happy to chat and share life about life in Santorini and Greek culture more broadly, though not in mid-afternoon when throngs of people demand their attention.

Santorini offered up an EKG, a temporary global community, a sense of accomplishment, warm beer, and yes, incredible sunsets and daily gelato. Some of that I anticipated, and some of it I didn't, and it's often the stuff we didn't see coming that we feel most gratitude for afterward.

October 2024