The Sponge-Seller’s Intern

 I met Panormitis, sponge-seller of Symi, when he called me out as the new girl in town as I was walking past his shop on the waterfront. Because it was my second day in Symi, a town where most tourists stay for all of four hours, my presence had been noted. During the course of our conversation, he offered me a job at his shop the next morning.

The sponge industry is one of Symi’s oldest, and one of the economic bedrocks of the island.  Symi had been at the center of the sponge industry for thousands of years because the island’s clear waters allow divers to find sponges even 50-60 meters below the surface, which are of the highest quality and strength. Back in the day, everyone in the Ancient World scrubbed down with a Symian sponge. Now the sponge industry has dwindled to novelty items, catering mostly to tourists who want some deep-sea bathroom decorations.

I arrived at Panormitis’s shop at 11 am the next morning, a few minutes before the first tourist ship unloaded its cargo. When the tourists arrived, I listened to Panormitis’s speech about the different types of sponges and why each is a bath necessity. The large ones are good for body scrubbing, the long rough ones are for back scratching, the hard ones are for exfoliating dead skin. The “elephant ear” sponges are the softest and most delicate, found at 100-150m below the surface, and also the most expensive sponge in the shop. “Ladies, this is perfect for removing makeup, or washing a baby’s skin,” Panormitis said, passing one around for examination. “Sponges, they are not plants. They are animals. But they are asexual—I love sponges, but I do not envy them.”

Gabriel, one of Panormitis’ assistants winked at me. “He gives the same speech every time. Exactly the same jokes.”

It was interesting being on the other side of the tourism industry, even for only a few hours.  Gabriel was right; Panormitis gave the same speech in English, Italian, and Russian (with a translator,) and it always worked. After hearing Panormitis explain the marine biology behind sponges, their historical significance, and the necessity of exfoliating every day to maintain silky-smooth skin, nearly every tourist decided they needed a Symian sponge. Over and over I watched their expressions go from skeptical interest to fevered spongelust.

 My job was to assist in the frenzy of sponge-purchasing that inevitably followed the speech. Each tourist off the boat got a free pumice stone with their 10% off purchase, and I was responsible for making sure everybody got one. I also helped with English-speaking customers when Panormitis was busy, and made change when there were too many purchases going on at once.

And even sponge-selling interns fetch coffee.