So what benefit, apart from social, do people derive from their banio? Well, I notice that Greek people stay in the water much longer than I do, rather in the same way as they stay in late night bars beyond my cut off time of 2am. After all, there is so much to talk about, and I suppose they benefit from treading water, much more so than drinking whisky.

 Occasionally there are tensions. I have to speak Greek and sometimes have difficulty explaining things through lack of vocabulary. There is a lady who joins the group who exudes wealth, even in a bathing costume. When other people understand me, she insists on asking them what I am saying or talking about: a bit like a certain British comedy grandmother, but less crudely.

Then there is Madame Blancmange: a large lady in a floppy hat with a yellow ‘macaroni’ tied to her wrist. To be fair, she is always friendly and polite once you are accustomed to the look. More recently, one of the ladies’ group complimented me on my Greek, but then pronounced that Greek is the basis of all the world’s languages. I immediately told her it wasn’t true, and that Greek was part of the Indo European group of languages, which had their origin in Sanskrit.

 I know this makes me sound like an arrogant clever dick, but I had prepared this after countless pompous statements about Greek, usually by old men. Her reply was that her version was “etsi pos lene”: “that’s what they say.” For a few days she  avoided speaking to me until I successfully changed the subject. After all, nothing could be more important than the temperature of the water, and linguistic theory could be put on hold, indefinitely

Over the years, I have always been impressed by the very relaxed attitude of Greek bathers, especially when it comes to how they look. It’s hot and bathing cools us all off,  so who cares what we look like? Compare that to French or Latin attitudes, where appearances are everything, and people are often stigmatised for their physical imperfections. I remember being refused entry to a nightclub on the Côte d’Azur for having ‘ugly chest hair’. It was not ‘aesthetic’: a popular misuse of a basically philosophical term. In my favourite bathing spot here, I do have some reservations when it comes to leaving the water via the ladders provided. If one of the ladies climbs the ladder before me, I tend to give them space. I’m not sure  they are aware of how vulnerable they are in that situation, or perhaps they don’t care. I think the reader can supply their own image. Either way, I give them said space out of respect! Over the years I have noticed how those same ladies are adept at changing in public, making exotic dancers pall into insignificance!

 One thing I like to do, which involves me going off to a space of my own, is to sing. What is it about water, be it in baths, showers and, in my case, in the sea, that makes us want to burst into song ? Still, I find it immensely enjoyable, and even more surprisingly, I often sing in Spanish! That predilection goes back to two friendships, one with a Spanish woman in London, who loved visiting the Mani, and the other with a Colombian guy. They both encouraged me to appreciate old Hispanic, usually Mexican, favourites. I was given a Christmas gift in the millennium year of a Los Panchos collection: ‘Mil Años Mas de Amor’, and my Colombian friend introduced me to Natalia Lafourcade, who sings old  Mexican songs as well as her own originals. They are all romantic and very tuneful: a great accompaniment to a blissful early evening swim in the waters of Greece. In fact, my ultimate fantasy is neither sexual nor money related, but to bob slowly towards the setting sun, singing old Mexican songs, never to return.