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Sarongs
in Santorini
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When ever some hot weather appears in the UK we see many
women who regularly wear trousers suddenly change to wearing skirts, with
the sensible objective of keeping cool and comfortable.
As a man, it appears that I do not have that option and
must be confined to trousers, long or short. I too would like to wear
a garment which is less confining, and far more comfortable than trousers.
I'd like to wear a garment such as the kilt, or the sarong, as worn by
men in other parts of the world or, indeed, one of the many skirts which
are now made specifically for men. I might add that I have absolutely
no desire whatsoever to become, dress, act or pass as a woman. In these
days of so-called equality, I simply want the option to wear something
other than trousers.
During 2002, I wore shorts while cruising in the Mediterranean
and ended up with beetroot coloured legs from the knee down, and white
above. And it was too hot to wear long trousers just to keep the sun off.
Since that holiday I've discovered the comfort of sarongs, so decided
that this year (2003) I was not going to wear long or short trousers unless
I wanted to. Below is a diary of my holiday on the Greek
island of Santorini where I wore a sarong as a matter of course, and thoroughly
enjoyed the experience!
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| Wednesday:
Our first day in Kamari so I went incognito (wore shorts)
to get a flavour of the place. Everyone was going about their business as
usual; the women wore long trousers, short trousers, long skirts, short
skirts (some very short!) and arrrghh - sarong trousers i.e. a sarong on
each leg - what more can women do to trousers, that symbol of manliness?
And the men, being courageous and adventurous, wore ... trousers. We went
on an excursion in the evening, which included a walk around the capital
(Thira) and dinner in a restaurant. During the day I'd became uncomfortably
hot in shorts, so I decided to take the plunge and wear a sarong on the
excursion - first time in public! Had to be careful getting on and off the
coach because I didn't want to tread on the hem and pull it off myself.
Reactions? In Thira a couple of girls giggled and I felt self-concious for
a few seconds, but smiled and kept on walking. An older woman glared at
me in the restaurant, but I ignored her. My wife told me that several people
looked at me and she'd looked back at them "At least I
know you're a man" she said, with a twinkle in her eye. |
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| Thursday:
Wore shorts again in the morning. We went for walk to the
local village where I bought another sarong, bringing my wardrobe to six.
The weather was too hot for shorts in the afternoon so, encouraged by last
evening, I donned a sarong. I used my camera bag to carry money, keys, water
and a pair of shorts for emergency (never required), and cameras. We went
to Thira on the public bus. While walking down the 500+ steps (so I'm told,
I didn't count them) to the landing stage, just for something to do, my
wife chatted to a woman who commented positively on my sarong. (The name
David Beckham seems to be inextricably linked with sarongs; good guy, that
man.) We rode the cable car back to the top. The temperature was 26°C
but I was cool and comfortable. We went to the local taverna in the evening;
I wore my 'best' sarong - it's a much heavier rayon and is a beautiful deep
purple with white batik Kiwis. Received some looks but no comments.
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| Friday:
Threw caution to the winds and abandoned trousers completely
for the rest of the holiday (except Sunday). Absolute bliss! Had a very
positive reaction from our female tour rep., so gave her an 'excellent'
rating on the post-holiday questionaire. While walking past the hotel pool
thought I heard someone say "That's not a bad idea". Thought they
might have been referring to the sarong, but might not. We spent most of
the day walking around the local village, and sat in a bar next to the sea
drinking in the view and the beer. Visited the local taverna again in the
evening. Same reaction as last night. Wife beginning to get fed up with
me saying how nice it is not to wear trousers. |
| Saturday:
Sarong again today. Boy, this is liberation from trouser
tyranny! Took the bus to Thira then had to wait for a connecting bus to
Oia in the north of the island. Lots of people milling around the bus station.
Some looks, mainly from women, but no comments. Spent much of that period
looking at two girls in skirts that just couldn't be any shorter and stay
decent. It was very hot at Oia and I felt sorry for the guys wearing shorts
and trousers. I hope they envied me. We had our evening meal in the local
taverna again. Same reaction as last night i.e. none. |
| Sunday:
We went on a boat trip to various islands in the
caldera and walked up the volcano. Decided to wear shorts for this (isn't
it nice to have the choice between trousers and something else, rather than
trousers or ... trousers). It would be windy on the boat and I'd be fighting
skirts blowing around all day, so shorts were more practical. However, took
a sarong in my camera bag just in case. Wore my 'best' sarong to the local
taverna in the evening. There was a Greek band playing and the proprieter's
son (14) started one of those Greek dances which is like a conga but everyone
holds hands, collecting people from the tables as it weaves its way around
the room. My heart was thumping; I hoped he wouldn't come my way but of
course he did! Those diners remaining seated were treated to Charlie dancing
in a sarong - a world first, complete with two left feet. Someone took my
picture. One guy in shorts made a feeble excuse not to get up and dance
because he was sending a text message, although he made his wife get up.
I felt good about him being chicken. |
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| Monday:
Saronged all day again. We took a water taxi around the headland
to the next village up the coast. We had to wade into the surf and climb
a ladder to get onto the boat. The water was quite choppy so I had to gather
my skirt up just like the ladies do, but climbed up the ladder in a most
macho fashion. At the other end I couldn't hold the sarong and climb down
the ladder, and I wasn't going to tuck it into my undies like my wife did
with her skirt, so the bottom 6" got a soaking and clung to my legs
until it dried. We walked along the front past the bars; one of the waiters
said "Nice skirt" so I took it as a compliment. We were both amused
when we heard a wolf-whistle but were a bit disappointed when we discovered
it came from a caged bird in one of the shops. During the day we chatted
to several couples who all treated us quite naturally as if I was dressed
in the usual dull male way. |
| Tuesday:
Last day of the holiday. Wore a sarong until just before
departure for the airport at 9 pm. Putting trousers on again was not pleasant,
but I was glad of them when we reached England (Santorini 26°C, England
somewhere near freezing at 2 am). This was changeover day, with lots of
new pale faces, and the day for most reactions. As I walked past them, a
couple of girls laughed that sort of loud, forced laugh people use when
they are trying to embarrass you, and laughed again as I returned a few
minutes later. My wife wanted to do the verbal equivalent of punching their
lights out, but we ignored them and agreed that they were only drawing attention
to themselves. Got some looks from other men in shorts of various lengths,
but thought "You wait until your legs are burning. Perhaps the old
guy in the sarong wasn't so daft after all". Saw a guy walking along
wearing a towel as a short skirt and felt encouraged; I was sat down having
a beer at the time so he didn't see me. Some school kids looked and grinned
so I smiled back. Went to the taverna for the last time and met a lady called
Connie and her friend who were from Arizona. Connie said my wife and I were
'cool people' but didn't specifically mention the sarong. Still, we took
it as a compliment. |
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Finale:
By the end of the week the normally quiescent showman in
me started to emerge so, when entering the local taverna I'd stand by
the door while looking for a table to sit at, giving the other patrons
a chance to see a man in a skirt. During the holiday we mixed with, and
spoke to people from England, America, Germany, France, Denmark, South
Africa and of course, Greece. Hopefully they all went away with a positive
memory of 'the guy in the skirt'.
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