The Adventures of QueerPenguin

Part 6: Sitges the Porn Movie

Before leaving, every homo without fail blurted out, the second I mentioned I was visiting Barcelona: "Sitges!" I guess it can be described as Spain´s Brighton: the coastal village that´s almost too gay to function.

Stu and I arrived in Sitges in the afternoon, set up in a basic but not unpleasant hotel and, after doing laundry (I know, the highlight of anybody´s overseas trip), arrived at the infamous gay beach of Spain. We had a clue it might be gay due to the presence of 300 men sunbaking compared to 5 topless women, none of whom were receiving any attention. Our respective slight and pasty white bodies - not to mention Speedos and board shorts - were in stark contrast to the golden tanned super pecs and tighty boxer-brief bathers, but hey, you have to start the tanning process somewhere. My first dip in the Mediterranean was a truly indulgent experience - the afternoon water was so warm and placid. I was drowning in the sea of beauty when I chanced to hear 2 English speakers. I looked over to see two young spunks - one of whom was wearing a ripped D&G top - cavorting with a soccer ball and each other. The novelty of hearing English was enough for me to introduce myself and soon I was friendly with Simon and Kevin, two Irish boys also travelling through Europe. We mistakenly believed we were staying in the same hotel and almost missed each other after agreeing to meet up for drinks, but thankfully we ran into each other at a bar and our Sitges experience truly began.

After an amazing dinner of the best paella I´ve ever had (accompanied with not so great red and white wine sangria), we hit the bars and clubs. I was unabashedly in lust with Simon, the toned and tanned property expert oozing seductive charm and confidence, but it was Kevin (also remarkably cute) who I bonded with, the sensitive and very talented flautist about to begin a career with (if my hazy memory serves) the UK symphony orchestra. Stu, meanwhile, was also gettin jiggy with our new Irish friends, and so several drinks and hours of fine conversation later, going to a club that required patrons to strip down to their underwear seemed the natural thing to do.

Although the first underwear club was a little disappointing, the second one was a treat, not least because that night Trailer´s (as it was aptly called) was hosting a foam party. For diplomatic reasons, I cannot go into extensive details as to how the foam party climaxed around 5:30am. Instead I´ll refer totally randomly and on a different topic to the words "men" and "eight" and "public". Those crazy Spaniards, eh? Crazy Irishmen, too.

We were lucky enough to run into Simon again, curing his hangover as I was by dumping himself in the Mediterranean. The four of us caught the train back to Barcelona and promised to stay in touch. My London experiences have taught me to take such promises with a grain of salt, but in the case of these two boys I really hope they´re sincere. They were fantastic ambassadors for Ireland and they helped Stu and I have by far the highlight of our time together in Barcelona.

posted by Sam @ Saturday, June 25, 2005