I’m a bit hesitant about even starting this post because I can already picture Caitlin giving me The Look and drawling, “Okay, Joan.”*
* A word or two of explanation. Just as “Devil’s Toenail” is Brownie code for an overrated, overhyped and completely worthless attraction, “Okay, Joan” is Caitlin’s gentle way of reminding me that I may be inappropriately channeling Joan Rivers. To wit: too personal, too gossipy, too judgemental and usually abrasive, insensitive or both. Patently ridiculous, of course.
I will admit, however, that this post could be a virtual hive of “Okay, Joan”. Just place your own wherever you feel it’s appropriate and don’t bother sharing it with me. So here’s the story:
One of the things Maspalomas is famous for is its dunes:
So naturally, I had to see them. I had just stepped off the boardwalk and onto the path that eventually led to the beach, when I noticed an elderly gentleman approaching me and I had one of those ”WTF” moments - when your brain realizes something just isn’t right but can’t quite figure out what exactly is wrong. As he got closer, I finally realized what it was. He was stark naked.
“No problem,” I said to myself. “Highly unusual, but I’ve been around. I can easily handle this.”
We casually greeted each other and went our separate ways - in every sense of the word. Problem solved. However, as I approached the beach, I began to notice a somewhat disturbing trend. All my fellow dune enthusiasts were male and most of them were attired in a similar manner to my first friend. (I feel this is perhaps an appropriate time to use the Seinfeldism, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” since it’s undoubtedly what you’re all thinking anyway).
By the time I actually reached the cluster of orange beach chairs and umbrellas, it was painfully obvious that “somebody” was The Odd Man Out. Perhaps you’d like to see for yourselves, although I feel it my duty to point out to the Catholics that just looking at these photos is probably a mortal sin, so you may want to make “arrangements” beforehand.
I know, I know - shame on me for even taking these photos.
Almost immediately, my brain was flooded with questions - and one of them is NOT “Should I join them?” No, not at all. Here are some examples of what I’m wondering:
1. Is this a Gay Guy thing? It certainly goes a step beyond the European penchant for skimpy beach attire - males in Speedos and females in bikini bottoms, regardless of age or physical attributes. In case you’re wondering: not a fan, could do without it, but hey, it’s your body.
2. What’s the point? I can at least see the topless thing - tan lines, etc., but what is the rationale for this? Is it a “free to be you and me” thing? Is my junk going to be on public display at some point?
3. Why am I even thinking about this shit? What is going on in my head? Questions you’re probably asking as well, along with, “Why am I even reading this? I have vacuuming to do.”
Whatever. These questions will never be answered, although I did discover that Gran Canaria, and Maspalomas, in particular, is a well-known ultra gay friendly destination, so much so that “straight” people are actually asking on forums if it’s SAFE to come here. (Of course it is. Just make sure you put a large “S” on your forehead with magic marker and wear red M C Hammer pants. You’ll be fine. Honestly, just when you think you’re bad...).
Perhaps this should have tipped me off. But when you’re not looking...
But enough of that. On a more personal, and somewhat unsettling, “unusual” note I have to admit that I’m not reacting well to seeing couples, particularly geriatric ones (okay, fine, my age) strolling hand in hand everywhere I turn. Not their fault, of course and hopefully simply a function of the locale and my recent change in marital status, but still....super annoying. And, of course, once it starts it’s like that crappy song you can’t get out of your head (“Sugar...ahhh honey, honey. You are my candy girl....”). Worse than that, the sighting is usually immediately followed by many unkind thoughts. “Hey, you fat cow! Move that fucking walker out of my way.” It’s so wrong and I’m deeply ashamed - until I see the next farts approaching. I’m working on it. I’m fairly certain that leaving here will help.
Finally here’s something in a lighter vein. Remember when you were a kid and Mom & Dad packed everyone in the car & you drove (lying on the back window shelf) to Santa’s Village and Frontiertown? Guess what? You can recapture those halcyon days here. I kept driving by a sign saying, “Sioux City Park” & wondering what it could possibly be until one day I decided to investigate and stumbled on this:
Hell, yeah! Yippee-ay-o-ki-yay!
That’s right, folks. Complete with gunfights, robberies & bad guys falling off buildings. NOW you’re thinking of coming aren’t ya?
And so much for Gran Canaria. Today I bid a fond, and definitely final, adieu to this paradise. Having said that, I can definitely see the appeal for a certain kind of traveller/vacationer - in fact, perhaps the majority. Super cheap flight from Europe, literally hundreds upon hundreds of all-inclusive hotels, good weather every day and all the comforts of home. Just not for me.
So on to Barcelona - unfortunately by myself since the corona virus outbreak has caused Sarah and her asthma to abandon all hope of surviving both airports and cramped flights. Alas, Mr. Solo Do Lo continues his lonely journey. You’re feelin’ me, right?
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