Gay weekend

AOG, Valencia

This weekend I went to Valencia. It was a friend's 50th birthday and he and his partner were flying down from London to celebrate. I was really looking forward to seeing them. We used to go out a lot when I lived in London. We have, somehow, managed to remain friends in spite of the distances- geographical and emotional.

I took a train from Chamartin Station in the North of Madrid and, unfortunately, traveled all the way down facing backwards. Dizzy does not begin to cover it.

My partner came down from Barcelona with a friend who was visiting from New Jersey.

My friends also had another friend of theirs, from Venezuela, over. All in all we were all a very merry bunch.

We made friends very quickly, sort of like children do. I have to say that this does not always happen, but I am glad that it did on this occasion. We seemed to like each other and made each other laugh in the gayest way. It was like a movie sometimes. All we did was have a good time and laugh. So simple!

The city itself is beautiful. The last time I'd been there was in 1990. A different time. And then, I was there only for one day. Hardly time to see any of it.

We went to dinner to celebrate the birthday boy to a homestead-cum-restaurant on one of the rice paddies outside Valencia. Very traditional, so traditional, in fact, that there was a wedding going on too, where the groom was in full Scottish gear. Kilt and all!

So it went, my friends and I. Jokes, laughter, merriment. All fun. All gay. It had been a long time since I'd had one of these.

I suppose some people might wonder what I mean by "gay". I mean the ability to speak our language and know we are being understood. The ability to pinpoint cultural references old and new, classical and made-up, real and fake, and discuss them. The ability to make up a situation on the spot, and have everyone play along for fun. Mannerisms, words, expressions, gestures, borrowed, stolen, made up or personal. All in all, the ability to be yourself with your peers. Finally, peers!!

I remember in High School, back in Texas, how my classmates were my peers "in theory". In fact, I remember that back then I thought of very few people as being on the same mental wavelength as I was. None of them were, to my knowledge, gay. The ones who, sort of, approached what I would call peerdom, were one or two people in Drama class, one or two in French class. And the odd classmate here and there. I think it is a shame that I had no gay friends back then. It would have helped a lot. Alas, it was not to be.

And this past weekend was all about that. Carefree bantering. Jokes, applause, sightseeing, conversation, looking at people and being looked at back. I wish I had more of these. It is ironic, perhaps, that everyone who met up this weekend in Valencia lives everywhere except Valencia.

Maybe that was part of the magic?

Customs old and new

AOG, Madrid

A few days ago I went to a wedding in the Basque country. One of my partner’s cousins was getting married. It was held in the town of Markina, halfway between Durango and San Sebastian.

It was great.

I was enthralled by the family spirit of the whole thing.

I was lucky enough to witness some old customs, and some new ones, as well as the first lashes of culture clash.

It is traditional in the Basque Country for a dance of honor called “Aurresku” to be performed just outside the church once the bride and groom have been married.

In this dance, the male dancer does a step whereby his leg is outstretched and kicked upwards all the way to his face. Amazing. No Ballets Russes here.

This was the traditional part.

The new custom, it would appear, would be the letting out of fireworks as the newlyweds walk past their guests and into the car.

Everyone remarked on it and asked (and by everyone I mean everyone) if the bride was from Valencia.

You see, aside from Paella, Valencia is known for its fallas and its fireworks. If you think the Chinese have cornered the market on loud firework displays, you’ve never been to Valencia.

So there it was, 2 customs, one old, one new, both surprising since, these days, it is less and less common to see weddings where the Aurresku is performed. But there were still new customs to be seen.

We were treated afterwards to a delicious wedding banquet in a lovely restored traditional basque homestead located in the mountains. Think Swiss Alps with log cabins, but add a couple of stories, make them bigger, and use stone, not wood.

It was white fenced throughout and everyone said it was very atypical to see white fencing. Personally, I thought I was in Virginia!

At our table were sat my partner’s brother and his wife, as well as his sister, and their cousins and wives. It was amazing to hear all the childhood pranks these people got into. It was great. I liked how they were telling stories 15, 20, even 30 years old. How they spoke of their joint childhood, their common stories, adventures, and the times they got in trouble too.

How they referred to each other's parents as "Auntie this" and "Uncle that".

I loved being witness to all that.

On of them was taking about his own daughters; he was worried about how they would try to outsmart him and how he was powerless to stop them. Well, much like his own parents I suppose.

Was this not the eternal family wheel upon which all humanity is thrust into? Childhood, youth, adulthood, patterns which repeat themselves albeit with new actors.

I kept thinking how lucky they all were by being able to grow up with family members their age, and that they are still in touch with each other. What a wonderful thing.

The bride and groom were surrounded by their loved ones and we didn't get much of a chance to talk to them.

For me it was also a great opportunity to get to know better some of my partner's family, and to learn how everyone is related. My family being so small, it was great to be able to do this.

Customs anew...

It is worth noting two of the banquet’s waitresses. One of them, in her early 20s or younger, blonde, blue eyed, prim, proper, white-gloved throughout, very professional, and, genetically designed not to laugh at anyone’s jokes.

She would come over with food, tell us what it was. Wait for us to grab a portion. Then split. If a joke was uttered, she either ignored it, or raised above it. We were actually embarrassed to make any jokes when she came round. She was not mean or anything, just trying to be professional I suppose.


The other waitress was definitely my favourite.

In her early to mid 40s, or younger perhaps, blonde, hazel eyed, tanned, muscular, prim, proper, white-gloved throughout, very professional, and, genetically designed to be a different gender once upon a time.

Some people mentioned that she was a body builder who used a lot of steroids, and that that was why she was so muscular and had such a masculine gait to her.

My partner and I differed. She was lovely. Which is why I was convinced that she might have started life with different gonads at one point in her existence.

She walked in heels like a football player would, and her hair was reminiscent of Ivana Trump. Her fake nails were the size of spoons. Yes, she could have tackle d anyone if she had wanted to. But it was all very dignified.

My partner and I loved the fact that the place which held the wedding banquet had the good taste to hire her. A new custom.

The old and the new. Just another day in Spain.