I’m not proud
The streets filled with over 2 millions of identical gays started to do my head in after the original buzz faded. The amazing drag-queen shows of the LL stage and all the other diverse performances sprayed across Chueca – with the noticeable appearance of Soraya, who sang her Eurovision hit “La noche es para mi” ( does she have any other known hits?), to start off the festivities - was a real feast for the eyes. That is if you could get to them. Crossing the tiniest of street was a heroic deed that would fright Hercules to his very bones. And there was quite an overwhelming amount of overly muscled topless Hercules around. Madrid had never been more international. To such an extent that I don’t think I ever heard anyone speak a word of Spanish during the week long celebration. What had my beloved Madrid been turned into? The holiday destination of the gay jet-setter elite; the charm of the city ripped to shreds, the quirkiness of the streets covered up with rainbow flags and commercialised to the extreme. On Saturday night (supposedly the epicentre of this earth shattering event), I had already thrown away my Infinita tickets in the bin and refused to be proud one more second. “Give me back my Madrid, I’m begging you!” was what I kept shouting from my balcony to the passing gays that kept wanting to invite themselves up. I now understand why every good Spaniard who lives in the city centre fled for a week and rented their flats for ridiculous amounts of money. I should have done the same. By Sunday night, I had it. My good friend Jorge, only a street away from me, called me for rescue (apparently my street wasn’t as bad as his!). We hid and I did not pick up my phone when F.H called me for the millions time to, as she puts it, join the fun.
I wish I had known about Parque del Oueste then. This safe haven, slightly off the city centre is always empty, even when Retiro is bursting with people and there is nowhere to sit, there’s always plenty of room there. To me, Retiro, and its close runner–up Parque del Templo, have lost their crowns. Probably the cutest, most charming park I’ve ever been to, Parque del Oueste, unknown to the public, is the perfect place to sunbathe on a Saturday afternoon or picnic on a Sunday. When in the heart of it, you cannot see a single building or hear a single car, just sit by the tiny river that runs through it and forget about all your troubles.
So one question remains: will I see you there?
