Viva España
Fairy Tales is 2! So in order to honour this second anniversary I have a confession to make: I was wrong. On July 4, Madrid turned gay and the clever organizers of Pride once again planned the event a week after the entire world had already paid homage to the Stonewall uprising of June 28, 1969. Millions of gays, proud as peacocks, were brought together to turn Gran Via into a street party that would put to shame Sydney’s renowned Mardi Gras.
After last year debacle (see Fairy Tales, August Issue 2009), I wasn’t really looking forward to having the city invaded once more by muscles maries and Lady Gaga impersonators. To my surprise though, on seeing Gran Via drowning in a sea of topless hunks and naked naiads, I felt exhilarated. The combination of bare flesh, booze and classic Spanish tunes pumping electrifying the city, I had to stand still for a moment and let it wash over me. I was proud. Proud to live in a city that could bring people together in such a way that races, ages and religions didn’t matter, all that mattered was having a good time. It was like the recession had never happened. People were dancing with strangers, throwing buckets of water from balconies, getting wet, getting it on and blowing their vuvuzelas. Add to that La Roja’s victory in the semi final of the World Cup and you get an unforgettable night of pure madness.
The parade always ending with a show on Plaza España, Orgullo 2010 was no exception. They had begged Lady Gaga to come but she ignored their desperation. Instead Kylie was to perform for free. Whatever you may think of Kylie, there is one thing that’s for sure: she has never let a gay down.
We waited for nearly three hours and were fed secondary acts like Daniel Diges and its algo pequeño, a whole bunch of Operacion Triunfo leftovers and – hold your horses – the Vengaboys! Remember them? The nineties biggest mistake that rolled into town on a bus with cowboy hats, well, they are back with (according to them) the gayest single IN THE WORLD – Shoot me now, please! I feared the crowd would lose it, storm the palace and start decapitating royalties but they waited patiently and so did I. The Vengaboys finally cleared the stage in the faintest of applauds and moments later, the other Queen of Pop herself stepped onto the stage of Plaza España, the crowd welcoming roar literally shaking Cervantes.
I only saw glimpses of her but I didn’t care. Surrounded by friendly Spaniards that shared their drinks with me, I danced and screamed and had the time of my life like the other three million people that were there. Never before had I seen such a humongous crowd peacefully playing together. This is what makes Madrid the unique place that it is; under a blasting sun that never tires, the Spaniards will hand you a drink, smile and chat with you till the early hours of the morning and if you play your cards right you might even get to shag one. VIVA ESPANA!
Barely a week later, all the bars in Chueca had plasma screens and the queens had turned into football fans. Spain won the Cup, my face now red and yellow; it was time to celebrate and to take on the streets yet again. QUE VIVA ESPANA!
