I guess I might as well wax lyrical about my trip to Spain this summer just gone, as it was my first holiday abroad and so consequently had a huge affect on me and my attitude towards life…
Firstly, the scenery was beautiful. Can you imagine what it was like to see a Spanish beach after only having seen English seaside towns, remaining gaudily cheerful in the face of gradual ruin and increasing marginalisation? To see a beach that wasn’t accompanied by wind, rain, and killer seagulls? To feel a soft heat that didn’t feel humid, from a sun that hung in the sky for a generously long portion of the day? As I lay under a parasol, dozing off with three of my best mates around me, I felt like I had found a perfect world. Of course, I know there’s more out there, and I was simply being dazzled by my first experience in a foreign country, but come on, just look at it!
It was just nice to have a break from real life – from city life, from living by the clock. The general atmosphere there was one of calm, one of complacence…I didn’t feel the competitive, hurried undertones you get daily in London. You have constant access to natural water, natural sand, and so you feel more at ease with your natural self…not forgetting that you can’t help but be aware of your natural self when you spend most of the day half dressed!
So I spent five days in a haze of happiness, out all night and sleeping all day-either on the beach or in the hotel room (although, to be honest, I hardly got any actual sleep).
Going out was so different to how it is in London. Everyone is so friendly, interesting and open, and you don’t feel like you’re constantly under the gaze of sexual predators…I’m sorry but most London clubs are meat markets. We went out late at night, sans heel and all that glitzy paraphenalia that feels like a requirement back home…hell, I went out in dungaree shorts and a cut out swim suit one night! Its just so chilled out there. I want to go back and just sit on the beach all day under a parasol and write.
And we met a guy who was just something else…his attention wasn’t focussed directly on me, but on my Iranian friend, so, like in many situations, I was an observer a lot of the time, but when I did speak to him, I recognized something so…different about him. At first I thought he was 25, but he was actually 19, just a year older than me at the time (as I hadn’t turned his age yet). He’d just lived such a crazy, difficult life…he left Romania aged 16 to work and send money home to his mum and little brother and sister, and quickly became involved in drugs, so even when we met him he still needed them to have any kind of fun. He’d been a male prostitute for good-looking, bored older woman, pretending to be the age he looked (25), seeing it as easy money. But even under the gorgeous packaging, the freakishly independent and flighty persona, we all still saw a glimmer of sadness within him, which I personally see within all people who have no discernable roots, and who seek happiness from drugs…they are spiritual and emotional tramps, shambling through life searching for some kind of meaning and not quite ever finding it.
So, yeah. It was a good holiday. Plus we all got really tanned…always a bonus, right?