The Chicas

10 September 2007

Girls and the Beach

The beach? What? Yes. Go to the beach, enjoy the scenery, forget about work and understand why Spain kicks ass according to the Cheat.

Lets stop the maddening rage and ranting about all things negative for a moment, and lets focus on the one thing we know about Spain and have avoided talking about here, for reasons of political correctness.  That’s right buddy, its time to talk dirty

I know that a lot of you play on the other team, Team Chica, and as such may take offense to the following episode of Spanorama.  In fact, you may be feeling the aforementioned rage and negativity welling up inside you already, in anticipation of the sexist, macho, and totally juvenile garbage that you assume will spew forth from this page.  Relax my fair ones, this is no such thing.  It is, in fact, a glowing reminder of one of the most lovely aspects of our life less ordinary, that we as Spain Expats enjoy.

You remember the first time you came to this country, probably on holiday to Ibiza or some other eyesore like Lloret or Marbella. Remember when you first wandered out onto the beach?  Oh yes, my friend, I know you do.  I do too, as clearly as I remember the first time that guy in 12th grade bought me that copy of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue in 1986.  I don’t care if you are male, female, gay, animal, mineral or vegetable.  The Spanish beach scene is hot. 

”What has gotten into the Cheat this week?”  I hear you say.  Why all this sexual innuendo?  No, my sex life is doing just fine, thanks.  Actually, its because my sex life is fine that I feel the need to send a chillout card to all the stressed-out, anxiety ridden and generally ticked off Expats out there bordering dangerously close to Bitter Expat.  Spring has come and gone, which means its summertime buddy.  In Spain.  It is time to head to the chiringuito, strip down to that new swimsuit you bought at Desigual and let your eyes dance behind those mirror shades.

“You stalking, lurid pervert!” I hear.  I am not, for the record, suggesting rude or anti-social behaviour.  I am suggesting getting out to the playa and soaking in the scene.  This is not a one way, male to female gig.  Ask the hordes of ladies inundating the beaches all over the country if they aren’t here at least partially to enjoy some fine male eye candy.  The answer will be a resounding yes, and why not?  We are all people, people.  And we all for the most part love sex.  It’s a lovely day, the sun is glistening on the Med and the tall drinks are plentiful and cheap.  Go forth and enjoy.  Be you a man with a gut, a man on a mission, a woman on a hen night or a lady on a business trip.  Be you a student, professional, amateur or just have a pulse.  Relax, sit in the sand, and people watch. 

This winter, it feels like we all got wrapped up in all the things that make living here difficult, that we forgot that wonderful asset lying not so far away on three coasts of this great country.  Ok, so the crap, over-priced take-out kiosks and fat, ugly people in waaaay-too-small bathing suits aren’t a pretty site, but just look at all that fabulous meat out there!  Yes my friends.  It is all there, it’s all real, and we all need to stop being so damned Anglo-Saxon prudish about it and just smile.  Yeehaw. 

Its time we get off our work train a second, stop worrying about the movers, or trying to unravel the mysteries of Telefonica and Renfe, and go get some sex.  The beach is an excellent place to start revving that engine before heading to the clubs.  Ah Spanish clubs… ye gads.  Is it 6pm already?  I am out of here.  ¡Vamos a la playa!

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