Sitges: Fragments

Salou
Monday, I spent the day taking trains to see Dennis in Salou (not, as it happens, Salo – the subject of the infamous Pasolini film, which Goffredo always wants to tease me to see again – that’s on Lake Como in Italy).
A not unpleasant visit to another, larger, more crowded beach city, with less interesting visitors but some pleasant locals, and a very attractive man running a bar at the beach (he was definitely posturing for us, too). Dennis’ apartment is gorgeous, so I won’t be sorry for him any more that he had to leave Sitges; although Salou isn’t the place I’d choose.
We spoke a lot of Dennis’ history as an A-Gay in New York, a friend of Felice Picano (who e-mailed him that day after I left); old pictures of Dennis when he was young were quite stunning. He talked a lot, too, about the apartments and things that he, Pedro, and others inherited from those who died of AIDS (which made me think, quite callously: how did I get through years of losses with nobody leaving me stuff? Except the two books from Reid’s shelves; I guess I didn’t know anyone who owned much of anything).
The most disturbing thing about the trip was the vast, and I mean vast (tens of thousands?) of new and nearly identical apartments that have been built in the beach cities around Tarragona. I continue to think that almost all modern concerns and analyses hang on this fact, that there are really far too many people: no one seems to mention it much – it’s not an era of Malthus; and everybody seems to think we can manage – but it seems so obvious, that so many cultural/psychological/political/logistical disasters have their sole source in the desperate need to handle millions of people at once. Very intimidating…
Clarity
On Monday night, my phone died (I certainly thought of bringing my charger but evidently I didn’t, as it’s nowhere in my suitcase); and the local internet network vanished… both good things I think. I spent Tuesday on another trip, going alone to Barcelona on the train; pleasant enough, mostly shopping, and a startlingly interesting (should I say bizarre?) near-molecular-cuisine lunch at Comerç 24.
Despite spending some of the time on other people’s needs, despite the expense and my occasional sense of being a little bit used or taken advantage of (typical of a resort town, I suppose; although some have also been remarkably generous); despite the lack of grand or carefully designed activities in this trip; coming down here for a week is indeed doing its mysterious work – I am indeed seeing, feeling, things a bit differently….
Last day
A lovely small piece by William Ackerman, ‘The Last Day at the Beach’, is playing.
On my first day, I imagined going back to Newcastle, and frankly shuddered: the idea of returning to that overfamiliar couch and apartment in that gray city made me instantly miserable.
I’m a bit more resigned now, though I still can’t imagine being happy to be home, or inspired to get back to work; but I’m not as tired and overwhelmed. I hope, I hope – perhaps I’ll get home and handle things a bit differently.
In any case: though there’s not much I feel like doing in Sitges at the moment, it is sad to leave; most of all, I think, I just want to sit around in the sun. But, as I’m not rich, a week is all that is really possible.
A shower, pack, and then out….