Bag Check

Monday, when I wing my way back to Leipzig, I will have to check my bag.

I have no option because I spent 9,80€ on the bottle of Disoderme Gel, as seen to the right. It’s 150ml and for me, at least for now, it is essential.

I overexposed myself.

And I mean that in the multiple meanings of the word “overexposed.”

As I was blessed with an Audi A5 today, I headed south, across the Golden Gate 25th of April Bridge and over the Rio Tejo toward Costa da Caparica and its beaches. Despite the forecast for cloud and light showers, I wanted to hit the beach and Costa da Caparica came highly recommended in Spartacus—the international gay guide which recommended two of unlikely Weimar cruising grounds.

Fortified with the knowledge that Spartacus isn’t perfect, I followed the directions, turning left at the second stoplight and going 2 kilometers to find the gay nude beach. Too bad the guide was inaccurate, but at least I quickly realized that whilst I was on the right road, 2km wasn’t far enough, so I kept going eventually finding the appropriate turn-off 3km further down the road. I was further confused because it referred to beach numbers 17, 18, and 19—yet each of the beaches was named not numbered, so I went with my best guess that the beach would be the last one—name, appropriately enough Praia da Bela Vista.

After emerging on to the empty beach, I realized it was windy and that the water was still incredibly cold—yet I noticed a head pop up from the mounds of grass above the beach—and it clicked. I headed up into the grasses where the wind was cut and the scenery was beautiful and active. The grasses, rolling hills, and shrubbery was quite attractive. So were many of the naked men.

I found my spot, shucked off my clothes, thus overexposing myself in the initial sense of the word. Five hours later, when my bottle of water ran out and I decided it was time to head back to the hotel, I realized that I was overexposed and burned.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, I had to run up to the office and sign some paperwork. The secretary was appropriately appalled and told me that Disoderme was what I need—laughing when I asked if it was sold by the litre. A short walk to a pharmacy and 9,80€ later I had the 150ml of cream. It’s already been applied—and I am burned nearly everywhere.

My time on the beach reminded me of a problem I seem to consistently have: I always attract men that I have no interest in. Two of the three today understood this without any need for dramatic non-verbal communication. The most obtuse man only understood I wasn’t interested when I grabbed my shirt.