Saturday, September 01, 2007
There is a pool on the roof of my complex. On Tuesday, innocently wandering up for a swim, I came across a naked man calmly drying himself before settling into a lounger. Forced to beat a hasty retreat before being spotted (we English, of course, never wishing to embarrass our fellow man) my mind gallops through endless scenarios, mostly involving children, I mean, suppose I had been a child and not a mature adult …. but wait, he’s not one of my mine. He’s a native. Do Spanish children suffer those excruciating spasms of fear, disgust and shock that we Brits, who have been brought up to revile nakedness, are racked with? To which even those of us who went through the horrors of the boarding school system are not exempt. Of course not. I am over-reacting. After all, it’s not as if he was old, or ugly, or misshapen, disfigured or tattooed with snakes and cockroaches. Actually, he was in his early thirties, dark, slightly curly hair, with big brown eyes, clean-shaven and kinda cute and … isn’t it amazing how much the human eye can record in only two short seconds? I wonder if he has a swim routine?
Thisisvalencia.com has a great woman's page, Anita Darling, Lolita Devine and Barbara O'Neill have regular columns on Life as a woman in Valencia. Read more of Barbara O'Neill's latest column by clicking on the headline!