Bucky H. from Sherman Oaks, CA, joins the mile-high club. Jeez, talk about meating cute…

Remember the brouhaha last fall when Singapore Air made a splash by trying to nix nookie in the fancy first-class suites of its new Airbus 380’s? Good luck with that, I thought. It reminded me of the time not long before when I was flying transatlantic and lucked out in nabbing a spot in first-class (no, I’m not rich, it was connections—long story). It wasn’t a private suite at all, but one of those setups with fancy pods and seats that turn into flat beds. Well, here I am enjoying a glass of Rioja and watching I-don’t-remember-what on the vidscreen, and I see this young dude coming back from the head and very definitely giving me the eye; he’s medium height, darkish, nice tight little bod – very much the way I like them, actually. I wasn’t in cruise mode so I just met his eyes as he passed by, and that was it. But then, a little while later, same thing – and this time he nods, and I give a little smile. I tried to see where he was sitting, but I lost track. Oh, well. Then, after lights-out, I’m winding up my movie and suddenly I feel a presence. I look up, and it’s this same kid, sorta stopped next to my seat, standing very close, his hand sort of hanging there invitingly at eye level. It was a little bit of a chance, I guess, but I reached up and gave it a quick stroke – and he ran his hand down my arm. I quickly pulled him down into the seat with me, pulled the privacy curtain around us, and hung out the “do not disturb” sign. It was a little narrow, but let me tell you, we managed to screw ourselves a good part-way over the Atlantic. The toughest part was keeping totally quiet, but that was more than outweighed by the fact that it was incredible hot to be sliding up into this hot boy’s booty with all these posh airline passengers sleeping all around us. Turned out he was an off-duty flight attendant for the same airline, taking advantage of an available seat — his name was Rodrigo, and later he helped spice up my time on the ground over there, too. So that was how I joined the mile-high club — and it just goes to show you, where there’s a woodie, there’s a way.

In this forum, we’d like to hear about your hottest, most memorable, funniest, most romantic, or otherwise superlative date, instance of falling in love, or just good ol’ sex, with someone(s) from another culture—either abroad or in your home country.

What with all the hullaballoo about California this past week, less noticed was the fact that on June 17 an entire country also finally pulled itself into the 21st century when its parliament made this the world’s sixth country to grant equal rights in terms of marriage and adoption – and while they were at it they tossed in the green light for dykes to get the ol’ turkey-baster treatment in medical facilities. Now, don’t get me wrong, Norway’s been pretty progressive for a long time – the head of Oslo’s city council is gay, and the country pioneered by passing gay rights legislation way back in 1981 and allowing civil unions in 1992 – but really, lately all that has seemed so 20th century. With this latest act of parliament, though, they’ve now got the full Monty, and just in time for Skeive Dager (Oslo Pride), June 20-29.

Beyond that, I’ve gotta say that Norge is also extremely worth visiting on its own terms: a handsome capital paired with spectacular nature, most famously its fjords, those drama-queen waterways slicing into the country’s west coast from the North Atlantic (you can take a really fab train ride along the fjords from the city of Bergen – which has one gay bar, BTW, called Fincken), and the far north, above the Arctic Circle, with its midnight sun and aurora borealis.

The capital, Oslo (pop. 530,000), is also a cool (if a bit pricy) place to hang for several days, and it’s greener than most other cities in Europe. It’s a nice mix of traditional and modern, and has some really neat sights to see – my all-time fave is the really impressive Viking Ship Museum, built around three actual excavated ships, but the 17th-century cathedral and the majestic 13th-century Akershus Castle and Fortress are also well worth a gander. And if you like museums, there are other great ones here, too, like the National Gallery, which has some Old Masters along with a lot of Norwegian artists – the most famous of which, by the way, is Edvard Munch (yep, The Scream keeps on screaming in here); you’ll also want to check out the open air folk museum, like a Norwegian Colonial Williamsburg.

Furthermore, Oslo used to be kind of a yawn, but I must say, it’s really perked up quite a bit in recent years. Not that it’s quite party central these days, but there’s enough to keep you hopping – especially on those loooong summer nights when the sun doesn’t set till 3AM. While Oslo’s unlikely to ever become a gay travel mecca, it does offer a nice handful of amenities on that front, starting with a little clutch of queer clubs from the venerable London Pub (C.J. Hambros Plass, 22-70-87-00), in business since 1979, to boom-boom rooms like Café Elsker (Kristian IVs Gate 9); the London also has its own dance-club annex, BTW, and you’ll want to check for the parties in different locations run by the Fire Club. Add to that a coupla sex clubs (with a kinky/fetishy kinda vibe) and a pair of bath houses (Club Hercules at Storgaten 41 is the bigger and better of the two), and you’re not too likely to get bored around here (unless you mean getting bored, of course). For eats, head to Elsker and the mod Ett Glass (Karl Johans Gate 33, 22-33-40-79).

To set up dates ahead of time, in addition to all the usual international hookup sites there’s the local one, too, called Gaysir. You can get more info from VisitNorway.com/us and VisitOslo.com. On the faggotry front, Visit Oslo thoughtfully offers a gay section), plus there’s local gay group LLH and Studboy’s Oslo Guide, run by a hunky 30-year-old local muscleboy named (of course) Lars.

yours truly,

Dave.

Well, garçons and filles and combinations thereof, I just got back from a visit to one of France’s more underrated destinations, pretty impressed in every way. The country’s second-biggest city, a two-hour ride from Paris (not to mention a new direct flight from New York City on Delta), is a handsome bit of business straddling two rivers at the lower end of the Rhône Valley and loomed over by basilica-crowned Fourvière hill. Feel free to think of it as a smaller but also kinder, gentler (certainly friendlier) version of Paris, and one with a sweet selection of sights, culture, shopping, and – above all! – spots to chow down, more than 1,500 of ’em.

To whit: check out things like the inspiring Fourvière basilica and especially nearby Roman amphitheaters with a connected Gallo-Roman museum. Speaking of museums, the Beaux Arts is practically like an uncrowded version of the Louvre, and there are other great gems devoted to textiles (Lyon was also once the world’s silk production capital), cinema (its inventors, the Lumiere brothers, were locals), puppets (heard of Grand Gugnol? Invented here), the Nazi occupation (Klaus Barbie ring a bell?), and electricity (Ampère ring another bell?), and the list goes on. What I love here, though, is strolling the cobblestone streets of the medieval, UNESCO World Heritage Old Town, ducking into the traboules (secret passageways). And of course stuffing my face.

There are so many ways to get fat here it’s not even funny. You can pop into one of the traditional Lyonnais bouchons like Daniel et Denise for the local specialties – admittedly a little heavy on stuff like calves’ brains and pigs’ trotters, but also include tasty fish dumplings call quenelles. Old Lyon and nearby restaurant rows such as Rue Mercière are prime chowhound prowling grounds. And if you like the really fancy-schmancy stuff, the kind that scores Michelin stars (and have the budget to match), there are plenty of what they call “gastronomic restaurants” – just outside town, the three-star restaurant of the world’s most famous chef, Paul Bocuse, is definitely an experience, though to my personal taste the two-star Le Bec is far more cool and creative (plus the 32-year-old chef there, the eponymous Nicolas Le Bec, is something of a blond, blue-eyed hottie). There are even several gay-popular restos such as the mod L’Antre d’E (16 Rue Royale, 04-78-28-33-98) and Les Feuillants (5 Petite Rue des Feuillants, 04-78-28-20-50).

And for some pédé playtime, Lyon doesn’t disappoint; there are more than two dozen gay nightspots, for example, most of them in the 19 century area of town between the two rivers, called the Presqu’île; some of the better bars I visited were La Ruche (22 Rue Gentil, 04.78.37.42.26) and Le Cap Opera (2 Place Louis Pradel, 04.72.07.61.55); dance spots I liked included DV1 (6 Rue Violi), Le Pinks (38 Rue de l’Arbre Sec, 04.78.29.18.19), and United Café (Impasse de la Pêcherie, 04.78.29.93.18). Visit one – or the local bent bookstore, État d’Espirit (19 Rue Royale, 04.78.27.76.53) – grab a free gay map, bar mag, and or copy of the local fag rag Heteroclite and you’ll be able to track down plenty of others.

No shortage of spots to get right to it, too. Le Trou (6 Rue Romarin, 04.78.39.98.69) is the highest-profile of five local sex clubs, and Le Double Side (8 Rue Constantine, 08.21.00.08.08) and Sauna Oasis (2 Rue Coustou, 04.78.28.02.21) are the picks of the four bath houses. For max action, you might also want to consider hitting any or all the above during Fierté (Lyon Pride), which this year is going on right now, for a couple of weeks in June.

Where to bunk? The historic — and pricey — Cours des Loges (2-8 Rue du Bœuf, 011-33-4/ 72.77.44.44; from 247€) in the Old Town is gay-friendly and at least partly gay-staffed, while another nearby spot that’s a little more affordable while still funky and stylish is Collège Hôtel (5 Place Saint-Paul, 011.33.4/ 72.10.05.05; from 105€). For a little Belle Epoque glam, I’d recommend the Grand Hôtel Boscolo (11 Rue Grôlée, 011.33.4/72.40.45.45; from 160€). Wanna stay specficially gay? head out of town to Patrick & Daniel’s Bed & Breakfast (011-33.4/72.17.75.28; from 35€) in the town of Dardilly, four miles from Lyon; pool and WiFi included!.

For more info on this great city, check out the web site of the Lyon Tourism Office and LyonGay.net. And need I say, you’ll want to tote along a copy of Gay French for Love & Hookups or The Gay Translator?

Yours truly,

Dave

¡Hola, amics! This time I’m comin’ atcha – finally! – from a place I consider my second home: Spain’s most interesting, popular, and arguably most dynamic urb. Dating back to Roman times (you can get an eyeful of some of the walls and foundations from those days in the city museum), its sense of history starts with an amazingly atmospheric medieval Barri Gòtic (Gothic quarter), including the Tinell, a hall where Ferdinand and Isabella once lent an ear to Chris Columbus and his crazy-ass schemes. The architectural hit parade continues through the Renaissance and the elegant Parisian feel of the 19th-century Eixample (“ey-shahm-pluh”) area, but really hits the big time with early-20th-century Art Nouveau, especially the legendarily wacked-out visions of Antoni Gaudí with his melted-wax Sagrada Família church and wavily groovy Batllò townhouse and La Pedrera apartment building. And since shaking off the enforced snooze of Generalissimo Francisco Franco’s 36-year Catholic-fascist dictatorship, Barcelona’s become the belle of the design ball once again, with cutting-edge architecture springing up left and right (Ricard Bofill and Santiago Calatrava, take a bow).

You should know, BTW, that the main language in Barcelona and its surrounding provinces, called Catalonia (Catalunya), isn’t Spanish – it’s a related language, Catalan (català), and most locals are very serious about it and their culture, considering themselves a separate and ideally independent nationality (yes, we’re working on Gay Catalan for Love + Hookups). No worries, though: All Catalans also speak Spanish perfectly (yes you do, Jordi, so don’t bullshit me), and that fact plus all the immigrants from Latin America and the rest of Spain means Spanish is as useful as anywhere else in this country, so picking up a copy of The Gay Translator or Gay Spanish for Love + Hookups will stand you in mucho good stead.

Barcelona’s top don’t misses: Gaudì’s Sagrada Família and Casa Batllò; the Catalan Museum of Art with its Romanesque masterpieces; the Gothic cathedral (the cloister’s a phantastically photogenic gem); and leafy Les Rambles (aka Las Ramblas), a festive and sometimes cruisy downtown pedestrian boulevard lined with pet-selling kiosks and buskers known for dressing up in sometimes extravagantly crazy outfits for photo ops and spare change. You can also take in a cool view from the Columbus monument and see some great paintings at a local museum devoted to Pablo Picasso, who spent a buncha years here. I could go on…

…but I must of course not leave out the “Gayxample.” That’s the several square blocks of central BCN’s abovementioned Eixample nabe where you’ll find quite the nest of sodomitic subculture that’s become a real phenom in this very sophisticated, live-and-let-live city (helped too by the fact that Spain these days is possibly the planet’s most gay-positive country; the generalissimo’s rolling in his grave). Anchoring the Gayxample these days is the snazzy Axel Hotel (Carrer Aribau 33, 93-323-9393), the world’s first truly world-class design hotel run by fags for fags, including a rooftop pool – not exactly cheap, though, starting at 98 euros (currently US$153) in low season. There are quite a few less pricey and very central gay-stay options, too, such as Absolut Centro (Carrer Casanova 72), Agua Alegre (Carrer Roger de Llúria 47, 93-487-8032), and Barcelona City Centre Hostal (Carrer Tallers 30, 616-474-651) and Hostal Qué Tal (Carrer Mallorca 290, 93-459-2366). The beautious Beauty and the Beach (Passeig Taulat, 93-266-0562), meanwhile, is down near Playa Mar Bella, one of the two gay nude strands. There are plenty of apartment services, too, such as GoGayBCN.

And when it comes time for going out on the town, this town’s second to none. Start out at one of the Gayxample’s queer restaurants, like Castro (Casanova 85, 93-323-6784), dDivine (Carrer Balmes 24, 93-317-2248), and Miranda (Casanova 30, 93-453-5249), this last one complete with drag show – and BTW remember that everyone eats late – never before 10pm. Then ’round about midnight pop over for a nip at a bar like the venerable Punto BCN (Carrer Muntaner 63, 93-453-6123), the cooler Zeltas (Casanova 75), the Axell’s Sky Bar (93-323-9393) show-bar Dietrich (Carrer Consell de Cent 255, 93-451-7707), and the leather-lite New Chaps (Avinguda Diagonal 365, 93-215-5365). Then you’re finally ready to head to a boogie barn à la Arena (Balmes 32, 93-487-8342) and its several offshoots; the venerable Metro (Carrer Sepúlveda 185, 93-323-5227); and Salvation (Ronda San Pere 19-21, 93-318-0686). New stuff to look for this summer include a chiringuito (beach bar) out at Playa Mar Bella cleverly called Chiriguito Gay (oh, snap!).

And for getting right down to biz, BCN’s also second to none. I last counted nine bath houses, including the three-floor Condal (Carrer Espolsasacs 1, 93-317-6817), conveniently near the cathedral; the smaller but popular Casanova (Casanova 57, 93-323-7860) in the Gaixample; and a few blocks north the newish Barcelona (Carrer Tuset 1, 93-200-7716), not big but with a very cool little pool. Sex clubs have also been a growth industry – XT (Carrer Diputació 93) and Boyberry (Carrer Calàbria 96) are biggies. Finally, if you’re feeling generous, there are also several boybrothels: Nerón (Consell de Cent 185, 93-451-1028), American Boys (Ronda Universitat 23, 93-317-0047), and the newest, Korpus Delirio (Carrer Comte d’Urgell 150, 93-451-1594).

Okay, I’m super-biased, but I love this burg and want you to come (and cum) here – and if it’s warm, also to spare a couple of days for Sitges, one of the world’s top gay-popular beach towns, a 40-minute train ride south (more on that in an upcoming post; in the meantime, check out GaySitges.com). So check out Turisme Barcelona for general city info, and for the homo scoop Nois, InfoGai, Barcelona Rosa, and Casal Lambda. Trust me, you’ll have a ball (in more ways than one) in Barcelona…

Yours truly,

Dave