Dans Les Cabines Noires?
Yes yes yes, it had been so long that I almost forgot how to blog (among other things to which only my memory of it convinces me it exists!).
Its not that life has been uneventful in the least, there were plenty of events, but none that I can sexily splash over the pages of my blog and none that fall under the category of "awkward sex". It can fall under the category of "cruel city" maybe, but there was no sex involved. Apparently there is no sex when it comes to Cairo.
Sex does not "translate".
And a queen can do so much with the memory of good s*x or any s*x at all.
I blame it on those vicious queens who keep jinxing everything I do!
Seriously!
How could have thought that "queen venom" is that potent?
Easy on me sista!
But the threads that unraveled with malice, were also woven with opportunity, and before I know it I was heading to the Land of L'amour where people speak like zat.
Now the French are a peculiar bunch, they don't believe in showering as a cleaning strategy, they talk too much, and eat too much cheese and drink too much wine.
Not to mention they speak a language that renders them physically unable to speak any other language.
I have yet to meet a native born French speaker, who can speak any other language but French without an accent.
Anyways, this is not a tract on the follies of the Franks.
There is a whole industry that is based on that (Why French women dress so nicely, why French women don't get fat, why French men are so seductive,....etc).
But my little brush with the gay scene in France "inspired" me to write of my own experience in the former land of the Gauls.
Ok, saunas are hot - no literally, hot - and an interesting place to socialize and hook up and all that, but seriously the scene is France is completely pivoted on "health clubs" i.e. Saunas!
There is nothing else!
If you don't take your clothes off, and wrap yourself with a towel and carry the key to your locker around your neck, you are doomed!
And between the steam of the sauna, and the hamam and the general humidity all over, its really wet!
And not in a good way!
Perhaps this is a counter-strategy to the complete lack of interest in daily showering?
Who knows!
Now another thing about French men - aside from the fact they speak no language other than French and have no interest in speaking any other language - is that they have very strict sleeping hours.
By 1:00 am everyone is gone and in bed.
On a weekend!
What the F?
The first time I walk into one of those "health clubs", it was almost empty, thats one thing, and everyone was leaving and it was 12:30! On a weekend!
God I miss Berlin!
Of course it was no use trying to hook up online.
I had no idea which websites are more popular than others, and when I tried to look online it was useless.
The only guy I managed to "engage" with, had a very last minute family problems and couldn't make it.
*Sigh*
Aside from that, it was a catastrophe.
As days passed and my desperation grew in this beautiful old port by the Mediterranean sea, I decided to go for the subversive, more of the retro really.
I strolled down the Rue Canabiere, into Monoprix and got myself a sexy Rimmel red nail polish!
In all honesty, you can not call yourself a queen if you haven't dabbled in the "dark arts" (and by dark arts I mean classic make up).
Intensely excited and looking forward to the prospect of finally having my finger nails glow with shades of red (and if that is the only thing that got me excited you can only begin to imagine how dire the situation was!), I completely forgot that I am in a homophobic country in general (again this is not Berlin) and the city that has the biggest number of Algerians and Sub-Saharan African immigrants and refugees.
And we both know what that means.
Homophobia to the extreme.
So as I took the tram down the beautiful boulevard, two gentleman, one of African descent, one of Arab descent, came and sat next to me and my Pisces alter ego (he too had his nails done under my influence) and started assailing us with very colourful insults in French.
And although I absolutely refuse to speak in French (C'est un question de principe), I understand perfectly when someone calls me a flaming queen/r!
Short of physical violence it was the playful ingenuity of my Pisces friend that managed to save us.
This by far one of the most hostile encounters I have ever been through, including the time I was mugged.
Taking note that nothing exists after 1:00 am we made sure to hit the "spa" at a more "decent hour", we then thought that 11:30 is fashionably late.
Wrong again.
Second time in a row, we arrive and there are only about 4 people in the entire place.
Devastating.
Desperate and unnerved, I finally conceded and decided to go into the Hammam.
Now let me explain the facts, the Hammam has so much water vapour its almost as if you are breathing water.
Its foggy and you can't see anyone and everything feels heavy on your skin.
I endured all these hardships for the sake of getting it on with a Frenchie.
What I did for love.
Anyways, I sat there, and a few centimeters away was a cute French frog, whom I could barely make out his silhouette but went heads one and we started getting "intimate".
After a few playful moments, I thought it was getting somewhere, he did go somewhere, I didn't!
Not willing to give up so soon, I moved up to the next Frenchie!
However, easy on the BO!
I couldn't, and finally gave up.
I decided to hit the shower stalls and just go home, only to find my cute French frog there having a quick shower himself!
Its destiny!
I approached him and picked up from where we left, only to end up with him going to a happy place, and while I was on my way to happy place the evil French queen of a concierge came screaming 'We are closing'!
What the F***!
Pissed beyond belief I gathered my things and headed out looking for my Pisces alter ego, but he was no where.
As I was getting dressed my French frog was getting dressed too, and he asked me, 'Does everyone speak English in Cairo?' and my answer was 'Why, of course!'
He then bent down (he was really short, which made me feel like a wild Amazonian woman) and kissed him saying, 'Peut-etre la prochaine fois!' and as I ran out he said 'You speak French!'
When I got to the entrance my Pisces alter ego was waiting for me outside, saying that he kept looking for me and when he asked the evil French concierge where I could be, he replied, 'Mais monsieur dans les cabines noires!'
That cunt!
My Pisces alter ego kept saying I am sure my friend is not 'dans les cabines noires', but the evil witch would not hear of it. He said there are some cabines are just so dark you can't see them!
You French cunt I was on my way to the Cabines Noires and you had to shut the f****** sauna down!
Its not that life has been uneventful in the least, there were plenty of events, but none that I can sexily splash over the pages of my blog and none that fall under the category of "awkward sex". It can fall under the category of "cruel city" maybe, but there was no sex involved. Apparently there is no sex when it comes to Cairo.
Sex does not "translate".
And a queen can do so much with the memory of good s*x or any s*x at all.
I blame it on those vicious queens who keep jinxing everything I do!
Seriously!
How could have thought that "queen venom" is that potent?
Easy on me sista!
But the threads that unraveled with malice, were also woven with opportunity, and before I know it I was heading to the Land of L'amour where people speak like zat.
Now the French are a peculiar bunch, they don't believe in showering as a cleaning strategy, they talk too much, and eat too much cheese and drink too much wine.
Not to mention they speak a language that renders them physically unable to speak any other language.
I have yet to meet a native born French speaker, who can speak any other language but French without an accent.
Anyways, this is not a tract on the follies of the Franks.
There is a whole industry that is based on that (Why French women dress so nicely, why French women don't get fat, why French men are so seductive,....etc).
But my little brush with the gay scene in France "inspired" me to write of my own experience in the former land of the Gauls.
Ok, saunas are hot - no literally, hot - and an interesting place to socialize and hook up and all that, but seriously the scene is France is completely pivoted on "health clubs" i.e. Saunas!
There is nothing else!
If you don't take your clothes off, and wrap yourself with a towel and carry the key to your locker around your neck, you are doomed!
And between the steam of the sauna, and the hamam and the general humidity all over, its really wet!
And not in a good way!
Perhaps this is a counter-strategy to the complete lack of interest in daily showering?
Who knows!
Now another thing about French men - aside from the fact they speak no language other than French and have no interest in speaking any other language - is that they have very strict sleeping hours.
By 1:00 am everyone is gone and in bed.
On a weekend!
What the F?
The first time I walk into one of those "health clubs", it was almost empty, thats one thing, and everyone was leaving and it was 12:30! On a weekend!
God I miss Berlin!
Of course it was no use trying to hook up online.
I had no idea which websites are more popular than others, and when I tried to look online it was useless.
The only guy I managed to "engage" with, had a very last minute family problems and couldn't make it.
*Sigh*
Aside from that, it was a catastrophe.
As days passed and my desperation grew in this beautiful old port by the Mediterranean sea, I decided to go for the subversive, more of the retro really.
I strolled down the Rue Canabiere, into Monoprix and got myself a sexy Rimmel red nail polish!
In all honesty, you can not call yourself a queen if you haven't dabbled in the "dark arts" (and by dark arts I mean classic make up).
Intensely excited and looking forward to the prospect of finally having my finger nails glow with shades of red (and if that is the only thing that got me excited you can only begin to imagine how dire the situation was!), I completely forgot that I am in a homophobic country in general (again this is not Berlin) and the city that has the biggest number of Algerians and Sub-Saharan African immigrants and refugees.
And we both know what that means.
Homophobia to the extreme.
So as I took the tram down the beautiful boulevard, two gentleman, one of African descent, one of Arab descent, came and sat next to me and my Pisces alter ego (he too had his nails done under my influence) and started assailing us with very colourful insults in French.
And although I absolutely refuse to speak in French (C'est un question de principe), I understand perfectly when someone calls me a flaming queen/r!
Short of physical violence it was the playful ingenuity of my Pisces friend that managed to save us.
This by far one of the most hostile encounters I have ever been through, including the time I was mugged.
Taking note that nothing exists after 1:00 am we made sure to hit the "spa" at a more "decent hour", we then thought that 11:30 is fashionably late.
Wrong again.
Second time in a row, we arrive and there are only about 4 people in the entire place.
Devastating.
Desperate and unnerved, I finally conceded and decided to go into the Hammam.
Now let me explain the facts, the Hammam has so much water vapour its almost as if you are breathing water.
Its foggy and you can't see anyone and everything feels heavy on your skin.
I endured all these hardships for the sake of getting it on with a Frenchie.
What I did for love.
Anyways, I sat there, and a few centimeters away was a cute French frog, whom I could barely make out his silhouette but went heads one and we started getting "intimate".
After a few playful moments, I thought it was getting somewhere, he did go somewhere, I didn't!
Not willing to give up so soon, I moved up to the next Frenchie!
However, easy on the BO!
I couldn't, and finally gave up.
I decided to hit the shower stalls and just go home, only to find my cute French frog there having a quick shower himself!
Its destiny!
I approached him and picked up from where we left, only to end up with him going to a happy place, and while I was on my way to happy place the evil French queen of a concierge came screaming 'We are closing'!
What the F***!
Pissed beyond belief I gathered my things and headed out looking for my Pisces alter ego, but he was no where.
As I was getting dressed my French frog was getting dressed too, and he asked me, 'Does everyone speak English in Cairo?' and my answer was 'Why, of course!'
He then bent down (he was really short, which made me feel like a wild Amazonian woman) and kissed him saying, 'Peut-etre la prochaine fois!' and as I ran out he said 'You speak French!'
When I got to the entrance my Pisces alter ego was waiting for me outside, saying that he kept looking for me and when he asked the evil French concierge where I could be, he replied, 'Mais monsieur dans les cabines noires!'
That cunt!
My Pisces alter ego kept saying I am sure my friend is not 'dans les cabines noires', but the evil witch would not hear of it. He said there are some cabines are just so dark you can't see them!
You French cunt I was on my way to the Cabines Noires and you had to shut the f****** sauna down!
Comments
How can the French gay scene be so poor? What about gay bars/club?
and darling, Marseille is not a holiday destination. I thought after Birmingham you would have at least consulted me.