2008:

First, a little background on fitting into the gay scene in Umbria. Remember there is the constant uphill battle with the language and the use of witticisms that are more difficult for me to catch. The first time I dipped my toes into the party scene, it was at a club called the Lido (which means beach).

The Lido is located in a seemingly deserted area on the outskirts of Ponte San Giovanni, a suburb of Perugia, near the namesake bridge. I assume it’s where it is so the noise of a nightclub isn’t a problem for neighbors. It has a large pool (hence the name) and too often a double helping of tacky décor. (Too bitchy still?)

OK, I’ll confess, Club music has never been my thing so I’m not the best judge. The pre-drag-show musical lineup is more to my taste with multiple Madonna hits played to the delight of the elders who, like me, tend to arrive early (and in which I am quickly becoming ensconced). Judging from the smiles all around, there doesn’t seem to be any language barrier with Madonna playing.

The walls of the dancing area are bathed in washed out videos in front of which various muscled or dragged out club boys gyrated —the only plus as far as décor goes. The place is typically too smokey and loud and I usually got there too early and left after I could stand being yelled at no more— which took about an hour and a half.

2009:

The second year I reluctantly returned to the scene of the crime but noticed that the décor had changed significantly for the better. New bars were added with lighted-glass fronts maybe so us older gays could find them easier. (Yes, I know, still too bitchy.) A tent had been put up that covered the dance area providing an enclosed area but still open so people could continue smoking (typically Italian). However, the people seemed much younger than I remembered. What didn’t bode well was that there were many more women than I remembered and they were too small and pretty (I know definitely not PC) to be drag queens or transsexuals. They actually seemed to be straight women. The dead give away was when a bevy of attractive young men asked them to dance and they all did — together.

Damn that gaydar. I was in the wrong place.

I went up to the brooding bouncer-type and was told that the gay party was next door.

Upon entering the confirmed gay club, I was greeted by the familiarly tacky décor and muscled boys dancing in front of a distorted video of Disney’s Aladdan and the Lamp. Apparently the owners of Lido had upgraded and turned half of it into a straight club and renamed it Cielo (which means heaven).

And there was the Lido I remember with its carpeted amphitheater-like seating, wandering spotlight and anemic disco ball. I half heartedly gave it the once over and noticed two gay men older than I was staring at a leather clad young man seated center of the amphitheater. It was too much to bear so I left and boycotted the events for the rest of the year.