Speyside: how to make city gays fall in love with the Scottish countryside

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Most of us want to escape our small towns for lives in the big city.

For some it was watching Sex and the City growing up, for others it’s loading up Grindr and seeing so many men that you have to upgrade to premium to see beyond 500 meters. For most it’s to escape the close-minded homophobia of little communities.

Whatever the reason for moving, after a few years of pollution, towering buildings and angry, angry people, we eventually beg for a sweet escape to the countryside.

Not permanently, sure. But a short retreat, to de-blacken our lungs and widen our eyes to the majesty of nature. And no place is better for this than Speyside, in the Scottish highlands.

The area gains its beauty from its sheer strength, combining stunning, rolling hills, adorable cottages, and a well-known weapon of mass-jubilation: Scotch whisky.

Speyside is cute, cute, cute 

The ride from the airport to your hotel is often one of the more exciting parts of the trip. In the city, you can see the layers of culture and society unfold, like a giant onion. In Speyside, it’s nearly all countryside.

Rivers run alongside the roads, so smooth and pure they look like they’re made of glass. The hills are bold and emerald, thriving in the wet climate. Harsh winds batter against the cars, whistling through the glass almost in warning.

The villages are Midsomer Murders quaint; all stone buildings and gardens running into fields. The Craigellachie Hotel, the 125-year-old hotel where I stayed, mixed this homely comfort with a contemporary edge. Think romantic countryside guesthouse with decent wifi.

Spirit of Speyside festival whisky gay

Speyside is incredibly LGBTI-friendly – and Scotland’s world-class protections will bring piece of mind | Photo: Tom Capon

A burning fire greets you at reception. To the right is a drawing room, complete with taxidermy and sofas so sinkable you’ll fall into another dimension after a day of whisky touring.

However, the Craigellachie thrives in the bedroom. The design is cosy without feeling like you’re visiting your grandma. The four-poster bed sat proudly in the center and, when I first saw it, I spent a good few minutes being sad I’m single.

The stone bathroom does have a gorgeous bath-shower. But it’s not as insulated as the rest of the room, weirdly, so it felt like I’d accidentally stepped through the door into the River Spey just outside the hotel.

Beam me up, Scotch-y

I’ve always considered myself a fan of whisky – as in, I can appreciate the taste without crying about it being too strong like an alcoholic baby. After heading to Speyside, it turns out I know as much about whisky as an ant knows about algebra.

Nearly everyone in the area is involved in the industry – from the youngest daughter to the oldest man. And everyone talks about it like they are collectively raising a child, but the child is booze. The region is home to half of Scotland’s Scotch distilleries.

spirit of speyside whisky distillery tour

The beauty of Speyside is dramatic | Photo: Tom Capon

Which makes it the perfect location for the Spirit of Speyside festival, held in the first week of May every year. Distilleries, bars, hotels and shops across the area host a whole celebration dedicated to the drink, with nearly 29,000 people visiting from 34 different countries.

Unlike most festivals, this isn’t localized to one place. Speyside sprawls across the countryside, meaning you’ll have to explore the area to truly experience it all. My pre-festival preview tour began at Strathisla Distillery in Keith, the best looking distillery of them all.

Welcoming us with the mastery of Scottish hospitality, their guides showed us through this historic spot – it is, after all, the oldest working distillery in the area. The tour takes you past whirring machinery, acidic smells so strong your nose hairs flinch into your body, and rooms where photography could ignite the alcohol in the air and explode everything (no joke).

The tour culminated in the opportunity to create our own Scotch blend using a series of malt whiskies (meaning I could live out my fantasies of being a drunk mad scientist), before settling into the bar for a few whisky cocktails.

ivanka trump scientist meme speyside scotland whisky

Windswept and whisky-filled | Photo: Tom Capon

The hills are thriving with all kinds of different distilleries, offering variations on the above. Glen Grant Distillery is bigger and more modern – and also comes with the carefully curated Victorian Gardens to boot.

It’s a pleasure to eat

A day of drinking whisky stripped my throat red-raw. Surrounded by expert whisky drinkers, I was tipsy enough to need to vet every one of my thoughts before they left my mouth with the skill of airport security. The only cure for this is food.

This is how I fell in love with the Dowans Hotel.

The property is a compact country estate. What Craigellaiche has in charm this place oozes in old-fashioned sophistication. Before food, we were treated to a few whisky cocktails in their modern bar, easing our palette before more straight Scotch.

Scottish scotland scotch gay whisky

Drinks come in all shapes and sizes | Photo: Tom Capon

The co-owner of the hotel shook these cocktails herself – not a rare sight in the whisky industry nowadays. More and more, women are taking up the cause and giving new life to an ancient industry. In particular, her cause was putting cocktails in the same spot as straight whisky. Sacrilege to some, but a way to make the art of tasting scotch more accessible to others.

However, after another drink I was more than ready for food. Sitting in the traditional dining room, Spé, and lit by the dim features above us, I was handed dish after dish of spectacular food. Every ingredient was as fresh as the air outside.

The scallops were divine, accompanied by pieces of rhubarb, lending a delightfully sweet sting and a cute aesthetic.

Ultimately, the meal and my day led up to the venison. Sourced from the local estate – from a stag, more specifically – it wasn’t as overpoweringly rich yet was ever-so-slightly tougher than your ‘standard’ venison. This texture melded perfectly with a rabbit game and haggis sausage accompanying it. It is the concept of salivation made flesh.

venison hotel lgbt hotel

I can’t stop thinking about this meal | Photo: Tom Capon

Yet culinary delights aren’t hard to find in these hills. The next day we hopped into a jeep and drove down winding country roads until we found a cottage – and Gillie Basan.

The renowned travel and food writer spent most of her adult years exploring the world in search of the best recipes, before finding her home in the hills of Speyside.

Now, she welcomes people into her house and teaches them how to cook. She created a gorgeous meal for us, with the goal of using spices to enhance the taste of whisky. Gillie herself is softly spoken and with a kindness that makes it impossible not to feel like you belong in her house.

Her home was as beautiful as the food. Belly full, I sat petting her two adorable Labradors as I looked out at the magnificent, endless hills surrounding it. It’s strange how we can find such treasures in the wilderness.

The great outdoors

All this trekking indoors, however pretty the gardens, wasn’t quite the country escape I was craving. I wanted to get into the hills of the highlands – the ones whisky smugglers used to hide their tracks during prohibition.

When the opportunity to board an argocat – an all-terrain four-wheel-drive vehicle – and explore the countryside around Glenlivet distillery arrived, I jumped at the chance. A group of us piled into the back of the argocat.

The road threw us around. We stopped a few times to open and close some gates. Then we reached the top.

Our drivers poured us all a dram of whisky and we stared out to highlands. The wind whipped around us and the chill started to creep into my bones, until I sipped the Scotch. Clouds of fog growled closer to our spot. The Scottish countryside is a harsh kind of beauty.

But when you take a minute to absorb it all, you can feel it reverberating in that primal part of your soul. The smog of city life just needs a few moments in the glens and the pollution, literal and metaphorical, evaporates.

And it really helps if you’re a bit drunk on whisky.

See also

How Sydney Mardi Gras helped me realize the true meaning of Pride

Gay travel blogger couple reveal what it’s like exposing their love online

Meribel: how to face your fears on the ski slopes of the French alps

Author: Tom Capon

The post Speyside: how to make city gays fall in love with the Scottish countryside appeared first on Gay Star News.

How Sydney Mardi Gras helped me realize the true meaning of Pride

Sydney gay and lesbian mardi gras australia pride

There are hundreds of Prides across the planet but none are quite like Sydney Mardi Gras.

Not only because Australia is a land of gorgeous food, dangerous animals and stunning beaches. Their Pride is probably the biggest party the country throws – and if you’ve ever met an Australian, you know that’s a statement.

However, the problem comes when we call it a party. While nothing quite beats the feeling of unleashing pent up queer energy into one, communal celebration, aren’t Prides meant to be a protest?

As I approached the epicenter of the LGBTI rights movement in Australia, the question plagued my mind: should I be protesting or partying?

Rest your weary head

I’ve always felt a connection with Australia. What’s the threat of death by spiders compared to that lifestyle, explosive energy, or liberal use of the big C-word? So landing in Sydney from London – 26 hours later – reality dawned and my heart raced. Years of dreaming of this far continent finally materialized.

I tried to politely talk to my chatty cab driver, but my eyes pulled to the city unfolding around me. In minutes it transformed from simple suburbs to the flashy billboards, brutalist 70s structures and high-rise, metallic buildings of the inner-city. Here I found my hotel: The Larmont, in Kings Cross.

I was later told that before the controversial lockout laws put a muzzle on the city – the legislation banning entry into clubs, pubs and bar after 1.30am and last drinks at 3am – you were more likely to find a fight with a bunch of bogans than a fancy hotel in this area. Times have certainly changed.

 

The Larmont Syndey where to stay in sydney

Dreamy rooms, dreamier view | Photo: The Larmont Sydney

Caught up in the renovations of the area over the last decade, the hotel boasts sleek Scandinavian design, with wooden furnishings, potted plants and books set off by a burning Sydney white color-scheme.

The bedrooms offer contemporary minimalism, bar the gigantic TV in the main wall’s center. From the 11th floor, I could look out all the way to the harbor from the room’s chez lounge.

The real star of the show are those beds. My god, could I write a sonnet about the those beds. The moment my jet-lagged head hit that silky smooth pillow my mind slipped into a world of sandy beaches and dreamy boys.

Enter: Sydney

gay sydney lgbt australia where to go

There aren’t many cities as easily beautiful as Sydney | Photo: Jamie Davies, Unsplash

I couldn’t fault the hotel, other than needing an engineering degree to figure out the coffee machine. But this ‘cleaned up act’ benefited me, as a tourist. I was blinded by the litter-free streets and the beautiful, beautiful people. The lock-out laws haunted those working in nightlife.

Speaking to Australian friends, they speak dreamy eyed of a past city of grit, culture and art. Even the more rough and ready Redfern in the city’s south felt a bit tame compared to Berlin or Barcelona’s shadier streets.

I did, however, find The Bearded Tit. This LGBTI bar is quirky, though not in the I’ve-seen-Alice-in-Wonderland-once way that’s cursed bar culture across the world. Instead, it brings comfy booths next to framed photos and taxidermy, a gender neutral toilet with long, dream-like mirrors, and a whiskey shelf second only to Tokyo or Dublin.

I parked up on a stool and chatted to the bartenders and some of the patrons. The people in town share the same view as my friends from Oz. Some talk with resignation – others, determination. There’s a movement to repeal the laws and bring a bit of dirt back to the cheeks of Sydney’s nightlife.

Bearded Tit Sydney gay bars in sydney queer bars

Keeping the alternative spirit alive | Photo: The Bearded Tit

However, for all the talk of the law, this bar didn’t seem to suffer. I cleared up their spirit shelf on a Thursday, though I’m told the queer cabaret night on Wednesday is when it truly explodes. The Green Park Hotel was alive too, offering loud pop music and a looking-to-be-seen crowd as opposed to the more relaxed Tit.

Leaving filled to the brim with whiskey, it became clear Sydney was in a tug-of-war between the regional New South Wales government and its people. The city’s identity crisis matched Mardi Gras, whose internal politics raged between party or protest. Even with this struggle, the city’s biggest party meant the atmosphere was feeling particularly queer.

Queer is in the air

Sydney will always find a way to be more beautiful than the last time you laid eyes on it.

The walk around Circular Quay is burnt into my retinas, like I’d just stared into an eclipse. The water of the harbor, the white of the Opera House reflecting the sun’s rays like a beacon, and the black sentinel, the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

Australian Mardi Gras Sydney gay and lesbian

The sight from Mrs Macquarie’s Chair, probably the best view in Sydney, a city of good views | Photo: Tom Capon

The Quay acts as a sort of focal point for the prettiest parts of the city. From here I met a gaggle of homosexual nuns for Mardi Gras event, The Sisters’ Walk through Taronga Zoo.

The Sisters guided us down the winding paths of the zoo, reading poems to the animals and using a 19th Century cookbook to tell us how to eat them. Considering most Australian animals look like god tripped on the way to the oven into a giant vat of deadly venom, this was certainly brave.

Then again, brave is in the Sisters’ name. Despite the summer sun baring down so intensely I could feel my factor 50 sun cream burning alongside my skin, the Sisters wore full, glorious habits.

The zoo itself might seem peak tourist, yet with the nuns it synthesized with Mardi Gras to create something unique. This was not an isolated incident.

Returning to Circular Quay, I strolled past the Opera House and into the Royal Botanical Gardens. Taking the long way round this oasis of colossal trees and maze-like vines, the path eventually led me to the Art Gallery of New South Wales.

Mardi Gras’ spirit infected this traditional bastion of art and tourism thanks to Queer Art After Hours, a rolling showcase of new LGBTI talent.

The quiet halls awoke with immersive performances, the eyes of Victorian paintings staring down; the clinical reception became an impromptu disco stage for two gay DJs. The whole gallery was still open, so I walked among Aboriginal art before meeting another enigmatic tour guide.

Verushka Darling, a local drag star, led her own tour. She claims the art on the walls have been mistakenly analyzed by dusty old white men. So it’s up to her to reveal the truth behind every painting, from the wonders of douching to the boredom of heterosexual relationships.

Sydney Mardi Gras Gallery of New South Wales party of protest

I also witnessed this performance outside, but I’m not sure what I saw | Photo: Tom Capon

Becoming Mardi Gras

The symbiosis of Mardi Gras with these regular tourist activities started to show what makes Sydney special. It became even clearer on the famous walk from Bondi to Bronte beach – a 2.5km walk along the New South Wales coastline.

The drama of the waves, the sheer rock faces, the golden beaches, all framed by the spotlight of the sun. Every step reveals a new enclave. Every time my eyes have to readjust to remind myself I’m not in a dream.

So close to the city, this is two opposites working together. Human and nature together; harbor and water, beach and town, gardens and people. Mardi Gras and culture did the same. Is it possible for party and protest to co-exist – or will party take over, like a tidal wave?

To even catch a glimpse of this answer, I needed to dig deeper into the event’s origins. Naturally, I turned to the professionals at Sydney’s Original Gayborhood Walking Tour. Our tour guide – a softly spoken gay man who knew every other gay man who passed by – unraveled the LGBTI history of the city as we walked through the streets.

Australia Mardi Gras Sydney party or protest

Just moments from the metropolitan area is this stunner | Photo: Tom Capon

He told us how Oxford Street transformed into the queer hub it is today; boring suits and banks changed for bustling bars and fetish shops. We walked to Green Park, the site of the Holocaust Memorial. The pink triangle sits boldly against its emerald background, a stark reminder of what happens when the LGBTI community doesn’t fight back.

The park was also used by nuns to treat HIV patients during the AIDS crisis. Doctor’s refused to help, fearing they would contract the then-mysterious illness. The nuns used to roll joints to relieve their pain. These women, devoted to a religion that demonized them, were the only ones who cared about their pain.

Then there’s the march itself. It began that faithful day in 1979, where protesters took to the streets for LGBTI rights. Same-sex activity was illegal. The police raided the march, violently arresting and abusing the brave resistors in prison. Now every year LGBTI people march to make sure it never happens again.

I asked why Sydney call it Mardi Gras instead of Pride. Our tour guide replied: ‘because we don’t want it to be sad, we want it to be a celebration.’

Sydney Mardi Gras Pride Parade Jeffrey Feng Photography-00917

This is how we dress for a riot | Photo: Jeffrey Feng

Why we march

The night of Mardi Gras I weaved through the crowds, tipsy on wine and excitement. People lined the roads waiting for the parade, others laughed with their friends in doorways. I, on the other hand, entered the VIP Black Diamond Club – which is available to buy beforehand – for the best view of the parade.

I grew up watching Prides squeezed shoulder-to-shoulder with hundreds of people on the sidewalk; for my first Mardi Gras, I needed to treat myself.

The LGBTI First Nations people opened the march, helping to correct decades of erasure from the country and community. Then a cascade of fantastical floats soared down the street: Dykes on Bikes, the original protesters, lifeguards, queer families.

They marched, they danced, they cheered and celebrated. Costumes of fire-red feathers, hot pink vests, more glitter than you can imagine. Two cannons shot towers of fire into the air and the crowd cheered.

The joy of those watching entwined with those performing and the electricity in the air ignited.

Sydney Mardi Gras Parade Pride Jeffrey Feng Photography-02202

What’s a party without nearly naked men | Photo: Jeffrey Feng

It’s important not to forget the events are protests, but the protest comes from the celebration. This is who we are. Lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, gay, trans, non-binary, asexual, intersex, queer and every other identity that should be celebrated, should be loved, should be a part of our community.

On these days, we are one.

There are problems with these events. People are excluded. We should never stop fighting until our community is inclusive.

Because even within the LGBTI community, there are differences. But we are held together by our mutual understanding and love for each other. It’s a symbiotic relationship, which might be why Sydney is the ground for something like Mardi Gras. It’s a city of symbiosis; of separate things working together.

Not always easily. Though when it works, it’s a sight to behold.

Read more about Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras here. Nightly rates at Larmont Sydney by Lancemore start from £100 (€116.87/$131.39).

See also: 

Las Vegas: the most ridiculous place on Earth cured my jaded gay soul

From leather fetishists to queer art, Nice is France’s surprising gay city

Meribel: how to face your fears on the ski slopes of the French alps

Author: Tom Capon

The post How Sydney Mardi Gras helped me realize the true meaning of Pride appeared first on Gay Star News.

Why the deserts of Arizona are surprisingly great for a gay USA road trip

What to see in Arizona gay

Arizona is a state of contradictions.

On the US political map, most of it is a deep shade of red, but it’s also home to some of the most diverse cities in America. Most of the place is a desert, but it’s lush enough to grow vineyards. It’s a modern state, but with a more than a touch of the Old West about it.

And I was ready for an old-fashioned American adventure. I landed in Phoenix, hired a car, and took a road trip through the southern part of the state.

Hitting the road

I visited three cities: Phoenix, Arizona’s largest city, and its capital; Bisbee, a tiny former mining town about 3.5 hours’ drive from Phoenix; and Tucson, about halfway between the others, the former state capital, and home to the University of Arizona. Thanks to the ease with which American interstates can be tackled, you can comfortably navigate this route in a week.

Arizona roadtrip gay

Arizona is pure road trip territory | Photo: Andrew Gonsalves

As mentioned earlier, Arizona is pretty darn lush. There were a couple of days of belting rain when I visited in December (it’s sunny about 85% of the year), but if the state got any more rain, it would lose desert status altogether. This makes the Sonoran Desert feel more alive that you’d ever expect.

A note about driving in the USA. This was my first time doing so and it was the easiest thing I ever did (and, driving along the Gate Pass Road towards the Desert Museum, of the most beautiful).

My only advice is to make sure you have a satnav and, if you can, consider getting a car that’s a step up from the economy model. The distances are vast – I traveled a little over 700 miles in a week – so you’ll want to know exactly where you’re going, and you’ll want to be sat in something comfortable.

The best way to experience the deserts is to get into them. By night, I made for the Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix for Electric Desert. This is an immersive experience, where the desert is brought spectacularly to life using lights and music. Seeing a mountain (a small one, admittedly, but a mountain’s a mountain) illuminated while a Mexican band sang Christmas songs was a spine-tingling experience.

ARizona cactus

There’s more than a few wonders waiting for you | Photo: Andrew Gonsalves

Touring Tucson

I started my time in Tucson with a tour from Tucson Bike Tours. Spending just a couple of hours with my guide, Jim, brought the whole of the city to life. This included the huge, just-like-the-movies University of Arizona campus and an accompanying frat house, where I may’ve imagined I was in House Bunny.

It’s a fantastic way to get under the skin of Tucson’s history, see some super-pretty houses, and explore the city’s relationship with the desert. At two hours long, I thought I’d build up an appetite for dinner (or at least burn off breakfast) but, as we stopped midway for the very best empanada I’ve ever eaten, my calorie deficit remained non-existent.

Sufficiently biked-out, I headed to the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum, which is a veritable treasure chest of life in the desert. Reached through the Gateway Pass, probably the prettiest road I’ve ever driven along, it’s less a museum and more a zoo.

I got up close and personal with the surprisingly large number of critters that call the Sonoran home. My favorite was the mountain lion who was clearly used to tourists, and gave zero f***s about being on display. I was also very much there for the river otters (…not for that reason) and the hummingbird aviary was breathtaking. The museum also offers a selection of nicely thought-out trails, so you can lose yourself in the desert without actually getting lost.

Arizona airplanes desert see

Everything looks more dramatic in the desert | Photo: Andrew Gonsalves

Desert-based, but not desert-related, the PIMA Air & Space Museum, outside of Tuscon, is essentially a giant parking lot for old planes. I gaped at the Air Force One that ferried JFK around the world and stood in awe at the permanent exhibition on women in flight.

A particularly poignant moment came as I admired a B-52 that flew over Germany during WWII. The elderly guide, Richard, started telling me his story. He was based in Norfolk, UK, during the war, flying B-52s. An attack of food poisoning meant he couldn’t fly one morning, but the rest of his crew set off.

Their plane was shot down over Germany in 1942. There were no survivors. 

Eating through Arizona

Arizona was once a part of Mexico, (it didn’t become part of the US until the mid-1800s), and where you’re most likely to feel this Mexican history is in Arizona’s food.

Forget the usual Tex-Mex mush, you’ll find some truly delectable tacos at Contessa’s Cantina in Bisbee and Downtown Kitchen and Cocktails in Tucson. The latter has a mouthwatering locally and seasonally based menu. I also loved Tucson’s Barrio Bread. Its hand-crafted loaves are obscenely delicious; trust me when I say that you’ve not tasted bread until you’ve tasted a warm jalapeño-cheddar loaf.

churos where to eat in arizona

If I could marry these churros, I would | Photo: Andrew Gonsalves

The culinary highlight of my trip was Phoenix’s Barrio Café. Run by Silvana Esparza, who gave up everything at the age of 41, bought a backpack and set off on an adventure through Mexico. She visited every region, finding out what they cooked and how they cooked it, before opening Barrio (no relation to Barrio Bread) with her then-partner, Wendy, in 2002.

The food is magnificent; far, far removed from the nasty tacos and yellow cheese you associate with Tex-Mex. Everything I tasted at Barrio was an explosion for the senses. The colors and flavors left me longing for a stomach twice the size of my own. Whatever you do, leave space for the churros.

Scouting the scene

Given that you’re reading Gay Star News, there’s the chance that you’ll want to sample the scenes in some of the places you visit.

More importantly, you’ll want to know you’re safe doing so. Here I bring good tidings. All three of the destinations I sampled were liberal, welcoming and, in my opinion, very safe. (While we’re chatting about bigotry, it’s also worth noting that no one I spoke to in the Arizona thought Trump’s wall was anything other than a bad idea.)

Phoenix and Tucson have thriving LGBTI scenes; there’s a wealth of bars and restaurants, and a live and let live attitude that permeates both cities. Indeed, the LGBTI people I spoke to felt just as comfortable in ‘straight’ bars and restaurants as any space on the scene.

Visit Arizona

So. Many. Steps. | Photo: Andrew Gonsalves

The biggest surprise, however, was Bisbee. Officially the City of Bisbee, it’s really no more than a large village, with just over 5,500 full-time residents. You’d be forgiven for thinking that small-town, southern America would be just what you expect.

It isn’t. It’s like a desert version of Brighton. The very first thing I saw as I drove into the town was a rainbow crosswalk. This was followed, almost immediately, by a shop proudly flying the rainbow flag. The city’s probably the the smallest place I’ve ever visited that has its own pride – every June.

Beyond the queerness, it’s a wonderful, bizarre place; like someone’s mixed small-town America with a winding hill town in Italy. There are over 1,000 stairs in Bisbee, making exploration more of a hike. If, like Mariah and I, you don’t do stairs, you can book a jeep tour. They’re big, purple versions of the jeep Stuart Jones from Queer as Folk drove.

The tours take in the smallest bar in Arizona – the Silver King, an establishment with four seats – and the old town jail, which John Wayne converted into a home. I also headed to Erie street, just outside of the town. It’s been preserved as it was in the 50s: with an old-school diner and classic American motors littering the sidewalk, and was easily the most Instagrammable man-made stop on my trip.

Friends in the desert

I left Arizona on a high. It’s easily one of the prettiest and friendliest states I’ve visited so far. The food is divine, the landscape magnificent and the people warm. I don’t feel like I’ve begun to scratch the surface. I’ll be back for sure.

Plan your trip to Arizona at visitarizona.com.  

See also: 

St Louis is the Midwest’s hidden gay gem just waiting to be discovered

How this city-living gay guy found a love of the great outdoors in Scottsdale, Arizona

Is The Chase Park Plaza the perfect spot to rediscover historic St Louis?

Author: Andrew Gonsalves

The post Why the deserts of Arizona are surprisingly great for a gay USA road trip appeared first on Gay Star News.