Speedos In The Prater
Yes, the title of this post is meant to grab your attention. It might be cringe worthy, depending on where you land on the bathing costume, but either way speedos are definitely a thing here in Vienna; One might argue, throughout Europe. With the temperatures on the rise and the public pools boasting Disneyland worthy cues, my favorite place, the Prater is becoming filled with sun worshippers and the like.
My first encounter with the notion of catching the sun in a public place, other than near a body of water, came in university. In the Midwest the arrival of sunshine and temperatures above sixty five degrees Fahrenheit meant less clothing and bikinis on the mall, or common area in front of our dorm. I'll admit here, sheepishly, that I was lured into the experience. I mean, half the girls in my dorm were doing it so why wouldn't I join in? Once was enough for me. I felt ridiculous but also was hoping to catch some attention from being in the common area in my bathing suit. Oh to youth! Fast forward, twenty years and then some and I will state for the record that I too have now spent time in the Prater in my bathing costume. And also, for the record, Husband Jared has as well. Although without a speedo. No, he wasn't naked, he had his swim shorts on. OK, moving on, because this has the potential to go downhill quickly.
It is no secret that I love the heat. My brother in law would argue that I prefer the dry heat, but either way I am here for summer. Because summer to me means longer days, lingering over a late dinner on the terrace until the candles are melted down, water, lakes, beaches and pools, no schedules and bare feet, bathing suits and swimmers and floaties and ice cream, all day every day, bucket lists and campfires, s'mores and hammock swinging, novels and lazy days. Summer is all that and more. Summer does not translate to speedos. At least not in my book. I did, however, catch myself saying, "summer is here and so are the speedos", on my walk through Prater a few weeks ago. That my friends signaled to me that the barometer was on the move. Also, it alerted me to the, ahem, perks of summer as well.
One of my favorite, OK, probably my favorite place in Vienna is the Prater. And in Spring and summer the place comes alive. Apparently summer is when all of us who don't have access to pools or those of us that don't want to brave the lines will migrate to Prater. Hammocks will be hung and blankets spread. Kinder will be running every which way. Sun worshippers will be laying still, changing position every so often and I will be running through the shade. That is when I happened upon my first speedo sighting. I was initially caught off guard. Yes, I did a double take and then I continued on. Surely it was a one off. No, no it wasn't. He happened to be there the next run and the one after. So imagine my surprise when I saw him again this year. This man, name and identity unbeknownst to me, has become my marker for summer. He is as ordinary as the Gutenberg statue in the first district. Or the MQ and Imperial Palace. I am no longer offended by his presence. Is that to be expected after a year and a half of European living? I'm not quite sure where to land on that statement. Regardless, the speedo man is in the Prater and I am apparently here for it.
Please tell me your stance on speedos. I'm curious people. Because there we were on the Alte Donau this past weekend and wouldn't you know it, more speedos. Now, there was also a nude beach but that is a topic for another post entirely. Let's stick to the subject at hand. I had made an assumption that the speedo wearing was restricted by age but through much research, or maybe I should say first hand experience, I have learned that it is not. I repeat: it is not limited to the over seventy crowd. Little boys in speedos, the cutest. Really, their baby bums covered by patterned swimming costumes causes me to be overcome with baby fever. OK, not really, but something like that. Senior citizens in speedos seems a relatively easy concept to grasp. They're happy, they don't mind the stares, maybe they welcome them? The in-between crowd I will need someone to explain. Is it analogous to bikini preferences for women? Topless or not? That I can understand. And hear me on this, I hold no opinion on speedo wearing itself. Honestly. Wear one, don't. Really is no matter to me. I am simply trying to understand why here in Europe that is the preferred bathing costume amongst men, and why it isn't in the States. Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? Is there a historical reasoning for this? I must be coming to some sort of conclusion here because I did say to Husband Jared that we should start looking for a speedo for him. You know, for when we retire. Wink, wink.
It is no secret that I love the heat. My brother in law would argue that I prefer the dry heat, but either way I am here for summer. Because summer to me means longer days, lingering over a late dinner on the terrace until the candles are melted down, water, lakes, beaches and pools, no schedules and bare feet, bathing suits and swimmers and floaties and ice cream, all day every day, bucket lists and campfires, s'mores and hammock swinging, novels and lazy days. Summer is all that and more. Summer does not translate to speedos. At least not in my book. I did, however, catch myself saying, "summer is here and so are the speedos", on my walk through Prater a few weeks ago. That my friends signaled to me that the barometer was on the move. Also, it alerted me to the, ahem, perks of summer as well.
One of my favorite, OK, probably my favorite place in Vienna is the Prater. And in Spring and summer the place comes alive. Apparently summer is when all of us who don't have access to pools or those of us that don't want to brave the lines will migrate to Prater. Hammocks will be hung and blankets spread. Kinder will be running every which way. Sun worshippers will be laying still, changing position every so often and I will be running through the shade. That is when I happened upon my first speedo sighting. I was initially caught off guard. Yes, I did a double take and then I continued on. Surely it was a one off. No, no it wasn't. He happened to be there the next run and the one after. So imagine my surprise when I saw him again this year. This man, name and identity unbeknownst to me, has become my marker for summer. He is as ordinary as the Gutenberg statue in the first district. Or the MQ and Imperial Palace. I am no longer offended by his presence. Is that to be expected after a year and a half of European living? I'm not quite sure where to land on that statement. Regardless, the speedo man is in the Prater and I am apparently here for it.
Please tell me your stance on speedos. I'm curious people. Because there we were on the Alte Donau this past weekend and wouldn't you know it, more speedos. Now, there was also a nude beach but that is a topic for another post entirely. Let's stick to the subject at hand. I had made an assumption that the speedo wearing was restricted by age but through much research, or maybe I should say first hand experience, I have learned that it is not. I repeat: it is not limited to the over seventy crowd. Little boys in speedos, the cutest. Really, their baby bums covered by patterned swimming costumes causes me to be overcome with baby fever. OK, not really, but something like that. Senior citizens in speedos seems a relatively easy concept to grasp. They're happy, they don't mind the stares, maybe they welcome them? The in-between crowd I will need someone to explain. Is it analogous to bikini preferences for women? Topless or not? That I can understand. And hear me on this, I hold no opinion on speedo wearing itself. Honestly. Wear one, don't. Really is no matter to me. I am simply trying to understand why here in Europe that is the preferred bathing costume amongst men, and why it isn't in the States. Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? Is there a historical reasoning for this? I must be coming to some sort of conclusion here because I did say to Husband Jared that we should start looking for a speedo for him. You know, for when we retire. Wink, wink.
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