Castro Confidential does . . . Ibiza!

I'm forming a new online community for adventurous world travelers: Ibiza Confidential chronicles our journey to the globe's top financial, cultural and spiritual destinations. From Burning Man, to dinner at Sao Paulo's ass-kicking Ritz burger joint, to this summer's Paris Hilton Watch on our first stop, the Mediterranean party island of Ibiza. Heck: We might even see more of my friend Paulo, the Portuguese personal trainer -- and jockstrap model!

I've found him!

He's an Israeli known as DJ Aron and he plays in Paris and Milan. I've been trying to learn more about him after seeing him last month in Ibiza with porn star Franceso D'Macho. Hard to believe, but Aron is even sexier in person!

How I spent my summer vacation

A week after returning to the states, I'm still catching up. Here's the holiday run down:

• Provincetown. Kind of a big snooze: Half the Castro seemed to be there and the weather was too often cool, which made it feel like we were still back in San Francisco. Breakfast at a new place, Devon's, was a treat. And, as always, we loved Cafe Heaven. But I just can't get into the new club scene focused on the Paramount at the Crown & Anchor Inn. Call me old school, but I loved the days when the more laid-back A-House was the only place to be. On the other hand, it was a delight to get to know our new pal, Joey, at Cyber Cove. So cute! Grading P-town: C-plus.
• Ibiza. We've never seen so many good looking men in one place at one time -- and that includes our several forays to Rio de Janeiro. I recommend any meal at the French patisserie, Croissant-Show, at the foot of Dalt Vila. And don't miss dinner at El Olivo or at the Plaza del Sol Restaurant, atop Dalt Vila and offering a view of the city below. The big drug crackdown this summer that spurred club shutdowns and raids didn't slow the availability of pot, cocaine and Ecstasy. Grading Ibiza: A-.
• London. It was every bit as pricey as Sparky had warned. (Lunch of two hamburgers, one order of fries and two Cokes for $40.) Stay where we stayed: the Mountbatten on Seven Dials, just blocks from the gay district centered on Old Compton Street. Run -- don't walk -- for dinner at the delightful Mon Plaiser on Monmouth Street. And don't miss Monmouth Coffee Co. Hate to say, but it puts Peet Coffee & Tea to shame. Grading London: B-plus.

[Photos, left to right: P-Town's Lobster Pot restaurant; a scene from the June Release Yourself party at Ibiza's Pacha; Big Liz.]

On Ibiza, life's a gay beach

The scene earlier this month at Ibiza's gay beach, Playa des Cavallet, with two especially hot numbers (left) getting cozy. Other than the fact they're beaches and both draw gay men, the comparison to Baker Beach in San Francisco stops there. Playa des Cavallet's water is, of course, wonderfully warm and it has a terrific beachside cafe, Chiringay, where Sparky and I enjoyed late, late lunches. We'd often arrive at the beach on the 3:30 bus, then stay until the last one, at 8, before returning to Ibiza Town for a snooze, shower and shave just before an 11 p.m. dinner.

One day at Playa des Cavallet, I saw porn star Francesco D'Macho (left) with his pal, dancer and model Marco Da Silva (center), and a third guy (right), who I think is a DJ in Milan. I've searched high and low, but can't find that DJ's name; hands down, he was hotness on toast! Maybe Francesco or Marco will answer the questions I've left on their sites?

Here's the skinny on short pants

You gay men -- yes! I'm talking about you! -- were crazy-nuts for striped and plaid shorts in Provincetown, Ibiza and London during our recent visit. I shouldn't have been surprised, given what I'd written here. This being August, all the size-30 waists were sold out, which left me in the cold. Sparky couldn't find any in his (slightly) larger size, either. Plus, most shorts are too, well, long, for me -- which is why I'd found this Diesel Raydar swimsuit. It's on sale right now for $95 -- down from $140 -- at International Jock.

On the other hand, we're really big tippers

Sparky and I had this debate at the beach on Ibiza: Just how many men there were close to our age? We agreed on a "few dozen or less" of the more than 1,000 (Sparky's estimate) guys sipping cocktails, slapping on suntan oil, and planning drugs for that night's party at, say, Privilege. We saw a lot of hot guys. But we didn't meet many of them. (Like: none.)

So! When are you "old" according to the younger gay set? On Fire Island, it's when you hit the mid-40s. "He was at least 45,'' one gay boy was overheard hissing recently as he described an oldster on Pavilion's dance floor. "His chest hair was, like, grey.'' To which I reply: Lemme show you my pubes, darling!

Curses: I can already see my Ibiza suntan fading! Looks like it could be wet out there today. San Francisco's weather forecast is for partly cloudy skies with a chance of thunderstorms all day long. It'll be a bit cooler, too: Highs in the lower 60s to mid 70s.

Hello, darlings! I'm back with scandalous news!

Phew! That was one drug-addled, sex-obsessed holiday! And I'm not even talking about my recent romp with Sparky in Provincetown, Ibiza and London. There we were Thursday night, wandering down London's way-gay Old Compton Street, not far from our Soho hotel, when I nearly ran into a tiny woman clutching another equally tiny woman as they crept down the sidewalk. Sparky, I said, that's one serious fan of Amy Winehouse (above): One of those women has tricked herself out to look just like the British pop singer.

The next morning, I saw a scrum of photographers in front of the Covent Garden Hotel, one door down from where we were staying at the Mountbatten. No shrinking violent, I asked one of the paps what was up. "Amy Winehouse is staying at that hotel,'' he told me. It was a short time later before I learned the tawdry truth: Winehouse and her bad-boy husband, Blake Fielder-Civil, had been photographed only hours before my near run-in on Compton, bloody and disheveled after a possible fight with Blake. She'd fled rehab for cocaine and heroin addiction earlier in the week after just a five days' stay.

See: Sparky and I always stay among quality folk -- like Francois Sagat's (ex?) boyfriend, Franceso D'Macho, who we saw at Playa des Cavallet on Ibiza!

Castro Confidential goes on the road!

My blogging's going to be very light during the next three weeks, but for good reason: Today, Sparky and I go on holiday, heading to Cape Cod's Provincetown, then Spain's party island of Ibiza, and finally to London. So, while we play like lusty lads half our age, entertain yourselves with these Best o' Castro Confidential posts:

• See the porn star who's a dead ringer for cute CNN anchor Anderson Cooper.
• Watch what happens when a British rugby team gets frisky after downing too many pints.
• Learn why fashion stud Tom Ford loves to go commando.
• Plus, plus, plus! You can always oggle all these tasty men.

[Photos, left to right: P-Town's Lobster Pot restaurant; a scene from the June Release Yourself party at Ibiza's Pacha; Big Liz.]

What is it about gay men and peninsulas?

Islands, too! Sparky and I are planning a trip to Provincetown, where we met eight years ago, and to the Spanish island of Ibiza. (Side note, fellas: We love Spaniards because they legalized same-sex marriage two years ago today.) To recap: San Francisco is at the tip of a peninsula. P-town is at the tip of a peninsula. There's peninsular Key West, of course. Other islands of gay resort include Manhattan and Fire (Island). I'm sure I'm missing a bunch of others. What's it all mean? I guess we've always fled to out-of-the-way places where we feel safe and free to be, well, gay. Plus, of course, peninsula sounds like it has something to do with penises, right? [Photo: Google Earth]

Forget the guns; how about that butt?

Spanish tennis stud Rafael Nadal moved closer to a third consecutive French Open title today by beating Lleyton Hewitt for a spot in the quarterfinals. Nadal's big biceps have given him grief on French TV in the past; commentators have said they want him to lose, claiming "we don't need construction worker arms in tennis." Those scrawny French!

Nadal, who turned 21 yesterday, can curl 55 lbs. with his right arm, and 66 lbs. with his left. That, of course, means he must be gay, since left-handedness is more common among homosexualists. Plus, Nadal was born on the Spanish island of Majorca, just a hop-skip-and-a-jump from that gayest island of all, Ibiza! Plus, plus: Spain lets gay boys and girls marry each other. That is, boys getting hitched to boys and girls to -- oh, you know what I mean! [Photo: AP]