must be confined to prostitutes and visiting tourists.

This former would be no problem, as prostitution is open and rife. Panama, the Dominican Republic and Venezuela are the worst. Of course in Caracas I had more opportunities to observe, but it seemed to me that prostitution is a major industry there. Apart from armed police, the prosti, tutes were about the only people in numbers to be seen at night. It was impossible to walk one block without being hissed at from half-open doors and windows.

Someone has speculated that the origin of machismo lies in the desire of the native Americans to follow, and be like, the Spanish conquistadores and overlords, who were brave, fearless and ruthless men. Machismo does not exist in Spain; nor, I am told, to any extent in Brazil. I used to patronize a little bar near the Teatro Nacional in Caracas, and the proprietor, a voluble and proud Galician, put it this way: "For a Spaniard, machismo is not necessary -after all, everyone knows how macho he is he doesn't have to prove it!"

I have always suspected that there must be something wrong, or doubtful, about the man who overdoes the he-man-butch-male bit. I lived the greater part of my life in Australia (a man's country if ever there was one), where men are probably among the manliest in the world. but frequently retire to the ubiquitous menonly pubs. The talk there is strictly all-male, but conversation such as you'd hear in Mexico or Costa Rica about women-just wouldn't be tolerated for long.

So what does the gay person do in Latin America? I assume, of course. that the percentage of homosexuals there is about the same as anywhere else around five percent. During a walk down any main street in any

one

North American city it isn't hard to spot a few gay folk-even the ones who are barely obvious. In all Central America, during my six weeks of travel, never once did I recognize a single gay person on the street-at least, a native one. The few I did see turned out to be North Americans, either tourists or residents.

Tijuana, of course (and we are told this frequently), is not Mexico. This is especially true for the gay world. Here I did see obvious gay Mexicans. Three friends and I camped outrageously up and down the main strip for hours, and no one raised an eyebrow. We got tired of being asked if we wanted girls at the cut-rate of $2.98, so took to retorting that we didn't want muchachas, but muchachos-not girls, but boys. And without turning a hair, the touts replied that they could supply the goods! In one gay bar we saw men dancing together-but these were U. S. sailors from San Diego.

Not so the rest of the country; only in Mexico City did I find anything. The bar of the new luxury Maria Isabel Hotel is, at certain times, a gay hang-out-but mostly North Americans. The Safari Bar is more for locals, but is dark, and small, and hard to locate. I was told that it is the only gay bar allowed by the police to remain open, and is carefully watched.

In Mexican slang, a gay person is a "mariposa" (butterfly), or a "tortilla," because tortillas are made only by women. A quick hand-slapping movement, as if making a tortilla. indicates that you think a person is

gay.

Guatemala City has a gay bar of sorts, the Bar Madrid: but on the two occasions I was there, things were mighty dull.

British Honduras has a village with the most intriguing name in the world -Pull Trousers Creek-but no gay

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