I’m afraid that my blog posting from last week on how I spent the weekend might have given the impression that my idea of fun always involves alcohol. So, in order to rescue my reputation, I will tell you about last weekend. It was filled with cultural and sporting activities, and the only drinks I had were a caramel-flavoured rum and one bottle of beer.
I did long for a maquis though, on Sunday morning, but this was due to a great urge to get my hands on a refreshing soft drink and something to eat. This was after I had cycled some 30 kilometres, and was faced with the prospect to have to cycle another 10. All this on a road which was unpaved for about 90% of the way, mind you. Despite the fact that it was early, and that there was some wind, and that the sun wasn’t as bright as usual, it was still a great physical challenge. At the end of the ride, when we finally did sit down in a maquis, and I did get a coke and a tasty sandwich with omelette, the hardship I had had to endure, showed: the mix of liquid sweat and factor 30 sunscreen combined into a great glue, making sure the red sand stuck to my skin firmly. My face had been airbrushed by the same sand, and the sun had burned right through the sunscreen on my nose, making me look like Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer. My shirt was drained with sweat, and had stains all over. The slightly bewildered look in my eyes complemented this charming picture.
Late Saturday afternoon, I concluded that I didn’t have any plans for the rest of the weekend, and that I would have an early night and a quite Sunday, for a change. I had wanted to go to a concert that evening, but because I didn’t know where it was exactly, and couldn’t get a hold of a friend who did know, I decided to leave it. There was also the option of a cycle tour on Sunday morning, with a group of Dutch cyclists, but since I don’t have a proper mountain bike, I decided to leave that as well. But then, the friend called, and we went to the concert anyway, and a little later my colleague called, who offered to lend his bike to me. So long quite weekend.
The concert was in a tapas bar, where the band of another colleague of mine played. This is where the caramel rum came in: the bar is known for it’s many flavours of rum. My friend tried the coconut one, and we tried each other’s, but what we tasted was mainly rum. We left straight after the concert to get some sleep, but I didn’t turn in before half past midnight, and the alarm clock was set for 6:30 again.
The concert wasn’t the only cultural event this weekend: on Friday evening, I joined yet another colleague and some of my friends to a theatre play. It was something about the role of female actresses. I didn’t really get all of it, but the actresses played very well, and the outdoor theatre was lovely. Only the very boring speech of the theatre director afterwards, in which all donors had to be thanked twice, was a minus.
I dedicated my Saturday morning to shopping. For the first time, I ventured alone into the street where the vegetable market is held. Competition among the market women is high, which means that you will be surrounded by screaming women the moment you set foot there. They will stay there all the way during the transaction, and will not respect your personal circle at all. They’ll offer all sorts of fruit and veggies to you by throwing them in your face. Nevertheless, I managed to buy a bag full of vegetables, without getting irritated, angry, or robbed. It’s a very good meditation exercise I tell you, trying to remain calm in such a situation.
Afterwards, I visited the tailor once more, who had made a lovely afro-european dress for me. It wasn’t supposed to be ready before next week, but since I’m his favourite customer, he had sped up the process a bit. I made two more orders, and then proceeded to the gym. With all the nice, cheap food here, I’m at serious risk to grow a size (or two), and it would be a shame if I wouldn’t fit into my new, tailor-made clothes anymore. The plan was to just hop in and hop out of the gym, but the fitness instructor thought otherwise, making me do all sorts of painful exercises. In the end, when he had made sure that every limb on my body hurt, if necessary by putting his full body weight on me while I was stretching, he smiled a cruel smile, winked at me, and said, while I lay helplessly on the ground: ‘ok, ma chérie, that was it for today. I expect to see you Monday again’. And me, unaware of the sporting activity yet to come that weekend, used my last breath to promise him ‘alright, Monday it is’.
Oh, how much I regret that now.
I did long for a maquis though, on Sunday morning, but this was due to a great urge to get my hands on a refreshing soft drink and something to eat. This was after I had cycled some 30 kilometres, and was faced with the prospect to have to cycle another 10. All this on a road which was unpaved for about 90% of the way, mind you. Despite the fact that it was early, and that there was some wind, and that the sun wasn’t as bright as usual, it was still a great physical challenge. At the end of the ride, when we finally did sit down in a maquis, and I did get a coke and a tasty sandwich with omelette, the hardship I had had to endure, showed: the mix of liquid sweat and factor 30 sunscreen combined into a great glue, making sure the red sand stuck to my skin firmly. My face had been airbrushed by the same sand, and the sun had burned right through the sunscreen on my nose, making me look like Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer. My shirt was drained with sweat, and had stains all over. The slightly bewildered look in my eyes complemented this charming picture.
Late Saturday afternoon, I concluded that I didn’t have any plans for the rest of the weekend, and that I would have an early night and a quite Sunday, for a change. I had wanted to go to a concert that evening, but because I didn’t know where it was exactly, and couldn’t get a hold of a friend who did know, I decided to leave it. There was also the option of a cycle tour on Sunday morning, with a group of Dutch cyclists, but since I don’t have a proper mountain bike, I decided to leave that as well. But then, the friend called, and we went to the concert anyway, and a little later my colleague called, who offered to lend his bike to me. So long quite weekend.
The concert was in a tapas bar, where the band of another colleague of mine played. This is where the caramel rum came in: the bar is known for it’s many flavours of rum. My friend tried the coconut one, and we tried each other’s, but what we tasted was mainly rum. We left straight after the concert to get some sleep, but I didn’t turn in before half past midnight, and the alarm clock was set for 6:30 again.
The concert wasn’t the only cultural event this weekend: on Friday evening, I joined yet another colleague and some of my friends to a theatre play. It was something about the role of female actresses. I didn’t really get all of it, but the actresses played very well, and the outdoor theatre was lovely. Only the very boring speech of the theatre director afterwards, in which all donors had to be thanked twice, was a minus.
I dedicated my Saturday morning to shopping. For the first time, I ventured alone into the street where the vegetable market is held. Competition among the market women is high, which means that you will be surrounded by screaming women the moment you set foot there. They will stay there all the way during the transaction, and will not respect your personal circle at all. They’ll offer all sorts of fruit and veggies to you by throwing them in your face. Nevertheless, I managed to buy a bag full of vegetables, without getting irritated, angry, or robbed. It’s a very good meditation exercise I tell you, trying to remain calm in such a situation.
Afterwards, I visited the tailor once more, who had made a lovely afro-european dress for me. It wasn’t supposed to be ready before next week, but since I’m his favourite customer, he had sped up the process a bit. I made two more orders, and then proceeded to the gym. With all the nice, cheap food here, I’m at serious risk to grow a size (or two), and it would be a shame if I wouldn’t fit into my new, tailor-made clothes anymore. The plan was to just hop in and hop out of the gym, but the fitness instructor thought otherwise, making me do all sorts of painful exercises. In the end, when he had made sure that every limb on my body hurt, if necessary by putting his full body weight on me while I was stretching, he smiled a cruel smile, winked at me, and said, while I lay helplessly on the ground: ‘ok, ma chérie, that was it for today. I expect to see you Monday again’. And me, unaware of the sporting activity yet to come that weekend, used my last breath to promise him ‘alright, Monday it is’.
Oh, how much I regret that now.
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