She'll be coming down the mountain when she comes

So once I was almost settled in my flat (to be honest I'm still not settled in this flat - it's a bloody nightmare - I'll get to that in another entry!) it was time to do something exciting before the boredom of Melilla kicked in. Some of my teachers had mentioned that they were going up Mount Gurugu (the mountain that I could previously see from my window in my old flat, and also the mountain that can be seen in the blog entry when Dad and Nicki came to visit. Oh yeah, baby - check me out - I'm now inserting links and all! I'm becoming quite a dab hand! OK - I'm a geek, I'll stop!

I tried to look up some information about the mountain before we went with little success.

Because I'm not from Melilla I can't cross the border on the west side of Melilla in Farhana and consequently had to go to Beni Enzar on the east side and cross there, getting my passport stamped (yay!) as I went.The plan was this... Meet at Santander on Saturday morning and we'll be back by lunchtime. Christ, that was optimistic, or was it really, if we were meeting at 7am... On a Saturday...

It was a bit of an overcast day, or from what I could tell at 6.15am when I was running around to friend's houses to get waterproof jackets last minute. I wrapped up warm with my best shell suit trousers, my trainers and a professional hikers backpack (thanks, Tommy E!) and met two colleagues at Santander. We drove to the border, left the car there and walked across. This was the first time I'd walked across and early in the morning too (did I mention that it was 7am in the morning on a Saturday?!). There were tens of people heaving big bags and boxes over their shoulders across the border, not only from Morocco into Melilla but vice versa as well. My colleague explained that some things that are cheap and easy to get hold of in Melilla are more expensive and few and far between in Morocco - he mentioned pepper in particular, I think. I didn't fully understand how it works both ways but I guess that's how the world goes round with imports and exports. From what I understood they're not allowed to cross the border in cars loaded with goods with the intention of selling them in the other country and so they walk across several times heave-hoing everything and the police, despite knowing what they're doing, let them pass with no problem.

Once we'd passed the Beni Enzar border we walked to the taxi rank and hopped a taxi to Farhana where all our other colleagues were waiting.  My colleague, Paco, had jumped taxis from Farhana to Beni Enzar and vice versa before as his wife is German and therefore also can't cross the border at Farhana (what a silly rule?!) so when the taxi driver started trying to charge us too much Paco told him to shut up, charge us €10 and we jumped in! Great one-way bartering! We drove all the way around the back of Melilla and jumped out of the taxi in Farhana after a really hairy drive where my other colleague had to grab the steering wheel a few times from the passenger seat! The rest of the crew were there waiting and after we'd decided to grab breakfast en route we set off on our trek.

The walk in general was nice, there were so many of us that you could switch who you were walking with and chat to someone else for a while and it was great for not only my Spanish but also socially. After about three quarters of flat terrain the path started to incline a fair bit. My colleagues were telling me all about the different markets they have in Morocco, particularly in the area where we were on the weekends. Apparently they sell camel heads and all sorts!

We came to the top of a little hill as darkness turned to daylight and it was like we'd just arrived on a rubbish dumping ground. My colleagues explained that Morocco doesn't have the money to recycle like other countries do and so as long as it's out of their houses they're happy. Matter of factly, Melilla doesn't have the money nor the measures to recycle either.  It costs too much to send all the rubbish back to the peninsula and so the majority of it gets incinerated, with plastic bottles being taken to Morocco to be sold by general members of the Moroccan public. I've noticed that there are glass bottle banks around but I'm not sure if that gets recycled, to be honest. At this point I'm assuming I've mentioned how walking down the street and seeing random men lurching into the bins, normally with a cardboard box propping the lid open, is more than a regular occurrence. At the top of this hill I decided to get my camera out and coincidentally looked around me to see a cracking view of what I thought was Melilla. In fact it wasn't but nevertheless it was a great sight, and particularly confusing with the general waste right next to you.

We continued up to the top of the hill and came to a small town called Beni Chiker. It was a ghost town except for a man and his donkey, but that's no surprise at 9am on a Saturday morning, I suppose!

We decided to stop here and grab some breakfast - typical Arab tea. We also ordered some 'tostadas' which are normally small bits of bread toasted with tomatoes. Instead we got enormous baguettes with the best olive oil known to man, and randomly Dairylea... I whopped a couple of them in my bag for when we got to the summit. I tried to nip to the loo before we got going but the toilet was just a hole so I decided if nature called then a bush would perhaps be a better option! I really get the impression that Morocco is so poor and consequently so unhygienic.

Can you see the big golden Arab tea urn at the back? Thought it was rather ornamental. I tried to take a picture of it zoomed up but it didn't come out too well.

So we carried on our way towards the mountain to get onto the 'Pista de Monos' (the Monkey Trail) as the sun was desperately fighting to come out with little success. As we began our walk, just as we left civilisation we walked past a school. Hundreds of children came out and followed us, pretty much mobbing us and even throwing stones at us! It was like we were a freak show or something as about 70 kids followed us for some time. I guess people don't pass by there very often! I didn't take a picture as I was worried about getting my camera out for various reasons but I got a few others...

I saw real cactae (what a cracking word!) for the first time in my life with crazy red fruits ('chumbos') amongst several other plants with plastic bags caught on half of them.

Once we got on the mountain path it was deserted, except for, of course, another man on a donkey! The higher we went the better views we got but unfortunately, at this point all, of Morocco and not Melilla which is what I was looking forward to.

Here's a picture of the gang half way up.

The higher we got, obviously the colder it got but I've never noticed that when you walk for a long time your fingers swell! It got so hard to clench my fist, not that I wanted to... It was just a colleague that pointed it out.

The scenery was ever-changing, one minute it felt like you were on the edge of a mountain, next you're in the middle of a hilly wood and then you're in the countryside. 

We even met some cows after walking up the mountain for about 3 hours! How the hell did they get there?!

Towards the top we finally started to see some views of Melilla. All of the photos I took on the way up were of Morocco and the sea seemed so blue but looking over to Melilla it looked a lovely Mediterranean green. However, when I zoomed in I realised that it was in fact brown. Nice!

Apparently a few years ago Morocco decided to dump their rubbish in the sea and it all came into Melilla and everyone bathing got genital problems... Did I tell you that before?!

Melilla is to the left of the bush on the right.

Our aim was to get to the castle at the top of Gurugu, have a bite to eat and then head back to Melilla. We were going to be back by 2pm but I couldn't personally see it happening as although we were walking at a comfortable pace, not too slow, nor too fast, it had taken us a good few hours to start making progress up the mountain. Our destination was this little castle:

We stopped for lunch around about here and then carried on up to the castle. It was a fortress centuries ago, similar to the old town in Melilla, used by Spain when Morocco was occupied by the Spanish way back. When we got there the sights were amazing. We could see all over Morocco (to the east of Melilla)...

...And the Bhar Amzzyan lagoon ( Mar Chica in Spanish) which is a natural random lagoon that runs into the Med.

A pretty breathtaking sight and then... GO! We were heading down that mountain faster than you can say Gurugu! Now... I know the smoking doesn't help but I was the youngest one there and I was struggling. I didn't realise they were pro-trekkers! We were pushed for time after saying we'd be back for lunch time and talking went out the window as all the woman carefully concentrated on their footing on the steep decline.

The sights were a lot more impressive on the way down as the majority of the time we were facing away from the mountain as opposed to into the mountain on the way up. Here's a cracking picture of Melilla with the Mar Chica to the right (you can really see the dirt in the water). Basically the two bits of land that jut out are the perimeters of Melilla so perhaps you can get an idea of how big the place is and consequently how enclosed people feel here!

On the way down we also found a burnt out car... God knows how it got there or when it was put there but this was pretty near the summit! Odd!

Right... I get the feeling I'm getting a bit carried away with the pictures so will tie this one up - it's dragging! I mean, if you've read to here I'd like to commend you right now!

Here's a panoramic picture I'm particularly proud of (my photographer friend had a fiddle) that was taken as we came off the mountain. It sucks in the blog, makes everything look ugly and you'll probably have to scroll right to see it but respect for my skills, no?! The patch just before the civilisation in Melilla is the airport. I think if you click on the picture you can get a bigger view.

When we got off the mountain I took a picture of the mountain and the castle at the top, behind us now, to show how high it was. I have no idea how high it is and I'm sure if you're bothered then you could look it up yourselves, which I doubt you will do, but anyway - can you see the tiny thing in the middle of the picture to the left of the pylon?! That's the castle where we had lunch.

Coming off of the mountain and back to the border we crossed a field that was absolutely jampacked with plastic bags that have clearly been left outside and blown by the wind onto any pokey-outy plants. They looked like different species of plastic bag plants! Pretty impressive... If that's the right word...

OK... This bad boy has taken me 3 days to right and I'm going to put it to publish now before I start to regret my journey to Gurugu. Hope you liked the pictures!

Coming soon... Malaga!

All change

After Christmas I had planned to move flat. Annalisa's housemate was moving to Nottingham and I could skank her room for the time she's gone. I warned my landlord that I would be moving with a months notice before the joyful festive season and had two days back in my old flat after Christmas before he needed me out ready for his new housemate moving in. I had a week of waiting for my new room to free up so crashed on my mates' sofa for a week with my bags blocking up their front door. This is the reason that my blog has been suffering and I am now trying to redeem myself!

I live with Annalisa, a girl from the Canary Islands and another girl from Andalusia. Over Christmas Annalisa and I bought piggy banks for one another. The idea is that if I speak English I put money in her piggy bank and if she speaks English she puts money in mine. Needless to say it isn't working, nobody's paying any money and we're both plain poop! I'd like to take this opportunity to openly hold Annalisa responsible for the consequent lack of Spanish going down in the flat (Yeah?! You want to chat back?! No English shouting from your bedroom please - s'what she normally does - I'll charge you! Feel very free to comment, however! :-P)

So.... I now have a new address and telephone number for anyone that may want/need them. I also now have a very short walk to school (only 10 minutes as opposed to 30), am paying less rent and can nip back when I have a two hour break at school for a kip! Pukka!

Flying home for Christmas

So I went to school on the Thursday before I left, expecting my classes to finish at 12.30pm (I’d been told that in my last lesson 12.30pm – 1.30pm they were going to have an exam so I didn’t need to go in – I wish he’d told me that weeks before when I booked my tickets home). As it turned out I didn’t need to go in for my lesson 11.30am – 12.30pm so I finished the day at 9.30am. I rushed back to a friend’s house and tried to see if I could get some earlier flights, making sure that both Iberia and Easyjet would allow me to change the flights in correspondence. All Iberia flights were full so there was no chance of an early arriva. Never mind. I chilled in the afternoon and had plenty of time to quadruple check that I’d packed everything in my bag and made my way to the airport an hour before my flight was due to leave.

Annalisa and Jorge took me to the airport and just after they left I tried to check in my hold luggage for my flight (17.45... Where is it on the board?!). It wasn’t on the board because the flight had been cancelled!!! The woman behind the desk kept repeating ‘Tenemos un problema’ (We have a problem!) to which I kept repeating ‘Claro!’ (No shit, Sherlock!).

They tried to put me on the next flight (which was the last flight to Malaga from Melilla for the day) so I would still be able to catch my connecting flight but then told me that the next flight was, in fact, full. I was told to wait around for an hour until everybody had checked in for the last flight of the day to see if anybody didn't turn up. FANTASTIC!

I turned around in a huff and made my way to the cafeteria to settle down for an hour when I bumped into my lovely housemate who works at the airport! He seemed shocked to see me and asked if I was going home for Christmas. I explained the situation and he explained that it’s not the airport’s fault, but Iberia's. Bloody good job I’d met his mate who’s the director of Iberia (we’ve been out for tapas several times ;-))! He spoke to the girl behind the desk to see what could be done, explained that I was a friend of his and then I was just told to wait again. Grar!

I grabbed a Fanta and as I was about to go out for a cigarette Mr. Iberia told me to go into his office and take my bags so I didn’t have to leave them in the cafeteria. I went into his office, had a few cigarettes with him in there and watched several men try and fix the plane that wasn’t going out due to a motor problem. It was cool, I spent the afternoon chilling out, awaiting my Christmas fate!

After about an hour (that I’d spent looking at different Easyjet flights from Madrid to London – there was another flight leaving Melilla at the same time as the one that was going to Malaga which wasn’t full) a woman shouted in that it was time for me to check my bag in. Huh?! Next minute I’ve got a boarding pass and I’m on the plane. Schweet!

I went through to departures as cool as a cucumber and walked outside onto the plane. Mr. Iberia was waiting for me there and I thanked him one last time for sorting me out as I climbed the stairs on the plane (Yeah... The ones that are in the teeny, weeny, polka dot, door.) peninsula bound.

So..... My flight was cancelled. Bummer. I got a later flight. Bummer. But I got there in the end and travelled in style! :-)

I managed to get to Malaga on time and check in for my flight fine. Easyshit managed to mess up the flight so we left later than planned but I was back in England (in -2 degree England!). I waited for the Gatwick Express, desperately trying to shove my hands into the pockets on my thin summer jacket. I boarded the train, waited at various signal failures, observing the snow on the cars out the window and swiftly jumped a taxi back to Beanie’s where he was loyally waiting with central heating ablast ready.

So that was my journey home back for Christmas, a bit of a nightmare, but I was back.

Christmas was cool and before I knew it, it was time to head back to Melilla. EXCEPT... Travelling to Melilla is never plain sailing and my flight had of course been cancelled back to Malaga. I had to rearrange the flight leaving from Gatwick and change it to Stansted, all making sure it coincided with my other one, which meant getting up earlier, heading right out of London and jumping on two flights, with a bloody long wait, back to Africa.

All in three weeks. Whopper.

Granada - town of pomegranates

So way back when... Granada was cool despite the Gods being against us.

On Friday, the boat we got from Melilla to Malaga was supposed to be a fast one but due to bad weather conditions got changed into a slow boat. Instead of arriving at 9pm we arrived at 1am. As compensation we got given a cabin which was ideal so Annalisa and I dumped our bags in our lovely spacious en-suite room!

We hit the deck and were watching Africa disappear before our eyes as the sun went down when we heard two English voices next to us. We met a guy that works in Saidia (where I went in Morocco, all that way back) and an American woman writing a book about Morocco. We hit the bar with our Spanish buddies and invited the English guy to join us. Immediately we realised how much we'd integrated ourselves in Spanish culture as we struggled to keep up with the rounds and the beer guggling!

On the boat we saw everyone and anyone that we know in Melilla (including teachers, students, friends - this place is so small!) and when we arrived in Malaga our friend's dad was waiting. We got to our home for the next 5 days at about 3am and crashed out.

In the morning we woke up in this horribly cold flat (why on Earth we'd decided to go on holiday in December to a place further away from the equator I really don't know!), caught the bus into the city centre and winterily wandered. We settled down in a little pizzeria and with a couple of Bailey's watched the square turn from a busy little market square (with old school carousels where someone has to cycle to power them!) into a winter wonderland.

It was nice to finally get a taste of Christmas (there were still no signs here in Melilla) but things got a bit complicated in the evening trying to meet up with friends and before we knew it, Annalisa and I were out of the city centre and heading back to the flat in the car. We were less than happy about this, had a bit of a grumble to the boys and instead of hitting the town hard we all sat in the flat and watched a film!

When we got back to the flat our friend was surprised we'd been surviving in the flat without 'el brasero'. We had an electric heater and had been using it in the bedroom to warm up in the morning and before bed to get changed but our friend showed us the proper way of utilising an electric heater to the max. He placed the heater under the table in the living room which was covered with a long, heavy table cloth. He'd created a magnificent sauna where you sit at the table, with your legs under the tablecloth and our laps warmed up nice and cosily toasty in minutes! It felt a little grandmothery but no complaints from us, it was cosy as hell!

Later in the evening a few of our friends friends came round and as soon as they arrived they pulled up a chair and popped their legs under the table without saying a word, as if it was the normal custom! We found this absolutely hilarious! Even cool teenagers will give up their street cred for a toasty lap!

The next day our friend from Melilla came over from Melilla to show us the sights of his home town. He took us to the viewpoint of San Cristobal which offered a panoramic view all across Granada with the mountains of Sierra Nevada to the left.

Next we visited the viewpoint of San Nicolas. We had to meander through the very Moroccan-influenced village of Albaicin. There were small decorative walkways with tiled balconies that were even tiled underneath. Very quaint!

Once we'd got the viewpoint there were market traders all hippied up with their dogs selling bracelets, leather goods, etc. but most importantly a pretty impressive view of the Alhambra, the main sight of Granada.

Before making our way to the Alhambra we climbed up to the top of the town, to a very posh hotel that again overlooked Granada. Unfortunately I didn't take any photos as I was firstly too busy taking it in, and secondly taking cover after a freak shower thundered down for a short period of about 3 minutes! Weird!

We were Alhambra-bound, a famous building built back when the majority of the Granadan population were Muslim. There was a grand palace next to the Alhambra that had been built several hundred years later, but still several hundred years ago. We strolled through the estate gardens as the night came to a close and wandered down into the centre. We wandered along El Paseo de los Tristes (Sorrow Man's Way), a narrow lane with different tapas bars where we coincidentally found a Flamenco show planned for that evening. Granada made me realise that Melilla really isn't as Spanish as I thought and the opportunity of watching a Flamenco show was really appealing. Unfortunately they'd sold out of tickets but it was a great day swooping across Granada and hitting all the main sights of the town.

In the evening we met up with our friends that we travelled with and one of their uncle's who lives in Granada city centre. He showed us some of the tapas bars that he prefers and we feasted on humongous tapas consisting of a gert cheese and ham bagel!

We headed back to his house, a now unused guesthouse for chats, drinks and tapas with Spanish music playing in the background. He doesn't use the building as a guesthouse anymore as he has decided to take a break but he kindly took us on a tour around the massive, ancient, listed building. The rooms were cold and felt quite empty as they've been out of use for a while, but they were magnificently grand with high ceilings and you could really imagine the place full of life with couples and families excitedly getting ready to step off the doorstep and explore the city centre. I really felt like I was integrated and experiencing true Spanish culture (similar to how I felt so assimilated in Normandy).

When we got into the living room there was, lo and behold, a 'brasero'!!! And again, as before everyone sat round the table without saying a word about the whole concept! I took a few pictures so you can understand what I mean (why on Earth we hadn't thought of it, I don't know!).

This is a bit more advanced than the standard electric heater we were using but you can see, they take this all very seriously!

After a few drinks we headed back to the flat, got changed in a rapid 20 minutes and zipped on back into the centre to go to the infamous club; Mae West. We queued up in the freezing cold for about 15 minutes and when we got to the door the bouncer took less than one look at us and told us we couldn't go in. I asked why and tried to get some reasoning from him - we weren't unruly and hardly had enough time to get too drunk to enter! He couldn't give me an answer and so just politely ignored me! He just kept telling me that's the way it is - I was insulted and pretty upset too. We tried to convince him, telling him we'd travelled all the way from England to visit this club but there was no budging on this arse of a jobsbody.

Stacey got rather upset and asked her Spanish friends to please enlighten her on this disastrous situation. They had no explanation. In fact, my friend said that he got turned away the first time he went and he felt it was so injust he called the police! Apparently they have a disclaimer on the door saying they can turn away who they want without reason. Later we understood from the taxi driver that they turn a certain percentage away each night to make the place more desirable...! How backwards is that?! Anyway, we managed to get into another club that was an old theatre and danced our socks off into the early hours of the morning.

The next day we dragged ourselves out of bed to go back into the city centre. We lunched in one of a thousand 'teterias' (a tea shop). Everyone was smoking sheeshas and drinking Arabic tea and the place was ornately decorated with plush, velvet and velour. Cosy.

Another of our friends came to meet us in town and took us to the poshest hotel in the centre of the town which gave a nice little view of the Alhambra from below. We explored the local law offices and visited a few churches (they go all out on decorating them over here - take a look!) before getting our stuff together and heading to the port. We managed to get a fast boat coming back, arrived in Melilla in the evening with a full nights sleep possible before getting back into the swing of teaching before Christmas.

Overall, a bloody great trip!

Catch up time!

Wow...

Last post was back in December.

I promise to try and get back up to date (admittedly in less detail) and get back blogging on a regular basis.

Keep your eye out for new posts coming in thick and fast (or potentially thin and slow!)