Best weekend yet!

This weekend was the best weekend yet!

I got up on Friday and hit the beach as the sun had his beautiful hat on. I stayed there all morning, with the sea lapping up at my toes. I'm going to immerse myself in a deep description of the beautiful, sandy beach with warm sea and hot sun just to make you guys jealous... Nah, really - there's rubbish all over the beach and the water is brown but hey! I'm not going to complain, still! I darkened my skin a tad.

At midday I went to the boys house at met with the lads for tapas. One of our friends (who's Sicilian, as is Annalisa) was working in Melilla before but his contract finished back in February and he's still waiting to be called for another opening. In the meantime he's flitting back and forth from Granada (where he lives with his girlfriend) to Melilla trying to justify paying the rent on two houses at the same time. (The placement system for teachers is really twisted over here - perhaps I'll explain it another time, if I don't deem it too boring.)
So we went to a nice tapas bar round the corner from my house that I've been wanting to go to forever. The service was crap but the tapas were good.
I suggested a barbecue be held at the boys house that night (they have a roof terrace) and we rang around a few friends to see if they were game. The boys agreed that they would grab in the afternoon as I couldn't and Operation Barbecue was underway. Wahey - the first barbecue of the year (in March/April!!!).

As I explained I have decided to sit an exam for my Spanish. The exam is May 20th and there is a centre in Melilla that holds the exams. What are the chances? Fate? The exam costs approximately €150 here in Melilla but just over the border in Nador, Morocco it costs just €50 (in dirham). So I rearranged my classes for Friday and after lunch went to Nador with Niki (the Hungarian girl) and Annalisa who still hadn't visited Morocco. We were accompanied by Niki's male house-mate which was probably just as well in the end as the Moroccans seemed rather taken by touching me. Have they never heard the expression 'You can look, but don't touch!'?!
We went to the school, did all the administrationy things and then walked around the harbour/port thing. There were fishing nets spread all across the floor similar to last time, with cats scampering for food, no doubt hynpotised by that wonderful smell that turns your stomach of raw fish! Men sat, bare foot, sewing their nets with wires and I wish I'd have taken a photo of their craftsmanship but it seemed impertinent.
We stumbled across a small cafe that was blaring out traditional Moroccan music. We sat in the setting sun, drinking Arab tea, admiring the view. We walked back into town, grabbed a taxi, tried to enjoy a hairy, white knuckle ride back to the border and whipped back into Melilla within about half an hour.

The barbecue plan was on so I nipped home, grabbed a shower and then swung around to the boys where people were starting to arrive. The boys had executed Operation Barbecue to perfection. We all chucked in a bit of money and munched on some fine, cooked-to-perfection burgers and chops, guzzling Magners (yes, Jorge bought me two bottles of Magners from the local supermarket, what a love!), playing cards and enjoying the company of the group of nine friends that we have here. Really, really pleasant. (that's such a lame word - I'm sorry!)
We crashed out at about 1am and woke up to.....

WINDSURFING! 10am, Saturday morning, five of us, the port! The sun was emerging from the gloomy clouds and after much ado Stacey chucks on her excruciatingly tight wet-suit for some windsurf fun! There was a lot of waiting around as supposedly another group of people were coming for lessons but after about an hour of hanging about we assumed they weren't coming and got kitted up ready.
After about thirty minutes learning about the board, how to bring up the sail and catch the wind properly we were in the water. The sail is pretty heavy once it's got a nice little puddle of water in the concave part and the rope is pretty harsh on naked hands but balancing isn't too difficult. I kept being dragged to the shore for some reason and after a while Stacey's alter-ego came out shouting, sulking and generally just being a spoilt brat. I couldn't figure out how to navigate and consequently spent the morning standing on the board, being taken to the shore and then walking back only to repeat the same again.
At the end of the lesson the teacher came and picked me up in his powerboat (alright for some!), told me to jump in and dragged me and my windsurf back to the sailing club. As I stepped onto the motorboat I fell but tried to keep my cool whilst still being grumpy. I consequently, and some would say deservedly, have black, bruised knees. The irony that it was getting into the motorboat - I was fine on the windsurf (minus the small fact that I couldn't control it!).
We finished up at about 3pm and ended up getting more than our original planned two hours which was great. We were absolutely exhausted! We went back to the boys house where the Italians (Annalisa and our other friend) were making fresh pasta for us! What sweethearts and talent! We munched it down quick snap and I shifted off to give lessons (on a Saturday, yes).

Saturday night was very mellow with Annalisa making bruschetta for us all and we slumped off to sleep a little after midnight. Then Sunday...

WINDSURFING! We got to the port at 10am, transformed into super hero-lookalikes in the tightest rubber outfits ever (is it clear I don't like my wet-suit yet?!) and hit the water again, like naturals... Kind of. There wasn't much wind so it was quite difficult to get moving but in hindsight it was the best conditions to learn how to manipulate the board in other ways. We learnt how to change direction, walking around the mast and reversing our footing. I don't remember what it's called but I'd imagine it's the Spanish word for 'jive' from what I remember from sailing. Is it important, anyway?! Babble, babble, babble!
We also started to explore the possibility of making our own wind by jiggling the sail (I say jiggling - it's a much more laborious action - thrusting the sail with muscles that you never knew you had in the bottom of your arms - triceps?! - whilst trying to keep balanced with your feet.)
It was a lot more fun than the Saturday, and the Saturday was already pretty fun! The only problem I had was that I could travel one way easier than the other and when it was time to head back in to the club I couldn't get back. I tried sailing there, swimming, walking (on hundreds of small, spikey, painful stones) and ended up getting frustrated and changed into my alter-ego again. I really should try and control my anger and frustration - it really gets hold of me when I can't do something that I want to! I was crying and swearing and brought on a panic attack in the middle of the ocean. After about an hour of knackering myself out hyperventilating (WTF - it's all for fun, Stacey!) and generally getting wound up and pissy for no good reason I got back to the port. It's bloody difficult to swim, dragging a windsurf and a hefty sail without a tow rope.

The other guys we'd been windsurfing with had offered to cook us dinner and we zipped round to theirs for some peppered prawns, a really tasty cod pie thing and a range of different cheeses, washed down with good wine, conversation and well-needed coffee. Yum.

We dropped our friend off at the airport as he was heading back to Granada until after Semana Santa and then I got dropped off at my classes (yes, classes on Saturday and Sunday).

The weekend was over and what a cracker or a jacker it was! Hope this entry wasn't too boring - I know you all like the odd photo but I'm not taking my camera in the water!