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Windsurfing For The Week
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The succeeding week consisted of a relatively regular routine. We would get up, go on the internet and have breakfast whilst waiting for the wind to pick up. Windsurf for a bit, come in for lunch (soup, chicken/beef/fish, rice, beans and salad), then head back out onto the water for a few more hours. This normally involved smashing ourselves in resulting in numerous bruises, scratches, and pulled muscles. V sliced her toe up and J managed to carve his leg up on the fin, probably requiring stitches but steri-strips will have to do. Don’t want to take time out of windsurfing do we?! Some days its gusty, some days its weak, but we are able to get out everyday which is sweet. J can now carve jibe with ease and V can now waterstart consistently, without needing the assistance of the boat to drag her back to shore. Brap!

During the week we also attempted to get some footage with our cheapo ‘waterproof’ camera. When Terry (a local) saw the make (Premier) he wished us good luck. We said our goodbyes to the camera and managed to get a few minutes of cool footage before the camera closed its eyes for the last time. Several days of drying it out couldn’t resuscitate it in time; ‘it was a gonner, do we all agree?’. Not sure the insurance company covers ‘accidental damage; strapped-it-to-a-windsurf-and-bombed-about-the-lake’.

After windsurfing we would warm up with a nice hot bath. By this I mean freezing cold hose shower. By now it was time to head into town for dinner in Pescao’s hand controlled car for pizza, asado (BBQ), a la plancha (grilled meats), or burgers with some of the guys from Pescao’s place. A few beers and the sudden realisation that we are all completely knackered forces us to get to bed relatively early every night.

With the exception of Saturday night. That was a slightly different story involving muchas cervezas and a bottle of the deadly local liquor. The usual group (Matthew-the irish guy, Jose-the 65yr old Colombian, V&J-you know these guys) went into town and met up with a bunch of people we had met over the past few days. They led us to a bar, which in Colombia means; buy some beer from a shop, drag a bench over and sit in the street and get drunk. And it’s legal. We were then taken to a local club, which turned out to be very different to what you are all thinking. Yes, there are tons of youngsters getting pissed, yes, there are a load of couples making out, and yes, its loud. But this is Colombian clubbing! Every song played was a different type of latino dance requiring completely different and highly complicated dance steps. V&J, who aren’t the worst dancers in the world, were immediately grabbed from the dance floor and given lessons in the middle of the club. Clearly the big white people were making fools of themselves by knocking the small sexy Colombians out the way like dominoes. Nonetheless they were determined to learn and continued to be guided for the entire night. It was exhausting, sweaty fun, but it did cause a bit of a stonking hangover. On Friday night it was also a tad different with a small group of us getting our groove on in an otherwise empty club. We were quite a sight, two horny Colombian guys trying to get it on with two horny Colombian girls, a German who managed to pull out the worlds most horrendous shirt (and dance moves), chickdick poo-boy (who went back early to continue his relationship with the bathroom), and V&J to top it off. It was great fun though and we still managed to make a scene on the dancefloor with almost every Colombian taking pity on us and giving us dance lessons. Are we really that bad?!

After extending our stay for an extra 4 days V now looks like one big freckle and J has a peeling nose, but at least we can both windsurf like pros. Regardless of the fact that we can’t feel our hands anymore, perhaps we will return for the ‘Black and White’ fiesta in August.



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