Bonny: What’s up?
J-Frog
(After a 5-day long a tope[1] session and 2-hour
siesta): I feel lost in time and space.
Bonny:
(Having endured the same fate but without sleep): Well, we are pretty much
lost in
time and Spain
*
Only
joking! But I may as well have done! Since discovering our new favourite
hangout, which I will call ‘Giuseppe’s Pomodoro’ I’ve discovered a small but
very intimate community of Italians most of whom I’ve met through frequenting
the wonderful little Italian establishment. ¡Joder!
I’m hanging out with more Italians than I am Canarians and learning more
Italian than I am Spanish! It could be worse though, I could be learning Fiddish!
I’m drawn to Giuseppe’s Pomodoro, not only for the eclectic mix of sociable,
good-looking people who go there, but also because the boss is the most
chilled-out entertainer I have met in a long time. He doesn’t charge for drinks
(not me anyway), has illegal late-night lock-ins and supplies me with the
irresistible ‘Devil’s Leaf. [2]’
What a God! Through frequenting GP I’ve also met a mountain of international
people who are travelling, working, taking a pit stop, or bumming around.
What’s more, I’ve now landed myself a job behind the bar tax-free and all the
drinks that I desire!
Over 6
weeks has passed since I arrived on this little island. I now find myself
overcome with an overwhelming sense of attachment. I don't want to leave! Right now, I just want to
do, see and experience everything in the little time I have left. Fortunately J-Frog
is on the same wavelength so at least I have a partner in crime.
Our
weekends start on Wednesdays when we go a
tope every night until at least 3am. This takes us to Sunday and then
there’s hangover Mondays (and Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays) when
we go to work, feel sorry for ourselves and then have a siesta before doing it
all over again! One example of a typical a
tope session happened last Saturday night when the girls: Hannah, J-Frog
and I went out and partied until the early hours, ended up at a French guy’s
house, smoked the Devil’s leaf and us 3 spending the night. J-Frog passed out
first! Hooray I’ve now surpassed her conscious tolerance! We got a taxi home in
the morning and were hoping to siesta for the rest of the day to recuperate for
yet another night out on Sunday but J-Frog and I found ourselves unable to
enter the desirable vortex of dreams. So what did we do? We went back to Giuseppe’s
for a nutritious Mediterranean breakfast of
beer and wine, followed by dessert round his of the Devil’s Leaf and yet
more wine. I have now named Sundays ‘The Day of the Dead’ as that’s how we feel
every Sunday after 5 nights of hardcore partying.
Indeed,
this buoyant and carefree lifestyle of partying, absorbing the Devil’s leaf,
drinking, meeting random but fascinating people and sleeping at weird hours
really takes me back to my student days. I really thought I’d left those behind
but now at least I don’t have to contend with essay deadlines, meetings and
revision.
The most
notable personality trait which I’ve acquired here is a far more relaxed
attitude. ¡No pasa nada! ¡Tranquila! ¡No
hace falta! (Don´t worry, calm down, no need) seem to be the general
mottoes here. So why worry when you have mottoes like that? I know that when I
return to England (an
alcoholic), after my next adventures to Hong Kong ,
Taiwan , Macau
and the North of England (‘God!’ I hear you think, ‘I hope she doesn’t write
another fucking blog for those as well!’), I intend to become a ‘real’ person,
with a ‘real’ job and career prospects so whilst we’re here in the Canaries where
it is sooooo much cheaper to go out, has better weather, it is rent-free,
tax-free, you name it then you have to take advantage and just enjoy the
experience! (Chung, B. (2012). The
philosophy of a great, young mind. The Retarded Land of Bonbon, Pony Book
club Inc.)
Over 2
weeks ago, I truly demonstrated my knack for being retarded by pouring hot
water into a glass which then exploded over my foot. Luckily I was not scalded
and Amma was at home to save the day! She went to our neighbours’ house, who
called the ambulance. I was promptly taken to the emergency centre where I
received a tetanus vaccine and had six stitches placed on my two deep, bloody
wounds. First time I’d ever had stitches! Wooo, what an achievement!
Maybe I was
high off the vaccine but my first thought after this horrific ordeal was not
what would become of my foot, or any other preoccupation regarding my general
health, but what this injury would deter me from doing. Again, the ‘Canarian’
God smiles upon my Bonny face for I was still able to continue with my normal
routine AND go to Maspalomas and various other trips during my recovery. I am
thankful for this. If my injury had deterred me from going to Maspalomas, I
wouldn’t have been able to rub sun cream over the back of a naked, fat,
middle-aged pervert who was blatantly following me and J-Frog as we strolled
along the nudist beach. (You may laugh but this DID actually happen, and who
else would it happen to but me!) Ah! I feel that this occasion calls for
a perfect subjuctive+conditional perfect clause in Spanish: Si la herida me hubiera impedido ir a
Maspalomas, no habría podido echar crema solar sobre la espalda de un señor desnudo,
gordo y de mediana edad, quien luego nos siguió por la playa nudista hasta que
paramos, él se detuvo y dejó de perseguirnos.
I received
no sympathy from J-Frog, who just stood there and laughed, and have since
discovered that the Oriental ladies in Maspalomas are hired to give massages so
this dude was probably just confusing innocent little me with one of them! Just
my friggin’ Canarian luck!
As we go
out more, more drunken sayings between J-Frog and I seem to be developing.
They’re brilliant, but the sort where you have to be there to find them funny.
Here are a few examples:
Italian Guy:
Succumb? That sound errr dirty, like suck and cum.
Bonny:
Succumb. Suck and cum… That’s OK, that’s like ‘assume’ to make and ass of you
and me.
J-Frog:
Bonny, is that a chewee-chewee? (referring to chewing gum)
Bonny:
No!... (runs sneakily away)
J-Frog:
Ohw! You know I’d always give you my cheese! (For those of you who don’t know,
I have a dangerous addiction to cheese. Put a bit in front of me and it’ll be
gone in less than a blink of an eye.)
J-Frog: I
was a genius, until I found sex, drugs and rock n’ hole.
Bonny: Yeah
that’s where we are now, stuck in a hole!
J-Frog:
(After our wonderful liquid breakfast on Sunday) I feel dead!
Bonny:
That’s OK. It’s Sunday. Sunday’s the day of the dead.
J-Frog:
URANUS!
Bonny:
What?!
J-Frog: I
knew there was a planet with sexual connotations!
(After
spilling drink on her chest) As I said, my tits drink more than me.
J-Frog is
also an expert at what and what not to mix with alcohol. Get this:
Bonny: Is
it safe to take paracetamol when you drink?
J-Frog: No.
It’ll destroy you from inside.
It’s strange;
J-Frog and I are slowly but surely turning into each other. She has started
eating blocks of cheese at a time, speaking Chinese and not leaving food
leftovers. Shit man, she might even start eating apple cores soon!
I have
starting drinking more and doing all nighters’, the last few times we’ve been
out, I’ve managed to stay conscious far later than she’s been able to and I’m
now starting to pick up a few useful Polish words!
As for work,
p’ah?! I laugh in the face of this terminology. I finished all the tasks
assigned to me ages ago and cannot be bothered to ask for more.
I love it
though and am in no way discontent! Last week I shadowed three tours in the
museum which were first given in Spanish and interpreted, by yours truly, into
English which got me out of the library and up in action!
As well as
taking long walks throughout the day I also spend copious amounts of time in
the staff room where I speak to the cleaners. They are called Lydia London
Most of the
Canarians I’ve met here like to clearly distinguish themselves from mainland Spain North
Africa and have different fiscal, political, etc systems. The way
they speak is closer to Latin American Spanish than the Spanish spoken in the
mainland.
At first
when I started meeting natives of the island and they introduced themselves to
me as ‘Canarians’, I used to think that there was absolutely no need to be so
pedantic but then again it’s the same for me when people assume, yes they make
an ass of themselves and me!, that I’m from China and I have to specify that
‘my parents’ are actually from ‘Hong Kong’ which is separate from China. This
phrase ALWAYS follows the classic:
New person:
Where are you from?
Bonny: I’m
English.
New Person:
[Brief pause and a look of confusion and disbelief] But where are you really from? China Japan Korea Philippines
Bonny:
[More staunchly] I’m from England ,
but my parents are from Hong Kong .
Ah well, no pasa nada! I know it’s something that I’m going to have to deal with for as long I
keep meeting new people, unless I move to Hong Kong
of course where hopefully they’ll all just assume
that I’m a native.
As for the
bet, Joanna lost and will be running into the sea naked tonight at 9pm! Phew!
That will
be all. Ciao for now.
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