As a warning, I might write a lot here, and I might brag excessively about how great my life is, so if that’s going to piss you off, just go look at porn instead.

So I had a great weekend. No no, really. I had a GREAT weekend. And I’m going to tell you all about it, because I can. So where to begin…

My class on Friday went very, very well. I am teaching Excel now, which I don’t have to tell you is pretty hard to teach and understand anyway. The whole idea of spreadsheets and formulas is tricky at best, particularly in a language like Creole, which doesn’t have any mechanisms to explain complex ideas. But I apparently did a damn good job, because nearly everyone finished the exercise perfectly. Having failed utterly at explaining cell selection and formatting on Thursday, I took a different approach that I think I will now stick with. So I was already in a good mood when I got home and Paulo picked up Nadia and I for dinner.

We went to a restaurant that I had never seen, or even heard of. It was closer to the fisherman’s harbour, and it was rooftop, bar and everything. Paulo took charge and ordered everything for us, including pinchos (little shish kebab kinda things, but with pork) and grilled lobster for me and Nadia. And ohhhh man, I’ll be damned if it wasn’t some of the best lobster I’ve ever had. This could be a problem if I develop a lobster addiction, because that shit is expensive. After the food, plus plenty of wine and whiskey, we left to go elsewhere. We heard live music coming from a different rooftop, so we went up to check it out, and lo and behold, the omnipresent morna band Djalunga was playing. Seriously, they’re everywhere. More on that later. I was a bit tipsy and feeling friendly, and spectacularly enough, the roof was filled with people I knew. After spending a while chatting with people and listening to the music, we decided to leave, but took a detour at Pub Makena, which I normally avoid because it is way expensive and is entirely geared towards tourists. The bar was filled with them, but we just sat and chatted until 1-ish and then headed home. So, really fun night #1 ended.

Saturday, I spent all morning in bed reading, which was fine. In the afternoon, I headed to Boa Vista Wind Club to try (again) to catch a windsurfing lesson. There was only one teacher there, and he was occupied, and by the time he was done, it was too late to start. But it wasn’t a total loss, as I made some friends. First, I hung out with Te (spelling?), the instructor, for a while. Then his student (who had waved to me from the water already), came ashore and turned out to be a cute Swiss girl named Veronique, here on vacation alone. So I made another friend. I loafed around with them and François most of the afternoon and made vague indications that we should try to find each other later in the night. I relaxed at home briefly and then went to the praça to try to catch a car to João Galego, because I had been told that there was a huge party there that night and I could get a car at around 7. Well, there were no cars and nobody at the Coke kiosk where the cars generally gather to go to other towns. So I gave up and dropped in at a local bar where I know the bartender, a mellow guy named Alves from Guinea-Bissau. I mentioned a thought that I might go to Mazurka (the only discoteca around, an idea suggested by Veronique), and he said he would close up around 11 and go with me. So I struck off back to the praça, having sighting someone with a guitar heading that way. Sure enough, Djalunga again. I hung out a bit and ran into Nadia on my way back. She was all about going to Mazurka, so we met up with Alves, and waited the hour-plus it takes to catch a ride to the disco. Everyone just clusters around the Coke kiosk and when the bus arrives (I guess Mazurka hires it every week), everyone pushes and shoves like 4th graders to try to pile on. When we finally got on, people were even opening the windows and climbing onto laps to squeeze in. It’s Africa, maximum capacity is just a vague suggestion. In any event, the club was packed and totally different than the last time I was there. People were mingling, tourist and local alike, drinking and dancing. I had a damn good time, though I could do without the slow music. They have a tendency to play a lot of couples dancing music, which I don’t dig at all, mostly because I have no clue how to dance like that and could only succeed in making an ass of myself with some poor unsuspecting, but probably attractive, Cape Verdean girl. Veronique was there with some friends, including Te, and she seemed to be enjoying his company an awful lot, so I threw out the idea of flirting more, which I had intended to do. But the important thing is that I danced and drank and revelled until 4 am and had a fucking blast. Awesome day #2: check.

I woke up early, despite a headache, and headed back to François’ shack, as I had promised him I would do. Te showed up late, so in the mean time, François set up a board and sail on the sand and told me that everyone has to practice there first. It saves a lot of time falling over in the water all the time. So I practiced regulating the sail and adjusting to wind changes, as well as using my weight to balance the sail against the wind. I got the hang of it pretty well, so I think I’ll do all right when I get in the water. Veronique showed up with Te and they clearly had a hell of a night together and spent a lot of time making out everywhere all morning. Ah well. At that point, the previously calm bay erupted out of nowhere with waves and conditions quickly turned very bad for a first lesson in the water. So instead I practiced on the sand a bit more and hung out with Te and Veronique. Some of the more expert windsurfers hopped on their boards and took off, and god damn it looked like fun. François’ oldest son, Shon, is about 11 years old and already good at virtually every watersport ever invented. I guess that’s what happens when you grow up on the beach and your dad is a former windsurfing champion. I also met Tony and Spela, two Slovenians who are business partners with François. They are going to help me find a used board and sail so I don’t have to waste money renting all the time. François gives me a discount, for being a volunteer and a semi-local, but I think this’ll be better in the long run. In two years, I’ll just leave it for the next volunteers here. An Italian showed up, and everyone decided to go surfing. Spela showed me how to stand on a surfboard, and it’s fucking hard. I accompanied them down the beach to watch them, along with the Italian surfer’s girlfriend, who spoke no English. So I sat on a dune with her for about an hour and tried to hold a conversation in Italian. She was blessedly patient and helped me out a lot, and overall I did better than I have in the last few weeks. Still, there’s plenty of room for improvement. I made my way home after a full five and a half hours of fun in the sun.

I got home and showered and had a brief nap, interrupted by Cecy knocking on the door, saying that Iva and the CEJ needed me. I had already agreed to help out at an event that night, so it wasn’t a surprise, but I though I had plenty of time. Anyway, there was another homage-style event, this time for a guy named Plá, who plays with… Yeah, you guessed it, Djalunga. I had made a slideshow of about 150 photos of Plá and the band during the week, and they needed me to do projection for the event. I set everything up and then proceeded to wait while everything started two hours late. But no big deal, my friend Joari (man, I just don’t know how to spell these names) was there and he fed me ponche and beer the whole time. Veronique and François were there as well, though they both left shortly afterwards. The music started, I projected my little thing, and all went pretty well. Iva and Cecy were there, as well as some other friends. Veronique came back and we hung out until midnight or so. The music finally ended at about 1 am, and I packed everything up and went home, completely and totally exhausted. But I had the best weekend I’ve had in Cape Verde so far.

I am mostly still elated by the feeling that I live here and have friends. I also have given up on disliking tourists and I now view most of them (the younger, cooler ones at least) as vehicles to practice languages. François’ shack is ground zero: I can practice French and Italian, chat in Creole with the windsurfers, and every once in a while run into someone who speaks some crazy language I’ve never heard. Windsurfing lessons are just icing on the cake.

So what I’m saying is that my life is awesome and you should be jealous. Road race in 5 days… everything seems to be set up to go smoothly. We’ll see…