Friday, 12 November 2010

Going native

Well it's been a week in the new flat. I still don't have internet but things are settling down nicely and finally I can get into some sort of routine.

Last week I decided to start running again. I bought trainers back in the UK and have used then maybe 4 times since I bought them 9 months ago. Well they have been used and are now full of sand. Yes... I have been running along the beach. Unfortunately it wasn’t really Baywatch style, well the speed was Baywatch style. Slow motion. But I think it is best to take things easy to start and work into it. Still I managed to run... jog about 4km and it was 25º heat. Not bad for a first attempt. Here is where it gets strange yet again and I am faced with another test of my ability to turn the other cheek to the norms of another culture. As I was avoiding the waves I spotted an old gentleman standing at the top of the beach and he seemed to be calling for me to help him. Of course, never wanting to think anything but good of people, I went to see what was up and indeed, he was calling me. When I approached I could see that the gentleman had a walking stick and I wondered how agile one would have to be to traverse the beach with a walking stick. Anyway he was pointing at the ground as if he had dropped something. I exchanged pleasantries and continued to gaze at the sand for what he may have lost... maybe his marbles I suspected as all I could see was sand, pebbles and a bit of seaweed. He was insistent on pointing at this one pebble so I obliged him by picking it up and handing it over. Just as I had suspected all along... he had spotted the pebble from his standing position and thought it simply ideal for his pet turtle to sunbathe on. Needless to say I smiled politely and continued running, although he did seem extremely grateful and hobbled off with a contented smile.

Never offer to chop an onion for someone. This is now the first rule in Ross's handbook. Why? Well, on Saturday I managed to half cut an onion and with it my index finger. I applied pressure straight away. In hindsight it was unlikely to be straight away as my friends were soon to point out. A bit like my brother when tipping the dregs of a cup of coffee, my tiny droplet of blood managed to touch every conceivable surface, including, 3 walls, the ceiling, the floor, table, oven, hob, laptop cupboards etc. Pretty impressive I think! Anyway, no time to think about that had to get ready for a night out.

After insisting we weren't going to have a typical Canarian night out, we ended up leaving the flat at 12, leaving our friends' flat at 1 and got in at around 6.30 por la manana. All in all, a great night out though. There is one particular bar that had great mix of salsa and pop music and the best mojitos too.

Sunday, time to visit the hospital as even thought the alcohol may have subdued the aching of my finger, when I removed the plaster it was still bleeding! The only hospital I knew of was the main one in the city. We arrived to find a small town of a hospital complete with restaurants, hairdressers etc. After a little while lost we found A&E and went to the counter. The woman behind said that we were indeed in the right place and that it was completely suitable for her to be wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Anyway, off to triage. No-one waiting, how strange. I spot the nurse spinning on her chair in the treatment room and wonder if I was actually better off coming to hospital. Anyway, she calls my name (my middle name) after about 5 minutes and asks me what the problem is. I sit down at the normal looking desk scattered with papers and she says to take the plaster off. I warn her that it may still be bleeding but obviously the fact that I might drip blood all over the desk and whatever else might be within blood reaching distance seems not to trouble her in the slightest. At least she is wearing scrubs. She tells me I am in the wrong type of hospital and that this is only for major problems and that actually each neighbourhood has its own mini A&E at the Doctors' Surgery. Well... time to hold my hand over a sink so she can spray it with iodine and stick a bigger plaster on it.

Wait 15 mins to see a doctor and eventually she appears (early thirties, Dolce and Gabbana glasses and wearing an unbuttoned scrubs jacket as if it were straight of a Milanese catwalk. Still she is extremely pleasant and tells me it will be fine as long as I keep it clean and dry.

Job done!

No comments:

Post a Comment