Xavi's Beach Adventure
Although I normally narrate Xavi's adventures, he decided he wanted to write it himself this time. I am not responsible for any mean things he says. After all, Xavi is Xavi whether in puppet form or not. Everything from here on out is him.
*cough* Despite her insistence we were only leaving civilization (and football) behind for the weekend, the insane woman decided we would leave Thursday night and come home Monday afternoon. I spent the car ride listening to her speak about romance novels with Keith's mother and torment Keith by pointing out every sign that pointed to the left. God hates me.
By the time we arrived at the campsite, it was past 10pm at night. There was no cell phone reception. There was no internet connection. There were no football pitches. It took 20 minutes to set our tent up and make it inhabitable.
Injustice.
I removed my 'tourist and hiking' outfit and slipped into our sleepingbag.
I woke at 6 in the morning as Nora and Keith decided to brave the wind for a walk on the beach. It was too windy, so I stayed in the protection of Nora's purse. She saw a seal and shrieked in delight only to realize it was dead, but not before asking Keith if it was asleep. There was also a dead sea lion.
Tragic.
Tortured with sea air and sleeping bags, I demanded breakfast. They took me to a bakery in town, but instead of letting me eat in peace where there is electricity and shelter from the elements, they took me back to camp. I had to eat outside. On a bench. My soul seethed at the injustice of it all.
The blueberry scone was excellent though.
After a short doze, we went for another walk. This time I graced the earth with my presence.
There is a lot of driftwood that ends up on the beach, so there are many forts.
The beach was too sandy for a game of football. I've discovered I'm not particularly fond of the beach
After our walk we decided to head back into town to poke through some of the stores and go to the beach there to see the kites for the International Kite Festival.
Marsh's Free Museum is known for it's oddities. This is Jake the Alligator Man. CLEARLY he does not understand the importance of correct moisture.
There were many kites and Nora insisted I pose in front of them. I was unhappy. I did not give my usual smile and thumbs up to show her my disapproval
On our way back to the Bolsted Approach, my justice sense started tingling and as I looked around I saw with horror that there was grass allowed to grow beyond regulation length. EVERYONE knows that grass length regulations stipulate bermudagrasses be kept between 12-15mm and bluegrasses be kept at 18-25mm. Can you imagine my pain as I stared? Nora assured me dunegrass is not meant for playing football on, but it's the principle of the matter. The grass is suffering and must be cut
To further my suffering, they made me playing something called 'putt putt' or mini golf. I'm pretty sure it was an insult to my short stature. Whatever. How many times have they played for best team in the world? They do not know football purity in their hearts and must supplement their meaningless lives with ~putt putt and copious amounts of salt water taffy
Saturday was spent the same as Friday, but with more seafood. The group that camps together was fishing and crabbing and we had large amounts of salmon and crabs to eat. Nora showed me how to debone and fillet a fish. I felt pity for the fish- it's probably never seen a Barcelona match and died without seeing beautiful football.
Sunday rained. All day. It was very cold. Nora is insane and was dead set on harvesting all the kelp she could fit in the car to use for her organic bath products and spent an hour or so as the only person on the beach running in between the waves to grab as much as she could. Weirdo.
Of course Monday was sunny. Despite not being able to make a phone call or watch football, I found that I had enjoyed myself. Perhaps a little suffering is good for the soul
I returned to find my alcohol collection destroyed by Leo and one of his sexo, alcohol, y cumbia parties. Dani still hasn't shaved and looks like a terrorist. Cesc and Pique defiled my bed and now I must buy a new one. There are rumors on the horizon a David Villa puppet might be joining us.... God help us all
l.
*cough* Despite her insistence we were only leaving civilization (and football) behind for the weekend, the insane woman decided we would leave Thursday night and come home Monday afternoon. I spent the car ride listening to her speak about romance novels with Keith's mother and torment Keith by pointing out every sign that pointed to the left. God hates me.
By the time we arrived at the campsite, it was past 10pm at night. There was no cell phone reception. There was no internet connection. There were no football pitches. It took 20 minutes to set our tent up and make it inhabitable.
Injustice.
I removed my 'tourist and hiking' outfit and slipped into our sleepingbag.
I woke at 6 in the morning as Nora and Keith decided to brave the wind for a walk on the beach. It was too windy, so I stayed in the protection of Nora's purse. She saw a seal and shrieked in delight only to realize it was dead, but not before asking Keith if it was asleep. There was also a dead sea lion.
Tragic.
Tortured with sea air and sleeping bags, I demanded breakfast. They took me to a bakery in town, but instead of letting me eat in peace where there is electricity and shelter from the elements, they took me back to camp. I had to eat outside. On a bench. My soul seethed at the injustice of it all.
The blueberry scone was excellent though.
After a short doze, we went for another walk. This time I graced the earth with my presence.
There is a lot of driftwood that ends up on the beach, so there are many forts.
The beach was too sandy for a game of football. I've discovered I'm not particularly fond of the beach
After our walk we decided to head back into town to poke through some of the stores and go to the beach there to see the kites for the International Kite Festival.
Marsh's Free Museum is known for it's oddities. This is Jake the Alligator Man. CLEARLY he does not understand the importance of correct moisture.
There were many kites and Nora insisted I pose in front of them. I was unhappy. I did not give my usual smile and thumbs up to show her my disapproval
On our way back to the Bolsted Approach, my justice sense started tingling and as I looked around I saw with horror that there was grass allowed to grow beyond regulation length. EVERYONE knows that grass length regulations stipulate bermudagrasses be kept between 12-15mm and bluegrasses be kept at 18-25mm. Can you imagine my pain as I stared? Nora assured me dunegrass is not meant for playing football on, but it's the principle of the matter. The grass is suffering and must be cut
To further my suffering, they made me playing something called 'putt putt' or mini golf. I'm pretty sure it was an insult to my short stature. Whatever. How many times have they played for best team in the world? They do not know football purity in their hearts and must supplement their meaningless lives with ~putt putt and copious amounts of salt water taffy
Saturday was spent the same as Friday, but with more seafood. The group that camps together was fishing and crabbing and we had large amounts of salmon and crabs to eat. Nora showed me how to debone and fillet a fish. I felt pity for the fish- it's probably never seen a Barcelona match and died without seeing beautiful football.
Sunday rained. All day. It was very cold. Nora is insane and was dead set on harvesting all the kelp she could fit in the car to use for her organic bath products and spent an hour or so as the only person on the beach running in between the waves to grab as much as she could. Weirdo.
Of course Monday was sunny. Despite not being able to make a phone call or watch football, I found that I had enjoyed myself. Perhaps a little suffering is good for the soul
I returned to find my alcohol collection destroyed by Leo and one of his sexo, alcohol, y cumbia parties. Dani still hasn't shaved and looks like a terrorist. Cesc and Pique defiled my bed and now I must buy a new one. There are rumors on the horizon a David Villa puppet might be joining us.... God help us all
l.