Being a boarding school (known as a Public School in the UK, though really should be a "private" school as entry was by entrance exam and high school fees!) modelled on the UK system (we used to sit Oxford and Cambridge O and A levels) I suppose it was natural that Rugby (Union, not League where physical contact was minimal!) was our main sport.
We had a very successful 1st XV and every weekend they played either at home or away at another school. The school had a bus and a lorry - with seating in the rear - to take the teams to other schools and it was always quite an adventure.
We were a relatively small school back then, with only around 350 pupils, but still managed to field an amazing array of teams - Seniors (1st through 4th XV's), Middles (under 15 and under 16, A and B sides!) and Juniors (under 14 A and B) - meaning that around 150 pupils, plus some reserves, competed every weekend, out of 350!
I don't recall that much about my junior or middle school years as far as Rugby was concerned, other than we were expected to go and support the First team when they played at home on Saturday. We had to turn up smartly dressed in school tracksuit, and had to cheer vociferously, goaded by a "cheerleader" who was a school prefect, and woe betide anyone he felt was not stretching his lungs to the limit!
We had to play Rugby twice a week, though I do not recall any formal coaching for those of us who did not compete in a school team, we simply turned up where a teacher was waiting, he would separate us into two roughly equal teams (we didn't always have a full 15) and we would play a game.
When I entered Fifth Form (penultimate school year) the Senior game was somewhat different, as by then numbers of older pupils were down (many left after O levels either because they were going on to other higher education, or simply were too thick to continue on to A level!), so we were clumped into 2 "games", first and second. First "Game" produced the 1st and 2nd XV teams, and they used to train together, and the second "Game" produced the 3rd and 4th XV teams - 3rd's was really the under 17 team, but 4th's was more of a social side - made up of those older pupils not good enough to make a "proper" team (some bigger schools had many more teams that we did), and this is where I fit in! I was competitive as I was pretty fit back then, and played winger as I was also fairly fleet of foot.
Our school was one of only a handful of multi-racial schools - most of the state schools were "whites only", which meant that they would not permit our "non-white" players from competing at their venues! So while I played regularly for the 4th XV some weeks I would be called up to the first "game" to train with the 1st and 2nd XV for an away game. Training with them was a painful experience - these guys were muscle-bound professionals compared to our social players (think 3rd Division football team playing against Premier League side!), and though I had the speed to keep up with them, I used to get trampled underfoot, or, on one occasion, picked up by my shirt collar and thrown into touch!
I had clear instructions for the main game - get rid of the ball as quickly as possible, and use my speed to keep everyone on-side! So for line-outs on my side of the field (when the correct coded instruction was given - "peaches") my role was to follow the kicked ball (that was what "peaches" meant) by sprinting down the touchline to keep everyone on-side, and on no account touch the ball (my ball-handling skills were not up to 2nd XV standard!). On one occasion, however, the ball took a bad bounce and was directly in my path - and as there were no team-mates nearby, nor any opponents, I just had to catch the ball and run in for a try! Although at the end of the game that score separated the two teams I was still told off for not following instructions! Also I hadn't thought to cut in and score under the posts, but simply continued running straight and scored out near the touchline! I still don't think I stopped smiling for three days though!
Our school had extremely good sports pitches - even the training pitches were green and lush and flat - but this was not always the case at other schools. Some pitches had almost no grass and were like playing on concrete! Our coaches always drilled into us "tackle low to bring the player down" (we would be penalised for "above the knee" tackles!), but on these hard pitches this was extremely painful and we used to travel home with skinned knees and hips, and we used to carry the scars throughout the Rugby term!
Circumstances made me move to Brazil in 2009, and I spent 6 months of the year there, and the remaining time in Peru, until 2020 when the Covid hit, trapping me in Peru for 14 months, before I managed to return to the UK, where I now reside permanently. I see the world through slightly rose-tinted glasses, but maybe because I have been fortunate in not suffering too many hardships along the way, and maintaining an optimistic, but realistic outlook on life.
Wednesday, 28 September 2016
Saturday, 24 September 2016
School sports (part three) - Athletics
My final year at boarding school our athletics coach recognised that I had a certain talent for Hurdling so I became what was called a "school athlete" - this meant that we didn't take part in the usual sports programme during athletics term but were expected to attend formal training sessions. The "usual" programme entailed participation in the Standards Competition, mentioned in an earlier post. There were sporting activities every afternoon all year round - Monday, Wednesday and Friday it was one session after tea, but Tuesday and Thursday it was all afternoon, including a break (and sometimes sport change) for tea. There was a timetable, I am afraid I do not recall the details, but you could go from event to event trying to achieve your "standard" in the different disciplines. Many of these "venues" were manned by pupils, rather than staff, who were occupied with technical events that required, say, timekeeping, so a couple of pupils would monitor the high jump armed with a clipboard and measuring equipment and record the results. Cross country "standards" competition races were arranged a few times a term as well, in order for pupils to try and improve their standards, and as a school athlete you weren't expected to compete in these (though I participated a couple of times to try and get my A) - compulsory for everyone else who didn't have the A standard.
So I used to go down to the athletics field every afternoon for "training", and was put with the "sprint" training group. It entailed a lot of running! We used to walk, jog then sprint round the 400 metre track for several circuits, then do "start training" - lining up as if for a race and then respond to the starting pistol, but only run 20 metres or so to practice starts. The coach felt that I was possibly anticipating the gun, and false started me several times, till he realised that I simply had fast response times, which I needed as my sprinting speed was not great!
After a couple of weeks of this training I asked him about my specialised hurdle training, and he admitted that he knew little about the discipline, so felt that I was best suited to simply work on my sprinting! I knew that hurdling was more about technique than simple speed, which was obvious as I was easily beating most of the much faster sprinters over the barriers, so I asked if I could devise my own programme, though I would continue to do some training with the sprinters - and fortunately he agreed. We had a "middle" level athlete who was an excellent hurdler, and who had received some proper training prior to coming to our school, so I joined up with him, and some afternoons we could be found doing (painful!) stretching exercises, and training over barriers one notch lower than our racing height (to get low down and more efficient!). He was also, incidentally, a very good sprinter, so much of the time I could be found training alone, but my times continued to improve so the coach didn't mind!
When we attended athletics events at other schools I travelled along as "first reserve", but never got to compete, though I ended the year, and my time at boarding school, as the third best hurdler (one of the top two was a top-notch sprinter so didn't compete as a hurdler for the school), let down only by my sprinting speed, as I had the best hurdling technique and generally used to reach the final barrier ahead of everyone else!
So I used to go down to the athletics field every afternoon for "training", and was put with the "sprint" training group. It entailed a lot of running! We used to walk, jog then sprint round the 400 metre track for several circuits, then do "start training" - lining up as if for a race and then respond to the starting pistol, but only run 20 metres or so to practice starts. The coach felt that I was possibly anticipating the gun, and false started me several times, till he realised that I simply had fast response times, which I needed as my sprinting speed was not great!
After a couple of weeks of this training I asked him about my specialised hurdle training, and he admitted that he knew little about the discipline, so felt that I was best suited to simply work on my sprinting! I knew that hurdling was more about technique than simple speed, which was obvious as I was easily beating most of the much faster sprinters over the barriers, so I asked if I could devise my own programme, though I would continue to do some training with the sprinters - and fortunately he agreed. We had a "middle" level athlete who was an excellent hurdler, and who had received some proper training prior to coming to our school, so I joined up with him, and some afternoons we could be found doing (painful!) stretching exercises, and training over barriers one notch lower than our racing height (to get low down and more efficient!). He was also, incidentally, a very good sprinter, so much of the time I could be found training alone, but my times continued to improve so the coach didn't mind!
When we attended athletics events at other schools I travelled along as "first reserve", but never got to compete, though I ended the year, and my time at boarding school, as the third best hurdler (one of the top two was a top-notch sprinter so didn't compete as a hurdler for the school), let down only by my sprinting speed, as I had the best hurdling technique and generally used to reach the final barrier ahead of everyone else!
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| This was the 180 metre hurdle race on Sport's Day over lower hurdles |
School Sports (part two) - Athletics cross-country.
Athletics term kicked off with a cross country race, where the whole school competed in three different age groups, and on different courses - I hate long distance running!! Standards were awarded for the finishing times, grades A, B and C, which equated to 4, 3 and 2 points in the "standards competition", which was a term-long inter-house competition. In the rest of the competition we had 6 Field and Track events to complete, our choice, but you had to do at least 2 Field or Track in your selection. These were graded A, B and C, (3, 2 and 1), so your maximum points tally could be 22 - 4 from cross country and 18 from the rest. My best tally was 21 - yes, cross country never yielded me my A standard!
What was frustrating for me with cross country is an inability to pace myself, I used to either burn myself out before half distance and then stagger home, or start too slowly and have too much energy left at the end, after finding out I hadn't run fast enough!! The runners who achieved their standards in the main event at the beginning of term didn't have to do it again - they already had their points - but the rest of us could try it again around 4 more times throughout the term. In the early years I was back in the pack in these additional races, with not much hope of achieving my A, but in the final two years I was the pacemaker as one of the top athletes still in the hunt for an A - and I never did manage to get the pace right! We didn't have stop watches or anything like that, and many of us ran barefoot or in ordinary trainers, so it was all down to trying to work out the pace in your head. The course took us around the very large school estate, through pine plantations, through or over gates (I used to vault them to save time), round granite rocks, up and down Monkey Hill (there was a pretty steep path and a challenge to everyone, but I tried to run it, where most walked), and then down dirt school roads to the athletics field where we had to do a circuit to the finish. My best efforts died on the final lap - our athletics coach used to stand at the finish line with a stopwatch, and as the standard ran down he used to raise his floppy white hat with 10 seconds to go, and drop it as the time ran out. I once made it to the final 80 yards straight - and walked off as the hat dropped, much to the disgust of my Housemaster! - and once got to within a couple of yards before he called time! That was to be my last attempt, as he wouldn't let me try again as he felt it was jeopardising my hurdle training!
Our school was multi-racial, which was unusual in Rhodesia back then as all state-run schools were whites only, but there were one or two "private" (in the UK these would be called "public" schools) that also had open-door policies. It meant that when we competed in any sport at state schools we could only send white participants, but that events at ours were always multi-racial. So we hosted a major inter-schools cross-country competition every year - and boy could some of these guys run! If memory serves there were around 12-15 schools competing, with 8 runners in each of three age groups. Each school was appointed an "escort" per age group who showed the runners the course, took them to meals, and collected their times at the end of the event. I recall being the escort for Waddilove seniors one year, and they spent all the time talking in Shona, so I never understood a word! The first 5 finishers in each age group scored points in the final tally, and the school with the lowest score won - Waddilove were one of the schools that produced incredible runners every year, and I think that year all 5 senior scorers finished in the top 10!
What was frustrating for me with cross country is an inability to pace myself, I used to either burn myself out before half distance and then stagger home, or start too slowly and have too much energy left at the end, after finding out I hadn't run fast enough!! The runners who achieved their standards in the main event at the beginning of term didn't have to do it again - they already had their points - but the rest of us could try it again around 4 more times throughout the term. In the early years I was back in the pack in these additional races, with not much hope of achieving my A, but in the final two years I was the pacemaker as one of the top athletes still in the hunt for an A - and I never did manage to get the pace right! We didn't have stop watches or anything like that, and many of us ran barefoot or in ordinary trainers, so it was all down to trying to work out the pace in your head. The course took us around the very large school estate, through pine plantations, through or over gates (I used to vault them to save time), round granite rocks, up and down Monkey Hill (there was a pretty steep path and a challenge to everyone, but I tried to run it, where most walked), and then down dirt school roads to the athletics field where we had to do a circuit to the finish. My best efforts died on the final lap - our athletics coach used to stand at the finish line with a stopwatch, and as the standard ran down he used to raise his floppy white hat with 10 seconds to go, and drop it as the time ran out. I once made it to the final 80 yards straight - and walked off as the hat dropped, much to the disgust of my Housemaster! - and once got to within a couple of yards before he called time! That was to be my last attempt, as he wouldn't let me try again as he felt it was jeopardising my hurdle training!
Our school was multi-racial, which was unusual in Rhodesia back then as all state-run schools were whites only, but there were one or two "private" (in the UK these would be called "public" schools) that also had open-door policies. It meant that when we competed in any sport at state schools we could only send white participants, but that events at ours were always multi-racial. So we hosted a major inter-schools cross-country competition every year - and boy could some of these guys run! If memory serves there were around 12-15 schools competing, with 8 runners in each of three age groups. Each school was appointed an "escort" per age group who showed the runners the course, took them to meals, and collected their times at the end of the event. I recall being the escort for Waddilove seniors one year, and they spent all the time talking in Shona, so I never understood a word! The first 5 finishers in each age group scored points in the final tally, and the school with the lowest score won - Waddilove were one of the schools that produced incredible runners every year, and I think that year all 5 senior scorers finished in the top 10!
Wednesday, 18 May 2016
School Sports - Overview
I have never considered myself to be a "sporty type", possibly because I am not competitive enough - I have never had any overwhelming desire to be the best ... at anything! This could be related to my innate shyness, and not wishing to be in the spotlight, or just that I never thought I was good enough to try that bit harder to be the best. That doesn't mean I didn't try, or train hard when it was needed, but I never went that extra mile that top sportspeople need to go to be the best, or try to be the best. I suppose I was as good as I wanted to be.
The first competitive event I can remember was an Obstacle course at primary school, which to my surprise I won in my age group! (I may still have the certificate somewhere!) This, of course, was back in the days when children were allowed to "win" or "lose", which I think is great for character development. Sports day at Grammar school a few years later and I came second in the junior hurdles - let down by my sprinting, or lack of it, I was first over all the barriers but caught on the final run in to the tape!
So when I arrived at boarding school in Rhodesia, in 1967, I thought of myself as a "hurdler"! I had gone up in age group, and in hurdle height, but I was still the same size as before and could barely get over the hurdles - I still couldn't sprint very fast! However I did persevere and the following year managed a reasonable time and placement.
At boarding school sports were very important, not only for the exercise and health benefits, but because we had so much "spare" time as boarders. Different terms meant different sports became priorities, so we had a Rugby Term, a Cricket Term, a Hockey Term, and an Athletics Term. Football (soccer to those of you from strange countries where FOOT-ball, is played with very little foot and ball contact, and the ball is egg-shaped!) was considered to be a "minor" sport, and though I did play for the school at senior level against some of the local African schools it was not really recognised. Tennis and basketball were also "minor" sports, and we also tried out squash, volleyball and water polo. We did have an inter-house swimming gala every year, which my boarding house (one of five) used to do particularly well in, though swimming also was not a "major" sport.
When I arrived there I was not very tall (at 5'10", 1.74m - I suppose I am not THAT tall now!) and certainly not very fit, so struggled at sports, in which participation was compulsory. It was Rugby term, and we had to attend the First XV match on Saturday afternoon and cheer them on - our school always produced a pretty good senior team, who did well against the other schools - and we used to get yelled at if the "cheerleader" (a school prefect!) didn't think we were shouting loud enough! This was the only sport where support was compulsory, so I guess we were a Rugby school!
I did eventually compete for the school at Rugby (regular in the 4th XV, and occasional in the 2nd XV - more about that in another post) and Football, and for my house in Cricket, Hockey, Tennis, Squash (not my finest hour - the only reason I "played" squash was because there was a good smoking spot close by, and walking down with a racquet in your hand didn't raise suspicions. My opponent was a fellow 6th former from another house, who happened to be the school #1 and also played in a local squash league. He took pity on me and played left-handed - and I still didn't score a single point!), and athletics. Never covered myself in glory, but also (except for Pole Vault) didn't embarrass myself either!
To keep this post short I will deal with individual sports separately in other posts.
The first competitive event I can remember was an Obstacle course at primary school, which to my surprise I won in my age group! (I may still have the certificate somewhere!) This, of course, was back in the days when children were allowed to "win" or "lose", which I think is great for character development. Sports day at Grammar school a few years later and I came second in the junior hurdles - let down by my sprinting, or lack of it, I was first over all the barriers but caught on the final run in to the tape!
So when I arrived at boarding school in Rhodesia, in 1967, I thought of myself as a "hurdler"! I had gone up in age group, and in hurdle height, but I was still the same size as before and could barely get over the hurdles - I still couldn't sprint very fast! However I did persevere and the following year managed a reasonable time and placement.
At boarding school sports were very important, not only for the exercise and health benefits, but because we had so much "spare" time as boarders. Different terms meant different sports became priorities, so we had a Rugby Term, a Cricket Term, a Hockey Term, and an Athletics Term. Football (soccer to those of you from strange countries where FOOT-ball, is played with very little foot and ball contact, and the ball is egg-shaped!) was considered to be a "minor" sport, and though I did play for the school at senior level against some of the local African schools it was not really recognised. Tennis and basketball were also "minor" sports, and we also tried out squash, volleyball and water polo. We did have an inter-house swimming gala every year, which my boarding house (one of five) used to do particularly well in, though swimming also was not a "major" sport.
When I arrived there I was not very tall (at 5'10", 1.74m - I suppose I am not THAT tall now!) and certainly not very fit, so struggled at sports, in which participation was compulsory. It was Rugby term, and we had to attend the First XV match on Saturday afternoon and cheer them on - our school always produced a pretty good senior team, who did well against the other schools - and we used to get yelled at if the "cheerleader" (a school prefect!) didn't think we were shouting loud enough! This was the only sport where support was compulsory, so I guess we were a Rugby school!
I did eventually compete for the school at Rugby (regular in the 4th XV, and occasional in the 2nd XV - more about that in another post) and Football, and for my house in Cricket, Hockey, Tennis, Squash (not my finest hour - the only reason I "played" squash was because there was a good smoking spot close by, and walking down with a racquet in your hand didn't raise suspicions. My opponent was a fellow 6th former from another house, who happened to be the school #1 and also played in a local squash league. He took pity on me and played left-handed - and I still didn't score a single point!), and athletics. Never covered myself in glory, but also (except for Pole Vault) didn't embarrass myself either!
To keep this post short I will deal with individual sports separately in other posts.
Friday, 29 January 2016
Not looking for romance
I am a simple person, well after all, I am a man, at least last time I looked, and I like life uncomplicated.
While in Peru in 2014 I was leaving my apartment one day when I came across a lady standing in the street looking up at the building - she asked me about the apartments as she was looking for somewhere to move to (though she was put off by the rent I quoted I was paying!). When she heard my accent she asked where I was from, and then told me she had an English friend, who, like me, spent 6 months a year in Huanchaco, and we should meet up. Yay, I love matchmakers! We are both English, both single, and therefore must want to hook up. I made some excuses about being busy at the moment and went on my way, thinking that would be the end of it.
Two weeks later there is a knock on my door - she (the Peruvian lady, not her English friend) had tried every apartment looking for me, which wasn't that hard as there were only 4 of them. I invited her in out of courtesy, and she told me her friend was about to return to the UK, but also told me a potted version of her own life history - single mum (I guessed mid-forties), ex-husband in Argentina, where she lived with him for many years, doesn't know anyone here so is lonely (though has family in Trujillo, 10 kms, away as that is where she was originally from), no social life, and so on. I could barely get a word in edgewise, and she spoke very fast, but my understanding of Spanish was up to the task.
She again invited me round to meet her friend, for coffee or a meal, and again I made my excuses - I was just about to embark on my first motorbike trip - but she gave me her business card (she worked in a beauty salon) with phone number and email address, and asked me to get in touch when I got back.
As soon as she left I sent an email trying to explain that I was not looking for a relationship with anyone, hoped I had not misunderstood her intentions, and wishing her well. I hoped that might be the end of it! But a week later she again arrives at my apartment - she is unable to access her emails. so never got my message! Her friend has now left and she is very lonely, and only has her 10 year-old son for company, and never gets a chance to go out. I ask her about her family in Trujillo, and she says she doesn't really get on with them, as they disapproved of her marriage to an Argentinian and move there, so they won't help her, and also she lost touch with all her old friends while out of the country for so long.
I am feeling very uneasy about all this, especially as she keeps saying how important my friendship is - but my command of Spanish is not up explaining this effectively, and I get the impression she is not really listening to what I am saying anyway, and I trying so hard to say that I am not interested. After she goes I even try sending text messages, but next time I see her she says she cannot access text messages on her phone!
She even brings her son round to meet me one afternoon, on the way back from school! Then one evening she comes round in a really bad state, all weepy and saying how things are really tough for her, and has no-one to talk to, and values my friendship and really thinks highly of me - and I have no idea how to respond to this as I do not want to encourage her, but have no idea how to gently explain my feelings, and hoping I am not putting out the wrong signals, as everything I am doing seem to be encouraging her. A couple of days later she comes round in the morning, and after a good deal of beating around the bush asks if she can borrow 50 Soles (around £12), as work is slow and she needs to buy some food for her son. Yeah, I know, alarm bells are now going off, but I agree, hoping that this will change the relationship dynamics.
I start ignoring the door, too, as I can see who is there without being seen, both day and night - cruel, I suppose, but I cannot think of a better way of getting the message across. Things do go quiet for a while - I am doing some more trips on my bike, and don't see her at my door. Then I am on the way, on foot, to the market one morning when I bump into her with another man, who she introduces as her ex visiting from Argentina. She pays me back the 50 Soles, which I never expected to see again, and invites me for coffee with them both as her ex-husband is only visiting to see his son for a few days. Iam genuinely on a tight schedule so make my excuses. Then 2 days later I bump into him on his own, and he again invites me for coffee - I try to explain that I don't think it is a good idea, but I have trouble explaining things like this in English, let alone in a foreign language!
That wasn't long before my time in Peru in 2014 ended, and I didn't see either of them again before I left. 2015 I stayed in a different apartment block and saw no sign of her, so thought she must have finally got the message, and possibly moved away as well because Huanchaco is a very small town. That is until two weeks before I was leaving to return to Brazil. I often walk along the seafront promenade in Huanchaco, as I love the sea and definitely need the exercise, though I do tend to avoid the busiest times (festivals, weekends, and so on). This particular day was a Saturday and I had walked along about half the length of the promenade, which was fairly busy, but as is my wont I wasn't paying much attention to other people around me (too busy trying to avoid potholes in the pavement, and not bump into people), and instead of turning round and returning the same way, through the crowds, I cut through one block and returned along a street parallel to the seafront. Suddenly I heard my name being called, and turned to see her with her son and sister hurrying along behind me. I had walked past them buying something from a street vendor, and she recognised me.
Big hugs and introductions - it sounded as though her sister knew all about me - and the inevitable invitation to go and have coffee then and there, or for a meal tomorrow at her family home in Trujillo! I was genuinely on my way to a meeting (I do some irregular work with a small charity in Huanchaco), but she gave me her new phone number and extracted a promise that I would call to arrange something! Good Lord! I thought it was guys that had trouble taking a hint! It has been 12 months, and she is acting as though we are best friends and only parted yesterday.
Simple? I have never had a more complicated relationship - or non-relationship as I have been doing everything I can think of not to get involved. As I only have a fortnight left, and she now does live in Trujillo, 10 kms away, and doesn't know where I am staying this year, I am hoping that this will be the end of it - at least until 2016 when I return to Peru again - but I definitely get the feeling I am being stalked!
While in Peru in 2014 I was leaving my apartment one day when I came across a lady standing in the street looking up at the building - she asked me about the apartments as she was looking for somewhere to move to (though she was put off by the rent I quoted I was paying!). When she heard my accent she asked where I was from, and then told me she had an English friend, who, like me, spent 6 months a year in Huanchaco, and we should meet up. Yay, I love matchmakers! We are both English, both single, and therefore must want to hook up. I made some excuses about being busy at the moment and went on my way, thinking that would be the end of it.
Two weeks later there is a knock on my door - she (the Peruvian lady, not her English friend) had tried every apartment looking for me, which wasn't that hard as there were only 4 of them. I invited her in out of courtesy, and she told me her friend was about to return to the UK, but also told me a potted version of her own life history - single mum (I guessed mid-forties), ex-husband in Argentina, where she lived with him for many years, doesn't know anyone here so is lonely (though has family in Trujillo, 10 kms, away as that is where she was originally from), no social life, and so on. I could barely get a word in edgewise, and she spoke very fast, but my understanding of Spanish was up to the task.
She again invited me round to meet her friend, for coffee or a meal, and again I made my excuses - I was just about to embark on my first motorbike trip - but she gave me her business card (she worked in a beauty salon) with phone number and email address, and asked me to get in touch when I got back.
As soon as she left I sent an email trying to explain that I was not looking for a relationship with anyone, hoped I had not misunderstood her intentions, and wishing her well. I hoped that might be the end of it! But a week later she again arrives at my apartment - she is unable to access her emails. so never got my message! Her friend has now left and she is very lonely, and only has her 10 year-old son for company, and never gets a chance to go out. I ask her about her family in Trujillo, and she says she doesn't really get on with them, as they disapproved of her marriage to an Argentinian and move there, so they won't help her, and also she lost touch with all her old friends while out of the country for so long.
I am feeling very uneasy about all this, especially as she keeps saying how important my friendship is - but my command of Spanish is not up explaining this effectively, and I get the impression she is not really listening to what I am saying anyway, and I trying so hard to say that I am not interested. After she goes I even try sending text messages, but next time I see her she says she cannot access text messages on her phone!
She even brings her son round to meet me one afternoon, on the way back from school! Then one evening she comes round in a really bad state, all weepy and saying how things are really tough for her, and has no-one to talk to, and values my friendship and really thinks highly of me - and I have no idea how to respond to this as I do not want to encourage her, but have no idea how to gently explain my feelings, and hoping I am not putting out the wrong signals, as everything I am doing seem to be encouraging her. A couple of days later she comes round in the morning, and after a good deal of beating around the bush asks if she can borrow 50 Soles (around £12), as work is slow and she needs to buy some food for her son. Yeah, I know, alarm bells are now going off, but I agree, hoping that this will change the relationship dynamics.
I start ignoring the door, too, as I can see who is there without being seen, both day and night - cruel, I suppose, but I cannot think of a better way of getting the message across. Things do go quiet for a while - I am doing some more trips on my bike, and don't see her at my door. Then I am on the way, on foot, to the market one morning when I bump into her with another man, who she introduces as her ex visiting from Argentina. She pays me back the 50 Soles, which I never expected to see again, and invites me for coffee with them both as her ex-husband is only visiting to see his son for a few days. Iam genuinely on a tight schedule so make my excuses. Then 2 days later I bump into him on his own, and he again invites me for coffee - I try to explain that I don't think it is a good idea, but I have trouble explaining things like this in English, let alone in a foreign language!
That wasn't long before my time in Peru in 2014 ended, and I didn't see either of them again before I left. 2015 I stayed in a different apartment block and saw no sign of her, so thought she must have finally got the message, and possibly moved away as well because Huanchaco is a very small town. That is until two weeks before I was leaving to return to Brazil. I often walk along the seafront promenade in Huanchaco, as I love the sea and definitely need the exercise, though I do tend to avoid the busiest times (festivals, weekends, and so on). This particular day was a Saturday and I had walked along about half the length of the promenade, which was fairly busy, but as is my wont I wasn't paying much attention to other people around me (too busy trying to avoid potholes in the pavement, and not bump into people), and instead of turning round and returning the same way, through the crowds, I cut through one block and returned along a street parallel to the seafront. Suddenly I heard my name being called, and turned to see her with her son and sister hurrying along behind me. I had walked past them buying something from a street vendor, and she recognised me.
Big hugs and introductions - it sounded as though her sister knew all about me - and the inevitable invitation to go and have coffee then and there, or for a meal tomorrow at her family home in Trujillo! I was genuinely on my way to a meeting (I do some irregular work with a small charity in Huanchaco), but she gave me her new phone number and extracted a promise that I would call to arrange something! Good Lord! I thought it was guys that had trouble taking a hint! It has been 12 months, and she is acting as though we are best friends and only parted yesterday.
Simple? I have never had a more complicated relationship - or non-relationship as I have been doing everything I can think of not to get involved. As I only have a fortnight left, and she now does live in Trujillo, 10 kms away, and doesn't know where I am staying this year, I am hoping that this will be the end of it - at least until 2016 when I return to Peru again - but I definitely get the feeling I am being stalked!
Sunday, 17 January 2016
Banking in Brazil as a foreigner
Brazil has been my home for at least 6 months of the year for the past 6 years. I say "my home" as it is the only place I actually own a house, though I do not have permanent residence here.
As a non-resident I an unable to open a bank account here so have to rely on my UK account and cashpoint machines (ATMs). Since the exchange rate at the moment is very favourable it is probably a good thing I don't have a local account holding my meagre savings, but accessing this money can be a challenge. When I first came here the daily (local) withdrawal limit was R$1000, which at the time was around £330, but recently, for some unknown reason the banks have reduced the ATM withdrawal limit - for foreigners - to R$500, which is around £90 at the current exchange rate! One "reason" given is it is to protect tourists from muggings or being taken to an ATM at gunpoint to clear out their account - however it is possible, where there are multiple different banks, to make a withdrawal at each in succession up to the R$500 limit.
In my town we only have one physical bank, which has 6 ATMs, though only 4 actually dispense cash - the others are for deposits, balance enquiries, bill payments (if you have an account there) and other services. One of these is a "priority" or preferencial ATM, for disabled, pregnant, elderly (over 60 here!), and mothers with toddlers.
It is possible to make over the counter withdrawals of amounts up to your own bank's daily limit (though I have never tested this), but getting inside the bank is a challenge. You have to pass through a revolving, metal-detecting, door watched over by an armed security guard - so have to divest yourself of anything metal, including keys, coins, phone, glasses, and so on. These are passed through a perspex "letterbox" in the armoured glass wall, and collected by the security guard (he needs to check there are no weapons in them!), who then gives them to you. You then are faced with a ticket machine - you have to select whether you are a customer or not, then it asks for an ID number??? The guard informed me that I simply have to press "continue" at this stage, and then it asks what service you want, so I select counter (as opposed to talking to an adviser or other employee), and then I select "preferencial"! The previous time I went in there was no queue at the counter, just the person being served, so I declined priority, and then sat as 4 priority customers in a row entered an were attended before me! One had a pile of bills to pay so I ended up waiting 30 minutes! So the next two times I selected priority, however the automatic system (linked to a screen) wasn't working so I had to wait to be called - and both times they served around 10 people before me! I only ever go inside as a last resort now.
I went in the other day to withdraw some cash and only three ATMs were functional, and had long queues, so, although I am entitled to priority treatment, chose the shortest queue (there appeared to be several qualifying customers already in the priority queue anyway). After a 10 minute wait it was my turn, so I inserted my card - and it told me the machine had a problem with my card and I should go to another ATM! As there were still long queues at all the machines, and I wasn't out of cash, I decided to return at a later time.
Today is Sunday so I decide it will be a good time to try again. Still only 3 cash dispensing machines functional, so I choose a different one to the one that caused problems before, and everything seems to be going smoothly - until it comes to dispense my money. "Counting notes" - lots of whirring from inside the machine, and the cash slot opens. More whirring, "counting notes", slot closes - and this carries on for 10 minutes, before I get a message there is a problem with the cash drawer and transaction is cancelled! I take a chance on the priority machine and this time it dispenses my money, though I must admit I was starting to worry what I would do if I couldn't withdraw cash from the only bank in town!
As a non-resident I an unable to open a bank account here so have to rely on my UK account and cashpoint machines (ATMs). Since the exchange rate at the moment is very favourable it is probably a good thing I don't have a local account holding my meagre savings, but accessing this money can be a challenge. When I first came here the daily (local) withdrawal limit was R$1000, which at the time was around £330, but recently, for some unknown reason the banks have reduced the ATM withdrawal limit - for foreigners - to R$500, which is around £90 at the current exchange rate! One "reason" given is it is to protect tourists from muggings or being taken to an ATM at gunpoint to clear out their account - however it is possible, where there are multiple different banks, to make a withdrawal at each in succession up to the R$500 limit.
In my town we only have one physical bank, which has 6 ATMs, though only 4 actually dispense cash - the others are for deposits, balance enquiries, bill payments (if you have an account there) and other services. One of these is a "priority" or preferencial ATM, for disabled, pregnant, elderly (over 60 here!), and mothers with toddlers.
It is possible to make over the counter withdrawals of amounts up to your own bank's daily limit (though I have never tested this), but getting inside the bank is a challenge. You have to pass through a revolving, metal-detecting, door watched over by an armed security guard - so have to divest yourself of anything metal, including keys, coins, phone, glasses, and so on. These are passed through a perspex "letterbox" in the armoured glass wall, and collected by the security guard (he needs to check there are no weapons in them!), who then gives them to you. You then are faced with a ticket machine - you have to select whether you are a customer or not, then it asks for an ID number??? The guard informed me that I simply have to press "continue" at this stage, and then it asks what service you want, so I select counter (as opposed to talking to an adviser or other employee), and then I select "preferencial"! The previous time I went in there was no queue at the counter, just the person being served, so I declined priority, and then sat as 4 priority customers in a row entered an were attended before me! One had a pile of bills to pay so I ended up waiting 30 minutes! So the next two times I selected priority, however the automatic system (linked to a screen) wasn't working so I had to wait to be called - and both times they served around 10 people before me! I only ever go inside as a last resort now.
I went in the other day to withdraw some cash and only three ATMs were functional, and had long queues, so, although I am entitled to priority treatment, chose the shortest queue (there appeared to be several qualifying customers already in the priority queue anyway). After a 10 minute wait it was my turn, so I inserted my card - and it told me the machine had a problem with my card and I should go to another ATM! As there were still long queues at all the machines, and I wasn't out of cash, I decided to return at a later time.
Today is Sunday so I decide it will be a good time to try again. Still only 3 cash dispensing machines functional, so I choose a different one to the one that caused problems before, and everything seems to be going smoothly - until it comes to dispense my money. "Counting notes" - lots of whirring from inside the machine, and the cash slot opens. More whirring, "counting notes", slot closes - and this carries on for 10 minutes, before I get a message there is a problem with the cash drawer and transaction is cancelled! I take a chance on the priority machine and this time it dispenses my money, though I must admit I was starting to worry what I would do if I couldn't withdraw cash from the only bank in town!
Thursday, 29 October 2015
The dreaded Bucket List
"25 Places to see before you die!"
"50 things to do before you die!"
"100 ideas for your bucket list!"
These are common headlines around the internet and in magazines, and no doubt spur some people to rush out and write their own list. I have never felt the need to do this, possibly because I have been fortunate to have had some pretty amazing experiences, and visited some incredible places during my "normal" lifetime, and, though there are places I would still like to see, and things I would still like to do, I feel that if I made a list - apart from deciding what to leave off - then if I didn't manage to complete it I would feel as though I have failed. Unless you have unlimited funds, and unlimited time, it is more than likely that you will "fail" to do everything (and if you actually manage to complete your list, what next - another list?), and the last thing I want is to sit and regret never having visited the Taj Mahal, or reached Everest Base Camp, or Bungee jumped off a bridge, but rather to remember all the wonderful places I have seen, and the incredible experiences I have had.
So this is my "Things I have done list" - all were, to me, pretty amazing, and I wish I had photographic evidence of them! So as not to put them in any order of importance I will try and list them chronologically (though will probably fail miserably as I think of new ones to add!).
"50 things to do before you die!"
"100 ideas for your bucket list!"
These are common headlines around the internet and in magazines, and no doubt spur some people to rush out and write their own list. I have never felt the need to do this, possibly because I have been fortunate to have had some pretty amazing experiences, and visited some incredible places during my "normal" lifetime, and, though there are places I would still like to see, and things I would still like to do, I feel that if I made a list - apart from deciding what to leave off - then if I didn't manage to complete it I would feel as though I have failed. Unless you have unlimited funds, and unlimited time, it is more than likely that you will "fail" to do everything (and if you actually manage to complete your list, what next - another list?), and the last thing I want is to sit and regret never having visited the Taj Mahal, or reached Everest Base Camp, or Bungee jumped off a bridge, but rather to remember all the wonderful places I have seen, and the incredible experiences I have had.
So this is my "Things I have done list" - all were, to me, pretty amazing, and I wish I had photographic evidence of them! So as not to put them in any order of importance I will try and list them chronologically (though will probably fail miserably as I think of new ones to add!).
- Make a long sea voyage on a liner (3 actually!) - twice out to Africa and once back
- Visit Africa
- Swim in the Atlantic Ocean
- Go on safari
- Fly in a plane
- See the Zambezi river
- Visit Victoria Falls
- Visit the Zimbabwe ruins (I am not talking about the country as it is now, but the ancient stone ruins)
- Travel on a paddle steamer
- Swim in the Indian Ocean
- Learn to play golf
- Ride a motorbike
- Drive a car (actually a Landcruiser jeep!)
- Visit South Africa
- Visit Denmark where I have family
- Visit Kenya
- Snorkel on the coral reef
- See the Rift Valley
- Learn to bake bread - commercially!
- Do a motorbike road trip from UK to Denmark - through Belgium, Holland and Germany!
- Buy a 650cc motorbike
- Ride a bike at 120mph (scared myself and never did it again!)
- Buy a house
- Get married
- Become a father
- Visit Swaziland
- Visit Kruger National Park
- Learn Archery
- Learn Abseiling (artificial wall)
- Learn climbing (artificial wall)
- Become qualified activity instructor
- Get divorced
- Buy a VW Camper Van
- Visit Spain
- Visit Tunisia
- Visit Brazil
- Visit Morro do Sao Paulo
- Visit the Chapada Diamantina National Park
- Live in Brazil
- Do charity work
- Visit Iguacu
- Visit the Pantanal
- Spend Carnaval in Salvador
- Visit Peru
- Visit Islas Ballestas
- Visit Huanchaco
- Swim in the Pacific Ocean
- Live in Peru
- Visit Chachapoyas
- Visit Quelap
- Visit Gocta waterfall (16th tallest in the world)
- Visit Scotland
- Tour by motorbike in Peru
- Drive through the Maranon Canyon by motorbike (deeper than the Grand Canyon)
- Visit Huaraz
- Drive along Duck Canyon (considered to be one of the world's most dangerous roads)
- Visit the USA
- Drive (most of!) Route 66
- See the Grand Canyon
- See Hoover Dam
- Take a boat trip on Lake Mead
- Drive a convertible Ford Mustang (in California)
- Visit Utah
- Celebrate Thanksgiving
- Get a tattoo
That will do for now (I have no doubt missed some out and will revisit it - after all I have not kicked that bucket yet!) - and if I had to pick the highlight it would have to be #25 - I was there at the birth of my daughter and it was the most magical experience!
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