The (long) Weekend

So, the weekend was fab. On Friday night, I met up with my friend Hannah to commence ill-advised salsa lessons. I say ill-advised because we were the only Brits there amongst Spanish, Argentinians, Mexicans and Brazilians, so everyone else just seemed to have natural rhythm whilst we fumbled and looked awkard. BUT IT WAS FUN HUH.  Also, the tutor brought on the lulz, because he was a Peruvian Patrick Swayze from Dirty Dancing, right down to his tight shirt and his Swayze!haircut. 

Afterwards, some friends from work joined us and it was just awesome to hang out, to finally relax after such a hectic week. My woes didn't end there, though, because I apparently play pool as well as I dance salsa, thereby bringing the lulz to everyone playing. The Argentinians took to chanting "Rebecca! Rebecca!" each time it was my turn to play, toasting me gleefully every time I failed. Really, that bad. 

On Saturday, I went along to the Barceloneta beach (I hate that one, because it's a fake beach created back when the Olympics were on and the sand is horrid) to meet up with some members of the German team as one them is returning to Germany this week. We ran into some really strange Argentinian celebration at the port - there was a band playing on stage and some men playing drums softly and first and then building up to a crescendo. A woman was dressed as a bird - my friend said a chicken, but I don't know, and walked towards the drums, then led this huge crowd of people through the port, dancing frenetically. I have absolutely no idea what it was about, but it was fun. 

The rest of the night involved absinthe and so it was perhaps inevitable that I ended up kissing an Italian who works at one of the restaurants downtown. He gave me the card for his restaurant and asked me to call in, but I don't know. I think I'm drowning in reticence where he's concerned, nice as he is. My friend said we should go and eat there this weekend to check him out more, but I don't know. Huh. 

On Sunday, I went to the internets cafe and finally e-mailed my brother Paul, who assures me things are well at home. Afterwards, I went for sushi with a couple of friends, missed the last metro home and so ended up having to walk home. I live up in the bloody hills. >:|

After all that, my feet were sorely in need of some help, so for the bank holiday yesterday, I had an extremely strenuous regime of the beach, then to the gym for Jacuzzi, sauna and vapour room before back home for pasta and a film. Is it really, really sad that I still wish I had teh internets at home?