Fun and Sun in Tarifa

Ahh, vacation vacation VACATION!! And what better place to vacation when you've been stuck in a foggy, cold, wintry, dreary city like London for two months than the South of Spain? And what better companions than fellow LSE students, all of whom are interested in learning the crazy-cool new sport of Kite-surfing with you? For the laymen, kite surfing is a solo sport (only 15 years old or so) that involves strapping yourself to a 10 meter parachute-shaped kite (there are two kinds of kites- C Kites because of their C shape, and bow kites which are newer in the sport and are a lot more powerful), putting that kite in 15-30 kph winds, sticking your feet into a 4-5 foot long board, and letting the kite drag you over whatever body of water happens to be available. We chose the Mediterranean ocean at the southern tip of Spain, a quaint little town called Tarifa that probably used to have only a few thousand residents, but since the invention of kitesurfing has become a mecca of sorts for thousands of crazy young men who want to fly. I say fly because you actually can fly (at least for a little while) when you put these kite through the front edge of the wind (what kiters affectionately call the POWER ZONE).

I'm afraid I have no kitesurfing pics (never had my camera out then)
but I do have some cool Tarifa architecture.


I just liked this. Very Andalucean.

Heh- this is for my old college buddies. We ranked San Miguel
second best overall beer in the world. I think Pacifico was first.

So there we were. 25 of us from various parts of England (all college students except for one 'newly retired' banker who came along because he had nothing better to do with his life), all in cozy little bungaloes in a campsite near the beach in Tarifa. I shall proceed to document (in a somewhat abridged and perhaps more PC version) the various adventures that the trip entailed, but must start with where we started- in Malaga, a beautiful city in Spain. My French buddy Yann and I took an EasyJet flight from London Luton, leaving a horribly depressing, rainy day and exchanging it for what appeared, for all intensive purposes, to be Southern California! Landing in Spain really did feel like home- no wonder those priests and conquistadores wanted to stay in Cali- the weather (not to mention the local flora) is almost EXACTLY the same. I'm told that most of the Meditteranean is the same sort of weather as SoCal.. so be it, I must explore this further (but more on this later).

How depressing was London? As usual, no sun.

Planes are a strange reality.


Central Malaga.. Very Picturesque

Dude. Its like I'm back in Cali :T

Gulls fly over the cathedral in Malaga at night.

Malaga is a beautiful little city with well-run buses and a really cool castle that was built when the Muslims were in charge of Spain (this is Andalucia after all) sometime back before the dark ages, and some dude named Charles Martel. More on this some other time. The first thing we did when we got in was to eat some Olives. Olives deserve a capital O in this case. To be honest, I've never really liked olives- and now I know why. Most olives in the USA have been shipped or canned. They're not fresh. Something about Spanish olives was medicinal to me- I think because I have some small percentage of Spanish blood coursing through my veins (no wonder I love Cali so much). Yann and I hung out for a night, ate some really great Tapas (if you've never had Tapas yet, you NEED to- it's like sushi but Spanish style; cheeses, olives, wine, bread, various meats, and always, always, always good company). I learned a lot about enjoying dining with Yann and company during the trip, which actually brings me back to Tarifa.

This is our beach in Tarifa. The kite school is the central building.

A better view of the beach. Peaceful dunes.

The bungalow group that I ended up in consisted of four LSE masters students and one second year LSE student from Russia. All of us knew one another from the first kitesurfing trip (see blog post from November 2008)- there was myself, Yann, Andy (camera-toting Maven from the UK), Mike (film-promoting cool guy from Florida) and Roman (amazingly extroverted Russian with badass dance moves). I introduce everybody because our group ended up really enjoying one another's company, and we realized we all had a lot more in common than we thought.

Andy (AKA Traveling Mr. Bond)

This is a perfect Picture of Yann.. last day.

Good times :) Roman, Mike, Yann at the Rubiks Party.

So how was the trip? We spent the first two days taking professional kitesurfing lessons with a local kitesurfing school. I got stuck with people I barely knew, who knew a lot less about kitesurfing than they should, and as a result got a lot less attention from the instructor than was healthy. You can guess what happened. Day one went mostly fine- learned how to launch a smaller 5 meter kite and even got in the water for a moment. However at the end of the day a strong gust of wind came in, and this can be problematic because when you're on a beach, and you're tired, and your friend is strapped in to an 8 meter kite, bad things can happen with strong wind. Succinctly, my kite buddy got stuck in the water and couldn't stop the kite from slowly pulling him down the beach. Instead of going for the kite (what I SHOULD have done) I went for my buddy, and proceeded to help him re-launch his kite while standing in front of him. Bad idea. My friend was out of his mind, and yanked the kite towards him (NEVER NEVER NEVER PULL THE KITE IN WHEN YOU'RE LAUNCHING.. more on this in a second). The kite flew about 20 meters up the beach, my buddy going along with it, and his fist ended up square in my face as he did so. So there I was, nose bleeding, lying in the water, and then watching in awe as the same kite started to launch itself again with my friend attached... I ran up to the damn thing (the kite brand is appropriately called Jekkyl) and beached it, and then sat there shivering for a while before going into the water to wash out my nose. Day one ended harshly. Day two was more interesting; I was feeling pretty good about a 10 meter kite but again the wind was gusty and this time it was coming from offshore. This meant I was at some point launching a kite right above the sand of the beach. My new kite buddy (I petitioned) was helping me to launch a kite, and we had the bright idea of doing so inside the power zone. Thinking I knew what I was doing, I pulled the kite in while launching. This is the equivalent of revving a motorcycle to the red-line before putting the clutch in, and then watching to see what happens. The kite decided to fly right across and up through the power zone, and all of a sudden I was 10+ feet in the air, looking down at the sand, wondering what exactly would happen next.. All I can say is thank god for aikido training. I came back to earth in more or less a tumbled sprawl, then unhooked the kite, and marched down to the beach to wash off. I was extremely tired, a little hurt, and very, very confused as to what had happened.

Me in kitesurfing gear. Pre-Crash (so happy).

After that I had a lot more respect for kites. Apparently what happened to me was good for two reasons- the first because people who do a stupid thing and learn to respect the kite end up learning better (or so I'm told) and the second because I wasn't severely injured. Not 10 minutes after I was hurt, another student (who'd been having issues with the kite all day) did the exact same thing as me, except instead of flying up he flew forward and then down, and broke his collar bone in three places. After he got hurt, everybody calmed down a bit, and we were all safer after that. Also, I think the wind calmed down quite a bit after the second day. I spent the entire next day flying a little 3 meter kite until I could launch it and fly it almost with my eyes closed. The day after I ended up in the water with Yann and Mike, and the three of us helped one another with the final stages of getting up on a board. I'm happy to say I managed to kiteboard on the last day for about 10 seconds. I'm told the next stage is pretty easy- perhaps I'll kitesurf again. We'll see. Yann ended up getting on the board and powering it for a good 30 seconds to a minute. He's a windsurfer though :)

So much for the sport. The best part of the trip was truly the evenings, when we'd all come home to our bungalow exhausted, a bit sunburned, often cold and wind-whipped, and really really hungry. One of us created the beer shower at that point, a practice that involves a bottle of San Miguel, a hot shower (the campsite had good showers), and about 30 minutes of standing, not moving except to grab a drink. Immediately following beer shower was Tapas. We got Tapas time down to a science (or an art; take your pick). We'd have plates of good stuff, bottles of wine, and even cuban cigars. Always good music. Always good conversation. Perfect. After tapas usually came Siesta time, and after Siesta time, came party time. From this pattern we created our group motto: Tapas, Siesta, Party. We even created a theme song one night.. More on this some other time.

Typical table setting-- Mike and Yann posing.

Roman shows off our Motto.

One night everybody else decided to visit with us.

Aftermath of a game of Kings.

Party time was actually somewhat tame, compared with the last kitesurfing trip. Our group had a couple of really cool barbeques (one down on the beach with the lights of Morocco across the straight from us and some really beautiful stars up above), and two nights to be remembered. The first was the rubiks cube party, which involved people wearing all sorts of really brightly colored clothing and then trading with others in order to become one solid color. Yann, I won't say too much, but French Lesbians are awesome, and that stupid song will be stuck in my head forever. The whole group ended up walking through town singing crazy tunes and shouting whatever came into our minds, until we found a club, and then danced until we could dance no more. Party number two was the tribal party, and I must say the British take dressing up fairly seriously. Tribal costumes included dry leaf skirts, huge bamboo sticks, and even a painted volleyball on a stick called Wilson. As this was the last part of the trip, the group decided to do shots of tequila as 'awards' for people who had done crazy things on the trip. I was given a shot for the worst crash on a kite (the kid who broke himself had already gone home, else the shot would have been his), and after everybody had had a little too much to drink, we again walked into town hooting and hollering, until we found a club, where we danced the night away.

Up, up and away!!

Andy at Rubiks.. we all really like Corona.


Yann at Rubiks. The shirt was mine.. This picture ROCKS.

The night should have ended there, but of course there's an after story. On the way home my friend Mike and I were waiting for a taxi, and we got it into our heads that we should practice flying ninja kicks on a plastic barrier in the street. Why we would do this I'm not sure- I'm blaming tequila and ... well just the tequila really). I suppose we felt safe because we'd waited in the same spot the night before and had been pretty rambunctious then. Unfortunately this second night the local police saw us kick their barrier (which moved 6 inches, I swear), and decided to try to arrest us. We probably would have been arrested by the police (who decided to bring in 10 truncheon-wielding border patrol dudes as a powerful show of dislike for tourists) if it were not for Yann, who sweet-talked them into taking all of our money from us instead. Apparently the police really don't like tourists, especially tourists dressed up as crazy tribal monkeys who kick their plastic barriers. That was the most expensive non-ticket I've ever gotten. Later on I was talking to a friend about the experience and saying that would never happen in the US, and the friend told me about his buddy who got thrown in prison and beaten up in LA by the cops. Moral of story: Respect the police. Especially if you're not local.

The two LSE kitesurfing presidents (Natalie and Viktor) in full tribal regalia.

I don't know where Roman gets these poses, but they're awesome.

This is the evil barrier that cost me $150.
Funny thing: the night before Yann was riding it like a horse.
I wonder how much that would have cost..

Does this end my Tarifa entry? I think so. The trip was amazing- good friends, a few stupid but fun experiences, and a lot of sun, sleep and good food. I arrived back in London not quite ready to study, but a whole lot happier with life in general. It's been two weeks since the trip and I'm happy to say life is pretty good. I'm just starting to get ready to study for finals, and I will surely report on this in the next entry. Also, on the way home today I ended up joining a bike parade called Critical Mass that goes through London on the last Friday of every month, and I skateboarded through central London with these 500 or so cool people, stopping traffic and remembering cyclists who have been killed by motorists in London in the past year or so.. but more on this later.

Good times :)

The group packs up to head home.

Heading Home.. Already we are studying. LSE kids are crazy.

One small thought: It takes great courage to be happy. I wish this courage to each and every one of my friends and family. Each day is an adventure. Live it because the number is limited.

Cheers,
T