Hadiza Duncan

Time is slowly counting down and everything is perfect, I think. Apart from the English issue (my English is really becoming something else – as  I’m trying to learn Spanish, I’m confusing the two) and having to watch people totally pressed up against each other smooching in public everywhere I go (am I a prude, old fashioned or just plain old, I wonder?)

What’s not to love with the amazing flamenco dancers we enjoyed a couple of nights ago? It was amazing to watch the dancers stamp their feet and whirl around and around in the traditional Spanish dance. It was like watching puppets whose puppetmaster was the music, the way they gave themselves completely over to it. Even the male dancer alone was a sight to behold …and in a very different way from the male belly dancer we saw a while ago. (Did I tell you about that? It’s best left to the imagination)!

I went to Las Palmas with my friend C for the weekend. After a very satisfying Japanese dinner at which the cook flipped a piece of fried egg into my mouth from 2.5 metres away, we decided to check out the closest disco to see what was happening. It turned out not just to be a disco but actually a party by the fashion brand POLICE! In a matter of minutes we were shoulder to shoulder with the who’s who of European fashion. I took a picture with one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen (only for her to turn out to be a man). It turned out that a lot of the ‘men’ at the party were (excuse me) not men. They were either men who pretend to be women in bed, or women who had done sex change operations to become men or… but forget all that.

The music was oldies – real oldies from long before my time. Songs like Chameleon, the Grease soundtrack, a song called In the Navy. And even though it’s a confirmed fact that I don’t know how to dance, with the combination of white people and oldies music, every single move I made in that club was a hit. Add the fact that I was the only black woman in the club, and you can trust that I was a star. We had a great time, but when I saw this creature about 8foot tall, in green and gold, wearing only his/her pants (yes, that creature in the picture was what I saw live), I realized it was time to call it a night – this kind oyibo nightlife pass my power. I couldn’t risk pulling an Osuofia right then and there.

And I finally got around to doing what everyone should do in a new city – a tour. Except that it had to be a different kind of tour so I hopped on a Segway and it was absolutely amazing to be scooting around the city; my friends and I the centre of attention. Clearly we were having so much fun that people could not keep their eyes off us. Plus we had the greatest tour guide ever – no too much grammar. He gave us just enough information to keep us interested, then let us explore the sights on our own. And even better, we had enough time to play on the machines. If you ever go to a city where there is a Segway tour, make sure you do it. Nothing else comes close to it. And if your tour guide turns out to be too talkative, ignore him, scoot on in front of him and put on your iPod!

Oluwapelumi