To kill a clay pigeon

Shotguns and clay pigeons.

A week ago I would have said 'Nope, I've never fired a gun in my life'. Today I can say, 'Why yes, yes I have fired a gun, a shotgun' -  Ha! So for those who know me, I'm a total pacifist and I do not endorse any kind of killing for leisure. But we fired at mock pigeons made out of clay (obviously), so there was no blood spilled (just tears - only kidding). So all is well S.P.A.!

So I had never fired a gun in my life before, so I was pretty nervous. For those other, gun-virgins out there let me just explain that a shotgun is HUGE.. ok so not bazooka-huge, but pretty darn sizable nonetheless. I like to think I'm a pretty strong gal, so I wasn't expecting to have any problems. Hah. It's heavy and has a mighty kickback (I have no idea of correct gun-terminology.. sorry). Anyway, I felt a bit like a toucan in a Parisian café (... out of place). But I decided to pose for a picture in the hopes of at least looking the part if not actually playing it. Sexy ammunition vests were obligatory.

A mighty fine day for shooting flying clay birds ol' sport!

So out of the 15 shots we had, fired from a static clay-pigeon-producing machine, I got... *drum roll* 1. So I wasn't expecting to be great first time around, but I was expecting more than one hit. I blamed the nerves and of course, something was definitely wrong with my gun. Indubitably so. I did however perfect my French 'poule'-shout, which launches the clay pigeon - so that was a plus.

Thankfully I was not the only gal, a couple of other brave ladies took the plunge too, some with better results than others :P

Anthony was up next, and of course he was utter crap! ... at missing the pigeon. Yeaaah, he was awesome. He had had a gun when he was young, hunting small rabbits and things like that, but nothing extensive really. So yeah, honestly, I knew he wanted to win the whole thing, obviously, being Anthony. But I was surprised how well he did. He was genuinely very happy, so I swallowed my pride and decided to bathe in the shadow of his glory instead :P

A little video clip of Anthony's first shot. I'm not uploading the video of me because Anthony filmed three films and I kept missing the target, after which I think he gave up hope and stopped filming :D

The guide, ready for first-time kickback :D

Look at the size of the gun!

The score-keeper and the one who told us when to move platform, 3 shots on each one.

'POULE!' BANG. He made a score of 12/15 shots. Crazy good.

We then decided to bring it up a notch. 25 clay pigeons to hit, but ejected in random directions this time, not always in the same direction as in the last game. So you really had to be quick as well as precise. For each pigeon fired you get two shots. By this time my shoulder was already in pain and Anthony's cheek had gotten a beating. But on we treaded!

Which way are you gonna go little rubber-ducky!?

Once all the scores had been calculated Anthony scored a whopping 16/25 and I made a 7/25, which to be honest, I was completely thrilled with. Somehow, I had upped my game. The accumulative scores were calculated and the 10 best players were set up to battle it out on a third round of 25 pigeons. Anthony, so far, had made the best score and was lying in 1st place. Somehow, even my name made it into the 10 best players, so... yeah, I was happy. Turns out I wasn't as bad as I had thought at first.

My arm however was in pain so I decided to forfeit my place unto another willing player and support my man from the sidelines by drinking Champagne. I was extremely successful in my noble endeavor.

Another girl, who was also placed in the top 10, took the leap and put up one heck of a fight. But (sadly) not good enough to beat Anthony, who managed to get 17 out of 25, winning the whole crew.

All in all it was a really fun day out doing something we would never had thought of by ourselves -thank you Arieanespace! And Anthony brought home a trophy and a new hat: Ball Trap Club Kourou. So yeah, he is all class now!

*coming up soon: C A R N A V A L !*

Carnaval: Touloulou Dancing

Hello!

So I've experienced something rather particular; namely, the Guyanese Carnival!

Now, when you hear carnival you usually think something along the lines of sexy bikini-wearing Brazilians, right? – WRONG! Ok, so erase that image. In Guiana, since it's extremely cold most of the time (ha!) instead of wearing bikini's at the carnival, you cover up every inch of skin, if not with one layer then with two. And I mean everything, hands, face, neck, feet... all of it! So what is it covered by you may ask. If your imagination is vivacious enough you may be able to conjure up a vague image of what a Touloulou looks like. My best aid would be to think of the word 'dress' together with glitter, colour, bright, exuberant and just-go-for-it, and put it all in a blender. Result:  Touloulou.

Covered means, covered. And 'flashy' has taken on a whole new level of meaning for me.

So, together with some of Anthony's lady-colleagues, we set out to conquer Polina, the Touloulou specialized club in Cayenne. This is what we mustered up. With my very modest knowledge of Touloulou-ing, I think we look pretty fantastic!

I am second from the left in the blue and green Chinese-inspired mish-mash of a dress. I really did enjoy my very elegant hat. Rather fabulous. However, this dress should come with a huge warning-tag if you are planning on wearing it in Guyane. It gets ridiculously hot under there. Soaking hot.

Not an inch of skin can be shown, because ... the point of the Touloulou is to be and remain completely unknown throughout the night. Now, here is where it gets interesting. You literally have to re-invent yourself in order to go completely incognito. You ought to change your voice, the way you walk, how you behave and generally try to remain unknown to the rest of your male company. Their challenge is to recognize the ladies – not such an easy task considering we even covered the skin next to our eyes in black make-up so our skin colour wouldn't show.

It is also rather interesting to note that the Touloulou's are to be considered as Queens for the night – which, of course, I relished in. If for example, you get thirsty you may say 'Touloulou soif!' (Touloulou thirsty!) where your genteel cavalier is then obliged to provide you with a refreshment. However, I actually spent the night pretty much mute because I didn't want to make myself known at all, not to mention my French not being top-notch yet. Because we are queens for the night, the men are actually not allowed to touch you before you touch them. This means that the guys have to wait to be selected by a Touloulou in order to dance. He is also not allowed to deny a Touloulou. If she takes him by the hand and leads him to the dance floor, he must simply... get his groove on.

So, the dancing is the point of the night. It is an extremely close-contact type of affair and whilst it is not hugely complicated, the moves are very repetitive (and sensuous.. if you can master them). Your top half of the body is not meant to move, whereas your hips are meant to do either a three-beat or four-beat eight-shape, depending on the song tempo. So, it really is all in the hips! Now, I like to think I'm a pretty good dancer and I've got the booty for this type of thing, but sheesh! It was actually really difficult. No joke. Also, add the fact that you feel as if you're about 100 degrees celsius and so is the person trying desperately to get even closer to you. Like I said, QUITE the experience. The picture below is a picture from the club we went to.

The fun thing about this night was of course being completely unrecognizable. You can stand looking at the dance floor and be just a meter away from your man when he has no idea you are even in the room. Simply thrilling!