Of spectacles and cold beer

Last night found myself at BF's Lionel Wendt, rubbing my mean shoulders with the arty farty of Ouaga.

A comment made by my French teacher had me without shame forcing myself upon her to accompany to see what I thought was going to be a musical show - this is why I have a French tutor.

The theater was fascinating to look at, as it was one open to the elements - makes sense in a country where the rains are predictable and restricted to just two months out of twelve.

The show commenced with a brief description of what to expect - that went over my head - and an appeal to turn mobiles down and refrain from taking flash photography. My hats off to the entire audience for not once during the entire 60mts were the proceedings disrupted by a call.

The act opened in what I thought was a station... there was after all one woman with a suitcase, another with a basket, one man with a holdall and a second with a bag and a chicken. I confess to laughing out loud at that, but I seem to have missed the plot cos no one else seemed to see the point....

Events climaxed eventually to three styles of dancing performed by three individual groups - and I have to say, it certainly was spectacular!

From there we moved, for by now we were a group of four, two acquaintances of my tutor having joined us - on to a club close by to sit in the cold sipping draft beer. I was happy to sit back and just hear the flow of french around me as my eyes enjoyed the sights around me.... African women are attractive.

From beer we ended up inside the club where I was able to demonstrate my not so impressive talents at cutting up a rug to African Beats which seem to consist of music constructed upon heavy thumping beats, which can become repetitious.

Back home I came eventually closer to 2 than 1am, to pass out after two glasses of beer