Mike's Flying

Well, arriving at Jerez was quite simple. We landed and after collecting my bag and flashing my passport at the immigration officers I wondered through the screens and {insert cliché ‘into the unknown’ sentiment here}.

I was met at the airport by the two course mentors and was very promptly informed that I was a member of course 81, and I would be living in room 28124 for the next 14 months. We wasted no time in dumping my bags and then doing the only thing a sensible new-arrival would do when he arrives a full 24 hours ahead of the rest of his course.

The bar was packed, but I bought myself a pint of the local staple (at 60c a pint, might I add) and sat down with James and Alexis (our two course mentors) and everyone else in the lovely warmth of the Spanish evening. I might add that though it was 22 degrees outside at 9pm people were in coats and shivering. Summer will be great J

The next day was spent at ease; I walked round the airport perimeter for want of something to do and stopped at the threshold to get a couple of snaps of the aircraft that were flying about.

Looking at the runway from the threshold on my walk

The fun didn’t really start until that evening, with the arrival of the rest of course 81, my peers for the duration of my stay at FTE. To the bar we went (this is a recurring theme, rest assured) and settled down for a few drinks and a general chat. This brings us nicely onto Friday, and the induction.

Though the term ‘induction’ has daunting overtones, though in truth it’s merely the completion of all the dull admin involved in our arrival. We were fitted with uniforms (I’ll have photos when the rest of mine actually arrives, honest!), and given our course materials for Phase 1 of our ground school training. We were talked through the various rules and systems to be observed whilst we were here, and we were officially welcomed by the heads of training. All very nice and ordered. Then, at 5pm we were promptly handed over to our course mentors who had planned a ‘night out’.

The assorted goodies my good money is paying for

Now, let’s examine the term ‘night out’. Firstly, in Spain it’s definitely ‘out’. The bars and clubs are all semi-covered courtyards interspersed with small rooms and with bars dotted all about the place. What courtyards they were! Stone arches literally hundreds of years old, fountains are scattered almost absently about on the tiled or mosaic floors and palm trees grow from odd places in the courtyards.

Inside the Bereber club at ~3am

However, amid all this style and class we must examine the first part of the term ‘night out’. The Spanish night in this context starts anywhere between midnight and 2am. Somewhere in this bracket, the clubs will open. Yes, Open. The clubs remain open until well into the morning. It is not unusual, I’m told, to be out on the town and get back to FTE for 8 or even 9am. Needless to say, on our little excursion into Jerez we returned at a respectable, but not completely obscene 6.

Saturday was recovery day. Though a few of us did get into town to pick up some essentials (washing powder, a kettle and mug for my room, a bedside lamp and some tennis kit to make full use of the courts here).

Here ends the noteworthy part of the weekend.