I remenber the first time I played on European clay. A qualifying round in a club located on a mountain on the Spanish coast. The train left me at the nearest village; hot, dry and empty. From there I had a a hours walk, which would have been quite nice were it not for the fact I was carrying a racket case the size of a baby elefant and a sports bag which could have been the bay elefants mother.
I arrived at two pm and didn`t have to play until four pm, so it was time for lunch. The club itself turned out to be quite select with a large terrace above the tennis courts, and a small bar/restaurant. It was siesta time so it took me about 20 mins. to actualy find someone apart from two dogs and a very old parrot whose plummage had seen better days. After a few failed atempts at calling someone, the parrot uttered a strange noise and, lo and behold, the barman appeared.
I ate well.
At three the club started to come alive. The tournament Director arrived a bit later. He informed me that I was playing against a guy from a rival club and would do everything in his power to help me win. He gave me three balls and told me to go to court 3 and wait.
So off I went. I had played on gravel before and was confident that there wouldn´t be much difference. The first thing that hit me, as I walked on court, was the heat, the secound thing was the humidity. The court had been hosed for the match and was literely steaming.