The man on my flight home- (or War, and our Atttudes)

Something a little more (ok a lot more) somber than my usual blog.
I will apologise in advance to anyone looking to read something lighthearted!!


On the flight home from London recently, there was a man on the flight, sat across from me on Upper Class.
He had lost both his legs- the right just below the knee, the left just above. He had minimal movement in his left hand- his thumb could grip against the side of his hand, but his fingers were immobile, and he couldn't rotate his wrist. A large scar was gouged out of his forearm.
The fingers and thumb on his right hand were all severed at the 2nd knuckle.
He was a large guy, and would have stood well over 6' in height, based on the length of his arms and the sheer size of his torso. His friend was in Premium Economy, also injured with a neck brace and arm in a sling.
It made me wonder if they were in the armed forces and got their injuries in the line of duty.

I don't actually know how these guys were injured, or what they did for a living, and I don't know their story, but it did get me thinking.

Whenever we think of Remembrance day (or Armistice day) we always focus on the dead. The heroes who fought primarily in the 1st and 2nd World Wars. The Wars that most of us have romanticised over time.

But what about the soldiers serving now? Or the forces who have fought wars over the last 60 or 70 years? With war becoming more and more political, the general public are less and less supportive- which for one reason breaks my heart.
The people who serve in our Forces do not have a choice in which war they go to fight in. It's not like project work in school, or in the office. Their commanding officer does not enter their barracks and say "right chaps, we need 4000 soldiers to fight in "x" country against the "y" people who have/are suspected to have committed "z" atrocities- hands up if you want a piece"
They don't get to fight the wars they want to based on their beliefs or opinions, they signed up to protect their country at every order, and don't have much say in the matter.

So when I read people's opinions of whether a particular war or another should have happened, or I hear people condemning actions, and slating the men and women who choose to join the armed forces, I don't just think about the servicemen and women who have died in combat, or the families who wait at home wondering whether their loved ones are coming back- I now think of these unsung heroes.
The gravely wounded. The ones whose injuries are so severe, they have to make radical lifestyle changes. The ones who literally have to learn how to live all over again. We hear so little about them. When the media tells us about the injured, it's about the innocents. The civilians caught in crossfire. No one really speaks of the people injured in the line of duty- after all, they signed up for it, right?

And then I got thinking some more.

If I was a serviceman or woman and I overheard someone talking about how my country had no right to be fighting in a war, or guessing what the true reason behind the war was, making uneducated assumptions, no matter how passionate the belief, or if I opened the paper to read a story about the few who tarnish the reputations of the many by dishonouring their service- clouding the public's judgement, it would probably leave me bitter and angry. It would hurt. In fact, that's an understatement. I would be raging at the hypocrisy- after all, if it was our country that had been threatened or invaded, these people would be the first to cry out for help.

I will never pretend to understand what it must be like to actually be called to serve our country, and I will never understand how governments come to decisions about whether to take action or not. It's way too complicated and beyond my comprehension while I sit in my nice house, with my safe, good life, and my friends and family around me. I can't make any judgements- I don't know the facts, I just read what the media choose to publish.

Irrespective of our views of any particular war, or war in general, so many people are injured horrifically, doing a job that takes more commitment than most of ours combined. They don't ask to be revered, or honoured in any way, they just want to do their job and come home.

Who are we to belittle that?
To me, these people will always be heroes.

L

Zanzibar days 8, 9 and 10- I'm gonna shoot a cockerel.

Days 8 and 9 were spent chilling and sunbathing, either by the pool in the gardens, or on the deck over the sea.
Really got me thinking of all the random things I learned, or that have happened over the last week or so!

Firstly, I have had the pleasure of company every morning at around 5:30am. My new friend is destined to wind up on my dinner plate by the end of the trip, I promise. The incessant "cockadoodle-dooing" from 5:30am til around 7:30am has made me realise that if push came to shove, I could kill my own food.... It just needs to annoy me every morning, and it's history. I hate that damned cockerel. It lives in the gardens outside my room and I swear it has a perch right next to my head. KFC anyone?




Food in Zanzibar is pretty awesome, although there are some weird combos. I had fruit salad last night for dessert, and it had pieces of cucumber in it.....should have been awful, but it actually worked. The cucumber cut through the sweetness of the rest of the fruit with a clean, crisp flavour. Who would have guessed?
I've discovered I love grilled octopus. They take the fat tentacles and slice them lengthways before grilling them. On the plate, they kind of look like halved bananas, but with the suckers on the outside instead of banana peel. If you've never tried octopus, and you like prawns, chicken or meat, you will love it. Not fishy at all, it has the texture of pork or chicken, but the taste of calamari or prawns. Yummy!!!
And Zanzibar spiced potatoes.... Wow!!! Boiled potatoes with coconut cream, chilli, onion and spices, like an exotic but warm potato salad.

Salum told me a lot about Kiswahili village life. About how as a boy he would make toys and games with his friends from things you could find lying around, or from the forests. How he loves Arsenal (after being a staunch Man U fan for the first 10 years or so) and how the regular power cuts means often his tv doesn't work.
One time, Zanzibar island had a power cut that lasted 3 months. Getting food was relatively easy (fresh fish is in abundance) but keeping food fresh was not easy with the 35 degree plus heat.




There are basically 2 straight ways to earn money in Zanzibar- you go into the Tourism industry, or you become a farmer/fisherman. Other than that, people will do whatever is necessary to earn money. The Beach Boys live off tips for taking tourists to book excursions, or just to walk with them to show them around. Women generally don't work, but if they do, they become teachers (where they are respected highly within their community), work in hotels as maids, masseuses etc, or the latest addition- the Police. Salum tells me that men fear police women, because they are "too strong and powerful" he would never marry a policewoman because he "cannot control them"
His views on marriage are archaic, but at the same time has an innocence you can't ignore. He wants his wife to be "soft, and gentle". He tells me that it is customary for the women in the family to prepare the "marital bed" with white linen.
If there is no blood on the sheets in the morning, or the following morning, then the bride's parents must pay a fine to the groom for not protecting their daughter. (eg letting her go out and run wild with boys) He is incredibly nervous that the woman he eventually decides to marry won't be "innocent".
In his culture, women are to be treated gently, and protected from the big bad world. They are cherished because they look after the home and look after the children (Salum is one of 9!!)

At one point, Salum asked me if he thought a European woman would marry him. I had to laugh- and explained that European women generally didn't want to be "controlled" by their husbands, and had a level of independence that Salum would struggle to accept. He then confessed that European women generally freaked him out as they are powerful to him- too strong to be controlled. Bless him, he would never survive!!! (not to mention the chance of finding any European woman over the age of 18 who would bleed on the marital bed is about as likely as him becoming the next US President, but hey ho.)

Back to village life- watching women come out on mornings where the tide was out to catch octopus was really cool. They brought out buckets and long sticks, and a sharp knife. They used the sticks to poke under rocks and coral to encourage the octopus to grab hold of it, before pulling it out like an Octopus lollipop, and killing it swiftly.


Sometimes the men would come out to check their wicker fish traps- I once saw a guy cycling down the road with a 4' reef shark strapped to his saddle bags.
Some of the fisherman sail right across the channel to mainland Tanzania to sell their catches in Dar e Salaam. A 3 hour sail.... Pretty incredible. On clear bright days you can see Dar e Salaam city rising from the horizon like Atlantis.

In the villages, the further out from the city you go, the more bicycles you see. The closer you get to the city, the more motorbikes. Oxen are used to pull carts, sometimes at quite high speeds with young guys standing on the carts like chariots!!



The roads were lined with cloves drying out... From green to yellow to brown and finally the almost black colour you see in the packets on the supermarket shelves. The smells on the roads are incredible. Warm, heady and spicy, smelling like Christmas in the roasting red heat.

Day 10 was spent with Safari Blue- a tour company specialising in snorkelling safaris and island hopping.
With the huge variation in low and high tides, areas we walked on in the morning were 6 feet underwater by the afternoon.







The islands were like something out of "Lost" with lush deserted forests and steep rock faces.
Snorkelling was amazing- every coral you can imagine and more with huge shoals of fish. The guide would point a fish out, then explain to us what it was (yellow fin barracuda for example)
What was sad was to see sections of completely destroyed coral where boat motors have chopped up the reef and killed it dead. These vast desolate sections serve as a reminder of how we act before we think of the consequences of those actions.

We also saw the mangrove forest from the ocean side, as opposed to the river side in Jozani forest. The water so thick with salt, nothing grows apart from the mangroves. No coral, no seaweed, nothing.



I could go on forever about all the sights, sounds and smells, but I think the best way to do it is for you to visit yourselves......

Zanzibar, thank you for an incredible 10 days, I only wish I'd stayed the full 2 weeks.

Lakota xx






- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Zanzibar, Tanzania

Zanzibar day 7 dolphins, monkeys, and crabs.

Thursday- the trip I'd been waiting for. Swimming with wild dolphins, and a tour through Jozani forest to see red colobus monkeys. On a scale of 1-10 I was about a 18 on the excitement scale, hence why I've given this day a whole blog entry to itself. I've always loved dolphins, super intelligent, full of life, they epitomise grace and beauty in the water,and can soften the hardest of hearts. I've swam with captive dolphins before in Cancun a few times, which was great because you get to interact with them close up, feel the cool rubbery texture of their skin, and feel the power in their tails as they propel you through the water. This was going to be different- wild dolphins, who know no "tricks" and can come and go as they please. I wasn't even sure that I would see any dolphins... But Salum assured me that the 3 schools that live in the area we were going to were almost guaranteed to be around. I was expecting to go with a group, in a catamaran or large speedboat, but surprisingly, Salum introduced me to our "guide" who was going to take us in a small, single motored boat, and I was the only passenger. I was starting to get used to this personalised trip malarkey!! The water was so shallow, the boat guy had to push the boat out for a good 15 minutes before being able to drop the motor and scoot off. Salum explained that we could have gone out on a traditional dhow (wooden boat with a sail) but this way was much quicker. Who was I to argue? The first thing I noticed was how crystal clear the water was. Even going out where the depths were up to 20 metres, you could still see the corals on the sea bed. All of a sudden, the guide shouted "There!!" just as a pod of around 15 dolphins breached the surface for air about 5 metres alongside our boat. Camera at the ready, I started snapping like a madwoman. (I'm always after that money shot!!) There were already 3 or 4 boats around, and people were jumping in the water with their snorkel gear on, desperate to experience this once in a lifetime opportunity. So it worked like this: you jumped in, snorkel in, and swam as close to the dolphins as they would allow. When they moved too far off (it's not like dolphins can sit and chill with you) the boat would swing by, pick you up and slowly catch up to the pod again, before dropping you back in the water. The boats kept a respectful distance, and always killed the motors when the dolphins were close. So I took my first jump in. Wow. Looking down, about 4 or 5 metres below me were about 30 bottlenose dolphins. Paddling above them, I watched as they swam in formation, the babies inside the group or under the adults. One calf started to do a roll, and stopped "upside down" swimming along casting his beady little eye on me as we went. After about 3 minutes, the pod was away, and I had a mouthful of seawater. The bloody snorkel had a leak, and I didn't have a spare. It was also at this point I discovered I had the upper body strength of a 5 year old. The boat guy slapped the tiniest bit of ladder (2 rungs) over the side of the boat for me to climb up. No frame to pull myself up with, just the side of the boat. 2 exhausting minutes later, I needed help getting up. Emotional was not the word. Anyway, I was too exhilarated to care at this point, I wanted another swim! This time, the guide took us in front of the pod so they would swim past me, and this time, they had come up for air. I literally swam alongside the dolphins for what felt like 5 minutes but could only have been 1 or 2 at the most. One dolphin swam with me side by side, while the rest slowly went past. So close I could almost touch him. I moved out my right hand slowly, and just when I thought he would let me, he rolled downwards, out of my reach. I think that was his way of saying "Hey, you can look but you can't touch, ok?" What a rush! Oh wait... I had to get in the bloody boat again. This time I was a little more tired, so getting in the boat required more of an effort. Skinned my knees, conked my shins. For those of you that know me, that won't be a surprise. On the 3rd drop, I gave up on the snorkel and decided that holding my breath would be easier than swallowing half the ocean whilst trying to breathe at the same time. Swimming behind the pod, I took in the differences between the individual dolphins. Some had notches in their tail fins, others scars. Some were darker in colour than others, and the calves had very white undersides. And then, they started "talking" to each other. Even with my head under the water, I could hear the clicks, cackles and whistles as they sent each other messages (probably "are you guys bored of these tourists yet?") Jokes aside, it's one thing to hear dolphins communicating at a captive dolphin show, and another to actually hear them out in the wild. Such an amazing experience. So this time, getting out of the water and into the damned boat was a mission. I was knackered from continually holding my breath, and swimming, and climbing into the boat, so ended up needing both Salum and the boat guy to haul my ass out like a dead fish. Ah well, it's not like anyone else actually saw me floundering....... A this point I realised that there were about 6 boats and maybe 30 people in the immediate area, and I started to feel a bit guilty about what we were doing. Was it right to be following these dolphins around trying to get close enough to touch them, or see them up close? If it had been a school of sharks, would anyone have been as keen? I decided I had seen as much as I needed to from the water, and wanted to spend the next 15-20 minutes taking pictures before heading back. I explained to the boat guy I had a decent zoom on my camera so didn't need to be too close. Watching up to 10 people jump in the water, and swim right in the middle of the pod made me feel incredibly guilty all of a sudden. What right did we have to intrude on these animals in such a way? The boat guy explained that the dolphins are friendly and if they are not in the mood to be with people, they disappear pretty quickly. I don't know if that eased my conscience or not. It was an exhilarating, magical experience that I will never, ever forget, but I would have to think very carefully before doing it again. So we headed back to shore, and back into the car before heading off to Jozani forest to find monkeys. The geek stuff: Jozani forest has 2 distinct Eco systems. A coral rock forest, where huge red mahogany trees and other plantlife grow. They can't grow deep roots due to the coral rock found very close to the surface of the ground, so instead have wide, far reaching shallow roots. The mangrove forest, on the other hand, has a sea water river running through it, so although plants and trees and grow deep roots, its only specialised plantlife like the mangrove trees that survive due to the saltwater. There is a clear line where one finishes and the other starts, visible by the clear, distinct change in trees and plants. My guide showed me at least 6 different palm trees in the coral rock forest, each of which has a different use for local villagers, down to what was made from the leaves. Some were used for fishing baskets, others were used for raffia mats, and others used for roofing. Almost every plant on Zanizibar has its own use- medicinal, functional or for cooking. All of a sudden, I heard strange, squeaky chattery noises. I looked up, and a small troop of about 6 or 7 red colobus monkeys were sat in the trees eating almond leaves (apparently their favourite). With their black leathery faces and big brown eyes, you could almost be forgiven for thinking they were primates. A couple of them had young who played and jumped around. One was clutching at its mother, too young to let go. Red colobus monkeys are only found on the island of Zanzibar, nowhere else naturally in the world. As a result, they are classified as endangered, with less than 2500 left in the wild. It was great to watch them in their rightful environment, free to do what they want. They do however, have their own "monkey crossings" - rope bridges strung between trees on opposite sides of the road that goes through the forest. This stops them from getting hit by cars or taxis. The monkeys learned to use their crossing very quickly!! In amongst the colobus monkeys, a couple of blue monkeys sat, watching us warily. The guide explained that they were a lot more fearful of people as they were not a protected species like the red colobus monkeys. The reds had no fear as they had no predators on the island. Zanzibar leopards had been made extinct decades ago, and its illegal to hunt or capture them, so in turn, they were curious, inquisitive and brave. Sure enough, I only managed to get a couple of photos of the blue monkeys before they shot off chattering in disapproval. Moving off to the Mangroves, it was like going from a scene from Lost, to a scene from Star Wars. I almost expected to see Luke hanging upside down with a little Yoda saying "try harder, you must!" on one of the banks. Instead, I saw crabs. Loads of them. No really..... Too many to count. In and out of the mangrove roots they scuttled, doing whatever crabs do in such a hurry. Green ones, red ones, large and small. Some with one huge claw, others with two tiny ones. I don't think I have ever seen such a huge variety of crabs in one place (enter your double entendre of choice here___________) One geeky fact I learned: no mosquitos in these mangrove swamps. Apparently they don't like saltwater much, and the river here was a very salty one. Hurrah! Must remember to live nearer to saltwater next time I move. I got back to my hotel a very happy bunny. Crossed a couple of things off my ever increasing bucket list, knowing that I'd taken at least one "once in a lifetime" opportunity. Now for 2 days of sunbathing and people watching...... L xxx

Zanzibar days 5+6. A husband called Moo.

Day 5 was mega chilled. Really didn't do much else other than sunbathe- although I have discovered some cool new bars and restaurants to wander off to at lunchtime.

The only problem with wandering is the "Beach Boys" aka the "Looky Looky" men. These are the guys who pester you to sign up for excursions, or snorkelling trips, or watersports. And they are Hardcore here!!! If you take a walk on the beach they follow you, trying to get you to part with your cash. I don't bother taking a purse now, and stuff any cash in my camera case. That way the "sorry I have no money" ploy works a treat....
Until Moo. Whilst going down to the sea for a swim, this guy collared me, asking if I wanted to go scuba diving or some such trip. I explained I was off for a swim, and legged it into the ocean thinking I was safe.
Wrong.
While floating away blissfully, thinking how calm and warm it was compared to Durban's surfing beaches, I heard "hello lady!!! Jambo!!!" (Jambo is hello in Swahili) I flipped myself upright only to see the Beach guy paddling out to me on a canoe. Yes really.
"Jambo!! I come to visit you!!" dammit... Was nowhere safe?
So he introduced himself as Moo (nope, i didnt mishear him, he really is called Moo) And he wanted to know if I would go out for dinner with him. When I told him about my (imaginary) boyfriend, Moo quipped "but he is not here....Hakuna matata!!! No worries, I will be your secret Zanzibar boyfriend"
It took a good 10 minutes to convince Moo that no, I was not going to be his girlfriend, and no, I couldn't and wouldn't lie to my "boyfriend"
Poor Moo. His friends laughed when he handed the canoe back empty handed.

The rest of the day passed pretty uneventfully. Oh, I did pay the crazy massage lady to give me a pedi and a foot henna. That's clearly where her forte is... Although lying down whilst having a pedi really hurts your back!! I had to sit back up after 5 mins and explain.

Day 6 and I was supposed to be going on a dolphin swim, and to Jozani forest. Unfortunately I woke up with crazy stomach cramps and had to postpone for a day. Thanks malaria tablets, you're brilliant.
So instead, I went for a walk on the beach this morning. The tide was so far out that to go for a swim you'd have to walk at least half a mile out to sea to get water deep enough! It was such a difference to the first morning I woke up here where the sea was under the restaurant stilts.
The were dozens of local women out with buckets and sticks, so took a few pictures. A young lad called Ali walked with me and explained that the women were catching octopus in the shallow waters. They would poke their stick under a rock, the octopus would wrap its tentacles around the stick, and voila!! Octopus lollipops.
The women would then keep some to feed their families and sell the rest on the markets, along with small sardines that hadn't made it out to deeper waters.
I couldn't get my head around how far out you could walk and still only be ankle or knee deep, when yesterday you'd be in waters at least 10 feet deep at the same spot.
Apparently when the moon is half full, the tide goes out far, and when it's full, it's so deep there is no beach to walk on.
Found a couple of huge starfish in the shallow waters too. Not little ones like you get for aquariums.... Starfish bigger than the palms of your hand, with the most amazing red colours. Took a few more pics and put them back into deeper waters,

Spent the rest of the day people watching, which I love!!
Some of the other guests at this hotel are:
The couple that don't communicate: in their twenties, she babbles a million miles an hour at him, and he pretty much ignores her. I've yet to see him smile, frown, or show any form of emotion whatsoever, and they've been here 3 days. I've heard him speak once to say "ok" to his wife. Breakfast, at the beach and dinner is the same. She waffles, he ignores.
The Aryans: these 2 couples are like extras from Raiders of the Lost Ark. One fit, blonde blue eyed serious looking couple that could be the real baddies, and one slightly pudgy blonde blue eyed couple. He reminds me of the "stupid baddie" and she reminds me of the "baddie with a heart" who is likely to convince her beau not to end the human race. Oh, and did I mention they were German too?
The Yanks: a family of 4- him all testosterone, showing off how much better he is than everyone else because he's American (cue loud voices) wearing all white like a reject from Miami Vice. His wife (who really wears the trousers) and their 2 perfectly turned out kids. God forbid if they actually got sand on themselves. One squealed when she dipped her toe in the water and got a bit of seaweed on her foot.
Shirley Valentine: she has just rocked up today with her "local boyfriend". In her late 50's, with limited English, her holiday lover is no older than 30 and speaks just as little English as she does. Interestingly, the hotel staff are not happy with this dude.... If looks could kill, he'd be a dead man. Fair play to her, I just wish she'd learn to kiss without making sucky, smacky, schloppy noises- its putting me off my ice cream.
The ex-wives club. 4 women in their late 30's turned up today. I guessed totally wrong... One had a tiny tattoo on the back of her shoulder, 2 had patchy sunburn where they hadn't applied lotion properly, and the last got really squeaky and squealed getting into the "cold" sea. I had them pegged as Brits.... And then they started babbling in German.
The lovely old lot: a man and his wife, and her sister, all in their late 60s, early 70s. The wifey told me all about how she got pricked by a sea urchin this morning and was saved by a man and a papaya. Apparently unripe papaya juice takes the sting out of the sting as it were. Who knew? The lady advised me to make sure I wear slippers when I walk on the beach (her English wasn't great either, bless her!)
The Knobhead- last but not least, a white, slim, tall guy in his 30's has literally just walked into the restaurant with his hair in 2" plaits with beads on the end. I kid you not. The man has what I'm sure he thinks are really cool little dreds.....why?? Why would anyone want to do that?? Ok, so his gf is Tanzanian.... He's italian I think. Oh and it's their first date based in the really awkward stilted conversation and the fact she won't actually look at him. "do you like Indian food? No? Oh...." silence...... One of his plaits is sticking out of his head like an antennae. Must look away now.

That's enough for now, before people realise I am gawking and writing about them!!

Tomorrow, dolphins and monkeys.

L xx

Zanzibar days 3+4- married off again.....

After the first couple of days of mortification, today was my first excursion. A trip to the spice farms, a trip to Stone Town, and a trip to Prison Island. All in all a full on day.
Salum arrived at 9am to pick me up in a space wagon, and explained the spice Farms would our first stop.
The Omani people were the first to bring spices over to Zanzibar to farm, after they ousted the Portugese from the country. There are words in the Swahili language which have been fused from Portugese, showing how close those ties were.

So we arrive at a government Spice Farm, over 10 hectares. It wasn't what I expected- looking more like a lush overgrown forest than organised, structured farmland, it was full of tall trees, small shrubs, bushes, flowers and grasses.
Half way down the dirt road, Salum stops and lets a man into the car. A small alarm started ringing off in the back of my head.....
"This is our spice guide. He will be showing us spices to smell, or to taste" he says. Oooookaaaaay...........
Still on the same dirt road, we stop next to another guy, who hands over a box-cutter style knife to the Spice Man.
That small alarm has turned into a full blow foghorn. What the hell am I doing?? I'm in a car, in some random farmy forest, with 2 guys I don't know, one of whom has a knife!!!!
I watch too many movies for my own good. About a dozen scenes from various serial killer movies or tv shows ran through my head in a heartbeat.
Meanwhile, Salum is chatting away about the history of the Spice Farms, and reality filters back into my dizzy head. I'm on a tour, and it's going to be fun. That is all.

The spice farm was actually very cool. My Spice Man cut small pieces of spice from the plants they grow from. Coffee grows on a huge tree? Cardamom grows from the seeds of a flower that grows out the roots, not the stalks of the plant? Iodine is the sap of a tree? Who knew!!!
Cinnamon bark regrows if you slice it off, which is more cost effective than cutting the whole three down- and even the leaves have a cinnamon smell.
I ate a Jack Fruit. It has to be the weirdest fruit I have ever had. It looks like a huge, knobbly rugby ball. Opened, it looks like a cross between a pineapple, and a pawpaw. It has seeds the size of the tip of my thumb, encased in kernels of flesh- a little like sweet corn. And it tastes like a cross between a banana and a pineapple.
My head couldn't work it out, so my taste buds struggled too. Did I like it? I don't know.... It was too different!

The biggest eye opener was cloves. The clove trees are HUGE, and some poor guy has to climb the tree tout the cloves off. Clove smuggling is apparently big business in Tanzania. Yep, you heard. Clove smuggling.
As the most expensive spice grown on the island, you face 30 years in prison if caught with illegal cloves. 30 years????? I don't think you get 30 years for smuggling rhino horn!!! Crazy....

And so onto Stone Town, which was named a World Heritage site back in the 90's.
Narrow alleyways in between 3 or 4 story buildings, Stone Town is bustling. A huge food market was the first thing we saw.... But the smells of the meat and the fish in the 38 degree heat was too much for me, so we swerved around it.
Going through the alleyways, there was such an incredible abundance of colour against the stone walls. Women and children in brightly coloured scarves and robes. Paintings being sold on every corner, and street hawkers selling cd's of "local" music (um..... Bob Marley, local in Zanzibar? Really? That guy gets everywhere!)

One of the stops in Zanzibar was the last standing slave market. Zanzibar abolished slavery in the late 1800's after a plea by David Livingstone and the British government.
Illegal slave trading continued until the early 1920's and "freed" slaves were still mistreated until the revolution in 1964. Only 40 odd years ago. Makes you think, doesn't it?

The British Missionaries turned the slave auction site into an Anglican church after 1894, and kept the stump of the whipping post in the floor of the church in memory of the men, women and children who were whipped, sometimes to death, at this site.
Under the slave market building are 2 slave chambers. Not enough room to stand in, with 2 narrow "windows" for light. This is where the Omani slave traders kept their slaves. Measuring maybe 15 feet by 30 feet, they would keep up to 75 women and children in one, and 50 men in another. A 3 foot channel dug into the stone showed where the slaves had to use the toilet until the tide came in and washed the waste away every day.

It was a really sobering moment, looking around that room and trying to imagine how anyone had the will, or the strength to survive in such conditions, and one I don't think I will ever forget.

After that, Prison Island was a welcome relief. Travelling on a little boat for 20 mins, we arrived on the island. Prison Island never did become a prison, but the original building is being built into...... You guessed it, a hotel! Is anything scared anymore? Watch- some idiot will try and make Stonehenge a hotel at some point.
Anyhoooooo I digress. Prison island is interesting to walk around, but I struggle to see how you can make a half or full day tour out of it. They do have a tortoise sanctuary, with some tortoises over 100 years old, but still.... How many tortoises do you want to look at over an hour, let alone 5 or 8 hours???
They used to let you feed the tortoises until one idiot decided to sit on one (hello, does it look like a pony to you???) and another decided to let their child feed its fingers to one of the larger, more cantankerous ones. Now it's strictly "look but don't touch" which I get. At the end of the day, it's still a wild animal even if it is incredibly slow and ancient.

Am I right in thinking today passed virtually shame free? Hurrah!! Oh wait.... There were about 6 incidents where Salum had comments thrown at him about leaving Tanzania with his new "wife".... That would be me again then. Married off twice in 3 days? Not bad going.......


Day 4 was über lazy. Sunbathed in factor 15 lotion.... Yes, factor 15.... That's BIG for me, who normally wears a factor 2 or on a crazy hot day, factor 6.
I have also come to the realisation than Europeans are way too wary for their own good. I have smiled at loads of couples staying here over the last 3 days in an attempt to open a conversation, only to be shut down hard. When I mean smile, I'm not talking about my "work smile" (people who have worked with me understand) I a talking about a genuine, happy smile. After all, I am on holiday.
Maybe the guys think I'm a crackpot. Maybe the women think I'm a black widow, after their men. Balls to the lot of you, I just wanted to say hello!!!
South Africans are definitely more friendly, and more trusting.
Eventually, I asked a girl where she went snorkelling. We then did strike up a conversation, and it turns out she had her own funny stories, as her "husband" was actually her brother and for 3 weeks it's been easier to go with the flow than try and explain.
They did Kili last week, in 3 days, which made me wish I hadn't busted my back and ankle.
But that's a different story!

Watched the sun set.... Which is meant to be incredible. In a way it is, but it's not as amazing as the sun setting out in the bush. As Salum would say "I a being totally honest with you"



Sill love it here though......

Live, love, laugh....

L xx

Zanzibar days 1 and 2: A Comedy of Errors

I've landed!!! (elated grin) It's pissing down with rain!!!! (smile deflates) The following thoughts run through my head at breakneck speed: How long has it been raining for? When will it end?! Is this going to be a repeat of Mauritius where I didn't see the sun?!! Am I going to go back whiter than when I left?!!! Oh god!!!! I'm going to go back whiter than I left!!!! Wait- is that the airport? That has to be the smallest airport in the world!!!!! So with a slight sense of defeat, I disembarked and headed into what really is the smallest international airport I have ever set foot on.... And walked into disorganised chaos. Even with my visa already pre-purchased, there was a lot of faffing around with the immigration guy who obviously hadn't heard the huge airplane land 500 metres from his desk, and hadn't switched his PC on. Fingerprints, retina scan, check. Visa stamp? Check. I was through to luggage collection... Or was it the exit? Um..... Ok wait. There's a guy manually taking cases off a flatbed and putting them on a cleared floor area. That must be baggage collection. Half an hour later, I had my case. People who had not got their visa beforehand we still trying to get through immigration. Next stop- a guy in uniform checking that I hadn't sneaked through without my visa. All in order? Great! No.......? And then the dreaded "where is your husband?" Me: "No husband, I'm on my own" Uniform: "Why?" Me: "I like it" Uniform: "I will be your husband" followed by a cackle of laughter..... Me: "Great idea! Can I go now?" I slip past my future ex-husband to be greeted by the usual crazy airport exit scene- a load of travel agent types waving placards, a heap of dodgy taxi drivers trying to get your attention, and street hawkers selling tourist tat at exorbitant prices. Fortunately, I found my transfer pretty quickly. Salum escorted me to the car, apologised for the rain and explained that due to the conditions of the road, and the rain, the trip to the airport would be around 90 mins. It was a fairly easy 90 mins, Salum talked a lot about the history of Zanzibar, from the days of the Sultans reign, the slave trade, British sovereign and more. I've now booked Salum to be my tour guide for the rest of this trip.... Got to the hotel, and it is lovely!!! There's only one drawback for me..... The rooms don't have numbers on them. Yes, you heard correctly. No room numbers. Or names. Or anything that would tell me which room I'm in. My room looks exactly the same as the room next door, down to patio furniture. 3 times now I have tried to get into the wrong room (sober, not drunk) which would be bad enough except for the last time, last night, I got: "wrong room...... again" from the guy behind the door I was trying to break into. Mortified much?? Ooh yes. So now I have resorted to putting some of my stuff on the patio table so I can't get confused. I might as well have a sign on the door saying "helllooooooooo!!! Yes dummy, YOU!!! Over here!" And then there was the incident on my first morning.... Day 2 in Zanzibar. I woke up,all excited because I was on holiday, the sun was shining and it was super hot outside. And then I found a gift bag on the door step! Hurrah!! Love gifts- who doesn't? Peeked in the bag and found a sarong, a tangerine and some lovely little pastries..... sat down on the porch, ate the pastries and decided to see what the sarong was like. The first inkling I had that something wasn't right was when I pulled the sarong out..... "it's not a sarong? It's a robe.... " I said to myself. "and what are these keys at the bottom of the bag all about??" It was about this point that reality came crashing down in a spectacular display of mortification. Oh my god..... I had just eaten the maid's lunch!!!!! Her bloody packed lunch!!!!! I have never scooted out of my room so quick in all my life. I pegged it down to the restaurant in the hope there would be something equivalent there. No joy. I then racked my brains trying to think of a master plan that was clearly never going to come. So what is a suitable tip for someone whose food you've eaten/stolen? Revenge came by the way of my masseuse lady. Why is it people will complain about everything and anything except a rough massage? This woman had thumbs of titanium. I'm sure she was related to Wolverine. She was kneading away on the backs of my arms, and the backs of my thighs like she was battering out a steak. I flinched, squeaked, grimaced, clenched my fists, the works. Not once did I say "sorry, that's too hard, would you mind going a bit softer" or "Woman!!! You're killing me here!!!" I lay there for an hour and let her gouge flesh from my skin. Why? I didn't want her to feel bad. Stupid? Oh yes..... And you know what's even more stupid? I tipped her!!! So that was the first 2 days- a comedy of errors. Here's to days 3 and 4... Surely I've made enough faux-pas for one trip?? L xx

Lone Female Traveller

I'm sat at Johannesburg airport waiting for my flight to Zanzibar, and I thought I would share this strange phenomenon I have recently discovered.

It started something like this......

I go to the check in at 1Time desk, hand over my passport and when asked my destination, I reply smiling, "Zanzibar" (bearing in mind it was 5am, the fact she got a smile out of me was pretty remarkable.)

Her own, equally dazzling smile slowly fizzled out into a frown, followed by a look of total confusion.
"You're travelling alone..???"
"Yes I am"

She looked at me with a slight tilt to her head, and then...... "But why?"

So I laughed- I knew I was going to get asked, I just didn't realise it would be so early....

"Because I wanted to"

Now, don't get me wrong, I am no "Eat Love Pray" character. I have no desire to find myself, I know who I am, andI am not rebelling against anything.

I simply wanted to go to Zanzibar and lie on the beach with a few good books for a while.

So why is it people always look at me like I'm mental?

Case #1: Dubai.
I went to Dubai to visit a friend who I hadn't seen in years.
The check in was fine, but the minute I hit Dubai airport, men and women equally stared as I walked around un-chaperoned by a husband or mother.
I discovered there was a separate taxi rank for lone female travellers, and even the buses have "women only" seats up front by the driver, I'm assuming for safety reasons.
I put it all down to cultural differences and thought nothing of it.

Case #2: Mauritius.
On the way back to South Africa from Dubai, I decided it would be quite neat to stop off in Mauritius and soak up the sun. I'd heard the we stunning beaches there, and it was about as idyllic as you could ask for.
Checking into my boutique hotel, my first question asked was "will your husband be joining you?"
Cue me explaining I was on my own.

From there, every restaurant I went to (book in hand) not only was I asked where my husband/boyfriend was, it was always followed up with "are you ok" and a look of uncomfortable pity.

I know I chose a honeymoon destination, but really!!! What did they think? That my betrothed was killed in a heartbreakingly tragic accident that meant I had to come on my honeymoon alone? That maybe I was jilted at the alter and in a gesture of defiance I came on my honeymoon alone??

It's a simple as this.

I enjoy my own company.
I like to go to different countries.
Sometimes my friends can't take leave from work, or don't have the budget to come with me.
If I don't go to these amazing countries, what exactly am I working for?
At 36, I am old enough and brave enough to venture out on my own.

So.... Zanzibar.
Another romantic destination.
Let's see how strangely people look at me.
Maybe I should make up a tragic story about a fictional husband...... Just in case......


Update to follow


Lakota

Live Love Laugh

Xx


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:O R Thambo Airport Rd,Kempton Park,South Africa

RiP Steve Jobs.... and the world's reaction

On the 4th October, Apple announced the IPhone 4S. The World was unimpressed overall... they were expecting the IPhone 5, and nothing Tim Cook could have said was going to excite the die hard Apple fans.

Then, October 6th, the World woke up to the news that Steve Jobs had finally lost his battle to cancer the previous evening, peacefully, with his family at his side.... hours after the announcement.

Tributes that have been pouring in have been incredible- Obama summed it up perfectly- that the World had lost one of America's great visionaries- a man who was brave enough to think differently, bold enough to think he could change the World, and talented enough to do it.

So when the news came out that Jobs stepped down as CEO, Apple fans worried, and lamented.
When news came out this morning that he had passed away, the whole World started to mourn, and Apple fans globally started leaving notes, tributes and flowers outside Apple Stores.

When ever has a multi-billion pound business had a figurehead that has generated this kind of empathy? It's staggering.

So that's when you need to look at the facts.....

Its estimated that 2/3 of ALL mobile internet browsing is done through Safari (ie IPhone/IPad/ITouch/Macbooks)

Apple revolutionised home computing.
Apple revolutionised the way we listen to music.
Apple revolutionised the way we download/buy/access music.

14 billion songs have been downloaded on ITunes.

Apple revolutionised the Tablet market and changed the way we access information on the move.

25 million IPads have been sold in just 14 months.

Apple at one point, was the most valuable company in the world, even beating Exxon Mobil. An oil company!!!!

50 million IPhones have been sold to date. That's the equivalent of 1 for every 6 people in America. Or 1 for every 3000 in the WORLD!!!

Most people who amass that kind of fame, and fortune are hated or laughed at.... (Think Donald Trump/Rex Tillerson) Steve Jobs was different.
A true leader who inspired and guided Apple through the brink of bankruptcy to become the world's most famous brand.

Some of his more memorable quotes help us understand his leadership style:

"There's nothing that makes my day more than getting an e-mail from some random person in the universe who just bought an iPad over in the UK and tells me the story about how it's the coolest product they've ever brought home in their lives. That's what keeps me going. It's what kept me five years ago [when he was diagnosed with cancer], it's what kept me going 10 years ago when the doors were almost closed. And it's what will keep me going five years from now whatever happens."
- AllThingsD Conference, 2010

"Being the richest man in the cemetery doesn't matter to me … Going to bed at night saying we've done something wonderful … that's what matters to me."
– Wall Street Journal 1993

"In most people's vocabularies, design means veneer. It's interior decorating. It's the fabric of the curtains and the sofa. But to me, nothing could be further from the meaning of design. Design is the fundamental soul of a man-made creation that ends up expressing itself in successive outer layers of the product or service."
– Fortune magazine 2000

"Innovation comes from people meeting up in the hallways or calling each other at 10.30 at night with a new idea, or because they realised something that shoots holes in how we've been thinking about a problem. It's ad hoc meetings of six people called by someone who thinks he has figured out the coolest new thing ever and who wants to know what other people think of his idea.
"And it comes from saying no to 1,000 things to make sure we don't get on the wrong track or try to do too much. We're always thinking about new markets we could enter, but it's only by saying no that you can concentrate on the things that are really important."
– Business Week 2004

And one of my favourites:

"Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle."

Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice.''
– Stanford commencement speech 2005

Combine the two- the products Apple create, and Steve Job's inspirational leadership, it goes a long way to understand why for the first time that I can remember, a CEO has been mourned in such a public manner by customers, world and business leaders alike.

Whether you love Apple, or hate it (personally, I love Iphones/Ipads/ITouch et al, and hate Mac) there is no denying that the World lost a true visionary, a creative genius.
Which leaves only one thing to say.......

 

My Pack!

So, my entry into a Doxie (thats Dachshunds to non believers....)
filled world started with the question "where on EARTH will I buy my puppies from?"
Given I had done huge amounts of research to find a breed that would suit my lifestyle, I found 3 options- Find a breeder, a private seller or go to a pet shop.

In the end, I did all 3. Harley, my first, was from a pet shop (which I would never ever do again- but that's a whole different story) Jack I got a month later from a woman who sold Doxie pups for breeders, recommended by my vet, and Ozzy I got last week from a KUSA registered breeder in a different province.

So this got me thinking- are their personalities influenced by those first 8 or 9 weeks of their lives?
In my experience, absolutely!

Take Harley- he was kept in a glass and wire cage most of his first few weeks with virtually no interaction with anyone or anything. He's a loving puppy, but very nervous, skittish and can throw the most amazing sulks. He was a terror to house train as he could pee and poop in his cage. Hates being handled too much, but will give lots of love cuddles and kisses once he knows he can trust you.



Jack lived his first few weeks in a house, with a garden, and his parents and siblings. Thanks to beautiful South African weather, he was in the garden a lot. As a result, he was easy to house train (6 weeks!) is sociable, adventurous and much braver than H. He does however get super jealous and constantly seeks to be the centre of attention- something he would have had to fight for with his original pack mates.


Ozzy came from a breeder, and lived in outdoor kennels with his parents and other puppies, and no-one watching him full time. He's a total adventure monkey! He has to be watched carefully to make sure he doesn't leap off or into things as he got used to being able to do whatever his puppy-senses tell him! He's going to be a challenge to train that's for sure. He loves attention, but isn't sure about this kisses malarky!. I'm really looking forward to seeing how he turns out.


Maybe I just have crazy, lovely, gorgeous boys!!

L x


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Far Ln,Mt Edgecombe,South Africa

The Amy Winehouse effect

Amy Winehouse died on Saturday. I don't think it was a surprise to anyone.... We all knew it would end one day, the question was when.

What does surprise me is the emotions it has stirred up in everyone, including myself.

Twitter has been blown up with comments such as "why does anyone care- she did this to herself" or "nevermind Whine-house, a soldier died yesterday"
(apparently we can't have 2 sad stories at the same time)
Then you go on and read both Samantha Ronson and Russell Brand's tributes to Amy on their blogs. They were her friends. And that's the point of this blog.

Before you dismiss her death as something she brought on herself, remember- she had friends, and family who will never understand WHY she chose this path. WHY their love for her wasn't enough to make her choose life. WHY she couldn't stick at the rehab, and WHY she didn't ask for help.
They will never get the answer to any of those questions because the one person who could answer them is gone.

Its strange, this Amy Winehouse effect. When she was alive, I hated that she glamourised drugs. I was frustrated that yet again, the kids of today have a terrible role model who re-invented "cool" to be off your tits, stumbling and slurring, but still able to belt out a huge hit (until more recently) it scared me that there would be kids trying crack or dope for the first time because Amy did it.

Now she's gone, I'm sad, and I'm angry.
I'm sad for her friends and her family. I'm sad for that loss of talent- she had a stunning voice, and some amazing songs.
I'm sad that she couldn't fight her demons, and couldn't take that decision of "no more".

I'm angry, because even though it's a disease, I can't help but think ultimately, if she really wanted to, she could have said "enough". She could have thought of her friends, and her family and swallowed her pride to ask for help.

These are all the questions and emotions I had when I was 11 and my dad died after battling his addiction. I still get angry and need the questions answered now, 24 years on. I'm still resentful that he didn't choose us, he didn't choose life.
But- I learned never to dabble with drugs, and that life is a gift worth living. That's the bittersweet lesson I wish my dad never had to teach me.

Amy's family will always have these emotions, but I hope they find peace, and a need to live life for every opportunity.




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Newlands Dr,Umhlanga,South Africa

Kilimanjaro- to climb or not to climb?

I have made a pretty radical decision I think.

I want to trek Kilimanjaro for charity.




Yes, I know. Around 20000 attempt it every year and therefore what's the big deal?
(that's about 50 people per day plus another 100-150 porters and guides btw)

The big deal is, deep down, I am terrified. I am one of these people who avoids anything adrenalin rush related, or fear inducing. I generally steer clear of confrontations and oh yes, the big one. I'm scared of heights.

I can get on a plane. I can sit in a restaurant in a skyscraper. I can stand on Table Mountain and look across at the incredible view of Camps Bay and the ocean far below. I can't stand on an unfenced ledge and look over the edge. I struggle with big stepladders. I have to shut my eyes on cablecars. Basically, if I can look down and see where I could potentially fall and break myself or worse, I freeze up. Sometimes I cry.

Putting it into perspective, Table Mountain is 3567 feet high.
Kili is the highest point in Africa, at 19341 feet. Over 5 times the height of Table Mountain.

What the hell am I thinking???

Here's my logic. Or maybe lack thereof.
Trekking Kili involves very little climbing. The majority of it is trekking at various different inclines. No ropes or climbing equipment is needed.
You don't need to be hyper-fit to do it, and it doesn't require years of training.
That's not to say it's not difficult, because oh hell yeah, it's tough. You go up pretty quickly, and everyone gets some form of altitude sickness, from dizziness and nausea to full on AMS, which can kill you. (acute mountain sickness)
There are several different routes you can take, with various difficulty levels.




Initially, I was going to trek the Lemosho route, as my work is doing a charity trek through Get Connected, so I did my research. Before making this kind of commitment I need to know that mentally, I think I can do it. There is absolutely no point in even trying it if you believe you will fail before you have even signed up!!
So my research came up with a huge problem. Barranco Wall.



Barranco wall is exactly as it sounds. 800ft of huge rocks to climb up and over using only your feet and hands. No ropes, or safety equipment. Hundreds of people do it, so it must be fairly safe, BUT this is exactly the kind of thing that triggers my fear. I know, for a fact, I would freeze. I would probably cry, and at worst I would have a panic attack and hyperventilate, which is NOT cool when there is a general lack of oxygen anyway.

So that killed my enthusiasm. But then I thought/ there must be different routes that don't include that wall? And it was back to the Internet I went. I love the Internet, and yet it can also be your worst enemy- how many of you have googled symptoms when ill, and scared the bejesus out of yourself???

However... Doing more research I found the Rongai route. It's meant to be the 2nd easiest route, will gentler inclines and no mad bastard rock climbs. It's a 6 day hike, and at points through real wilderness, so maybe not as pretty as the others.
I can live with that, seems a small price to pay to actually get to the summit.




So that's it. 50 odd miles long and almost 20,000 feet up.
One of my girl friends wants to do it with me.
Her 15 year old cousin died 5 years ago from a rare form of brain cancer, and they had made a pact to climb Kili when she was better. My friend wants to climb for the branch of Cancer Research that is trying to cure this form of cancer. She wants to lay daffodils at the summit, which were her cousins favourite flowers.

And me? I want to raise money for 2 charities. AddAction in the UK, and the Jes Foord Foundation in South Africa.

I wish I'd known about AddAction when I was younger. It's a charity that provides support to families dealing with addiction, be it alcohol or drugs. They don't just treat the addict, but they support the entire family in various different ways.
I sometimes wonder how my family would be like now if we hadn't been affected by addiction. I'm blessed to be the only one that came out unscathed, but that was only due to the ferocity and determination of my mother, who still battles to this day.

The other charity is the Jes Foord Foundation, which is a charity supporting rape victims in South Africa. They educate police districts on how to deal with rape victims appropriately and with care. They go to seminars and communities to empower women and girls to speak out- to recognise that they have been raped and need to get help. They provide "survival bags" with shampoo, shower gel, comb, sanitary towel and other toiletries along with a note written by another woman to give her hope that she will survive. These are given out by the police station after they have reported the rape, and the aim is to give comfort.

So that's my goal. I want to raise if I can, £2000 for AddAction and R20,000 for Jes Foord Foundtion.

Let's see how I get on......

Location:Fairview Dr,Umhlanga,South Africa

Time flies... part 2

Back to time being fleeting and fast-footed.
So since my birthday, I have got 2 puppies, who are now almost a year old. I have got myself a new home (yes, its a home- I have decorated it and made it my own, and yes, I can dance naked in the kitchen without having to worry about anyone else, its awesome, try it!!)
I have spent a week in Cape Town being a holiday maker (instead of visiting my SA family) and have done a few weekends away to various places with friends and generally had an awesome time of it so far.
And then I came to realise that I'm still single.... and I'm still looking for that special person to share all of this with.
And then, when I thought a little harder about it, my South African love life has been a pigging disaster!!!
There was the English guy who turned out to be more married than he originally inferred.
There was the English guy who was still in love with "the one that got away" and spent his time texting her behind my back.
Then, the funnier ones....

The one I shall refer to as "Broke Boy" who did not want to spend any petrol money coming to see me for a date unless he could stay overnight as it was not "financially viable" and who, when asked if he wanted to come watch a Sharks game with me and my friends, said unless he could get a free ticket, he would just chill out and watch TV at my house, until I got back.
Just so we're all clear on this, at this point, I had been for lunch with BB once (which he managed to get me to pay the entire bill for) and thats it.
Why on EARTH would I let someone I had met ONCE, hang out at my house on his own? I mean, really.....

The one that told me after date 1 that he was emigrating back to Zim, only to catch him in my local Woolies a month later.....

Am I bitter?
Nope
Am I confused?
hell yeah.

Watching my friends all meet their "One" has been tough. I think 6 of my friends got married this last 12 months, and another 4 or 5 have had kids.
Meanwhile, I am figuring out what is wrong with this picture.
After my divorce, I was happy to be single for a while. I needed to remember who I was, and what I was about, and I needed to let my hair down a little and think of only me.

Its been 5 years now, and its time for a change..... I miss cuddles on a rainy morning (or a hot summer afternoon for that matter) I miss the little intimate moments you cant have with your friends, or your puppies- like watching the sun set, or holding hands, or that moment when you both laugh, and it feels amazing.
I miss the butterflies you get when you first start dating someone, and the butterflies you get when you're totally into someone and you know they are feeling the same way too.

Maybe I'm an outdated romantic, but I dont care. I like the little things in life.

What I do know is this-
Its highly unlikely that "The One" will be found at a bar or nightclub.
When you're in your 30's, most of your friends' friends are married, attached, gay or a combination of all 3, you're going to struggle to get introduced to someone decent.
Saying "The right person will come along when you least expect it" gets boring after 5 years.


Hang on, 5 years???

Bloody hell, time flies.

Doesn't time fly??

Bit of a random one today.
September was my last post.... I fell foul of my usual habit and got totally distracted by other stuff.... next thing I know, its June, and my intentions of having a really well updated (and totally cool) Blog went clean out the window.

So what has happened since September? I mean its not even been a year, right?

I had my 35th birthday. In Mozambique. It was easily the best birthday celebration I have ever had, with good friends and a LOT of luminous paint!! We all drove up across the border and 4x4'd it across the dunes to our 2 wooden lodges, just off the beach. We braai'd, we drank, we laughed a LOT.
As much as I miss getting dressed up every now and again to doa swanky London bar, it all nonsense really. This birthday weekender was the best because there was NONE of the usual drama you get in London.
We were all in slops (flip flops) and shorts the whole weekend... some of the guys dressed in luminous fishnets and shocking pink t's (even the guys!) and no one cared what we looked like. It was all about the experience.
I've had many a swanky night out in London- they all blur into one mediocre night where everyone panics about whether their hairs looks ok, whether the money they spent on a dress was worth it, and we (as girls) spend the evening preening our feathers in the hope that some guy will notice how pretty we are etc etc.... its a mission and it gives me a headache just thinking about it.

This is what I've come to realise in the 2 years I've lived in SA. I love my life. I love it even more now that I can enjoy it without being afraid of what anyone else will think of my appearance, my behaviour, my status.
If you take off the blinkers that London life puts on you (which eventually morph into a full sized gladiator helmet) you will realise that there is more to life than the superficial, and what's important are the people you have around you and the experiences you have.

That's why I made the decision to stay.
I've told my boss, and I'm going back to London this weekend to tell my friends and my mum.
I've hinted to a few of my friends, a couple of whom were a bit upset, a couple who didnt really believe me or seem to be hugely bothered... and therein lies the next part of my ramblings....

Time flies...and it waits for no one.


xx