Maun Day 1: Getting there

It took 3 planes to get me to Maun. 4 for Astrid. On the plane from South Africa we meet Joss, a student from Stellenbosch who's going home to Francistown for the holidays. Joss is more than a little hungover.We get off the plane at Gaborone airport and the heat is unbearable. I make a beeline for some shade but this takes longer than it should since the airport is under construction. I think that if the temperature remains as high as it is there is no chance I'm going to survive in this country.

We spend some time with Joss while we wait for our respective flights. He's done the smart thing and gotten a beer. I've been craving beer for the last 6 hours but have made a resolution to stay sober until I reach my final destination. We say our goodbyes to Joss, who has another 3 hours to wait - in the unairconditioned airport, for his flight to Francistown. We take the long walk back to the plane in the sweltering heat. We do not smell like flowers anymore.

An hour later we land in Maun and I phone the backpackers who have arranged for someone to come and pick us up. The backpackers is some way out of town which is good since it's a pretty bleak town.

The Old Bridge Backpackers is situated on the tranquil Thamalakane river (I sound like I'm writing a brochure for this place).

David, the owner, welcomes us and offers us something cold to drink. I've made it. I can finally relax and graciously accepts his offer. If I wasn't exhausted I probably would have rejoiced by jumping up and down and shouting Hallelujah at the top of my lungs. I collapse into the nearest chair while waiting for our booking to be sorted out. I realise things work at a different pace here which is all good with me.

About 5 minutes after we arrive Jens walks in. He's from southern Germany and after our brief introduction we go to our respective tents to freshen up. Later we meet back at the bar and all being tired decide to fetch our books and spend some quiet time reading. That was not to be.

We've been trying to decide what to do while we're here and been getting advice from the other backpackers. Richard, a Peace Corps volunteer in Botswana, recommends we talk to own of the locals since she's quite clued up about what to do. It's her and 2 other girls' birthday. There was going to be a party. Did someone say party? So, of course, we join in the celebration of these total strangers' anniversary of their birth. Soon the books are lying forgotten on one of the table corners as the table is populated with beer cans and bottles.

The bar/restaurant area

Everybody is having an amazing time. Every is talking to everyone else and occasionally our books are mentioned and then dismissed. This is by far the best introduction to a place I have ever had and already I'm reflecting about what a fantastic place this is and how much I love it.

No, it had nothing to with the booze.

Okavango Delta

I've been back in South Africa for a while now and have almost completely adjusted back to my normal life again. At first it was strange taking a shower indoors, putting on make-up and perfume, having clean feet. I was only in the Delta for 6 days and you might ask how it's possible for me to have trouble adjusting to normal life after such a short time away but time moved much slower there. You lost track of days and after 2 days it felt like I was there for 3. After 3 days, it felt like a week.

I keep asking myself why did I come back. Of course I have family, a life, work here that I had to return to but I still allow myself the fantasy of missing my flight back on purpose, finding a bartending job at one of the lodges or backpackers (preferably the one where we stayed) and living out the rest of my life in an Africa a little rougher than what I'm used to.

At the risk of sounding sentimental and melodramatic, if there's something like a soul, I left a significant part of mine in the Delta. I'm regretting my decision to stay for such a short period. I wasn't sure what to expect and thought there might be a chance that I'd be miserable 'roughing' it. That I'd have difficulty coping with the heat and the insects. That wasn't the case, much to my surprise.

My heart started breaking on my second last day there and I failed miserably once or twice at keeping the tears back.

Over the next few days I'll recount my days spent in one the perfect places on earth.

...next to Bill Murray, in questionable hotel somewhere in Asia, and he's saying to me: "No one will ever believe you."

It's Saturday and I'm sitting here bored, in my pajamas, listening to the mixed CD I made for my car, waiting for the wind to die down, for me to get hungry enough and for the thought of having baked beans for supper to make me sick enough that I get changed and actually leave the house.

I'm stumbling because I'm lazy and my attention span is proving short. I "stumble" across this:

Fifty People, One Question: Brooklyn from Fifty People, One Question on Vimeo.

My first answer was my bed since it's become my best friend over the last week or two. My next answer, after a bit of thought, was the title of this post which was brought on by reading the Bill Murray stories on No One Will Ever Believe You.

A part of me wishes (maybe just a little too hard) that at least some of the stories are true. Then there'll at least be a chance, infinitesimally small, that something similarly, awesomely, surreal might happen to me one day. It's not like I want to have his children and my walls aren't plastered with posters of him, but Bill Murray is made of awesomeness and who wouldn't wanted him to whisper those sweet, six words to them? Oh ok, just me then...



PS. If you haven't seen Zombieland, do so.

Hiatus

My resolution to blog regularly has gone the same way as my resolutions to go to gym regularly, to eat more healthily, to save money, to drink less. What can I say? I'm just not good at these things? Or rather, I'm good at these things over short periods of time given that there is a suitable reward. I'm a simple creature really.

I've had plenty to say but no real motivation/time to write anything. I'm not going to write about everything that has happened over the last few weeks in detail (you're surely not that interested in my life). However, I will mention a few things I've learned:

-It's possible to have a perfectly satisfying fake date with a colleague and to leave it at that.
-I cannot go to Long Street, have one cider, and be home before midnight.
-I can have a good time with complete strangers who are male, no expectations, no pressure, dance the night away, talk about love, life and everything else, never see them again and leave it at that.
-Noname is my glue*.
-Being competent at work attracts unwanted attention.
-Johannesburg is not as awful as I once thought. In fact it's more than pleasant**.
-Drinking many Tequilas and Jagermeisters and then getting into a car that will eventually move is a bad idea.
-Tequila and Amarula shooter is surprisingly quite tasty.
-I accost talk to random strangers when drunk.
-I'm morbidly fascinated by websites dedicated to the horror that is the fake tan.



* I need to expand on this a bit. Noname is currently in hospital after I discovered a deep scratch on his chest. I overreacted and the thought of losing him really made me feel like falling apart and that I could not cope with other stressors. I've been to visit him twice now and besides the hole in his chest, he is doing really well: purring and meowing. His hospital card says that his a "bit wild", "scratches" and something about "escape". How dare they say this about my angel! Seeing Noname has really put me at ease, knowing that I'll have him back in a day and after calming down and realising he's not going to die, I just cannot picture not having him around anymore. I decided that he's the glue keeping everything from falling apart. His second name will henceforth be Gluhwein since he's a bit of a whiner as well. How I've missed that whine this weekend.


**Only certain areas, of course, like Melville and Greenside. Pictures to follow.

This is a local place for local people (or Saturday that was)

Saturday morning, after having a few too many at the local bar Friday evening and wanting to escape the wrath of the vacuum cleaner the cleaning lady was intent on unleashing on me, I went to the local coffee café, Frangipanis, for breakfast.

It's simple, local pleasures like having a lazy breakfast, noticing the trees crowding the small gardens of the Victorian homes, watching the world go by and people doing their every day things, that are most enjoyable.

After breakfast, I needed to go to the local, family-run grocery to store get some bread and milk but was distracted by one of the many local antiques stores which had on display what I thought was the perfect bookcase. It was a display cabinet, not the elusive perfect bookcase, but upon further browsing I found a lovely retro drinks table. It was overpriced but I had to have it and managed to get a R150 discount.

Once home, I did my new, favourite thing and sat down on my lounger on the balcony with a cider, watching the going-ons of the harbour and baking in the sun.

After a nap it was time to venture further afield. It was time to leave the comfort of local and I met up with a friend and his friends from Johannesburg in Long Street. After mediocre Mexican food and cocktails I was not really in the mood for dancing but didn't want to go home. I pub/club hopped with the group but was soon overwhelmed by the crowds and smoke. After midnight I allowed my transformation into a pumpkin and headed home.

De Kelders photos

Telling a friend about the prawn and salmon sashimi* I had last night reminded me of a photo I insisted on taking while weekending in De Kelders:

Western Cape's D9?

The rest of the photos:

Why do some people think that dead animal heads make for good decor? Ernest is the wildebeest and Hans is on the right. He was named Hans because his antlers made him look german. I forget the name of the one in the middle.

How could someone kill Pumbaa?

Danger Point lighthouse

Dead bird I named the beach after

Some of De Kelders (caves) the town is named after

Sea sponge with coral

Shell carpet

*His response was "Fokken prawns"

The quiet weekend that wasn't

I had made the decision that the only way to remedy my tiredness of late was the spend the entire weekend in my bed. It was to be a quiet weekend. It didn't help that I woke up bored on Saturday. And after much yes no-ing I finally settled on no. And sent a text to WikidKnickers: I'm not going to make. Go on without me. Save yourselves. Tell my wife I love her. WikidKnickers replied: *sulks*. It was the most effective *sulk* ever. So I threw on some cloths, painted my face and set off for Fiddle East.


Fiddle East is a Balkan themed party. A smaller and more regular version of Balkanology. You can hear "a fusion of Gypsy, Serbian, Macedonian, Bulgarian and Romanian melodies". It's held at one of Cape Town's hidden gems and one of my favourite venues, The Albert Hall in my 'hood, Woodstock. While I've never made it to a Balkanology, this was my third time at a Fiddle East party. It was the best one so far. The problems of a too packed venue and a waiting time of thirty minutes at the bar were solved by opening the backyard of Albert Hall and setting up an extra bar. Vintage lamps were strung up, persian carpets hung and an abundance of cushions strewn. The energy from the DJs were infectious. And I danced my hiney off. Until my feet were begging me: No more!

Ghostly Gypsy couple


BabyAcid & WikidKnickers


The Juggler


Me and an awesome new friend

Sunday I had the same problem. I woke up bored and wanted to get out and do something. I decided that it'd be shopping. So I called up my favourite shopping partner, my mum. She was having lunch with her brother but she'd be able to go shopping after lunch. My plan was to buy some of the supplies for Rocking the Daisies, to window shop and to buy other small things. This plan was effectively ruined when I walked into the second shop and found my lounge chair had been "Priced to go" knocking R700 off the price. I had to get it. As well as a more portable lounger that I could take with to RtD. The lounger took up most of the space in the car and I fore went the rest of the shopping trip in favour lugging the rather large, rather heavy lounger home before taking my mother back and visiting family to borrow some supplies for camping (an airbed and an electronic pump).

All together a very happy weekend. I like getting what I want. I like getting it on sale even better.