So I’m back in Jozi after my weekend in Mozi…
The adventure started at 2:30am on Friday morning – as ungodly as that hour may sound, it really just added to the excitement of the weekend away. D fetched me in the pitch black darkness and torrential downpour and we headed off to the rendezvous point – the big boss’s (Big D) house. By 3am, all of us had arrived, loaded our gear and we were on our way to Mozi.
Even the drive there was fun – someone had the brilliant idea of bringing along walkie talkies and one was handed to each vehicle in our Mozi convey. We quickly established military-style code names for each of the vehicles – We were ‘White Rabbit’ and following us were the ‘Blue Techies’ and the ‘Silver Tortoise’. I don’t recall the walkie talkies ever being used for something practical – like directions – but they were used to transmit highly entertaining wildlife noises between the vehicles, including Big D’s much requested hippo impersonation.
By 10am all 15 of us had arrived in Ponto, just in time to get ready for our first dive… and my first ever dive in the ocean. In retrospect, I probably should have taken my 2 hours of sleep the previous night, empty stomach and non-existent sea legs into consideration before happily bounding onto the boat and into open water. I already began feeling distinctly dodge before executing my backwards boat entry into Mozi’s waters.
Enjoyed the dive tremendously at a reef called ‘creche’ – very shallow and full of small and colourful fish. Me and my dive buddy surfaced after about 30 mins. We were bobbing up and down on the open water waiting to get back onto the boat and I began to realise that I probably wasn’t going to get through this experience without feeding the fish. I was hauled up onto the boat and we sat…. and waited for the others to surface… and waited… and waited… and with that I was over the edge of the boat doing my bit to ensure the aquatic life of Mozi wouldn’t go hungry that day.
After finally reaching dry land, I recovered quickly and we all headed off for a frollic in the waves and a couple of cocktails, taking in the sights and sounds of gorgeous Ponto. This was followed by many prawns and many 2Ms before hitting the sack.
The next day dawned, and so did Dive No. 2. We headed out to a reef called Doodles – at about 17m. Now I know 17m doesn’t sound that deep – but when you hit the water and the bottom is absolutely no where in sight after about 3 solid minutes of descending, you begin to realise that it’s pretty darn deep. I eventually got to the reef, and started to let my mind wander. I began thinking about the intricacies of scuba equipment. Why did I have such blind faith that this invention would continue to fill my lungs with breathable air?? So much so that I would allow myself to be 17m underwater in the middle of the ocean?!
As these thoughts swirled around my brain I saw the other divers all pointing at something under a coral cliff. As I swam closer, I saw the outline of the most enormous fish I have EVER seen in my life. I thought to myself – holy crap – it’s got to be a shark, and now I have to pretend that this is something I actually wanted to encounter underwater, as opposed to the starfish, parrot fish and occasional clown fish that I had really hoped to spot.
Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a potato bass. Not exactly ferocious and fearsome, but still flippin’ huge!! A couple of blue spotted rays, eels and enormous schools of fish later I managed to begin enjoying myself. So much so that I decided not to entertain my colleagues by displaying the contents of my stomach after this dive – so all round an awesome experience.
The rest of the weekend flew past in a haze of excellent Portuguese food, even better company, 2Ms, Manikas, midnight swimming and endless laughter.
What a fantastic weekend – anyone keen to head back tomorrow?????
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Proudly South African
I am so in love with this country. Sometimes the feeling just overwhelms me. I’ve done a bit of travelling, seen a lot of Europe – but nothing has ever been remotely in the same league as SA. Here are a couple of things that make me wake up every morning with a smile on my face…
1. The bush – is there anything better than driving around in an open 4x4 taking in the sights, sounds and smells of the wild? Or having drinks by a roaring bonfire listening to the sounds of hyena and lion calling in the background
2. The beach – the vast expanse of wide and wild coastline in the Transkei, the rockpools packed full of starfish and sea anemones at Swartvlei, the turtle breeding grounds of Kosi Bay
3. The energy and spirit of Jozi, where in summer the vibe is almost palpable
4. The camaraderie of ordinary South Africans – where people are almost always willing to go the extra mile and lend a helping hand
5. Long conversations with petrol attendants about life, love, politics – whatever (oh yes – also the fact that we HAVE petrol attendants)
6. The South African ability to laugh at ourselves
7. ‘Ja Nee’, ‘As well’, ‘Now now’ and ‘Just now’ makes perfect sense to us
8. Chivalry isn’t dead
9. Biltong
10. The braai - no one else in the world manages it quite like we do. No one else understands that if the braai goes out three times before you manage to actually cook anything on it, just adds to the fun.
On that note, I’m actually leaving the country – MsMozi is off to Mozi tomorrow! At 3am, with wetsuit and weight-belt in tow, I will be heading off to the sunny shores of Ponta do Ouro for the weekend, to scuba dive with the whale sharks, drink 2M and eat fresh seafood.
1. The bush – is there anything better than driving around in an open 4x4 taking in the sights, sounds and smells of the wild? Or having drinks by a roaring bonfire listening to the sounds of hyena and lion calling in the background
2. The beach – the vast expanse of wide and wild coastline in the Transkei, the rockpools packed full of starfish and sea anemones at Swartvlei, the turtle breeding grounds of Kosi Bay
3. The energy and spirit of Jozi, where in summer the vibe is almost palpable
4. The camaraderie of ordinary South Africans – where people are almost always willing to go the extra mile and lend a helping hand
5. Long conversations with petrol attendants about life, love, politics – whatever (oh yes – also the fact that we HAVE petrol attendants)
6. The South African ability to laugh at ourselves
7. ‘Ja Nee’, ‘As well’, ‘Now now’ and ‘Just now’ makes perfect sense to us
8. Chivalry isn’t dead
9. Biltong
10. The braai - no one else in the world manages it quite like we do. No one else understands that if the braai goes out three times before you manage to actually cook anything on it, just adds to the fun.
On that note, I’m actually leaving the country – MsMozi is off to Mozi tomorrow! At 3am, with wetsuit and weight-belt in tow, I will be heading off to the sunny shores of Ponta do Ouro for the weekend, to scuba dive with the whale sharks, drink 2M and eat fresh seafood.
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
Bad first dates and even worse second dates
There is nothing fun about dating. The only time dating ever seems fun, is when you are involved and you aren’t actually allowed to date. In fact, I think the main purpose of dating, in my case at least, is to give my mates something to laugh about.
Since Italian ex-boyf and I broke up around October sometime, I’ve gone on a couple of dates – all of them bad.
The first had all the makings of a great date. We went to Moyo’s Melrose Arch for drinks and the conversation flowed with ease – so much so that we decided to continue the date through to dinner at the Meat Co, and then back to Moyo’s for more drinks. I was looking at this guy and thinking: “Wow! This guy is quite a catch – he’s so fun and spontaneous!!” I didn’t realise quite how spontaneous, until the evening came to a close. As we got ready to leave Moyos at around 2am, he suggested we run out without paying the bill. I was horrified.
The best part of this story is that my friends somehow managed to convince me that I should give this guy a second chance. Needless to say, this did not turn into the romance of the century.
The next guy sent me roses at the office the day of our first official date. Talk about putting the pressure on! Don’t get me wrong - flowers are a fantastic gesture – but AFTER the date – definitely not before – and what made this act particularly stalker-ish was the fact that I hadn’t told him where I worked, but he had googled my company (as well as me, he later admitted) from my email address to find out where my offices were.
It is all making me very skeptical and somewhat jaded.
I think I’ve reached the conclusion that successful relationships only ever develop from already exisiting friendships, or at least acquaintance-ships, thus eliminating the dating process. This in itself is troubling, as I go through the archives of my brain trying to work out if there are any men that I’ve met somewhere along the line that I could ever see myself potentially getting involved with. I come up empty-handed.
All I have mentioned above has no application to Rock God – our first date would be earth-shatteringly, heart-stoppingly, mind-blowingly perfect.
Since Italian ex-boyf and I broke up around October sometime, I’ve gone on a couple of dates – all of them bad.
The first had all the makings of a great date. We went to Moyo’s Melrose Arch for drinks and the conversation flowed with ease – so much so that we decided to continue the date through to dinner at the Meat Co, and then back to Moyo’s for more drinks. I was looking at this guy and thinking: “Wow! This guy is quite a catch – he’s so fun and spontaneous!!” I didn’t realise quite how spontaneous, until the evening came to a close. As we got ready to leave Moyos at around 2am, he suggested we run out without paying the bill. I was horrified.
The best part of this story is that my friends somehow managed to convince me that I should give this guy a second chance. Needless to say, this did not turn into the romance of the century.
The next guy sent me roses at the office the day of our first official date. Talk about putting the pressure on! Don’t get me wrong - flowers are a fantastic gesture – but AFTER the date – definitely not before – and what made this act particularly stalker-ish was the fact that I hadn’t told him where I worked, but he had googled my company (as well as me, he later admitted) from my email address to find out where my offices were.
It is all making me very skeptical and somewhat jaded.
I think I’ve reached the conclusion that successful relationships only ever develop from already exisiting friendships, or at least acquaintance-ships, thus eliminating the dating process. This in itself is troubling, as I go through the archives of my brain trying to work out if there are any men that I’ve met somewhere along the line that I could ever see myself potentially getting involved with. I come up empty-handed.
All I have mentioned above has no application to Rock God – our first date would be earth-shatteringly, heart-stoppingly, mind-blowingly perfect.
Miles away…
A couple of weeks ago over a Parkhurst lunch, A, J and K all started discussing plans to flee the country (or at least Joburg) in the not too distant future. As the only one at the table, with absolutely no plans to leave the country at all, I was quite put out.
The more I thought about it, the more I realised that not a single one of my dearest friends plans to stay in SA for much longer.
And the same goes for family – with my brother, sister-in-law and nephew living thousands of miles away in the land of the unfortunate accent, vegemite and Kylie Minogue.
I wonder if it’s the same everywhere else in the world, or if it’s particularly pronounced in SA, but it seems like I constantly have to bid farewell to the most beloved of friends as they head off for distant shores, where the sun rarely shines. Although the world keeps getting smaller and smaller, and emailing my far-away friends is a great way to kill time at work, nothing can quite replace having them a 10-minute drive away.
This was felt the most severely with the departure of one of my best friends, also known as The Fugitive, when she packed up and moved across to Hamburg, Germany about two years ago. This was the result of some time she spent in Germany for a dancing tournament where she met a German sailor, fell head over heels in love, and off she went to start a new life. Luckily, she’s been back to visit quite a few times, not always under good circumstances, but it’s made the transition a little easier for all of us that she left behind in SA.
I suppose the one bonus is a vast array of holiday destinations to choose from with free accommodation on offer… but I’d really prefer it if all my friends stopped moving to Europe and rather chose somewhere a little more sunny… maybe with an ocean-view – Zanzibar, Seychelles or Mozambique…. just putting some suggestions out there.
The more I thought about it, the more I realised that not a single one of my dearest friends plans to stay in SA for much longer.
And the same goes for family – with my brother, sister-in-law and nephew living thousands of miles away in the land of the unfortunate accent, vegemite and Kylie Minogue.
I wonder if it’s the same everywhere else in the world, or if it’s particularly pronounced in SA, but it seems like I constantly have to bid farewell to the most beloved of friends as they head off for distant shores, where the sun rarely shines. Although the world keeps getting smaller and smaller, and emailing my far-away friends is a great way to kill time at work, nothing can quite replace having them a 10-minute drive away.
This was felt the most severely with the departure of one of my best friends, also known as The Fugitive, when she packed up and moved across to Hamburg, Germany about two years ago. This was the result of some time she spent in Germany for a dancing tournament where she met a German sailor, fell head over heels in love, and off she went to start a new life. Luckily, she’s been back to visit quite a few times, not always under good circumstances, but it’s made the transition a little easier for all of us that she left behind in SA.
I suppose the one bonus is a vast array of holiday destinations to choose from with free accommodation on offer… but I’d really prefer it if all my friends stopped moving to Europe and rather chose somewhere a little more sunny… maybe with an ocean-view – Zanzibar, Seychelles or Mozambique…. just putting some suggestions out there.
Monday, February 5, 2007
The Dodgy, the Knee and the Wild Wild West….
So another weekend has come and gone in a haze of John Deere’s, bad karaoke and smatterings of Loser Complex.
Friday after work I ran off to Sandton with D and squeezed in some shopping before the evening’s festivities. Managed to buy two dresses and the My Chemical Romance cd, which I am SO loving right now. Realised by this time that I was running desperately late, and all the traffic heading towards Wanderers wasn’t helping matters in the least. Dashed home, threw on a new dress and headed to K’s house, arriving about an hour later than previously arranged. At this point we decided we should have a drink before we left for Bucket’s house party.
We finally rocked up at Bucket’s house an hour and a half late, hoping to slip in unnoticed and pretend we had been there the whole time. This plan didn’t quite materialize, as nobody else had pitched up and we were the only people there. Anyway, we had a great catch up session with Bucket, an old school friend who has been in London for the past two years. A bottle of wine later we decided to hook up with the friends that had gone to the cricket at the Dodgy Roger.
The problem with places like the Dodgy – is the dodginess it attracts. I can put up with 20-somethings at all levels of drunkenness, but can’t handle the 60-somethings that lurk around there all alone. You know the type I’m talking about: camel filter cigarette hanging out their mouth, glass of Captain Morgan straight up in their hand, leering at the 20-something females as though one of them is suddenly going to decide that this is the kind of man she’s been looking for all her life.
These type of Dodgy-regulars always end up lurking around me for some reason which leaves me panicked – not because of their dodginess, but rather because it leaves me trying to work out what happened to them that left them to lead such a dire and lonely existence. I try and imagine them 40 years ago - were they just like all of us, but somehow ended up missing the boat and all life has to offer?
Saturday headed across to The Ron’s place for sundowners. Arrived at exactly the same moment as Broken Arm – if you are wondering why this was a bad thing, read this and this. Had to deal with the uncomfortable small talk during the lift ride, which lasted about 3 and a half hours (well that’s how long it felt – note to self: No more kissing friends of friends). Sat around having drinks with The Ron’s friends – who definitely all reckon they’re so hot right now. I actually caught a few them doing the ‘Blue Steel’.
Then headed over to A and K’s pad for a quick glass of champers and to get ready to hit the Knee for a bit of karaoke. It was John Deere’s all round as we gathered the courage to sing our hearts out. I ended up doing ‘I love rock & roll’ and ‘Dancing Queen’. A and K did the most unbelievably terrible rendition of ‘I Swear’ – but with such conviction. Total rock stars! So glad I have it all on tape!
Sunday headed across to meet D at Clearwater Mall – which I think is in Roodepoort. Where ever it is, I’ve decided I’m moving there. I’ve never seen such a collection of stunningly gorgeous men in all my life before. So hot it actually hurts. As D said, the West Rand boys are all tanned and well-built, but not in the Sandton gym and tanning bed kinda way – more in the Roodepoort rugby playing, lawn-mowing kinda way. I’m ready to pack up my Northern Suburbs life and head off to the Wild West Rand for good.
Friday after work I ran off to Sandton with D and squeezed in some shopping before the evening’s festivities. Managed to buy two dresses and the My Chemical Romance cd, which I am SO loving right now. Realised by this time that I was running desperately late, and all the traffic heading towards Wanderers wasn’t helping matters in the least. Dashed home, threw on a new dress and headed to K’s house, arriving about an hour later than previously arranged. At this point we decided we should have a drink before we left for Bucket’s house party.
We finally rocked up at Bucket’s house an hour and a half late, hoping to slip in unnoticed and pretend we had been there the whole time. This plan didn’t quite materialize, as nobody else had pitched up and we were the only people there. Anyway, we had a great catch up session with Bucket, an old school friend who has been in London for the past two years. A bottle of wine later we decided to hook up with the friends that had gone to the cricket at the Dodgy Roger.
The problem with places like the Dodgy – is the dodginess it attracts. I can put up with 20-somethings at all levels of drunkenness, but can’t handle the 60-somethings that lurk around there all alone. You know the type I’m talking about: camel filter cigarette hanging out their mouth, glass of Captain Morgan straight up in their hand, leering at the 20-something females as though one of them is suddenly going to decide that this is the kind of man she’s been looking for all her life.
These type of Dodgy-regulars always end up lurking around me for some reason which leaves me panicked – not because of their dodginess, but rather because it leaves me trying to work out what happened to them that left them to lead such a dire and lonely existence. I try and imagine them 40 years ago - were they just like all of us, but somehow ended up missing the boat and all life has to offer?
Saturday headed across to The Ron’s place for sundowners. Arrived at exactly the same moment as Broken Arm – if you are wondering why this was a bad thing, read this and this. Had to deal with the uncomfortable small talk during the lift ride, which lasted about 3 and a half hours (well that’s how long it felt – note to self: No more kissing friends of friends). Sat around having drinks with The Ron’s friends – who definitely all reckon they’re so hot right now. I actually caught a few them doing the ‘Blue Steel’.
Then headed over to A and K’s pad for a quick glass of champers and to get ready to hit the Knee for a bit of karaoke. It was John Deere’s all round as we gathered the courage to sing our hearts out. I ended up doing ‘I love rock & roll’ and ‘Dancing Queen’. A and K did the most unbelievably terrible rendition of ‘I Swear’ – but with such conviction. Total rock stars! So glad I have it all on tape!
Sunday headed across to meet D at Clearwater Mall – which I think is in Roodepoort. Where ever it is, I’ve decided I’m moving there. I’ve never seen such a collection of stunningly gorgeous men in all my life before. So hot it actually hurts. As D said, the West Rand boys are all tanned and well-built, but not in the Sandton gym and tanning bed kinda way – more in the Roodepoort rugby playing, lawn-mowing kinda way. I’m ready to pack up my Northern Suburbs life and head off to the Wild West Rand for good.
Friday, February 2, 2007
The harsh dark reality…
Wednesday evening, after a quick post-work glass or two of wine with work mates, I headed off home. As I drove through the familiar streets, I started thinking about what I’d make for dinner, what I’d watch on tv, who I’d phone for a chat – not realising that the universe had different plans in store for me.
I pulled into my road as the sun began to set, I noticed that while all the properties on my street were there in their usual illuminated state – in the place of my complex was a somewhat dark and shady area. As I got closer I realised… we had no power.
Not a problem. It’s probably just a switch that’s tripped. It’ll be back on in a couple of minutes. I let myself into my flat and light all the candles which until now had been purely for display. My apartment is illuminated with the amber glow of flickering candlelight and I think to myself, this is quite fun.
Then I sit.
The initial thrill of the flickering candlelight is starting to wane, and I stare wistfully at the remote control. Then I notice my cellphone – thankgod! Something to do! As I begin scrolling through my phonebook, my phone starts beeping at me – “Battery low”. Crap. I manage to fit in half a conversation before my phone dies.
I sit some more and listen to the sounds of Crazy Man and Crazy Woman downstairs, threatening to kill each other (I should be so lucky).
I sit and my mind begins to wander. I’ve always loved living on my own, but without all the distractions, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I start to imagine how awesomely romantic this power failure would be if I was sharing it with someone special. Even Crazy Man and Crazy Woman have each other.
And with that thought, I’ve packed an overnight bag, grabbed my keys and I’m out the door.
There’s nothing like a little darkness to show you the light.
I pulled into my road as the sun began to set, I noticed that while all the properties on my street were there in their usual illuminated state – in the place of my complex was a somewhat dark and shady area. As I got closer I realised… we had no power.
Not a problem. It’s probably just a switch that’s tripped. It’ll be back on in a couple of minutes. I let myself into my flat and light all the candles which until now had been purely for display. My apartment is illuminated with the amber glow of flickering candlelight and I think to myself, this is quite fun.
Then I sit.
The initial thrill of the flickering candlelight is starting to wane, and I stare wistfully at the remote control. Then I notice my cellphone – thankgod! Something to do! As I begin scrolling through my phonebook, my phone starts beeping at me – “Battery low”. Crap. I manage to fit in half a conversation before my phone dies.
I sit some more and listen to the sounds of Crazy Man and Crazy Woman downstairs, threatening to kill each other (I should be so lucky).
I sit and my mind begins to wander. I’ve always loved living on my own, but without all the distractions, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I start to imagine how awesomely romantic this power failure would be if I was sharing it with someone special. Even Crazy Man and Crazy Woman have each other.
And with that thought, I’ve packed an overnight bag, grabbed my keys and I’m out the door.
There’s nothing like a little darkness to show you the light.
Thursday, February 1, 2007
Go Squad!!!
I have a job that involves going on a fair amount of free trips to check out new destinations and every once in a while I get to drag someone along with me. Italian ex-boyf and I had just broken up, so when the overnighter at the Cradle of Humankind popped up towards the end of last year, I got the chance to take the fabulous K with me.
Although we had a fantastic time there (may I add, massages, fireplace in the room, giant tub, outdoor showers) – the real defining moment happened on the way back to Jozi. We noticed how refreshed and rejuvenated we both felt after getting out of the crazy city and decided we had to try and do it more often. It was at that moment that The Squad (then known as the Adventure Squad) was born.
It is so easy to get caught in a rut living in Jozi. As much as I love this city – with it comes routine. The same restaurants, same bars, same clubs, same everything, week after week. With it comes a certain amount of comfort and dependability, but sometimes I just really feel like a break from the ordinary is necessary.
So with that goal in mind, K and I decided to get together a group of the most sensational people we knew and once a month we would find something to do that was exciting and out of the ordinary. A little later on, A joined the founding committee and we all realised that the opportunities for The Squad were endless. We were onto something big. Logos, t-shirts, movies, fines evenings and websites were all on the cards.
Then came the first activity – a tree top canopy tour. We filmed the whole experience from the car drive there, to an analysis on our tree swinging skills from our guide. It was an awesome day, and prompted us to plan the next activity as soon as possible.
So the next adventure is this weekend – it's not exactly super-adventurous in an extreme sport kinda way. But fuelled by the hilarity of watching the footage from the canopy tour – we decided on karaoke – which we will be filming and keeping for all time. Although not adrenaline-prompting, it'll still take more than a tad of courage to hop up on stage, in full awareness that your drunken vocal skills will be immortalised for all time.
I can’t wait!
Although we had a fantastic time there (may I add, massages, fireplace in the room, giant tub, outdoor showers) – the real defining moment happened on the way back to Jozi. We noticed how refreshed and rejuvenated we both felt after getting out of the crazy city and decided we had to try and do it more often. It was at that moment that The Squad (then known as the Adventure Squad) was born.
It is so easy to get caught in a rut living in Jozi. As much as I love this city – with it comes routine. The same restaurants, same bars, same clubs, same everything, week after week. With it comes a certain amount of comfort and dependability, but sometimes I just really feel like a break from the ordinary is necessary.
So with that goal in mind, K and I decided to get together a group of the most sensational people we knew and once a month we would find something to do that was exciting and out of the ordinary. A little later on, A joined the founding committee and we all realised that the opportunities for The Squad were endless. We were onto something big. Logos, t-shirts, movies, fines evenings and websites were all on the cards.
Then came the first activity – a tree top canopy tour. We filmed the whole experience from the car drive there, to an analysis on our tree swinging skills from our guide. It was an awesome day, and prompted us to plan the next activity as soon as possible.
So the next adventure is this weekend – it's not exactly super-adventurous in an extreme sport kinda way. But fuelled by the hilarity of watching the footage from the canopy tour – we decided on karaoke – which we will be filming and keeping for all time. Although not adrenaline-prompting, it'll still take more than a tad of courage to hop up on stage, in full awareness that your drunken vocal skills will be immortalised for all time.
I can’t wait!
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