107 sleeps

I woke up this morning with a big shiny present on my kist.

What is that? [gasps in surprise, mock shock on face]

I grabbed the present - still sticky from the superglue I used to wrap it - and ripped it open.

Another book.

HAVEN'T WE TALKED ABOUT THIS????


Off to the family SS for christmas lunch. Hope you all have a fantastic festive season :)

108 sleeps

All I can think about is food; food of the Asian variety. Tom yum goong, shiitake dashi ramen, agedashi dofu, dim sum, gai lan, miso soup, Peking roast duck, tuna nigiri … argh!!! I want it all! [Drools; clutches heart; falls over backwards]

I had an impromptu fabulous Minato sushi dinner with Mrs Starke, Jools, Barbarella and B followed by an after-dinner drink at Julep that had one of the best music spinners I have heard in years. That man was mixing an awesome blend of blues, funk, soul and early-Prince-ish-style stuff. You couldn’t help but groove along in your seat.

Minato has achieved a legendary status in Cape Town, definitely because of the food but equally because of the chef. The restaurant has been going for at least 10 years. Given the combination of Minato-san’s fiery temper, the complete lack of stylistic decor and Cape Town’s general fickleness (downright pomposity on occasion), one should be surprised that it has lasted this long.

Minato-san has been known to throw all of his patrons out at 9pm on a Friday; only two waitresses service the entire restaurant; he has blacklisted people who have ‘insulted’ his food; he does not allow anyone under the age of 12 in the restaurant; you must book in advance; there are signs, handwritten scrawls on white typing paper, along the corridor from the main entrance to the restaurant that say things like “Order everything at once” and “No changes”. He makes the Soup Nazi from Seinfeld look like a walk in the park. The décor includes such gems as a laminated poster of sushi and an old kimono. The restaurant has no windows. The wine list is limited. The tables are cramped.

The food makes it all worth it. The agedashi dofu melts in your mouth, they serve thick, fresh portions of nigiri, the inside-out crunch roll is ToDieFor. Some of the swishier, swankier, “must-be-seen” joints in Cape Town should sit up and take note (I’m talking to you, Bel- and Wak- and even, I daresay, KG). Minato does sushi and Minato does sushi right. I completely understand why some people will stand outside in torrential rain, clutching the iron-gate entrance to the restaurant with a look of quiet desperation in their eyes, waiting for Minato-san’s “Ok. Come!”

Alas, Minato-san is no longer part of Minato. Apparently he sold a while ago. The food is the same, the décor is the same, there as still only two waiters for the restaurant… but… but… we were allowed to place our miso soup orders before ordering our sushi mains. Who knew that you would see that day?

109 sleeps

I don’t know how I’m going to readjust to Canadian winters. I hate snow; I do not participate in winter sports; my idea of cold is around the 5 degree Celsius mark. I see photos of wintry street scenes from Toronto and the first thing that pops into my head is a time calculation of how long it would take to de-ice a car. In my mind, the best thing about living through a Canadian winter is … is … hmmmm … let’s go with indoor heating. Canada has been blasted by Mr Winter this week – my brothers and my father are buried in snow and my mother and my cat are sitting in -35 degree Celsius weather. Horrified by the prospect, I shudder.

I am looking forward to seeing the Tafelmusik Baroque Orchestra again. When I lived in Canada in ’98, I stayed in Toronto and worked on a French speaking team for one of the big banks. Once in a while, some of my colleagues and I would go to see the Orchestra and then hit up a local Vietnamese restaurant afterwards. The amazing thing about the orchestra is that they play ‘period’ instruments – instruments that were produced at the time that the music was created. And, while I am certainly no expert on the matter, I have seen/heard enough orchestral concerts and even participated in two in my youth (first violin, fifth chair then first clarinet, third chair, thank you very much) to confidently say that the period instruments do make a difference to the tone of the music.

Toronto restaurants are pretty cool… no Tokyo, but not bad. One of the great things about Toronto is the city’s cultural mosaic. When you go through Chinatown, you might as well be in a city in China; likewise, if you feel like Indian, you can go to Little India. And the Greek area on the Danforth is nothing short of legendary. It’s just a shame they can't sort out that horrendous traffic problem.

110 sleeps

(Chrisstmasss!)
The snow's coming down
(Chrisstmasss!)
I'm watching it fall
(Chrisstmasss!)
Watching the people around
(Chrisstmasss!)
Baby please come home
They’re singing deck the halls
But it's not like Christmas at all
I remember when you were here
And all the fun we had last year!!!!!!!!!!!

(10 bucks if you can guess who sings it)

It’s that time of year again.

One nice thing about Cape Town is that you are not inundated with the commercialization of Christmas at every turn. Sure, the shopping malls are all jazzed up with fake-trees and twinkling-lights, and some of the streets have been done up, but it’s nothing like North America or Tokyo when it comes to ramming Christmas down everyone’s throat.

In North America, the commercials start in, like, July. [Cut to commercial: Some poor model-type in a mini Santa suit/dress will pose next to a 3-piece beige and brown sofa suite and say something ridiculous like “It’s only 137 days until Christmas; get your in-laws this sofa set at a special Christmas rate! Ho! Ho! Ho! Get more “Ho!” for your dough!” It is well and truly painful and embarrassing for all involved.]

I think Tokyo takes the cake though. Christmas is not a religious or traditional event in Japan – in fact, I worked on Christmas day when I was there simply because it is not a recognized holiday. Tokyo has, however, fully embraced the concept of Christmas as a reason to shop. You see trees blitzed with fairy lights, you ride in taxis with a Santa cab driver, you hear Christmas carols being piped in from street lamps, you eat sushi shaped like a Christmas tree, you walk by a shop window that has Santa nailed to a crucifix. It is absolutely, unashamedly in-your-face commando marketing.

Sometimes I miss Tokyo. It was the first place I lived after I left Canada. Kiki and I went with the Seven Day Plan (day 1: find place to live; day 2: figure out subway system etc) and we sorted ourselves fully in five days. Not bad. [high fives] *misses*

I was lucky enough to see the ‘best’ of Tokyo in terms of restaurants and shopping due largely to the fact that I landed a swish job with an international broker house as an assistant on the equities sales trading desk. All those boys do is trade stocks, sell stocks and go to restaurants to eat and talk stocks. I have never lived in a city before or since that can do restaurants like Tokyo can. There was this one – I think it was in Ebisu – called Monsoon. Thai. Didn’t serve alcohol- only fresh fruit drinks and tea. No smoking. Reason? They had recreated a tropical rainforest – birds and all – and wanted to keep the atmosphere and energy as genuine as possible. My favourite was the New York Bar and Grill on the 57^th floor of the Park Hyatt in Shinjuku (where Lost in Translation was filmed). The jazz band was awesome, the seats were so comfortable you can almost feel yourself melting into them, the food was incredible. Factoid of the day: when I was there, the NY Bar was the only five star restaurant in Tokyo that employed a woman as head chef. How about that, eh?

113 sleeps

I went for a run with Mr Starke this morning. We haven't been running together since I cracked my rib about six weeks ago. We used to aim to run together twice a week before work. Running on the Sea Point promenade (see photo) is a great way to start your day - I highly recommend it for all Capetonians.

Mr Starke and I have a routine: he'll sms me the night before to confirm, I'll confirm back, like this:

Mr Starke: Run tomo?
T-Lo: 710am. Rod Stewart.

At 710am, I'll rock up in TheNotTheBullet, Rod Steward blasting out the stereo. We'll hoof it down to the promenade, have our little run (where I usually OWN him about 2 kms in. OWN!) then head home. He usually jests that the music of my choice assaults his eardrums on a regular basis, but I see his head bopping along. I know he is a closet cheesy 80s and disco fan. Don't deny it, Mr Starke!

Well, today, all started off as normal. I rocked up at 710am, Michael Jackson blaring (who doesn't like Billie Jean?!). We started off on the run, Mr Starke pointed out his bling new trainers. Then it happened. I hit my wall about 700 m in.... wheezing, gasping, huffing, puffing...then the stitch started (granted, on the rib spot, but still)...then more wheezing, more stitching. Phew! This.Cat.Is.Out.Of.Shape. We'll see how the runs go next week.

116 sleeps

Stella today. That's a lot of cat! And what is it with cats and sinks?

117 sleeps

Hierdie is Stella. Sy is die oulikste kat in die hele wereld! Ek mis haar baie, maar ek weet sy is gelukkig by my ma.

(shout out to Der for the translation! It had better say what I want it to say!)

Today is South Africa's Day of Reconciliation. I'm celebrating by reviewing contracts at work.

My colleagues, DomTastic and Der, submitted pics of their dogs to an online cute-pet-photo contest to Die Burger, a local Afrikaans daily. I, unfortunately, missed the cut off. So, I have submitted a pic of my cat (who has lived with my mom for 7 years in Canada, so technically my mom's cat maybe?) on this post with a cute little Afrikaans tag line.

Stella was originally Lebowski, until I took him to the vet and found out that he was a she. When she was a kitten she used to curl into my neck at night to sleep. I thought it was the most adorable thing in the world. She'd curl up, I would scratch her neck, she would purr herself asleep. I was told at the time that it would create a bad habit for her if I continued to let her sleep like that. I rubbished that - how can you not let a cute little kitten curl up in your neck and go to sleep?

The habit lives on. She still likes to sleep in a neck. Unfortunately, she's got Norwegian Forest in her which means she is a) built like a truck and b) weighs about 15 lbs. My mother often wakes up, choking and unable to breathe, with 15 lbs of furr unconscious and snoring on top of her. My cute little Stella!

119 sleeps

Moments with my housemate, theGreek

On the flu

theGreek: Oh, I slept after work and I'm sooo tired.
T-Lo: Could be from the Mumbai thing, or could be cuz you are getting flu.
theGreek: There's a flu going around?!
T-Lo: Yes, throat / tummy / fever thing.
theGreek: Well then I can't go to the Xmas party!
T-Lo: Why not?
theGreek: Cuz I have a fever.
T-Lo: You have a fever?
theGreek: Yes, you just said I have a fever.
T-Lo: I said that there is a flu with a fever going around. Do you have it?
theGreek: I feel flushed.
T-Lo: Put on your shoes, we're going to the Xmas party.

On the fridge

theGreek [calling from his bedroom]: Hey T! There's some superglue in the fridge if you want some!

On my morning runs

[not so much a conversation with words, this]



I came back from my morning run a couple of months ago. It was still winter so the sun was just starting torise.There are four locks that must be unlocked to get into the flat. As I managed to unlock them and open the wooden door, I heard a loud pitter-patter of running footsteps mixed with a battle cry along the lines of "whooooooooooohhhhhaaaaaa"

and all I saw was a 6 iron at eye level.

My first thought was "roundhouse kick to temple" but, knowing my housemate, I instead shouted "What the fuck??!!" theGreek, hair a-skew and eyes a-glaze, realized it was me and me ready to strike, turned on his heel and hightailed it back to his room, golf club in hand. He thought I was trying to burgle the place. I'm sure there was more than one neighbour wondering what in morning hysteria was going on.

On me missing phone calls

I had about 8 missed calls in a 10 minute period a week ago. I called theGreek back to find out wtf was going on.

T-Lo: Hey.
theGreek: OH! My! God! I was about to call the police! Where have you beeeen?
T-Lo: I was away from the phone. What's up?
theGreek: Have you seen my Santa hat?

126 sleeps

Just because it's green doesn't mean you can go!

One thing that drives me absolutely batsh*t crazy about Cape Town is the Traffic Department’s inability to coordinate (synthesize? calibrate?) the street lights. How hard is it to make sure 4 lights on a stretch of 30 meters of road work in synch?

I trained on Saturday afternoon in the blistering heat (ideal for maximizing the effort-to-sweat ratio), showered and then went home to Sea Point. Now, the gym to my pad is 8 or 9 kilometers apart. I drive down one road for about 7 kms, turn right for another km, turn left for another km. Traffic is light. It’s not hard.

Then why does it take me, at minimum, 20 minutes in each direction?!?

It’s because of those dastardly street lights. If there are 18 street lights (not unrealistic on that particular stretch), I guarantee I will hit about 14 on red. And I sit. And I wait. And I sweat. And as I sit, waiting, sweating, swearing, I will stare 5 meters in front of me at a green light. It is a green light that no one can use because EVERYONE IS SITTING AT THE RED ONE. And that’s when I breathe slowly and think of rainbows and kittens to keep me from losing my mind and doing a Michael Douglas Falling Down.

On Saturday, the rainbows and kittens and deep breathing didn’t work. At the outset, I must state that TheNotTheBullet doesn’t have aircon. That does not bode well with the still, humid, thick heat of the city bowl. On this particular day, maybe it was because I was still panting from my training session, maybe it was because I watched sweat pour down my arms and drip onto my new summer fun dress, maybe it was because I didn’t have my full ration of oatmeal for breakfast - I fell into a quiet, silent rage about 7 red lights in. When I finally made it home, after stopping and starting through town, sweating and swearing, I had to have a 45 minute Angry Nap just to come right. Maybe I should have had a Power Shake before I left the gym. That would have given me the strength I needed to deal with the drive home.

130 sleeps

Wasn't it just yesterday that it was 152 sleeps?!

I’m having an I-Don’t-Want-To-Leave day. It is precisely for this reason that I resigned the way I did. I’ve given myself one last summer in Cape Town (and, thankfully, one less winter in Canada), I’ve set my final day of work and this has been accepted, I’ve put the job-hunting machinery in place already in the Hammer, I’ve packed some of my books… in short, I’m giving myself no alternative but to go. This is the best way to do it. If I said to myself ‘I will leave sometime in the first half of 2009’ then the first half of 2009 will come and go in a flash and I will still be doing the exact same thing as always at my job, in my social life etc. At least now it’s firm, it’s done, it’s finalised. There’s no backing down, no matter how nostalgic for Cape Town I may get or how nervous I am for re-integrating into Canada. The whole decision has changed my outlook too. I almost feel like I'm on vacation. I'm enjoying the 'little things' a lot more - sundowner drinks in Camps Bay, crazy Excite taxi rides, work Xmas parties...I know they say you should live every day like it is your last, but it is only when I force myself from country to country do I actually live like that. Otherwise, I get bogged down in the daily drum of life - concentrating on things like car services, appointments with financial advisors, worrying about my thesis. Is everyone like that or is it just me?

132 sleeps

It's starting to sink in that I'm actually leaving soon. The sleeps seem to be decreasing exponentially as the day approaches and I'm all sweaty brow / crazy hair / glazed eyeballs about it. More than anything, this whole global-recession thing is freaking me out. I'm banking on the fact that we are in the bottom of the recession trough and by Feb next year economies (namely, Canada's economy and, more specifically, The Hammer's economy) will be on the upswing. I have absolutely no hard data to support this... more of a gut feel based on the news articles I've been reading. And my gut is never wrong. Never! Seriously, I could be offered lottery wins atop a golden-winged unicorn that will fly me away to a glorious beach in a remote location with the books of my choice and all the watermelon I can eat and if my gut does its back-flip thing, the answer is No.

137 sleeps

Today I'm all about this:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/7752173.stm

and this:

http://edition.cnn.com/2008/WORLD/asiapcf/11/26/bangkok.stranded/

and this:

http://money.sky.com/money/creditreports/
five-sneaky-email-scams-and-how-to-spot-them.html

and this:

http://www.thehimalayantimes.com/fullstory.asp?filename=6a1Ua1a8co2am8&folder=aHaoamW&Name
=Home&dtSiteDate=20081127


... will be back tomorrow :)

138 sleeps

Travel Experience: Thailand 2007

I went to Thailand in November 2007 with the South African Amateur Muay Thai Team for the IFMA World Champs held in Bangkok. I wasn't on the team itself but I went to support them in their quest for gold. My instructor, whom I respect and fear in equal doses, gave me the opportunity to have a match in Koh Samui; I had to decline the offer due to a knee ligament injury I was suffering... thanks, Little Mouse.

It was great being back in Asia after close to a decade haitus from the region. There is something about Asia that grabs me, particularly the big cities. Maybe its the confusing maze of streets, or my complete lack of ability to understand any signs, or that I am never exactly sure which way the traffic is going, or that I can point to something at a food stall and eat it while not having the faintest idea what I am eating....I think being alone in a big city where you don't understand the language and are forced to sort yourself out is a good internal character test.

I arrived in Bangkok before the team so had to get myself to the hotel. For me, the first step upon arriving in an exotic locale is fighting off the various taxi drivers while choosing one that won't rip you off and you don't think is psychotic. (Kiki had a psycho driver experience in New Delhi but that, alas, is another story) The second step is communicating where you are going with the Chosen Driver.

Thankfully, I had the presence of mind and organisational skills (rare these days) to print off a picture of the hotel along with the address. I gave my Chosen Driver the photo, he nodded enthusiastically, we lurched forth into the bowels of Bangkok. After 15 minutes of driving back and forth and up and down and back and forth and up and down through two streets (I watch these things closely), my Chosen Driver pulled the car over and said to me "Where hotel?"

I beg your pardon?

I was incredulous. Clearly, my suitcases, lack of Thai language skills and stunned facial expression since meeting my Chosen Driver were no indication to him that I had absolutely no clue where I was. We finally found the place, 45 minutes and about 8 billion Bhat later.

In sum, my trip was excellent. I cried when my knee packed up on the plane, watched about 400 fights, had my laptop stolen by the Swedish team and stole it back, spent a night ducking ping pong balls (which shall psychologically scar me forever), danced around a pole at a bar called Big Willy, lost a down-down drinking contest 3 hours prior to boarding a flight from Bangkok to Koh Samui (completely unrelated to the Big Willy incident), got stripped naked and touched inappropriately by my (female) masseuse on a beach (along with Queenie - we both squealed like chickens after the incident yet went back the next day for a foot massage), discovered that drinking buckets - buckets - of vodka / red bull lead to falling over on a dance floor and losing bikini top simultaneously and finally realised that I was feeling "tired and emotional" on the plane back to SA when I cried (twice) during the film "Transformers" which I in turn blamed on my existential pre-mid-life crisis arising from my fear of growing old(er) without ever ever ever finishing my bloody thesis for my LLM.

I also got to drink a shake from a coconut. That makes it 5! Trinidad, Barbados, Philippines, France and Thailand. Brilliant! *high fives* [misses]

139 sleeps, part 2

Just to be fair to Canadia-land, here are some photos of Ontario. Not bad, Ontario, not bad at all.

139 sleeps; part 1

Pour yourself a tall glass of awesome and check the photos below: this is Namibia, the country that stole my heart and stopped my travels in their tracks. Quite literally, the first time I saw the Orange, my eyes popped, my jaw dropped and I fell over backwards. I decided right there that I wasn't going back to Tokyo; I was staying in Africa. That was almost 10 years ago.

The first photo is a view from the Guide House where I lived intermittently for 2 years. I spent six months there (June 99 - Jan 00) with my brother Big A. He ran the bar and I took groups down the river on a 3 night, 4 day adventure. The oddest thing about Big A was that he did not tan. At all. He would wake up every morning white as a ghost and when he went to bed at night he was pitch red. There was no in between. When Big A flew back to Toronto in January 00 (on that lovely Ethiopian Airways flight) he was beat red, barefoot and wearing shorts. He swapped his last pair of shoes for some masks for his girlfriend in Canada. What a sweetheart!

When my other brother Big E came I was already up to my ears in legal textbooks so he did the Namibia mission on his own. At one point I put him on a bus to Zimbabwe. He lived on the Zambezi for about 8 months doing sunset cruises and being general dogs body for the cruise, performing such tasks as fetching-the-live-pig-for-the-spit-braai, keeping-the-crocodiles-away-from-the-clients and avoiding-the-hippos.

I think, out of me A and E, E wins on coolest pics, A wins on most awesome hitchhiking story and I win on biggest overall adventure (I haven't even started on Mozambique, Philippines, Trinidad, Tokyo, Singapore....). The bus story and the hitchhiking story will follow. And no, I am not mean for putting my brother on a bus to Zimbabwe.

140 sleeps

What Kiria did.





What Kiria should have done.


I've been house / dog / aunt - sitting in the southern suburbs for the past few days. I have been dog sitting Kiria since she was about 8 months old, so we have a good 3 1/2 years of bonding behind us. We've been jogging, to the beach, in the forest, up the road, to the shops, in the car and everywhere else together. She went to obedience school as soon as she was old enough to bark. Perfect for me.

On Saturday I met DomTastic and her two dogs (Franklin the sausage and Tori the cross) at Cecilia forest for a misty early(ish) morning walk. Of course, Kiria ricoheted from side to side in the back of TheNotTheBullet all the way to the forest, barking all the way. At least I'm left in peace at traffic lights, although I think I'm deaf in one ear as a result.

DomTastic rocked up in the Green Machine with her two ricocheting off each other/doors and asked if she needed to put her two on a lead. I said that she may want to put hers on a lead but mine had been to obedience school so didn't need one. No sooner were the words out of my mouth that Kiria was bounding out of the parking lot and into the forest. I managed to catch up with her, wrestle her to the ground and get her lead on. As soon as the lead was on she dragged me up the side of the mountain, into a tree and over a log. The car guards found this all very amusing, as did DomTastic. My ankle is still a bit sore from the initial take off point. Thanks, Kiria!

146 sleeps

I’m trying to book my flight. I need a flight that is cheap, pleasant, and quick on the layover.

I’ve narrowed it down to three, based on the above criteria and in that order: Icelandair, Alitalia and Emirates.

According to recent press releases, Icelandair planes have a ‘new, modern look’. I know what that means. Ethiopian Airways also had a ‘new, modern look’ when I flew them in ’99. It meant that they glued all the little individual ashtrays in each seat shut and put new carpeting on the floor. First obvious question: how old is the plane that it has individual ashtrays in each seat? The plane shuddered down each runway (in New York, in Rome, in Ethiopia, in Tanzania, in Zambia, in Zimbabwe and finally, at long last, in South Africa) and the left wing engine had a cute and playful way of smoking on take-off. I have since learnt from a Virgin Atlantic air stewardess that engine-smoking-on-take-off is Not A Good Thing.

Alitalia has also been all over the press lately, with headlines such as “Alitalia cancels 100 flights a day” and “Alitalia debts soar as flights hit day seven”. Hmmmm. Wasn’t there recently some scandale with Alitalia air stewardesses complaining about the low levels of hygiene in the planes? Or was that another carrier? I have flown them a couple of times. The airplane food is great but... but... I seem to remember something about bouncing down the runway in Toronto in a not quite a straight line fashion, oxygen masks swinging wildly in the air, passengers yelping. It was an exciting moment; one that will be burnt into my brain forever.

Finally, I have the Emirates option. I have never flown them before. Their planes for this particular flight path are the Boeing 777 – 300ER. I am such a Boeing fan. I would take a Boeing over an Airbus any day. And I am particularly fond of seat 46A on this plane. Check number one for Emirates. The layover in Dubai is a sweet, short 4 hours. I remember, coming back from Trinidad, flying (and I get exhausted just writing this) Trinidad-Tobago-Grenada-Barbados on one of those mini propeller island hopper planes that takes, like, 7 passengers. 9 hour layover in Barbados. Barbados-Heathrow. 18 hour layover in Heathrow. Heathrow-Cape Town. I am not a fan of the long layover after that puppy. Check number two for Emirates. Finally, they boast of their ‘world-class in-flight entertainment system’. Now, everyone knows that the most important thing on a flight is the entertainment system, followed closely by the drinks trolley. Video on demand? No problem! 80 channels to choose from? Choose away! Touch screen? Absolutely!

I am sold.

Emirates it is.

147 sleeps

Para 6 of this article is good news:

http://www.canada.com/montrealgazette/news/business/story.html?id=cd279da0-107a-485e-9ca5-098daebba6d4


But then there is this:

http://www.newswire.ca/en/releases/archive/November2008/13/c7984.html

It is high time for a Song of the Day:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=viPWb3ieH6o

I was positively apoplectic at 03h13am. I went from dreaming away (Mrs Starke - you featured with a green car and a bad attitude) to clawing the ceiling in 0.03 seconds flat. The wind, 'affectionately' known as the Cape Doctor, blew over our wooden coffee table on the balcony, sending me into a claws-out fur-flying hissy fit. I couldn't fall back asleep after that. On a positive note, the Greek didn't come lurching out of his bedroom, golf club in hand, battle cry on lips, ready to take down the bad guys.

In other news:

I think I need to get sort of anti-out-with-Domtastic-VtotheRB-login feature for my laptop, like I must answer an asymptotic space complexity algorithm query before I'm allowed to access the internet. It would save me so much trouble.

148 sleeps

149 sleeps

This is the view I had for my b-day drinks with DomTastic last night. Of course it was night time, so the moon was shining on the rocks. The sea was relatively calm, too. We almost - almost - went for a midnight swim - alas, common sense prevailed :)

150 sleeps

Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday to T-Lo!
Happy birthday to you!

Ok, my birthday is only tomorrow, but DomTastic and I are going to celebrate with a toot tonight. Yay!

While traveling in foreign locales is always exciting and amazing, holidays can be incredibly lonely times. It got to a point a couple of years ago where I just stopped even bothering to celebrate my birthday. And I have come to dread Christmas. I usually high tail it up to Namibia for Pops' Orphan Family Christmas on the Orange. Anyway, I digress...

It has become my little tradition on birthdays, christmas, easter, thanksgiving and other similar holidays to buy myself a gift, wrap it up, and leave it on my kist at the end of the bed as a little surprise to myself when I wake up in the morning. Upon waking, I stare at my kist, eyes wide, mouth aghast, mock-shock on my face, at the sparkly present staring back at me from the end of the bed. And then I rip it open like a five year old.

I always buy myself books as presents. Previously, this has included:

1. The Great War for Civilization by Robert Fiske (****)
2. Middlesex by Geoffrey Eugenides (*****)
3. The Shackled Continent by Robert Guest (*****)
4. Lunar Park by Brett Easton Ellis (*****)

I love my books. I really do. It's some obsessive compulsive disorder, this book-purchasing-and-reading-obsession of mine. I am not joking when I say I have 1000 books. I even have two copies of Ovid's Metamorphosis - one translation by a man and one by a woman, just so I could see if there are any nuanced differences in the interpretation of the myths.

Well, I've gone and done it again. I've bought myself a lovely copy of Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell by Susannah Clarke, a tome weighing in at 800 pages. I have enough books. And I'll continue to buy books when I'm back. No more books! No! More! Books! That's the new rule. It's the only way I'll stop. I'll give myself something to look forward to when I'm back: one whole day making my way through the stacks at Chapters. Until then: I'll buy myself consumables as gifts, like a nice piece of dark chocolate, or a slab of double cream Camembert, or a bottle of witblitz.

151 sleeps

It's days like today that I will definitely miss. Perfect weather, not a breath of wind and clear blue seas. I popped into gym before work to drop off a gas mask that I had borrowed. Big Daddy C made me one of his awesome World's Best Power Shakes (TM) and we had a quick chat. Two things I realized after chatting to him:

1. It's going to be a very emotional few months for me.
2. It's going to cost me a helluva lot to get my books home.

152 sleeps

I am going to do this, you know.