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.