somewhere between here and there, part 2

A Moment with my (ex) Housemate, theGreek

On G talk:
G: blah blah i can't believe how unfair it is...
T-Lo: Wanna come chat about it? If you want to chat, I am always here...
G: Where you?
T-Lo: [gives address]
G: K, see you in 30 mins
[screetching tires, stomp stomp stomp to the door, bang bang,"T- you there?!"]
T-Lo: How are you?
G: blah blah bitch gulp blah!
T-Lo: Gulp gulp .. I understand! And I don't miss it!!
G: [impersonates a worker ant]
T-Lo: It was good. But I'm happy where I am. [looks at bag on floor, bed on couch]
G: [understands]
T-Lo: Gulp gulp.
G: Gulp gulp.

Yeah babes, that's what I'm talking about!!

Somewhere between here and there, part 1

Conversation One:

Me and my buddy up at the Canadian High Commission in Pretoria:

T-Lo: Ok, you have all of my application details there, right? And they are all complete, right? And ready to go?
Lady: Yes.
T-Lo: And you can give me a passport in SS, right?
Lady: Yes.
T-Lo: Ok, let's do that and I'll take it from there. How long will it take to turn around?
Lady: Ummm... when are you rescheduled to fly?
T-Lo: They are holding 21 June for me. Will it be ready by then?
Lady: Ummm... when is that?
T-Lo: It's two weeks and three days from now.
Lady: Yes. [pause] It should be ready by then. [hesitates] Yes, you should be able to make that flight.
T-Lo: Just to clarify - I should make the flight or I will make the flight?
Lady: You should make it, yes.
T-Lo: I should? Or I will?
Lady: You should, yes.
T-Lo: Can you guarantee that I will make it?
Lady: You should be able to make it, I don't really see a problem with it.
T-Lo: But can you guarantee it?
Lady: You should be able to, yes.
T-Lo: Thank you. Good bye.

Conversation Two:

Me and my buddy at Expedia:

T-Lo: My passport will take at least three weeks to turn around. I would like to confirm that I will not be on my flight this weekend but I will call you next week to reschedule.
CS Agent: Ok no problem!
T-Lo: Will you make a note of this on my file?
CS Agent: Ok no problem!
T-Lo: Shall I follow up with a confirmatory email?
CS Agent: Ok no problem!
T-Lo: Ok, I shall. Thank you.
CS Agent: I would like to thank you for calling expedia.ca and I would like to wish you a good day.
T-Lo: [gets a pain behind the eyes]

Conversation Three:

Me and my new buddy at Expedia:

T-Lo: I called last week, and followed up with an email, to say I would not make my flight and would call back to reschedule. Is there a record of that in my file?
CS Agent 2.0: Ummm.... [silence] ... when did you say you sent the email?
T-Lo: Four days ago.
CSA 2.0: Let me check our email records.
T-Lo: [pain in temples joins pain in eyes]
CSA 2.0: Ah! Here it is! Ok. How can I help you?
T-Lo: I am calling to reschedule my flight.
CSA 2.0: Ah! Ok, I will just have to check with Emirates as you are listed as a 'no-show' on the flight file.
T-Lo: But I called. To say. That I would not. Make. The flight.
CSA 2.0: [silence] I will just have to contact Emirates on your behalf. Please hold!
T-Lo: Ok.

(Aside: in the time that I was "on hold", I downloaded and watched a youtube video on the mating habits of sea-horses, discovered the many and varied meanings of a house-on-fire in dream interpretation, re-read Obama's inauguration speech, made myself and ate a sandwich, made a cup of tea, downloaded Gorillaz: Dare and listened to that to stop my head exploding, worked on my CV and flipped through the UNOPS vacancies site. No joke.)

CSA 2.0: Ok, yes. The flight can be rescheduled but you will have to call back mid-week to wait for this flight information to clear the system.
T-Lo: Really?
CSA 2.0: Yes. I do apologize for the inconvenience.
T-Lo: Please may I have a reference number for this call?
CSA 2.0: Sure! It's BV33DS. I want to thank you for calling expedia.ca and I would like to wish you a good day.

Conversation Four:

My and my new new buddy at Expedia:

T-Lo: Hello. My reference number is BV33DS.
CSA 3.0: Ah! Yes! There we are!
T-Lo: I am calling to reschedule my flight.
CSA 3.0: Thank you! I'll just have to call Emirates quickly on your behalf!
T-Lo: Ok. [starts downloading youtube videos in anticipation...]
CSA 3: You'll have to call Emirates directly yourself! Thank you for calling expedia.ca and I would like to wish you a good day.
T-Lo: [head/desk/bang]

Conversation Five:

Me and my buddy at Emirates in Cape Town:

T-Lo: I would like to reschedule my flight.
Emirates Chick: Ok. Can I have your reference number please?
T-Lo:[quotes it]
EC: Ok, that's the old number. Do you have the new number?
T-Lo: No. This is the number my booking agent gave me. I have no other number.
EC: That is the old number in our system. Do you have another number?
T-Lo: No. That is the only number I have. Can you cross reference me by name?
EC: No. We require the new number to change the flight details.
T-Lo: I have no other number. This is the number my booking agent gave me.
EC: We do not have that number in our system.
T-Lo: Are you telling me that Emirates has lost my flight information?! That you have no record of my current flight in the system even though you can see the old one and my name?!
EC: It isn't "lost". It's just "missing". You have no other number?
T-Lo: NO.
EC: Please hold!
...
EC: Ok. I have found your flight information. I see you are booked CT-Dubai-TO for 07 June. What would you like to do?
T-Lo: I would like to change my flight date.
EC: Why would you like to do that?
T-Lo: Because 07 June has passed and I am still in Cape Town.
EC: Ah! I see! Ok! Let me just check your Terms and Conditions....
....
EC: Ok I can do that. When do you want to fly?
T-Lo: 28 June or 05 July.
EC: I can get you on 05 July with a change of flight fee of R19 700.
T-Lo: [after recovering from shock] That seems like quite a substantial difference in price.
EC: Yes. That's because it is a first class ticket.
T-Lo: But I am booked on economy.
EC: But there is only first class available. Would you like me to check availability in economy around that time?
T-Lo: Yes. Please.
EC: I can get you to JFK on 04 June for the same price.
T-Lo: Ok. Let's do it.
EC: [clakkity clak on her keyboard]
T-Lo: No! Wait! I can't fly into the States! Stop! Stop! I will get detained in the US cuz of the name differences between the passport and the ticket and I'm flying from Africa via the Middle East and they will think I'm a terrorist!!!
[a moment's uncomfortable silence follows]
EC: Why.... uh ... how come... are you....???
T-Lo: No! God no! I'm not a terrorist! I'm being figurative here!
[I give her a brief rundown of the situation]
EC:[breathing a sigh of relief] Ok, I can get you in on 12 July with a change fee of R4000.
T-Lo: I'll take it! That's mine! Book me now! Now! Book me!
EC:[clakkity clak on her keyboard] Ok. Done.



%#%%$(@++$. Is it just me? Is it just me?!

the new 3 sleeps

It's raining out and I don't even own a coat (well, it's on a boat somewhere) or an umbrella anymore. Or a blow dryer. Or an iron. Or a pot. Or a pan. Or a pillow. The list goes on. Bloody hell.

I remember when Kiki and I moved to Japan we gave ourselves seven days to sort ourselves out. We called it The Seven Day Plan and it looked something like this:

Day 1: find somewhere to live
Day 2: figure out subway system
Day 3: find grocery store and open bank account
Day 4: find job
Day 5: find job
Day 6: get job
Day 7: start work

We had booked ourselves into Sukerokunoyado Sadachiyo, a traditional ryokan for the first night. It was divine. We had a lovely hot bath on arrival and slept on firm futons in our six tatami mat room. We met a guy (Australian? NZ? German?) on the first night who gave us great advice on how to get around (find landmarks high up on buildings; don't bother remembering street names or numbers because its more confusing to remember them; always look back when you are walking so that you know what it looks like when you return...) then he tried to get us to a ' love hotel'; we declined. Love hotels are socially and culturally acceptable hotels that couples rent by the hour for the purposes of [whispers] you know. Each room has its own design, too. Dear, do you feel like a log cabin motif tonight? Or would you like to pretend to be on a boat? Or would you prefer to be bent over a Ferrari bed? Ha!

I'm getting off point here... I digress...

Anyway, on the first day there, we had to find somewhere to live because we had only booked ourselves one night at the ryokan. Unfortunately, it was the middle of monsoon season. And by monsoon, I don't mean a pissy little thunderstorm and a bit of wind. I mean non-stop torrential bucketing down exploding fire hydrant pointed at your face pouring rain coupled with gale force tornado-like winds. Naively, we stopped at a 7-11 and bought umbrellas. They lasted about four and a half seconds before the wind turned them inside out then ripped the plastic from the metal. We opted to get soaked. We were literally blown into doors, windows, street lamps, parked cars. Every time we went indoors we had to wring out our coats, hats and shoes. We were frozen solid. Our fingers and toes were pruned. We finally - finally - found somewhere to stay.. a lovely little house in the middle of a park in Edogawabashi. Then we had to go back to the ryokan to get our bags, strap them to our backs and head out into the monsoon again. It was hec-tique. We finally settled into our new home in the park, absolutely soaked to the bone, windblown to all hell.

Then, we had to conquer the shower. The shower was coin operated, located outside and had a four-way mirror located at crotch-level. Ahhhh.... we managed in the end. I miss those days. Those were the wide-eyed, wet-behind-the-ears, green-thumbed, soaked by the rain travel days when everything you owned could be strapped to your back was a new and exciting adventure. Now, I'm sitting here, 13 years later, still soaked but without the wide eyed, wet eared innocence of Japan. Now I'm just a grumpy ol' gal, waiting for a passport and a plane.

the new 5 sleeps

On the plus side, I've landed a nice consultancy job for the next couple of weeks. Boredom avoided and money earned. Yay!

the new 6 sleeps

Passportless [check]



This is an interesting hurdle. Very interesting indeed. And 'nary impossible to overcome. But I shall! I shall overcome!

the new 7 sleeps

This is where I spent my weekend. Jealous? I would be if I were you! Mad Max invited the girls up to her man's place on a spur of the moment LetsGetOutOfTown thing, and what a pleasure! The property is located within the Cape Point Nature Reserve and is an absolutely magic piece of paradise. We ate well, chilled by the fire, read, chatted, slept. I went for an hour and a half walk along the beach, all by myself, ipod in ears, mace in hands (baboons, you know), through the mist, nothing but me, my music and my footsteps. I always find that incredibly rejuvenating (provided, of course, the mace stays in hand and is not deployed into face of baboon). Little Mouse was chatting about how you don't really appreciate these things as a child. She is so right. Here's my top 5 things that you don't appreciate, but should, as a child:

5. Taking photos of rocks through the mist.
4. Cooking with friends for three hours then eating an awesome meal.
3. Driving for two hours to go to the middle of nowhere.
2. Reading by the fire for hours on end.
1. The afternoon nap.

the new 11 sleeps

homeless [check]

HA! That's it. It's all done. I am now officially reduced, after having everything stolen/losing stuff/donating the rest to charity, to one 30kg bag. Is it as nice and as liberating as everyone says? Sure, I suppose. Would be a lot more if I was 22 and leaving the country for the first time... but I digress.

TheGreek and I have been doing a mover comparison. We each have hired our own guys to do the moving thing over the past couple of days. I got a dude, his mate, and a mini-bakkie (pick up truck) thing for R450 to move my charity stuff from the flat to the school. They came, they packed, they tied the stuff down, they got stuck in a driveway for a while then they moved it. Fabulous. Relatively painless. Of course, as soon as the stuff was gone I had a bit of a cadenza and Cold Feet were in effect big time. TheGreek was like: You have nothing left. You have no job. Everything you wanted was stolen and everything you didn't want you gave away. What are you going to do, rugby tackle the 8 year old underprivileged child for the blow dryer you gave away then rebuild it from there? I debated this for a moment. Then I listened to some Vanilla Ice and it was ok. Ice! Ice! Baby!

TheGreek got a guy for R540. He showed up today after I had left. It was the dude and his bakkie and that was it. theGreek, ever the efficient handyman (I say with a twinkle in my eye and chuckle in my throat), was like: can you move this all on your own? And dude was like: um, yes, except for the couch, the bed, the fridge and the hall stand. HA! So guess what theGreek spent the afternoon doing? HAHAHAHHAHA. I laugh. I'm sorry, but I do.

But, my moving-in-with-theGreek-movers take the cake. That was the piece de resistance of moving. The Michaelangelo, if you will. Or the Gaudi. Take your pick. I called this dude, Mr September, and asked him to move me. He quoted me R650, and I thought: I don't care as long as I don't have to move it myself. On the day, Mr September rocked up in a pimped out late 80s Eclass Mercedes, with rolling mags, playboy stickers all over and the following wording on the back of his vehicle: "I'm pimpin' and I'm stylin' and I know you want me". Ok, this was my mover. I asked him how we were going to move. He said: here comes my truck. As sure as the sky is blue, this FkN BEAST of a truck, like a full on long haul transport truck that was old old old and grunting the entire way, reversed up my road. It stopped. And, as sure as the sun is hot, a veritable army of men hopped out the back of that truck and looked at Mr September. Mr September tossed a hand in the general direction of my stuff. They loaded me in 12 minutes flat, with me screeching after them: No! No! Please don't bubble wrap my orchid!. Then, they followed me in the Bullet (not TheNotTheBullet, the actual Bullet herself) through town and into Sea Point, where they unloaded me in 17 minutes flat (including the stairs).

Best R650 I ever spent.

the new 12 sleeps

All this '+' and '-' sleeps is confusing the hell out of me now, so I'm just gonna start the count over again.

I'm looking at this right now. You know, just cuz....

-1 sleeps + 14

I'm glad my thesis and I are on good terms again. We had a fight a couple of months ago and stopped talking to each other. We went through a phase of each trying to destroy the other, like two old, angry, slightly demented dogs of war lost in a tropical bush somewhere with nothing but a pocket knife and a bone to pick.

But we got over it. We talked it through and hugged it out. Now, we are on good terms. In fact, I'm galloping on a big black horse towards a tower.... nah, change that...The thesis is galloping on a big black horse towards a tower, where I am waiting to jump out a window and on the back of that horse so the thesis and I can go careening into the sunset together. We're getting there, dear thesis, we are getting there.

0 sleeps + 14

I should be home in 12 hours. Aaaaaah-las, I am not.

In fun-and-exciting news, my thesis supervisor suggested that I add another chapter in my thesis dealing with jurisdiction issues. Who-hoo! [high fives] *misses* (cries)

I'm already bored of being unemployed. Seriously, what do people do with their time? Over the past five years I've become so accustomed to working full-time, studying my LLB / LLM part-time and training like a demon that I don't know what it's like not to have a 12 hr day at minimum. I stopped training about 6 weeks ago just to give my body a rest before flying back and now on top of that I don't work either. Boooooooooooooooooored. Like, Donkey in Shrek 2 in the carriage on the way to Far Far Away - that kind of bored.

At least of I've got the thesis! Ha!

2 sleeps + 14

Aside from all the delays and changes, one thing that makes me pat-self-on-back proud of myself is the fact that, from the moment I started this blog, I actually got the number of sleeps right. Well done, T-Lo, well done!

3 sleeps + 14

I am sitting at Primi in Camps Bay, enjoying the after-effects of a facial and massage from the Little Mouse, drinking coffee and watching the ocean. I could get used to this being-unemployed-thing.

Otherwise... hmmm... pretty chilled. ....

AH!

AHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

My tastebuds have just been ASSAULTED!

Gross! Ewww!!!!!!! Yuck! Blech!

[spits, scrapes tongue with knife]

[drools a bit]

WTF.

I ordered a bite to eat with my coffee. One egg, one piece of toast, 2 pieces of bacon and some roasted tomato.

There I am, merrily eating away when suddenly, out of nowhere, my tastebuds are attacked! Then, in self defense, they crawl into the recesses of my tongue, screaming for mercy. Seriously, there are claw marks on the inside of my mouth right now. I'm so grossed out.

Dear Primi;

Do not try to inspire 'global fusion' to your dishes by artfully decorating the plate with swirls of Marmite. If I want that horrible brown sludge on my food, I'll ask for it.

Love,
T-Lo

5 sleeps + 14

Car-less [check]
Clothes-less [check]
Job-less [check]
Money-less [almost check]
Home-less [ ]


One to go!! This is fun again :) :) :)

Bring it on! Bring! It! On!

Huzzah!

6 sleeps + 14

Denied! Delayed! De-can't-believe-it!

Passport issues... thesis issues... ah well, what's another two weeks at this point? At least now I'll have a chance to check out this joint with a couple of mates before I go. I met the owner / chef the other night... he told me that they are doing a 6 course winter special for R150. Not bad. Not bad at all. I know it will be fantastic as the chef has won a series of national and international awards and the restaurant itself received glowing reviews in a Conde Nast publication recently.

One thing that the Mother City does well (which the Hammer / Toronto do not) is restaurants. Mother City restaurants are generally locally owned and tastefully done and waiters are likely to suggest a decent wine pairing with your meal. The Hammer / Toronto, on the other hand, are dominated by The Chain Restaurant and the decor mimics every other chain restaurant in existence. Like, you could be at a Swiss Chalet in the Hammer, which is the exact same as the Swiss Chalet in Toronto. Likewise for the Keg or Kelsey's or any other chain... and the waiters, instead of offering a decent wine pairing, are likely to offer to supersize your curly fries with your meal. Curly fries. *shudders*

10 sleeps part 2

Ok, I've written about Big A and I've written about Big E [ha!] but I've never written about the Prez, so here's one for him.

Year: 1991
Location: the attic
Time of year: Hallowe'en

Hallowe'en is huge in Canada. Everyone loves to participate.. regardless if you are three years old and wearing your first Spiderman costume or whether you are a 17 year old high school student desperate for an outfit so you can go out and collect candy / get drunk with your mates.

So brings us to this tale. The Prez and I shared the attic of the family home in the Hammer ... I had the room at the front of the house, he had the room at the back with the staircase (we both wanted that and whined to my dad about it, who used his gentle fatherly skills to tell us to 'fight it out, but no bleeding on the furniture', which we did, which I lost, and for which I have been practicing martial arts for four years in order to avenge the loss of the room with the staircase... but that's another story). It was after school, he was in his room listening to Metallica, I was in my room listening to Madonna. He came into my room, in a cloud of cigarette and marijuana smoke, and said that he needed help picking out an outfit and could I help him.

He wanted to dress as a prostitute, you see.

Now, don't think it's weird. The men on my dad's side - all of them - have a thing about dressing up in crazy 'feminine' outfits when drunk. It never fails ... half a Coors Lite in and they start demanding taffeta and feathers. Anyway, the Prez wanted to go out as a prostitute for Hallowe'en. And, clearly, he thought my wardrobe contained items that were suitable to fulfill this costume requirement.

Soooo... we trawled through my wardrobe. We found a nice, tight, black embroidered Guess miniskirt, a pair of black stilletto heels, a low-cut gold lame tank top and some gawdy costume jewellery. Now, on their own and paired with appropriate pieces, these items were not 'skanky'. Combined... we had hit the payload! It was skanky! It was slutty! It reeked of low classed-ness! It demanded a 5 dollar bill to be thrown at it! Then, I did the Prez's make up. Red lip stick, dark dark gaudy eyes. I gave him a quick lesson on how to Strut in those stillettoes.

Satisfied with his outfit and complete transformation into the quintessential Prostitute, off he went, strutting down the street, hips a-sashay-ing, dreaklocks a-glitter-ing, shoulders a-strutt-ing. He saw his friend walking towards him, so he strutted a bit more. His friend passed him, with hardly a second glance, said "Hey T-Lo" and kept walking.

WTF?!

10 sleeps

... of the day:

Quote: "Your rabid enthusiasm for your thesis overwhelms me."

Word: obstreperous

Look: Face Like Thunder mashed up with Quite Frankly, I Don't Give A Damn.

Search: Where be the new passport? Where? Be? It?

Book: The Essential Calvin and Hobbes.

Goal: Four points and a half snap.

Post-It Note: Remember to sign Colleague XX to porn junk-mail site as revenge for numerous disturbing emails containing pictures of fluffy little animals accompanied by 'words of wisdom'.

Almost Jail Moment: [slaps hand] "Bad cop! No donut!"

Desire: velveteen fire engine red knock off Ed Hardy leisure suit with raised gold flower detail and diamante snakes. Haaaawt!

House-mate Adventure: When giving directions to the dinner party, leave out a turn or two. Time how long it takes him to find it. Question his ability to take directions.

Wanna-be Superhero: Optimus Prime. Transformers... they are more than meets the eye.

Advice Offering: Don't do your Masters in Law unless you really really really want it bad.

Scolding from Parental Unit: Enough is enough. It's time to come home now.

Annoying Song Lyrics Actually Stuck In Head: "Mahna Mahna... Do Dooo D' Do Do... Mahna Mahna! Do Do D'Do!"

Soothing Song Lyrics Stuck That Should Be In Head: "...Pick up the phone off the cabin wall / I listen to you moan that I have it all / You cruise with a tight crew all night bru / And you bruised your sight through the fight too..."

12 sleeps part 2

Now that the whole phoenix rising moment has passed, I can pass on to the other thing I was thinking about between 3 and 5 am. I'm a multi-task thinker...

A dear friend of mine from high school uploaded a photo of a few of us from 1995 and I was instantaneously snap! pop! transported back to those days. I've been thinking long and hard about my oldest and dearest friend Kiki. We met when we were four, went to the same schools growing up, did our undergraduate degrees in the same city, lived together for 2 1/2 years during that time then went around the world together. Amazingly, we only fought a few times. It's amazing how much history you can build with a person like that. Aside from the usual growing up stories...practicing for the band, walking to school, getting mad life lessons from mothers over peanut butter sandwiches...we've got a larceny of intensely personal history stories as well.

We actually used to celebrate our anniversary by buying each other flowers (it will be 31 years this September). I used to cheer K up after a bad day by saying, in a 70s smooth Great Gazooba radio dj voice "But your eyes, they are like a river of diamonds in a sea of blackness" then go on and on (and on) from there. We used to dye each others hair, from red to blond and back again until one of us had their hair fall right out of their head. We shared a 3/4 bed (with my cat) in my York University residence for three months after K split with the Chop. When we jumped to Japan, we traveled with a ghetto blaster (pre-digi age) and a bucket load of CDs that we each had collected over the years.

Some bits I remember:

During the Toronto days, I was walking home from the subway station and saw myself on the other side of the road (that is a very weird sensation), then realized it was K because she was wearing my clothes. She thought the same thing at the same time and for the same reasons.

I tried to teach K to drive during the Cape Town 97 days. When she did a left turn across three lanes of traffic on two wheels, I made her pull over and gave her the "The Rearview Mirror Is Your Friend" speech.

We were away for a weekend in the Cederburg at that time. K was yapping away by the fire, looked up, stopped suddenly and asked why the wood planks had knots in them. I had a huge beautiful story about squirrels and nuts that went on for about 10 minutes. Proud of myself, I sighed when I was finished. K looked at me and said "OMG, you are so full of sh*t T!"

We used to play Horse in her mom's shop when we were young. She was Princess Nancy, the prettiest horse in the land, revered by many and desired by all. I was the Black Stallion and no one could catch me.

We took the subway home after a night on the town during the Toronto days. K was tired. I was in charge. I decided it would be fun to get off at random subway stops and switch subways. I was running between trains, between lines, with K shouting after me. Finally, she asked if I knew where I was. I said yes. I looked out the window until the subway came into the station. I said "Dundas". She said "We're going the wrong way!" and I said "There is no wrong way! Only a fun way!"

12 sleeps

Ah done gone thunk myself awake at 2am then ah done gone thunk some more.

I find I am particularly adept at thinking things through between the hours of 3am and 5am. I recommend you try it sometime. Because, you know, everyone is awake at those hours anyway.

As everyone who reads this blog, FB status updates and tweets knows, and everyone who is in within moaning distance of me knows, I lost my TheNotTheBullet the other day. Now, on top of that, my char has made off with the main sections of my wardrobe (long story, don't ask, it pains me to think about). At this rate, I'm going to be going back to Canada with the clothes on my back and a handbag. So, naturally, being car-less, mostly clothes-less, almost job-less and nearly home-less, I am feeling the pangs of stress a bit. Hence the 2am wake up.

There I was, at 2am, cursing the curs-ed universe and all the hell it has been raining down upon me (I can be a real drama queen when I want to be) and then I had a little pause. Then, a slight suspension. Then a flash. Then silence. Then stillness. Then a stupefied look on my face.

Now, it may seem dramatic and self indulgent, but I am like this dude. I am figuratively throwing myself on the pyre (let's keep it figurative, universe!) to get ready for the next chapter. And, I also realized that I haven't been given a life defining moment by the universe because, through moments like this and the one in 1997, I give them to myself. And, accepting that as fact, I feel much calmer now.

14 sleeps

The Great Soup Disaster of 2008

One cold wintry Sunday, sometime last July, me and D on the G

Dom: I need to go make coffee... you want one?
T-Lo: No thanks.
...
Dom: OMG
T-Lo: ?
Dom: OMG!!!
T-Lo: ????
Dom: WTF is in the fridge?
T-Lo: ????????
Dom: There are some UFOs in the fridge.
T-Lo: What you mean?
Dom: There is a jar with unidentified floating objects in the fridge.
T-Lo: What?!!
Dom: There is a jar, with carrots and broccoli and other random vegetables floating around in liquid.
T-Lo: Dominique. FkU. That's my lunch.
Dom: What. Is. That.
T-Lo: It's soup.
Dom: How is that soup? How IS that soup, Tany(ass)?!
T-Lo: I made it myself, from scratch.
Dom: I can tell. How did you make it?
T-Lo: I got a Hearty Soup pack from Woolies [a smattering of fresh vegetables that you make into soup yourself] and made soup.
Dom: Where did it go wrong?
T-Lo: Well, I decided to make soup...
Dom: Yes, we've been over that.
T-Lo: HEY! So, I got a pack from Woolies and boiled the veggies.
Dom: Good start.
T-Lo: But, I was watching AD at the time and forgot add the extras, like stock and spices and whatnot.
Dom: And those ingredients are called 'extras'?
T-Lo: HEY. Then, when I was done, I couldn't find my blender so I couldn't mix the soup properly. So I just ate it as is.
Dom: So, you made boiled vegetables in water.
T-Lo: It's soup!
Dom: Wa'eva. That's not soup. Not at all.
T-Lo: [angry face]

18 sleeps

For those of you that read this blog, the next two weeks will likely be filled with manic, self-indulgent, perhaps narcisstic, emotionally conflicting blog entries. Stop now if that bores you. When I started this blog, I decided it would be an online diary of how I feel about moving back to Canada after 13 years of travelling, warts and all. So, take it or leave it. If you are looking for the witty, fun, light-hearted T-Lo, she'll pop her head up here and there over the next few weeks, but serious self-critical T-Lo is in full effect right now. (did I just refer to myself in the third person? Twice?!)

OK. This UN thing. After debating with myself, my family, respected colleagues and loved ones, I've done the following:

1. Confirmed my willingness to do the assignment.
2. Uploaded my most recent CV.

The assignment starts 11 July. That means that I have six weeks in Canada to see how things pan out. I'm really caught over this whole thing. On one hand, I want to go back to Canada, chill with my family, get a 'proper job', settle down in TO, get a cat and call her McLovin (you see how I've planned?! I've already got a name for my to-be-grey kitten!), train with Alin, normalize relations with the Hammer...then, this F**KING UN thing comes through at the 11th hour, the last minute, the final hour. This is the job I have wanted for the last ten years. But sometimes, when you get what you want, you don't want it anymore, right? Like, you were focused on the wrong thing, you know? DomTastic (DomAss?) yelled at me in the midst of a self-indulgent moangroan session I was having: she said that maybe I have to look at it as the universe having perfect timing. Hmmmm......

I'll tell you, I haven't gone through a phase like this since June 1997. Then, I had no money and had everything I own stolen. I had no idea where I would sleep at night, where my next meal would come from, how I would earn money to survive.... That was on the front end of my little Africa adventure. Now, on the back end, I had my TheNotTheBullet stolen 8 days after I had the insurance cancelled (long story, don't ask, still beating myself repeatedly for that). Now TheNotTheBullet money was my 'transition slush fund' for when I got back..I would be able to take a couple of months to settle in, readjust, train properly and get into the groove of things before having to dive full on into some hectic work environment. That is no longer an option. I am using my move-everything-across-the-ocean money as my slush fund, which means that I have to get rid of everything here. I've reduced my life into one 30kg bag of clothing and one kist of books. And it's kind of sad to look at the one lonely, slightly overstuffed bag and the pitifully reduced collection of books and think to yourself - is this it? Is this what my life amounts to? Is this the sum total of my accomplishments? Some clothes and a few books?

I'll try to explain how I feel: I feel like, no matter what I do or how I plan or what I want, I have absolutely no control over what's going to happen with my life over the next couple of years (gawd I hope it doesn't last that long!). Like, you are paddling a boat, with that monkey on your shoulders, and you are coming up to a waterfall, and you try to eddy out or backpaddle away or sit behing a rock or hug a tree to avoid going over that bloody thing, but no matter what you do or how you do it, you are still going over. And you are going over right now.

19 sleeps

A moment with my housemate, theGreek

TheGreek came running into my room last night, waking me from my near-coma-like slumber (granted, it was only, like, 930, but anyway...)

TheGreek: T! T! T! Wake up! Wake the Fk up!
T-Lo: arghmmmphhphargh
TheGreek: arghmmmphhphargh!! Hahahah!! WAKE UP.
T-Lo: What's going on?
TheGreek: I've just come from gym.
T-Lo: [shocked into silence]
TheGreek: Can you help me put this on?
(holds up red bracelet thing that must be tied around his wrist)
T-Lo: Ok.
(tries to tie red thing-y around wrist)
TheGreek: You must say affirmations and give me positive energy.
T-Lo: [sniggers] [snorts]
TheGreek: Seriously, say things like: Love and Strength and Power and put positive energy into tying the knots...
T-Lo: [sniggers] [snorts]
TheGreek: [leaning forward and looking me right in the eye] You have made me shake hands with a bag of dirt. Now, do the affirmations and tie seven knots on my bracelet.
T-Lo: [owned] [silenced]

In other news, theGreek's gone through everything I own and claimed dibs on everything he wants. He's making off with my bed, my pots, my wine glasses, my colander, my inflatable roofracks, my towel sets, my masks, some of my books, my filing boxes, my flower vase and my blenders. Not bad!

In work news, this Congo thing is sitting with me. It's a one year assignment. And they want an answer by tomorrow.

22 sleeps

It's Sunday. I'm at work. Again.

I've just had to re-load Skype.

I've got a gig of memory left on my laptop. The Company IT guru told me I had to delete stuff to lighten the load, as it were. He gave me some choices:

1. some of the 25 gigs of music I have (uh uh)
2. or the 10 gigs of photos (no way)
3. or maybe some of my 15 gigs of fight movies (hell no); or
4. other apps I don't really use.

(Hmmm.... shows my level of productivity in these last "MinDays")

But I use all my apps. I swear!

He looked at me. Up and down. Like a purebred Persian looks at a drooling happy puppy. I looked up at him from my desk. Like a wide eyed child with a toy that she simply does not know how to use. After some back-ing and forth-ing and lots of foot stomping on my part, 'we' (he, with me moaning the entire time) decided that I had too many 'social networking / communication tools' and I could 'afford to delete some'. (oh no I can't!) So, we calculated. I've got:

1. This blog.
2. Facebook.
3. Myspace.
4. Twitter.
5. 2 email accounts with the Company.
6. A Gmail account.
7. A hotmail account.
8. G-chat.
9. MSN Messenger.
10. Pandion.
11. Trillian.
12. Skype.

Now, I love all my 'social networking / communication tools' equally. I don't choose favourites and I don't judge. One day I'm on the G, the next I'm on MSN. It's fair that way.

IT guru said that surely I could delete some of the IM programmes, because all I do really is set my status to 'busy' or 'away' or 'invisible' and ignore everyone anyway. (Whoa. Fightin' words! I so do not do that! I! So! Do! Not!) Eventually 'we' (he, with me moaning the entire time) decided to get rid of Skype. That really p*ssed me off because I had just loaded it the week before (It guru: Uh, you really aren't supposed to download skype at the office. Me: Evil Glare mashed up with Face Like Thunder. IT guru: rolls eyes).

Off it went. The next day, I checked the space on my main drive. Still one gig. The next day, the same. Still the same on the third day. So I dragged the IT guru back into my lair and showed him the one gig remaining. Turns out the problem wasn't with the programs (ha!) but my laptop needs to be re-... re-... re-booted? configured? charged? Well, he's going to do that this week. In the meantime, I've reloaded Skpe, got my user name from Ms K (forgot it) and reset my password (forgot that too). Now I just have to figure out how to use it. Yay! Skype. Yay!

23 sleeps

It's Saturday morning. I'm at work with DomTastic, listening to her go off on a rant of note, which is making me laugh, which is making me forget that I no longer own my TheNotTheBullet, which is good.

I'll definitely miss all my friends when I go back. I know I've got family and friends back in the Hammer, but it will take time to readjust. It's the day to day casual comfortable elements of having friends that I'll miss, like DomTastic's G-rants that start like this: "f**********[bangs head on desk]*******ck!", or theGreek dancing around the kitchen and singing I'm a Little TeaPot while cooking, or the Queen screaming "SANderson!!!!" from across the gym... I suppose it's the familiarity of the predictable that you get used to in day to day living.

DomTastic (Dom[ass]?) suggested that I take out an ad on Gumtree or Craigslist or similar. Like this: "Wanted: Friends. Short-sighted, partially deaf, self-proclaimed intellectual giant and martial arts enthusiast seeks friends. Have been told by current friends that have a warm personality - like a sunbeam across a cold cheek on a midwinter day. I think they mean it. Must be fun, childless, willing to put up with mad sms messages at 1am, vodka/lime appreciators. Must know all the words to the Sponge Bob theme song and not make spelling errors of any sort. No freaks."

25 sleeps

*ring*ring*ring*

T-Lo: Hello?
UNV: Hello. This is BlahDiBlah calling from the UNV office in Geneva. We would like to know if you are available for an assignment as Legal Advisor overseeing the election process in the Congo.
T-Lo: [stares at wall, goes into shock, faints]

After 10 years of submitting thousands of applications that have gone to the Great UN Application Grave In The Sky you people call me now?! NOW?! Why the bloody hell are you doing this to me NOW? It's been so long since I've been on your website that I forgot how to log on. And you call me now?!

I really don't know what to do - I have absolutely set my heart on settling back into Hammer/Toronto for so long now and this comes along. Seriously, universe, stop it now. I've had enough. I'm not normally the praying type but if you're up there, help me Superman!

26 sleeps

Those who expect moments of change to be comfortable and free of conflict have not learned their history. ~Joan Wallach Scott


Some predictions for the first month I get back:

1. I will have a freak out and think it was a mistake to move back. That'll happen between 4 and 7 days in. Then I'll get over it.
2. I will not handle being unemployed and start looking for work after one week.
3. I will debate looking for work in the Hammer, but will quickly change my mind and look for work in Toronto, Ottawa or Vancouver.
4. I will train properly again.
5. I will experience massive, massive, massive culture shock.
6. I will go the SPCA. I will get a kitten. I will name her McLovin.

27 sleeps part 2

I just scrolled down a bit and realized that, at 31 sleeps, I still had my TheNotTheBullet.

Where's those Jungle Oats?

27 sleeps

***MISSING***

Blue Golf CitiGolf 1.6
Last seen outside my flat
Very peppy and nippy
A bit slow in the mornings, doesn't like rain
Answers to TheNotTheBullet

***REWARD IF FOUND***

Ahhhhhhh had my car stolen last night. I staggered out of my flat at 515am and sleep-walked to where she was parked. I almost set off the alarm of the flashy shiny BMW thing that was parked in her place before I noticed that she was gone. Confused, I looked around. Then, it sunk in.

[insert a series of expletives here, shouted from the depths of the diaphram]

I'm going to go listen to Massive Attack and cry into my Jungle Oats.

31 sleeps

32 sleeps

Isn't that thing the coolest ever? It's called the Helix Hotel, it's being built in Abu Dhabi (been there! [high fives] *misses*) by these dudes. I see stuff like that I'm absolutely blown away. Mind boggled. As a person who appreciates creativity and all it inspires, yet complete lacks it, I have to just sit in silence for a moment and listen to the birds sing.

32 sleeps

Whoo hoo!

Picture this: I'm grooving around the Flat of GnT, rocking my hot pink velveteen leisure suit, listening to this (MotoMoto rocks), merrily packing my books and ruthlessly culling my wardrobe.

One month... still too long in some ways and not long enough in others.

I've got more photos to upload... will do so tomorrow. It's been a while since I've uploaded some fun photos and all my self-indulgent worry blogs are boring me now.

32....31...30 (fires up engine)...

33 sleeps

I love Twitter. I've been twitting and twatting and twotting all morning. Tweet! Tweet! Twitterific!

36 sleeps

I'm having another middle distance glaze day. Make that middle distance glaze week.

TheGreek and I went for 'Easter dinner' last weekend (we washed down vast quantities of prawns with nice wine) and ended up having a fat chat about life, love and rock'n'roll. He watched a documentary on youtube about Mayan calendars and 2012, which freaked him out a bit, which led to discussions about the imbalances in the world, which lead to discussions about positive and negative energy, which led to discussions about karma, which led to discussions about high, low and good (good! good!) vibrations, which led to discussions about cause and effect.

Now, I fully believe in the cause/effect theory. For example, if I buy one of these every day, I create this. Not cool. No wonder Mother Nature's pissed off. But how far does it go? Specifically, if I play this or this or this or this, obviously I'm thinking about how to kill someone, or achieve world domination, or wage effective warfare, or steal people's cars. And those are things I would consider Not Nice to think about. But, as I think these things, I'm putting that energy out there, right? And it must go somewhere, right? Where does it go? What happens to it? And, if my cause and effect theory is correct, then I have to wonder what effect it is having on me, on other people, on the world in general. Or, to balance it out (one of theGreeks theories) I must do something that would be considered nice, like pet kittens or similar. I'll just have to stretch out my arms, raise my eyes to the sky and ask Superman what is going on because this has got my brain in a twist. Hmmmm.... [slack jawed middle distance glaze look in full effect]

39 sleeps

This seems to be good news. I remain cautiously optimistic.

And... Go Shaolin Go!

40 sleeps

Someone asked me recently what it was that made me start traveling. Is it something I always wanted to do? Or did I go on vacation and just forget to go home? I was drawing a blank for a while then, like a lightning bolt to the forehead, I remembered.

When I was 17, my High School Sweetheart (hereinafter HSS, because I'm too lazy to type that out every time) and I arranged a lunch for our mothers. So, off my mother toddled to his mother's house on a lazy Sunday afternoon. She was gone for about four hours. When she came back, she marched into the house, slammed the front door, pointed a finger at me, and stated "You're going to Europe." I said "Oh no I'm not." My mother won. I went to Europe. Twice. Travel seed planted.

I'll backtrack.

Lunch was going well. The conversation was flowing. Then, his mother said to my mother "I just can't wait until they start having kids!" My mother quietly freaked out. Lunch ended on a high note [happily, my mother refrained from freaking out publicly] and, on the way back to our house, she plotted. And planned.

As much as my mother liked the HSS, she wasn't prepared to see me settle down quite so quickly. As it happened, my high school was planning a cultural exchange to Italy for language and art students. My parents signed me up for it. I didn't want to go...bear in mind that I had no idea why my mother was suddenly shipping me off to Europe. Well, off I went, kicking and screaming. We did Rome, Sorrento, Capri, Naples and Pompeii. It was fun. The food was great. I saw a lot of art. I was homesick - I missed the HSS and, more importantly, my horse and my cat. I was happy to get home after the grueling ten day trip. A couple of days later, the HSS pitched up and took me off to a dinner. On my way out I told my mother that I was so happy to be back in the Hammer.

When I got home my mother suggested I do a family foreign exchange with a French family. Again, this was offered through my high school for language students. I balked. Loudly. Repeatedly. A whole summer in France seemed like an eternity. But my parents signed me up for it. And, kicking and screaming, off I went. My mother said that, after this trip and after my university degree (again, my parents said I must do my degree outside the Hammer), if I wanted to stay in the Hammer for ever and ever and ever like I was threatening to, then I could.

I did France, Belgium, Luxembourg, Holland and almost-Germany-by-accident (pesky trains and directions) on that trip. The family I stayed with in France was amazing... we stayed at their summer house in the South of France, we went sailing on their sailboat in Bordeaux, we hung out at her place in Nancy. I was with my own family in Amsterdam (my mother's side), which was great. My 64 year old uncle offered to take me to a 'coffee shop'. I politely declined. I ate my way through that summer and didn't speak English once. I was upset that I had to go back to Canada when the time came, but I was soothed by the fact that I was bumped to First Class on Air France. I discovered my love of carpaccio on that flight.

The rest, as they say, is history.

41 sleeps

Packing is a nightmare.

Packing to move from house to house is bad enough, but packing to move from continent to continent is on another level entirely. I have moved continents... [counts]... 6 times so far. This will be my 7th and, knowing me, not likely my last. I've been gathering, packing, sorting and removing this past week. It really is taking some serious discipline to get it done. I open a cupboard, sigh, close it, go have an Angry Nap. I cannot bring myself to get rid of very many books, so I've opted to be ruthless with my wardrobe instead.

What truly amazes me is all the stuff I find. Like, essays I submitted to Constitutional Law in 2002, or the CD collection that has been traveling with me since 1996 (those are some well traveled CDs), or the sunglasses I bought when I was in the Philippines in 1997. It's largely stuff that I forgot I had. Or double stuff... like 2 sets of silverware, or 3 can openers. Conversely, in my day to day life I lose all the important things, like the charger for my Cybershot, or my passport, or my tenuous grasp on reality. But ask me where my copy of The Black Stallion is (that I have owned since I was 7) anytime, anywhere, and I will be able to find it in 3 seconds flat.

I've also started shredding stuff at work. That's great fun. What is this? [picks up folder] Ah! Old draft Agreements! [runs to shredder] Shred! Shred! Shred! [laughs with glee] Whoo hoo! [high fives] *misses*

Oh! I also bought (and wrapped) myself a going away present. I'll put it on the floor where the kist used to be the night before I leave. Then, when I wake up, I can gasp in surprise, mock-shock on my face, and open the present gleefully. It just better not be another book!

45 sleeps

Aside from the non-synchronized traffic lights, another thing that drives me absolutely batsh*t crazy about Cape Town is all the flyers that people stick on your car when you park in town. I went out for a meal on a Saturday night a while ago with friends. When I got back to TheNotTheBullet, the entire windshield was littered with glossy flyers of half naked women and promises of fabulous nights in the dark recesses of random clubs somewhere. I swept across the windshield with my left arm, then again with my right and managed to get 80% of them off. One flyer caught my eye.

Balkanology? That sounds interesting. Now, before I go on I should mention that I have written two in-depth essays, one from a historical socio-political perspective and the other from an international criminal law perspective, on the 1990s Balkans conflict.

So, naturally, I saw "Balkanology" and I thought that it was a retrospective on the conflicts and the events of the 20th century in the area leading up to the recent declaration of independence in Kosovo, maybe a photography exhibit , some speeches, literature to read, forums of discussion...I got really excited - Mental stimulation! Cultural relevance! International relations! Conflict studies!

Nope. It's some Balkan-fusion beat party in Durbanville somewhere. Boo! Hiss!

46 sleeps

The time is approaching fast... in some ways not fast enough, in others too fast.

Well, blog entries about dream sequences seem to be the trend, so I'll give you my recurring dream / nightmare / freaky sleep thing that I've been having over the past couple of months, because I can't really figure it out. Ms K has given a nice interpretation, as has the Thrower, theGreek told me I had "issues" (pot/kettle, cupcake?) and I keep having the darn dream.

Alright, here goes [in present tense for effect ;)]...

I am laying on a recliner in an empty damp dark cement room with no windows. I sense it is in a basement but can't be sure. The only thing I can move are my eyes, otherwise I'm pinned down by something I can't see. I feel something whooshing towards me. I can't see it with my eyes, but I sense that it is a massive black pure evil decaying screeching bat/bird thing. It hovers about six inches above me. I can sense its wings swooshing past either side of me and I can feel its feathers and decaying flesh hit me as it stares into me with razor like precision.

On top of not being able to move, I am now absolutely paralyzed with fear. I'm actually so petrified that I can't get mad at myself for being petrified. Then it starts to suck me out of myself... I can actually feel my spirit/soul leave my physical body inch by inch. My ears are bursting with the sound of gushing water. I turn my head and see myself lying on the recliner and realize that I have to fight this thing or I'm going to die. The only parts of me that are still spirit/soul-and-physical-body together are my fingers and my toes. So, I fight with everything I've got. We lock into battle, this massive invisible soul sucking evil smelly bat/bird and I. For a few seconds I feel like I'm not going to be able to get myself back then, with a snap crack, I'm back together in one piece, laying on the recliner. Then I wake up and I'm in my bedroom, sometimes its the bedroom from the house where I grew up, other times its a bedroom from one of the other +/- 40 places I've stayed over the past 15 years. And I'm busy dying. I'm gasping for air, wheezing and coughing. Blood is gushing out of my eyes, ears, nose and mouth. My limbs feel like cement. I'm feverish and shaking. And this bloody massive invisible soul sucking evil smelly bat/bird thing is with me in the bedroom, and it's mad as hell. It's launching my books off my bookshelf at me, at the walls, through the windows. I know that if I make it out of the bedroom, I'll be able to get away from that thing and be safe. So, with everything I've got, I get out of the bed and drag myself, crawl, pull myself along all the while being nailed by books that the thing is launching at me. I make it to the door and pull myself up by gripping the door handle. I turn the door handle. As I do, the thing starts screeching, like the sound of a thousand nails on a blackboard through a loudspeaker. Then I wake up for real.

Maybe I'm just nuts ;)

51 sleeps

This 6 am work start thing is for the birds. I got into my car at 515am, looked up, saw Scorpio constellation high in the sky, cursed for about 5 minutes, revved TheNotTheBullet to life and careened to work. Now here I sit, watching fight videos on YouTube and mentally preparing myself for my own fight tomorrow night. I also had a quick chat with the Sexy Surfer. He's been in Canada for about a month now and he's loving every second of it. It's nice to see the country through a fresh perspective. Canada is a great country, I must admit. I still don't know what, exactly, I'm going to do when I get back, but I'm sure it'll all work out. All I know is that right now I'm jones-ing for a Tim Horton's coffee.

54 sleeps

Last night it dawned on me that in less than two months I'll be back in North America permanently. I was completely fine with it. I'm ready to go.

57 sleeps

Look what T-Lo found! It's the cable thing-y that goes between the camera and the computer. Well done, T-Lo. I've attached a couple of random photos, two being blurry pics of the Cape Town city bowl at dawn and the one in the middle being a blurry pic of Seapoint at 6am on my way to work one morning. That's it for today.


... fighting mode ...

58 sleeps

Whoa.

[scratches head]

I can't believe it.

I jumped on the blog the other day quickly and noticed I had a new 'follower'. I didn't pay much attention, figuring it was another one of my CT friends with whom I have been chatting about the blog. Well, I just went to the 'followers' page and discovered that Big E - Big E - has joined as a follower.

This means the following:

1. Because Big E has no interest in things like 'blogs', 'facebook', 'IM chat' and other such 'nonsense', someone, presumably my father, told him about my blog.
2. Included in that factoid of knowledge was undoubtedly the fact that I had written masterpiece about Big E's Zimbabwean experience [ha!].
3. My father started laughing uncontrollably at the memory of his youngest son's little adventure into AFrica.
4. The logical progression would be a round-the-table belly laugh about The Time That T-Lo Got Pissed Off At Big E And Put Him On A Bus To Zimbabwe.
5. Knowing Big E, he would be sitting at the table, listening to the belly laughter and fuming (as we do).
6. Big E felt the need to share his side of the story.
7. Somehow, unbeknownst to me, he managed to:
7.1 get online
7.2 find the blog
7.3 sign himself up so he could comment; and
7.4 actually comment.

He is quite resourceful when he puts his mind to it. Naaahh... I put my money on the fact that he paid Shaw to sort it all out for him.

59 sleeps

... fighting mode......

Back soon.

62 sleeps

I have certain crippling fears. Rodents, crowds in open spaces and heights top the list. If I see a rodent I gag (dirty disease ridden little beasts!), if I am stuck in a crowd I freak out (too many people too close! stop touching me!), and when I am forced onto a bridge, I instinctively drop to the ground and leopard crawl back off. I think heights are the worst.

People say to me "Oh, it can't be that bad...I'm sure it's all in your mind." It is that bad and it is not just in my mind. Oh no it isn't! J took me climbing once up India Venster on Table Mountain, which is like the easiest route known to mankind. I got about a meter off the ground and froze. Then started shaking. That was it - climbing effort done. Never again. Earlier this year I decided to get over this fear by jumping off Gouritz Bridge with Sister SS. I got as far as the bridge. Leopard crawl in effect. Bridge jump effort failed. Never again.

So now, in a fit of logic and common sense, I have booked a sky-diving weekend with the fighter girls. People say its much easier to jump out of a plane then off a bridge because you are so high in the air that your perspective of the height is disjointed. We shall see. And Miss K has promised to kick my *ss out of the plane if I have a leopard crawl freak out. So either way, I will be jumping out of a plane soon. Yay!

63 sleeps

Slow night at the office, love? Oh, that made me laugh. Every time I look at it I giggle. Thanks to the DomTastic for forwarding it to me.

It's a beautiful, breathless, sunny stunning Sunday in Cape Town. I'm at work. Barely. I trained yesterday morning on Camps Bay beach with Miss K. What an awesome work out! My calves were ceasing about 20 minutes into training. We are going to do that more often. That, and run up Lion's Head with gas masks on.

TheGreek is finally back from Stellies. Yay! The return of the double deal pizza night! All is good in my world again :) I'm trying to think of something profound, intellectual, humorous to say but nothing is coming to mind. I think my brain is on vacation today. I'll be back tomorrow, with witty stories and fabulous photos.

Happy Sunday!

64 sleeps

This is a bit worrying.

65 sleeps

I'm really gearing up for my last fight in SA. I've been training in the morning (work issues at night). Little Mouse and Miss K from Canada (broken knee and all) have been holding pads for me - thanks, ladies!

In my experience, all fighters have their own peculiar little way of prepping themselves for fights. There's the standard work the fitness and work the technique thing, but we all have nuanced differences in the details. I love the pad work for fitness, the bag to get me moving properly and sparring and grappling to get focused. And I hate - HATE - skipping with an absolute passion. I would rather cycle my brains out for an hour, or do sprints up and down the length of the gym non-stop, than skip. The Little Mouse, on the other hand, skips for 45 minutes straight without cracking a sweat. It just looks so ... painful ... to me.

And then there's the diet! New fighters are always asking how to get their bodies properly fueled. Again, it's up to the individual. Little Mouse has pasta and black coffee to give her energy. If I had that, I would need a 3 hour power nap. Miss K likes her fish and salad. I'd be hungry after 12 minutes. I need red meat and green veg... a steak and a bunch of kale work perfectly for me. I think Miss K would rather eat dirt than eat that.

And... wow... last fight in SA. How did it all come to this? On so many levels? I'm going to miss my DP family when I go.

Oh - Miss K (who was born in the same town as me in Canada.. how weird!) sent me this today, which has had me rocking at my desk :)

67 sleeps part 2

Oh - the Airplane Party Pack, for those who have been asking (you know who you are ;) ) -

INGREDIENTS
1 X fun fur leopard print eye mask
1 X fun fur leopard print neck support thingy
1 X pair comfortable, yet bright and ideally bold-print, pyjamas
1 X minibar size bottle of poison of your choice (Jack, Johnny or similar)
1 X Allergex
1X Zolnoft or similar knock-you-dead sleeping pill
1 X 100 ml or less (thanks, Heathrow) tub of cream

DIRECTIONS
After you finish your meal (along with the mini bottle of wine), go to bathroom and put on pyjamas.
Return to seat.
Pop allergex and Zolnoft.
Consume Jack/Johnny while watching cartoons.
Rub face, hands, other exposed skin liberally with cream.
Put on leopard print get up.
Turn off cartoons and put on the classical music station at mid-decibel level.
Pass out.

For me, it's the only way to fly. I could sleep between nine screaming babies, four snoring men, massive turbulence (although I would be upset if I missed it) with my knees cramped around my waist and my neck on a 90 degree angle to the right on the Pack.

When I first started long-hauling it, I never could sleep. I think I watched that Michael Jordan Looney Tunes basketball movie nine times in a row on a Singapore - Cape Town leg once. Between the babies crying and the people snoring I couldn't sleep. Never again. When I flew Etihad from Abu Dhabi to Bangkok, I did the Pack (not for the first time). As the plane started to descend, I woke up on the shoulder of the man sitting next to me, drooling on myself and completely confused. While I was asleep, he ninja-dropped into first class and hosed me some green grapes. He said I looked like I could use some fresh fruit. How sweet :)

67 sleeps

I finally got the batter charger for my Cybershot and have been taking random photos all over the place... on the way to work, at the grocery store, while training in the park with Ms K from Canada. I'm pretty proud of myself.. I have always said to myself, since I lived in Tokyo, that I must take average everyday photos of my life generally so I have some sort of memory of it. Now I'm actually doing it! [high fives] *misses*

So, congrats to the T-Lo on sorting that little thing out. Then, I had this brilliant idea that I would upload photos on this blog of my every day life for my friends and family to see. So... cybershot? Check. Battery? Check. Battery charger? Check. Cool photos ready to be uploaded? Check. Cord thing-y that goes between camera and computer to allow for photo transfer? Fail. Now where did I put that thing?

I'll get there. I will.

69 sleeps

I fear change, yet I thrive on it.

71 sleeps

What self indulgent little tale can I tell today?

I've written about Big E and his Zimbabwe experience [ha!], and Big A and his Namibia experience, so I will share a tale about T-Lo's South Africa experience.

June 1997. Cape Town. I was standing at the Pick n Pay in Gardens with all the money in the world that I had. It fit into my right hand and consisted entirely of brown coins. I figured out I could afford two loaves of multigrain bread. I opted for the multigrain because of its superior nutritional value to the average white bread.

I knew I wanted to get back up to Namibia, and I had three months left on my air ticket (Singapore Airways, via Singapore, highly recommend them) before it expired. I just had to figure out how to stay. I called my Dad. After a brief synopsis of my situation (I didn't want to leave, I wanted to go to Namibia, I just had to get there), I asked if there was anything he could do to help me. He said that he would overnight me something to give me the help I needed. I was overjoyed. Excited. Relieved.

The package arrived. I ripped it open. Do you want to know what was in there? Do you?

The job ads for Toronto. With some career options carefully highlighted in yellow. That was it.

I fumed.

And I was more determined than ever that I would get my *ss to Namibia and work on the Orange, like I had wanted to but not really believed possible. So I packed my backpack, took my remaining loaf and a half of bread and managed to get a lift to the Orange with one of the directors of the company. I told him that I had done a trip as a client and wanted to become a river guide. He told me that the Orange wasn't really suitable for women, maybe I would enjoy catering on the Breede.

I fumed.

And I was more determined than ever that I would become a river guide on the Orange. So, I learnt how to swim properly (doggie paddling doesn't count, apparently), took a river guide course and started doing trips as a 'hantie' - basically, dogs body. I washed dishes on the river. I carried wood and rubbish and pots and pans in my boat. I ran into rocks. I went down rapids backwards. I got stuck in trees. But I kept at it. Pops (the director on the Orange who eventually became a second father to me, Big A and Big E) was amazed by my stubbornness (its a quality I get from my mom, but she calls it 'determination'). Eventually, I was selected to be one of the guides on the company's flagship trip on the Cunene. Yes! It was a two week trip through a game park, down the Cunene, on a cheetah farm....overall brilliant experience. Because I had no where to live in Cape Town, I had to take everything I owned with me on the trip. On the way up to Windhoek at about 4am, the small Venter trailer (carrying everything I owned minus the clothes I was wearing and my wallet) on the back of the fully loaded LandCruiser popped off. We didn't notice. I lost everything I owned. After the trip, I called my mom and cried to her that I had lost everything I owned. She told me that the universe was cleansing me and I should embrace having nothing.

I fumed.

But I was more determined than ever that this would not detract me from enjoying my Africa experience. My airline ticket expired. I didn't care. I was loving life, guiding on the Doring, the Orange and the Cunene. I was living outside, sleeping under the stars at the base camp. I had a sleeping bag donated to me by one of the guides. My entire wardrobe could fit into a 20 liter blue bucket. I did not own make up. I did not read magazines or newspapers. I did not watch tv. I worked for a pittance and had a place to sleep and food to eat. I only found out Princess Diana died (may she rest) four days after she did.

Alas, the time came that I had to go back to the Hammer. I left Namibia in January 1998, at a balmy 50 degrees celcius in the shade. I flew back to Hammer. When I landed, it was -38 degrees celcius with the wind chill. I stayed with my mom in her apartment.

The amazing thing was that because I had slept outside for nine months, I could not sleep inside. So, for the first month I was back, on a nightly basis, I would go out to the balcony, sweep off the snow, drag out my mattress, put about two down duvets and my African sleeping bags on the mattress, put on flannel pjs and sleep outside under the stars. And all of that - and I mean all, the T-Lo story, the Big E story and the Big A story - started with the classified ads.

73 sleeps

Today I am all about this and this. I would like to be all about this.

74 sleeps (for real)

Done. Booked. Insomnia sucks... I wish I had it during the day instead of at night. Am so tired, so very very tired. And busy at work, so very very busy. In light of tired/busy, I give you a photo of a chinese crested dog, because I think they're cute.

Back tomorrow. Happy day, peeps!

31 sleeps + 60 part 2

Bwahahahahahahahha!!

31 sleeps + 60

TheGreek is out of town for two weeks in Stellenbosch, attending a security management course and terrorizing innocent first year university girls. Boo! Hiss! Ahz miss mah Greek housemate. Two weeks! Who am I going to order my mid-week double deal pizza with? Who am I going to argue superpowers with? Or dream symbol interpretation? Or lang-aarm (uh... Afrikaans barn dancing, roughly) to AC DC at 2 am in the lounge?

In his honour, I give you a moment with my housemate, theGreek.

[A hot Saturday, mid-day]

T-Lo: I'm going to Woolies to grab some food. Do you want some?
theGreek: I don't know. What kind of food does Woolies have?
T-Lo: [after a moment's stunned hesitation] Um. I'm getting some fruit.
theGreek: What kind of fruit are you getting?
T-Lo: Melon.
theGreek: What kind of melon?
T-Lo: Watermelon.
theGreek: Like, a whole watermelon or some cut up watermelon?
T-Lo: Cut up.
theGreek: Cut up how?
T-Lo: Well, there is some choice. You can get a small tub of cubed watermelon. Or you can get a large tub of watermelon wedges. Or you can get the melon trio, which is a large tub of watermelon, wintermelon and sweet melon wedges. Or you can get a watermelon and mango fruit salad. Or you can get a small tub of mixed fruit salad that contains watermelon.
theGreek: What was the first choice again?
T-Lo: Small. Cubes.
theGreek: I'll take that. What else are you getting?
T-Lo: Probably a burger.
theGreek: Like a pre-packaged ready to eat burger?
T-Lo: Yes.
theGreek: What kind of burgers do they have?
T-Lo: I'm getting one with mushroom and cheese.
theGreek: Oh, that sounds nice. I'll have that.

Off I trawled to Woolies, sweating in the heat of the mid-day sun. I got back. I gave him his burger and his watermelon cubes. I opened my burger and my watermelon wedges. He eyeballed my watermelon wedges and asked: "Did you give me that option?"

I almost fell off my chair.

32 sleeps + 60

It's a lazy hazy Cape Argus Sunday. The Cape Argus is this mad bicycle race around the peninsula. There are tens of thousands of cyclists on the road, so I'm doing the sensible thing and laying low until its all over. The DomTastic was out watching the cyclists this morning and saw Matt Damon. She screamed her head off and he either smiled or grimaced at her, which made her day. TheGreek is sprawled on the couch beside me, moaning, groaning, napping, shaking. As he does. I'm off to the shops to pick up a battery charger for my CyberShot. I've lost the charger (I always lose the important things, like the charger for my i-pod) so must get a replacement. I want to start taking photos of my last days in Cape Town. If I don't force myself to start now, I never will.

Have a happy Sunday, wherever you are! :)

33 sleeps + 60

It's so hot today... i think Cape Town saw the 40 degree mark earlier this afternoon. TheGreek and I hit Camps Bay beach for a couple of hours just to stop our brains from melting in town. I am going to miss the beach lifestyle so much when I go. The Hammer does have it's own 'waterfront' effect, but for me an ocean is an ocean and Lake Ontario, though beautiful in its own right, is not an ocean. There is no feeling like sand between your feet, or the feel of the warm sun on your body as you read on the beach, or the ice cream headache you get from dipping a toe in the icy Atlantic water. But, as much as I like the beach, it's not enough to keep me here. I've been having an intense G-chat with the DomTastic about life, love, pursuing your dreams and the ever important HOW to pursue your dreams. I must take my own advice... suck it up and push through. I know the decision to go back is the right one, and as time passes and events unfold, it seems the universe is pushing me there, wants me there, anyway. I'm just finding it difficult to leave the life I have here. Again, I shall take my own advice - after I'm gone for 3 months, 6 months, 1 year, I will look back and know that I did the right thing.

35 sleeps + 60

I'm fighting again on 04 April - yay! yay! yay!

In preparation, I am picking up my pre-work runs with Mr Starke. If this morning is anything to go by, I've got quite a bit of work to do this next month. I picked him up at the usual time, blessing him with the musical genius that is ZZ Top, and we hit the Promenade. He was wearing his bling trainers again. Seriously, picture disco balls on your feet. Those are his trainers. He says that, at half off the ticket price, he can put up with the blinginess. (Fair enough - but can your run buddy?) Anyway, I hit my wall about 14 meters in. He set a brisk pace (well, anything beyond a crawl was a brisk pace for me this morning) and I managed to keep up most of the way. Then, with about 400 meters to go, he suddenly took off - sprinted - bounded - into the distance, like a cheetah chasing a dikdik, leaving me laying in a puddle of my own wheezing sweat and wounded pride. I must face it - Mr Starke now OWNS me on the morning runs.

But that's fine. As far as the fight goes, I've got a month to fine tune this body of mine into a machine of note. I'll just keep eating my spinach and practising my CrazyFace until I get it right.

36 sleeps + 60

A conundrum from the NotTheBlog of Mrs Starke:

You're trapped in a well with a goat and a slinky. Describe how you will escape.

37 sleeps + 60

My bros.

38 sleeps + 60 part 2

Some people are asking about the Sexy Surfer's life-altering-experience... you can find it here under Neck Story, in his own words.

Happy Sunday, peeps!

38 sleeps + 60

I'm sitting here at work reading the angryarab blog, looking at random NatGeo photographs and researching chinese horoscope compatibility. That's how I roll at work on a Sunday when nothing's going on.

I remember a conversation I had with my dad a couple of years ago. My dad called me one Sunday, randomly, politely, gently, to say hi. That's not really like my dad. Usually it's a rapid fire exchange of what's happening in our lives, followed by a quick discussion of current affairs and ending off with the latest books we've read. Not so this time. It went like this:

Daddy T-Lo: Hi there.
T-Lo: Hey how are things there?
D T-Lo: Things are fine. I'm calling to see how things are going with you.
T-Lo. Fine, the usual. Have you read Robert Fiske's -
D T-Lo: How's work?
T-Lo: Oh, we're pretty busy these days.
D T-Lo: That's good. That's good. How's the Masters?
T-Lo: Very good. I got a first for my Corporate Governance course.
D T-Lo: That's good. That's good. How's the kung fu?
T-Lo: It's muay thai, Dad. And it's great. I came second in the UM4 and we fought with no pads... it was great!
D T-Lo: What's muay thai?
T-Lo: It's thai boxing. It's like kickboxing, only you can use your elbows and knees. It's AWESOME!
D T-Lo: Oh. I see. That's ... [pause] I'm glad to hear you did well in your competition. Soo.... [pause] is there anyone special in your life?
T-Lo: What do you mean?
D T-Lo: Do you have a boyfriend?
T-Lo: Nope.
D T-Lo: Anyone on the horizon?
T-Lo: Nope.
D T-Lo: Any... uh... recent one night stands?
T-Lo: Dad! NO!
D T-Lo: [using a voice that I swear he picked up from Dr Phil] You know, if you have a girlfriend, you can tell me. You know we'll all love you no matter what.
T-Lo: DAD! I'm single! Not a lesbian!

Bloody hell.

But I think it goes to show how much my family worries about me when I'm over here. I never tell them at the time when something goes wrong, always after. Like, "Hahaha! Four months ago I got mugged! Hahahahh!" or "Hahahahha! I just got over pneumonia! Hahahah!" because I also don't want to them to worry unnecessarily. I think they've all come to accept that I'll always land on my feet somehow and manage to sort myself out and take care of myself.


I must admit, after nearly 13 years, I'm looking forward to getting on that big bad iron bird and singing "I'm coming home" in the manner of Ozzy Osborne, only without the headless dove, the previous heroin addiction and the pack of not-house-trained toy dogs.

39 sleeps + 60

I have this thing about me, I don't know what it is, that attracts animals. It seems that wherever I go, wherever I am, if there is a domestic animal in sight, it will want to hang out with me. I have been called the Cat Whisperer and the Pied Piper of Cats because of this.

You see those dogs in the photos? I have no idea who they are or who they belong to.

The first photo was taken in Paternoster, South Africa. Kiki and I were walking on the beach. In the distance, at the top of the hill, I noticed that dog looking at me. So I looked back and said "Hello cutie!". With that, it's head cocked and it bounded - leaped - down the hill and raced towards me on the beach. I was a bit shocked... will it bite me? Attack me? Jump on me? It opted to jump on me, while yelping and licking. Thankfully. I played with it for about 20 minutes. We ran to the water. We ran back. The whole time it jumped, licked and yelped. Kiki and I finally got in the car to return to our BnB. As we drove off it sat in the parking lot, head cocked, looking sad.

The second photo was taken in Vilanculos, Mozambique. I woke up one morning, staggered out of my little beach hut and found that dog sleeping outside my door. It stayed with me, right by my side, for my time there. I went walking on the beach, it went walking on the beach with me. I went to a shop to buy some food, it would wait outside for me. I went to sleep at night in my beach hut, it went to sleep at night outside the door of my beach hut.

How odd.