Life as usual.
Cows roam on the beach soaking up the sun.
Roads become manageable then rains wash away the manageability.
Houses fall down, get rebuilt - eventually.
Tick.
Tock.
Life moves fantastically slowly here, much like our running pace.
As we chug up the first hill from the most glorious of places along the Wild Coast the fresh sea breeze blows up off the dramatic towering cliffs cascading into the ocean. Minding your step on the loose footing and dodging puddles of mud we make slow but steady progress up the steep hills and rocky stretches.
Invigorated by the simplicity of everything around us, quiet takes control, apart from the occasional gawk at the next viewpoint. Kids playing soccer, dancing or just quietly watching as you run by, form the only visible urgency.
TIA. This is Africa...
Shoes off and across the lagoon and onto the beach for a short stint, weaving through the cows sunning themselves on the beach (without a coherent reason to do so, except to watch the waves - perhaps commented to themselves on the killer right-break in a series of low hushed moo's)
Rewind <<
Back past the cows, up the hill, past the kids playing, through the mud, past friends arriving for a wedding in the very bay the next day (small world...), past the broken huts, wandering goats and heavy scent of dagga.
Back to our starting point and feeling the binge of the alcoholic beverages the night before slowly start to radiate outward.
Phew. Relaxed.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Fun Run - Kalulushi, Zambia
The roads are looking shaky even for a run. The copper belt is on fire again with commodity prices soaring. Infrastructure doesn't sing the same tune though as I get into my Zambian stride.
The streets are lined with people - saying "Hello" to each of them gets monotonous but the smile and wave back slightly addictive. The occasional privileged few on bikes whizz by as they flash a proud glance at their attained speed with a casual wave from the handlebars.
Cellphones blaring with all the popular genres of the Western world and LA gangster look-a-likes with phat flat hats (these kill me...) look on strangely as this sweaty "Muzungu" cruises by huffing and puffing...
Trees and overgrown dense bush on the side of the road hide the gems of the past, a tennis club, rugby club, bowls club - funnily enough heaving with players today - and as I reach the turn around point at Chibuluma Golf Course you begin to think what this pace must have been like.
TIA. This is Africa...
Dodging potholes, minding my ankles and breathing deeply on the uphill straight toward our guest lodge, the red dust and blue oil laced smoke kicked up by yet another Japanese car, as it overtakes, fills my lungs. A classic concoction that jogs (excuse the pun) other African memories.
My run ends with a high five from the guard at the gate, a welcome thrill as the shaky legs carry me through to the lodge settling down at dusk for a quiet GnT on the verandah.
The streets are lined with people - saying "Hello" to each of them gets monotonous but the smile and wave back slightly addictive. The occasional privileged few on bikes whizz by as they flash a proud glance at their attained speed with a casual wave from the handlebars.
Cellphones blaring with all the popular genres of the Western world and LA gangster look-a-likes with phat flat hats (these kill me...) look on strangely as this sweaty "Muzungu" cruises by huffing and puffing...
Trees and overgrown dense bush on the side of the road hide the gems of the past, a tennis club, rugby club, bowls club - funnily enough heaving with players today - and as I reach the turn around point at Chibuluma Golf Course you begin to think what this pace must have been like.
TIA. This is Africa...
Dodging potholes, minding my ankles and breathing deeply on the uphill straight toward our guest lodge, the red dust and blue oil laced smoke kicked up by yet another Japanese car, as it overtakes, fills my lungs. A classic concoction that jogs (excuse the pun) other African memories.
My run ends with a high five from the guard at the gate, a welcome thrill as the shaky legs carry me through to the lodge settling down at dusk for a quiet GnT on the verandah.
Fun Run - Namibia, Swakopmund
It's actually rather chilly...
With the background noise of heavy trucks breaking the silence of the cool breeze blowing off the Atlantic and with the city lights painting the contrast against the dunes surrounding the small town at sunset - I'm off...
Knee feeling better than expected and so are my lungs - filled with fresh sea smelling air - the kind of air you'd think salty sailors would miss and sneak a secret smile on smelling it after a long while. With sand blowing across the newly tarred surface and the golden sun setting over the ocean to the West thoughts of writing Africa off begin to fade.
TIA - This is Africa...
Lights fading fast and I pick up my pace - the buildings are brand new but mostly empty a modern day Kolmanskop.
Release the hounds!
Pace picked up again as two ankle snappers chase me for 500m - deep breaths ensue but mostly just irritating as their tenacity eventually subsides as their small legs fatigue.
Last stretch on a dark sand beach with waves rolling in and trying to dodge is tricky as my feet start to sink as the surge of the cold water rises and falls. With Swakopmund's lights blinking in the distance and memories and similarities of Dubai flooding in I arrive, now out of breath.
Oysters and a Windhoek are calling - bit of a reward for a long days travel.
Gutenacht...
With the background noise of heavy trucks breaking the silence of the cool breeze blowing off the Atlantic and with the city lights painting the contrast against the dunes surrounding the small town at sunset - I'm off...
Knee feeling better than expected and so are my lungs - filled with fresh sea smelling air - the kind of air you'd think salty sailors would miss and sneak a secret smile on smelling it after a long while. With sand blowing across the newly tarred surface and the golden sun setting over the ocean to the West thoughts of writing Africa off begin to fade.
TIA - This is Africa...
Lights fading fast and I pick up my pace - the buildings are brand new but mostly empty a modern day Kolmanskop.
Release the hounds!
Pace picked up again as two ankle snappers chase me for 500m - deep breaths ensue but mostly just irritating as their tenacity eventually subsides as their small legs fatigue.
Last stretch on a dark sand beach with waves rolling in and trying to dodge is tricky as my feet start to sink as the surge of the cold water rises and falls. With Swakopmund's lights blinking in the distance and memories and similarities of Dubai flooding in I arrive, now out of breath.
Oysters and a Windhoek are calling - bit of a reward for a long days travel.
Gutenacht...
Monday, March 28, 2011
Jozi Jol at The Jol
It was like every other Saturday - well not really with a 50 litre keg in the boot and the rattling bottles of cane, vodka, champagne and tequila as they crashed as I hit the speed bumps unexpectedly expectedly hard causing a see saw motion and the wine from the night before to remind me of the good laughs...
Like always thriving under the pressure and fear of a flopped party a week's worth of work was completed in miraculous time and with one minute to spare the sweet taste of ice cold draught beer was flowing and getting cheers'd in vintage fashion with all too much foam as we tried our best to pour the beers non-chalantly as if to show the imaginary barman we mean business (but couldn't)...
With the nervous tension rising as the clock ticked past 3pm with no one in attendance we hoped we werent part of an elaborate ploy to embarrass us - something we would find funny on the other side of the fence - indeed the funnier side for a grand prank of this nature...
People started to arrive - phew - and the stage was set after painted hands adorned the canvas we created especially to celebrate the jol in years to come. Pressed hands and other appendages during the course of the evening made for some interesting viewing and prints...
After a glorius boerie roll that was the saviour of many - beer, punch, champagne, beer, wine and shooters did flow - in copius amounts rendering the gathered crowd relaxed and then somewhat deranged.
To round up the deranged highlights (for no reason whatsoever):
> 10 second upside down dunks in the ice baths
> Walking upside down on the ceiling to Lionel Richie's classic
> Zipping individuals in our couch pillow cases
> Using the pillow stuffing to manufacture a Santa like beard
> Vintage pushing in the pool - no party would be complete without it
> Strip Jenga for the more risqué of the bunch
> Rocking out to an iPod on an ill equipped sound system to handle Jozi's newest dfloor
It appeared that this is what the JHB crowd had been craving - a good old fashioned shindig in the comfort of a home - away from overpriced cocktails, emotional blackmail from car guards, entrance fees to clubs, the drive and the taxi back in the morning to your car (poorly re-parked after realizing you were in no state to drive but too lazy to correct...) and the dispersed nature of the various friendship groups that makes JHB the melting pot of fun that it is.
The jol encapsulated and geared only towards having fun was a great success and arguably enjoyed by all with only a few left holding drinks without a hand of the opposite sex in the other.
Fun fun fun...
Fun at what price you ask...?
The minimal cost of a carpet clean and plenty of broken glass (but no glasses missing - still a mystery)
Wow... This feels like years ago now...
Like always thriving under the pressure and fear of a flopped party a week's worth of work was completed in miraculous time and with one minute to spare the sweet taste of ice cold draught beer was flowing and getting cheers'd in vintage fashion with all too much foam as we tried our best to pour the beers non-chalantly as if to show the imaginary barman we mean business (but couldn't)...
With the nervous tension rising as the clock ticked past 3pm with no one in attendance we hoped we werent part of an elaborate ploy to embarrass us - something we would find funny on the other side of the fence - indeed the funnier side for a grand prank of this nature...
People started to arrive - phew - and the stage was set after painted hands adorned the canvas we created especially to celebrate the jol in years to come. Pressed hands and other appendages during the course of the evening made for some interesting viewing and prints...
After a glorius boerie roll that was the saviour of many - beer, punch, champagne, beer, wine and shooters did flow - in copius amounts rendering the gathered crowd relaxed and then somewhat deranged.
To round up the deranged highlights (for no reason whatsoever):
> 10 second upside down dunks in the ice baths
> Walking upside down on the ceiling to Lionel Richie's classic
> Zipping individuals in our couch pillow cases
> Using the pillow stuffing to manufacture a Santa like beard
> Vintage pushing in the pool - no party would be complete without it
> Strip Jenga for the more risqué of the bunch
> Rocking out to an iPod on an ill equipped sound system to handle Jozi's newest dfloor
It appeared that this is what the JHB crowd had been craving - a good old fashioned shindig in the comfort of a home - away from overpriced cocktails, emotional blackmail from car guards, entrance fees to clubs, the drive and the taxi back in the morning to your car (poorly re-parked after realizing you were in no state to drive but too lazy to correct...) and the dispersed nature of the various friendship groups that makes JHB the melting pot of fun that it is.
The jol encapsulated and geared only towards having fun was a great success and arguably enjoyed by all with only a few left holding drinks without a hand of the opposite sex in the other.
Fun fun fun...
Fun at what price you ask...?
The minimal cost of a carpet clean and plenty of broken glass (but no glasses missing - still a mystery)
Wow... This feels like years ago now...
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
ITEOTWAWKI
Acronyms...
In case you don't know what the title means - its the end of the world as we know it
LOL...
Yuggggh...
The other day i received an email from my not-so-much-younger cousin - it was barely legible with acronyms i could barely understand!
ROTFLMAO... Is one of these ridiculous phrases which encapsulates the jumble of words reminiscent of a dyslexic player's puzzled view of a scrabble tray...
LOL...
Yugggh...
My heart goes out to the poor teachers whose students have been infected by the recent cellphone boom where the most infectious diseases such as MxIt,(apparently I'm too old for this...) SMS (it could be a disease... Short Message Syndrome...) and now the older of the crew BBM or What's App vibe have manifested themselves much like the way the disease was spread by the cute little monkey from the movie "Outbreak"...
Imagine marking the essays of Primary School children - words like, nite, luv, wat, LOL (yugggh)Needless to say the essays must be littered with sp. and red pen...
Tough times - at least emoticons have taken the fall for us on BBM and What's App which allows us to take each other a little bit more seriously but we're all 'emoticoning' (stupid word...) in denial.
Perhaps it's the English language evolving... Words like 'bootilicious' and 'stoep' are now in the dictionary or at least wikileaks which i guess makes them ratified somewhat by ye olde Oxford English Dictionary...
Where will it stop? (WWIS)
Maybe we'll move to a Morse Code style language...
That would be quite fun... (TWBQF)
Wouldn't it...?
In case you don't know what the title means - its the end of the world as we know it
LOL...
Yuggggh...
The other day i received an email from my not-so-much-younger cousin - it was barely legible with acronyms i could barely understand!
ROTFLMAO... Is one of these ridiculous phrases which encapsulates the jumble of words reminiscent of a dyslexic player's puzzled view of a scrabble tray...
LOL...
Yugggh...
My heart goes out to the poor teachers whose students have been infected by the recent cellphone boom where the most infectious diseases such as MxIt,(apparently I'm too old for this...) SMS (it could be a disease... Short Message Syndrome...) and now the older of the crew BBM or What's App vibe have manifested themselves much like the way the disease was spread by the cute little monkey from the movie "Outbreak"...
Imagine marking the essays of Primary School children - words like, nite, luv, wat, LOL (yugggh)Needless to say the essays must be littered with sp. and red pen...
Tough times - at least emoticons have taken the fall for us on BBM and What's App which allows us to take each other a little bit more seriously but we're all 'emoticoning' (stupid word...) in denial.
Perhaps it's the English language evolving... Words like 'bootilicious' and 'stoep' are now in the dictionary or at least wikileaks which i guess makes them ratified somewhat by ye olde Oxford English Dictionary...
Where will it stop? (WWIS)
Maybe we'll move to a Morse Code style language...
That would be quite fun... (TWBQF)
Wouldn't it...?
Monday, January 24, 2011
Glances and Chances
How often do you turn your head, make eye contact and glance at the person as you overtake them?
This has got to be one of the most succinct moments of our modern lives… Perhaps we were never ‘wired’ to move this fast and this is one of those engrained instincts that has stuck with us to seek out, adjudicate and act (or not act…) or as we have now termed it JUDGE.
That moment where in an instant, you either regret looking or are surprisingly pleased to have glanced casually – always casually – and made eye contact.
It’s that fraction of a second – that miniscule moment – that I find so funny…
There are endless scenarios that run through my mind – traffic in Joburg lets you have time to think and experience some of these things…
Whether its overtaking a sluggish silver Toyota Corolla on Rivonia only to pass a glance – WOW she’s a cracker – feeling yourself subconsciously slowing down to have a second look?
Seeing the attractive person in the review mirror as you wait … Red … Amber … Green...
Do make eye contact again…? Give them a wave, a dorky smile – a smile that will never go anywhere?
RATS s/he pulled off – realising as you start to work out the number of cars on the roads in Gauteng and the likely probability of EVER seeing her again becoming as minuscule as the timeframe you interacted with them… (sigh)
OR
The biker that squeezes by your car while you are set on the tarmac, almost bumping your side mirror, only to give you a glance and the reflective visor to quite scarily force you to look back and zap him in your mind as you watch him – irritated – disappearing into the distance – take the turn off into the McDonalds Drive-Thru grab a Number 2 – I like to think so – and be off before you have made one car’s progress…
OR
The grotesque individual – male or female – not smiling, eyes hazy, wrappers and cans in the backseat that literally forces you to pretend to be looking at their car and slowly start to remove focus from the spot you are pretending to look at just below the handle of the door…
Green …
Thank goodness…
On a funnier more abstract note does this provide the platform for the next form of modern dating – we’ve heard of online dating – is traffic dating or “trafficking” – wait that’s something else… the next BIG thing? The chance to make contact and tell someone to stop putting on their make up or picking their nose, someone you feel you could connect with – perhaps star sign compatibilities displayed…
I can already see the red dotted LED screen mounted on the windscreen scrolling… (Courtesy: Notting Hill)
“You are the most beautiful women in the world …”
“Fancy a Shag? J” (apparently anything ended off in a smiley face these days means "said comment" cannot be offensive – FYI…)
No… that’s creepy I hear the beat of your binary thoughts toward me over the Internet…
But we’ve all done it… Well not Traffic-Dated – but judged…
I wonder if there are any success stories…? Pieces of paper with a cellphone number scribbled in Lipstick?
Hand-signing your mobile number to the hottie next to you – while hoping the tattooed tow-truck driver isn’t writing down your number at the same time…
“Where did you meet…?”
“In traffic on Marlboro just before you hit the N3” (not romantic but hey…)
We all judge – the immediate judging of the driver of a flash sports car, the skedonk Datsun, the stinger missile in the Hyundai ix35, MILF in the Toyota Prado, relaxed cat on his Vespa with a loaf of French bread and an Olive Tapenade dip in his carry basket as he scoots by on 4th Avenue as you anxiously prepare to parallel park in front of Espressos as the crowd watches… and judges.
So judging has become part of modern society – practiced – accepted – maybe there’s some fun to be had here?
So … next time you steal a glance take the chance – wave, wink or smile – I always do – you never know, it just may be worth your while…
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Betamorphosis - Lycra likes this...
Protected from the harsh sun in our expertly constructed full body suits - manufactured and imported no doubt from a factory in mainland China where working conditions are less than ideal - the weekend unfolded with the chants and jeers as 6 brave men sucked it up (quite literally in most photos) and paraded outfits that left little to the imagination of most onlookers... Some girls (most at the guy wearing the camo suits) looked impressed - or at least that's what I could make out from the blurred vision you experience as I looked through a 1000 thread count polyester blend of ridiculousness.
This brings me to the Fun side...
Imagine everyone was clad in Lycra as the default option of dress...
Imagine waking up, groggy from a big day at the cricket (picture all your photos on Facebook - everyone in different coloured morph suits), getting a glass of water at the tap - your fountain of refreshment - and realising you are late for a meeting and have to decide what colour morph suit you had to wear. Imagine them all hanging there, arms and fingers dangling lifeless like the second skins of silliness you currently associate these with...
Hilarious...
You arrive at the meeting after seeing an array of morhps (not a homophobe...) on your way to work in their cars head nodding to the music, mouths (where they use to be...) gaping as the radio song hit the crescendo of "I would do anything for love - but I won't do that..." as the Old School section on 5FM plays as the soundtrack to your morning life and drive.
I wonder if all of life's sub-cultures would subscribe - goths in black, hippies in tattered flower power shades of grey, car guards with a luminescent yellow reflective item on the chest and the rasta at the robot in candy-striped green, yellow and red...
I can see people or at least only one person on the Gautrain bus listening to his / her iPod with big earphones - inserty ones just wouldn't cut it anymore... Apparently the loss of revenue hit the earphone factory - actually the one next to the factory where the morph suits are made - very hard and they had to close down as a result.
Silly. Well not if you were employed there I guess...
Scoping the lady or man of your dreams would be quite nice - no room to hide those delicate bits and the flaunting of flesh would be rather revealing. I wonder if shop assistants would prescribe vertical line designs to make you appear slimmer and taller despite being obviously overweight and short in your suit.
Would we be healthier? Mind you we would probably all be thinner providing our face masks were permanently zipped up - massive mission to drink and eat out of and if you knew what a hack going to the bathroom was, probably well worth holding back the 6 cups of coffee and a Bar One at work...
MMMmmm Bar One...
Imagine the conversation - "Guys lets dress up for the cricket..."
Would the outcasts and attention seekers created by Universities and 21sts during our irresponsible youth dress up by ... dressing up in a suit like bankers / accountants ... 9to5ers in chinos, white shirt, brown belt and brown shoes (all from Woolworths naturally...)
Ridiculous and rather boring don't you think...
Quite happy we don't all wear morph suits 24.7 - especially a couple people I saw at the cricket on Saturday on there fourth boerie roll and 10 beer - mind you I had two and the same respectively...
Whoopsy daisies...
So next time you see me - or whoever in a morph suit - perhaps rather think of the corollary to silly dress up themes (particularly the morph suit mania we are seeing) and that we may just be dressing up to remind everyone that the uniform, faceless, grossly revealing aspects of what our hips are telling you, is the scientific process of making the world a beta place and that this - betamorhosis - is only a vehicle for laughter, fun and silliness...
This brings me to the Fun side...
Imagine everyone was clad in Lycra as the default option of dress...
Imagine waking up, groggy from a big day at the cricket (picture all your photos on Facebook - everyone in different coloured morph suits), getting a glass of water at the tap - your fountain of refreshment - and realising you are late for a meeting and have to decide what colour morph suit you had to wear. Imagine them all hanging there, arms and fingers dangling lifeless like the second skins of silliness you currently associate these with...
Hilarious...
You arrive at the meeting after seeing an array of morhps (not a homophobe...) on your way to work in their cars head nodding to the music, mouths (where they use to be...) gaping as the radio song hit the crescendo of "I would do anything for love - but I won't do that..." as the Old School section on 5FM plays as the soundtrack to your morning life and drive.
I wonder if all of life's sub-cultures would subscribe - goths in black, hippies in tattered flower power shades of grey, car guards with a luminescent yellow reflective item on the chest and the rasta at the robot in candy-striped green, yellow and red...
I can see people or at least only one person on the Gautrain bus listening to his / her iPod with big earphones - inserty ones just wouldn't cut it anymore... Apparently the loss of revenue hit the earphone factory - actually the one next to the factory where the morph suits are made - very hard and they had to close down as a result.
Silly. Well not if you were employed there I guess...
Scoping the lady or man of your dreams would be quite nice - no room to hide those delicate bits and the flaunting of flesh would be rather revealing. I wonder if shop assistants would prescribe vertical line designs to make you appear slimmer and taller despite being obviously overweight and short in your suit.
Would we be healthier? Mind you we would probably all be thinner providing our face masks were permanently zipped up - massive mission to drink and eat out of and if you knew what a hack going to the bathroom was, probably well worth holding back the 6 cups of coffee and a Bar One at work...
MMMmmm Bar One...
Imagine the conversation - "Guys lets dress up for the cricket..."
Would the outcasts and attention seekers created by Universities and 21sts during our irresponsible youth dress up by ... dressing up in a suit like bankers / accountants ... 9to5ers in chinos, white shirt, brown belt and brown shoes (all from Woolworths naturally...)
Ridiculous and rather boring don't you think...
Quite happy we don't all wear morph suits 24.7 - especially a couple people I saw at the cricket on Saturday on there fourth boerie roll and 10 beer - mind you I had two and the same respectively...
Whoopsy daisies...
So next time you see me - or whoever in a morph suit - perhaps rather think of the corollary to silly dress up themes (particularly the morph suit mania we are seeing) and that we may just be dressing up to remind everyone that the uniform, faceless, grossly revealing aspects of what our hips are telling you, is the scientific process of making the world a beta place and that this - betamorhosis - is only a vehicle for laughter, fun and silliness...
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