This and that and a bit of Gin.

Last night I had black tea after dinner because I was out of peppermint and as a result I couldn’t sleep. I came up with a whole lot of new story ideas, but in daylight none of them are all that appealing. I seem to have fallen into a bit of a post Zambia slump with nothing all that appealing. Not even the prospect of Morocco, only three weeks away, can pull me out. In fact it just reminds me that I haven’t brushed up my French as I should have. All I want to do is sleep and eat chocolate or cake or chocolate cake (yes, there might be a bit of PMS – which is short for Prepare to Meet Satan according to Twitter - in the mix too), and shop. Which I can’t, because I just got permission

…a little exited drumroll here…

to book a ticket to go home for the holidays and am now officially broke!

Just to clear one thing up, my German friends, holidays means Christmas & Co. Holidays does not mean August. Here I put it on paper in black and white, because yesterday I think I upset my little cousin lots as she thought holidays equals August which would thus mean I’d be home for her wedding. Which, unfortunately I won’t be. The unfortunately is small because as you may know I will be in Morocco so as much as I hate missing her big day, I cannot be too upset due to my self-chosen exile in form of a camel and a desert camp.

Yes, I know, especially after putting it on paper like this, life is not bad at all. I just haven’t slept well lately thus I am permanently a bit grumpier than usual and also I haven’t been on a yoga mat for a week. Ups. I feel doubly bad for this as my friend Jess deemed me worthy for a yoga & wine interview. She asked me yoga questions, I gave her wine answers. Read it here, apparently I’m funny and wise though I have no idea how that happened.

On another very random note: I am officially a big fan now of Gin infused slush puppies (Adam’s wording not mine) at the Labia. Though too much might not be good for my temper as I almost hit a loud popcorn eater over the head with my cup. Then again how loud can you get to eat your popcorn and Claire told me afterwards that she also turned around and gave him a stern look. Unsuccessful due to movie theatre darkness which swallows all stern looks and eye rolls, lucky for the receiver.

I know, this all getting very incoherent and I do apologize for it. I think in addition to lack-of-sleep tiredness I am also slightly fatigued due to hunger now. Will go eat and write a proper story for you tomorrow…

Tree, rainbows, and one party bus.

I bought a travel blanket for Zambia and Morocco. Well, actually it is more a shawl or a throw and I just couldn’t resist and needed a reason to purchase thus called it a travel blanket. Two weeks after returning home the blanket still smells like a mix of fairy tales and adventures. Actually the smoke from the campfire is still sticking to it, but since I don’t do campfires in real life it just equals the smell of Zambia for me.

As you know through bits and glimpses now I went to Livingstone for a week to plant trees with Greenpop at the beginning of the month. The idea came up after I managed to survive the weekend at Platbos, realizing that maybe it was time to face two of my biggest ‘fears’: Camping and sharing close quarters with someone I don’t sleep with or who is not on my top ten friend list. I was fortunate enough to never have to share a room with a sibling and the only time I had to team up was for one year in the dorms. That went alright till my roommate decided to pick up a stranger in a bar one night and take him home. I was greeted by his sight in her bed the next morning from across the room. Awkward to say the least and I am still wondering till today if a stranger admired my uncovered butt at some point during the night. After that it was no more room sharing for me so the prospect of sharing a tiny tent, well, to call it even worse would be an understatement.
Though this time I didn’t even think about it too much, I just really, really wanted to go to Zambia and plant some trees. It helped to be overly well prepared, as I usually am, and to take a sleeping bag the size of a toddler (I am still surprised the airline didn’t charge me extra to take it…), but I can proudly report I was the only person not cold! Also a big thank you right here goes to Micah, my tentie for the week, who made it cool to share a tiny tent and who just overall rocks.

What can I tell you from my trip? I kind of don’t know where to start as there was just so much… stories experienced, stories told, newness which became daily life overnight, sunburned shoulders and a fat Labrador doing yoga, Nshima for lunch and the pleasure of a slice of orange on a hot day, lions touched and elephants ooohed and aaahed over… little things coming together in one big bubble like a dream when it happened and still like a dream now that it’s over.

Excuse this story for being a bit incoherent, but I find it hard to wrap such week with so much here and there, this happened and then that happened, into one neat package. I’d rather tell you how I remember it. The little bits. Like the one time when we took the bus to the Victoria Falls to see the lunar rainbow, which I didn’t even know existed. How lucky did we get that there was a full moon when we were there! Or that day when we came to a school that gets frequent visits from elephants passing by and we had to ‘hide’ the banana tree saplings from their view.
Then there was the afternoon we went to play soccer at the local club and all ended up dancing like crazy people, which sort of didn’t stop when on the bus back to camp. Then the bus broke down. But that was another night and it wasn’t the same old crappy, but beloved party bus, it was the fancy one. Go figure.

New friends were made immediately after I managed to get through immigration despite my expired dollar bills. More on the first bus ride to camp and then each day after that. Muscles popped up we didn’t know existed, greeted with joy the first time around and cursed when they started to ache.
Lots of talking. From early mornings till late at night, in the showers, overlooking the crocodiles, on the bus, off the bus, during breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Even I talked in the morning though not before 7am. Baby steps, people, baby steps. As you know I am more of a sit around the camp fire (yes, the campfire is a new addition to the routine), drink whiskey and then talk – in the evening/at night – kind of girl. There was plenty of that too. Which would explain the adventure smell on the blanket. There was also lots of dancing by the campfire. Also applauding for various reason or just because we could and hurrahing too.
Of course there were trees. Baby trees and grown-up trees, magic trees and thorny trees, leafy trees and painted trees, trees on the bus, trees on my lap, trees in the ground. Mr. Shorty and Mr. Tall tree and their neighbour the honourable Mr. Annika Bran tree. Tree stories were followed by tree songs and skits, often funny, always smart, and sometimes a tiny bit sad.
Then there were the people from Zambia we met. The kids who showed us naughty dances, the boy who declared “I’m the handsome one in the class” only to be met by roaring laughter from his classmates, and Philippa who went mulching with me and called me her daughter. There was uncle Benge who draws the best warthog ever and Kebby who has planted 9 million trees in his life. New friends who immediately became old ones. Stories, handshakes, and laughter shared while we all gave little trees a new home.

So now you see how it was impossible for me to try to put such a trip into a nutshell, right? I don’t need to tell you that it was probably one of the best weeks ever. Or how grateful I am to Greenpop for making it possible and being all around awesome. Or that if you laugh at the picture below, I shall never ever speak to you again. Right?

Do not judge! I was really hot and probably severely dehydrated and didn't know what was happening to me.

The handsome one. But which one?

Just another ordinary rainbow.

The capes are not a money making scheme. You will need one or other.

Baby banana tree.

Trees riding shotgun on the party bus.

Good yoga motto.

Dangerous lions to be found everywhere.

A giraffe to remember.

It wasn’t my idea, so don’t blame me! This post is for one special girl, who likes giraffes even more than me. In fact so much that she dressed up as a giraffe on carnival including painting her entire face and neck yellow with brown spots. I like that kind of enthusiasm, so this is a story for her.

I had told Charlotte from Greenpop before coming to Zambia that she needed to organize me a giraffe. They kept on posting pictures of hippos and owls, but no giraffes, and I told her no giraffe, no me. She finally sent me this and basically told me this was as good as it gets.

Not really all that good, but I appreciated her effort and decided to go and check it out for myself. I do think some people are more apt in giraffe spotting than others.

During the week we saw a herd of 20 elephants by the camp, the usual amount of baboons, hippos, crocs, and one scorpion, glowing in the dark, but alas no giraffe. I tided myself over with plenty of gummy giraffes for breakfast on the bus and got unreasonably excited when we got to one of the schools and found this in a classroom:

By the time the last day came along I had given up on the giraffe quest. Luckily my fellow booze cruiser Katie hadn’t and at some point we were all woken out of our G&T haze by her shouting: Giraffes! That is one clever girl with really good eyes because it took the rest of us minutes to spot them, meanwhile accusing Katie of hallucinating. She wasn’t. There they were: not one, not two, but a whole family including a little one.

I don't think we can be entirely faulted for doubting Katie - I think they are

damn hard to spot!

Unfortunately my camera was ill equipped to shoot them from the distance and instead of standing still and making it easier for me, the giraffes decided to do a little sprint along the beach. Mind you that wasn’t their fault, but some idiot’s chasing them with a car.

So if you, Mr. Giraffe Chaser, read this, just know that I think you are an ass and destroyed my probably one and only opportunity of taking a picture of a baby giraffe in the wild!

I should add that we were all still very excited by this. People, including me, were jumping up and down, and I think Kai, the biggest giraffe fan of all, even shed a tear. So thank you, Katie – I think you and your laser vision eyes deserve the title Supergirl!

The lion whisperer.

We have established my love for giraffes. I will write about giraffes in Zambia soon, because something very exciting happened there, but for now I am stuck with the lions. And so are you. I apologize in advanced, but I will be showing you a boring amount of lion pictures now. I tried to edit them after realizing I had about 100. I managed to delete… 5…maybe 7. I do wonder what would have happened if we had seen cubs. I think I would have had a thousand pictures to share now, so be grateful that our lions were old…about 17 months.
On our day off we had the opportunity to visit David Youldon’s ALERT in Livingstone. We had all met David on our speech night before and he is some sort of Crocodile Dundee for lions. It helped that he is handsome and usually doesn’t do many public appearances, so we all felt quite special and there was lots of giggle around the camp fire that night. He was telling us how his rehabilitation programme for lions works and also showed clips from his documentary Lion Country. Of course it was me gasping loudly (which made everyone else laugh) and almost crying when he proudly reported that one of his young protégées had killed a baby giraffe all by herself. One wouldn’t assume I’d be keen on the lions after hearing that story. Knowing that this is life, this is nature though, I still was keen enough, so on Saturday we went off to play with the lions.

Upon arrival we got a whole lot of safety instructions by the staff and I think some girls got a bit pale, realizing that we were about to engage with actual, alive lions. We also got handed a little stick with a strict reminder to never hit a lion with it. As if. That stick was tiny. We were just supposed to tap it on the ground and firmly say NO! if a lion came running towards us. Mh. I was hoping I could add a bit of German accent to my NO! and it would be enough to scare it away…
After a short walk in the bush we met two lioness sisters lounging for a photo op with us. They were both really good little posers and so were we. I may just add - if I was a lion, I would have been annoyed with us oohing and aahing girlies, but luckily they were sport and we left with awesome pictures, all limbs attached, and just a slightly raised heartbeat.
Next stop got even more exciting as another pair of lionesses had managed to kill … no, not a giraffe, but an entire buffalo thingy. Sorry for being vague with this description, but I really don’t know what exactly it was. It was black, it had horns, it may have just been a cow, but obviously buffalo sounds way more exciting. The lions in charge were hanging in the shade near their kill, looking like little kids who had played a bit too excessively with mother’s lipstick and the dead buffalo thingy was looking, well, dead.
So now you know how it all came about. Without further ado, here the actual reason for this post :
100 lion pictures.

Just kidding!

I mean... just look at this face!



Lazy lioness sisters lounging.

Get your damn paw out of my face, sis!

Lion love.

Me, the lion whisperer.

Tail to tickle nose.

Dead buffalo thingy and exhausted lioness chilling.

Who played with mommy's lipstick?

Taken from the German kids show Hallo Spencer and its little dragon Poldi: Ich will Dir fressen! (I want to you eat!)

The thinker.

 

Playtime.

Home, rainy home.

I’m back. Sorry for the silence, but the internet at the lodge in Livingstone was no good and I probably would have ended up throwing my Airbook in the swamp with impatient frustration if I tried to blog more. I simply gave up after the first day and rather enjoyed the time without electronics. Now that I am back you are in for a treat though. I will tell you about the lunar rainbow and the time I padded a lion, how we saw a herd of 20 elephants at our camp, danced with the local kids, and planted 800 trees in one day. Tomorrow though. Today I am indulging in feeling sorry for myself…vacation time is over, Cape Town is sinking, and I think my ex has a new girlfriend, which is just not good news ever on a Monday.
So till tomorrow I will leave you with some glimpses of THE best week ever:

Baby twin lemon trees.
Shot of the day - volleyball match at the Livingstone sports club.
Post match dancing with the boys.
The trees are sharing a ride with us on the party bus.
Appropriate 2nd breakfast snack - mango & passionfruit giraffe.
Fully grown magic tree Faiherbia Albida at Songe Village.
Nshima lunch leftovers.
Soraya chewing on her own tail.
"Tentie" Micah and me on the Zambezi booze cruise.
Bestest drink ever after a day of planting (or chilling in this case) - local Mosi beer.
Where the rainbow lives.
Baby cat at the Vic Falls and its toy - a salamander.

Travelism.

You will be glad to read I managed to get the monster of a sleeping bag washed, dried, and stuffed back into its too tiny case. The washing and drying due to my amazing laundromat though. I also managed to pack my dufflebag and stay within my baggage allowance. All that after I had managed to get myself a last minute stomach bug following a night out with friends and what I thought the next morning far too much Alphabetical. Luckily the pharmacist eased my conciousness and told me a virus was going around. That made me feel much better, because to get so violently sick by red wine would have just made me very sad and probably spoiled my reputation too.
24 hours later I still don't feel like wine or anything but pasta with salt and butter, but I can report  much better health and mood as I am sitting on a delayed and shaky plane to Jo'burg. Yay for me.

Jo'burg hates me. That is my first impression after landing. We are stuck in the parking garage at the airport and the exit queue is not moving. After 25 minutes we are told the booms won't move and we must turn and go to the second floor exit. I'm quite impressed with all cars in line turning at once and reversing without a single scratch and off we are to exit 2. A shorter wait there and then we are told to go to the fourth floor as there is no line further up. We oblige and make our way up only to find an even longer queue than downstairs to begin with. Ruth ignores me when I ask for the second time whether we have wine in the car. After another 20 minutes we are told by the very uninterested parking attendants that the booms don't open and we should go down to exit 1.  At this point I think Ruth and I both scream. So in fact Jo’burg doesn't hate me, but the airport parking loves me so much that it keeps me hostage for an hour before we are on hour way.
A quick pizza at a 24 hour pizza joint, the only place still serving food besides Mc Donald's by the time we are out, and then I am off to sleep like a stone.

The next day I discover to my surprise that except for the dryness, which gets to my skin immediately, I like this city: The sun is out, everything looks pretty, everybody seems friendly, and even the taxis are cleaner than back home.
We start the day at the Neighborgood Market with Eggs Benedict and bubbly (hurrah for a happy stomach!) and explore stalls and shops all around. I like what I see. Somehow everything is a bit cooler than in Cape Town and at the same time less pretentious. No hipsters in sight and no one cares that I have to take a picture of the best cappuccino I ever had in my life.
On my suggestion we spend the afternoon at the Apartheid Museum which we enter by separate entrances according to our tickets which say 'white' and 'non-white'. A simple, but effective way to remind us what it must have been like not so long ago. Ruth and I would have not entered buildings by the same entrance, not even to mention dining together, shopping together, sharing lives as we do now. The museum is beautifully done and laid out with a permanent exhibit that you follow from the beginnings of apartheid to the end as well as special room guiding through Mandela's life. Architecture comes together with art as a visually striking background for the historic story told throughout. Even pictures and exhibit pieces with shock value are set up almost beautifully and neutrally as to allow the visitor to make up their own mind about everything. We are told a story, but allowed to judge and think for ourselves.
After seeing the tiny isolation cells for political prisoners though things start to get to me. I calculate I would be able to do most part of the Bikram series in there, but still scary thoughts come to my mind and I am quite relieved when we move towards the end of the exhibit, showing happier things like video footage of the De Klerk's declaration of the end of apartheid.

After all the history lessons we feel that we deserve a treat and it comes in form of a sushi snack, wine, and a beautiful rooftop view. As you can tell by food choices my stomach is much better and it actually makes me a bit sad that I had cancelled fancy dinner at Cube, but as we later end the day with a pasta dinner, my little world is still all good.

Street art.
Old and new.
The bestest cappuccino.
Coke Tower.
Market breakfast.
Freedom column at the Apartheid Museum.
Neighborgood Market entrance.

10 tips for easy packing.

Ha! Got you there. There will be not one single tip for packing here, because I don't actually know how to pack as it turns out...
I’m sorry for the silence, guys, but I feel like a little low flying warrior these days. Which is not a bad thing per se, but if you know the posture, it’s actually quite tricky and requires lots of balance, focus, and strength. Thus no mind for writing. I am trying to prep and pack and sort everything for Zambia in time and as per usual I am feeling a bit out of my depth. Have I mentioned that ever since I was child I loved travelling, but when it came to the packing part I would freeze like a little scared bunny rabbit. Or so my Mum says…It has gotten much better over the years probably due to moving over oceans a few times, but it still gets me once in a while.
This time around I have to combine packing sensibly for a week of very mixed weather conditions, camping, and a big city weekend in Joburg (including 9-course dinner fanciness here). I also have a whole list of still-to-buy, still-to-maybe-buy, still-to-print, and overall still-to-dos. Problem being that all these are not actual lists yet, but just random thoughts in my head and a few post-its, which will be nowhere to be found when I need them. Argh.
On top of it I have a sleeping bag issue as the sleeping bag cannot completely fit into my washing machine. After stuffing it in there and washing it anyhow, it is now full of washing powder and needs to be washed again and this time properly. I am afraid if I wash it in the bath tub though it will never get dry on time in this horrid weather. Yup, I will admit the weather isn’t helping with anything. I was so happy to see the sun this morning for the first time in forever that I decided to wear a little dress (which will probably not be suitable to drag an oversized sleeping bag to the laundromat later…).

Of course not all is bad. In fact nothing is really bad, I am just a tad bit overwhelmed this week, but I am sure all will be well as soon as I am on the plane on Friday evening with a G&T in my hand (In case Kulula doesn’t serve G&Ts, please do not tell me now!). In the meanwhile I opted to ignore all my lists, written or other, yesterday and take the delectable (isn’t it a nice word?) Miss Olivia for her 13th birthday celebration to see The Avengers. Afterwards we went to El Burro for dinner and moustache fun, which was awesome. I don’t think I ever want to eat anywhere again if they don’t have moustaches to play with. They also brought us really yummy chocolate fondant with a candle to celebrate, but spared us the Spur-esque singing and embarrassing of the birthday girl. Thanks for both!

I shall be attempting the short dress + oversized sleeping bag + going to the laundromat scenario now and get back here once I am on the road. My little pink headlamp, the giraffe that I have yet to meet at our camp, and I shall be reporting live from Zambia soon.

P.S. Can some linguistically skilled person explain to me, why my spell check is adamant about spelling laundromat with a capital L??

A good grey day.

Over the last few days I have been slacking with following the dare because or thus I was in a grumpy mood. I know those are the days when I need it most, but alas, I have said it before, those are obviously the once that make it hardest to be a nice person.

Yesterday though was finally one the other days. One that made me feel all around content and which showed me it’s all in the details. Like starting the day with an awesome papaya smoothie. Yup, I can make smoothies now no blender or juicer necessary, just my little Zauberstab* and me. This makes me very happy. The gloomy and grey weather yesterday helped too (you know me, I get a little sick of all the sunshine once in a while here...).
Before work I finally managed to bring my favourite pants and parka to a tailor who will fix them in no time for Zambia. I know that’s such a tiny thing, but I have procrastinated finding one forever, so I came to the office yesterday with an already very sense of accomplishment.
At my desk I got a whole bunch of stuff done which was nice for a dragging winter’s Thursday. To top it all off I got an email from lovely Robyn at Greenpop with a list of activities we can do at the lodge in Zambia, you know, in case I fancy a little helicopter flight over the Falls before breakfast. Yay yay yay. One more week to go! They also shared pictures of the elephants and hippos on the camp site and an owl someone ended up sharing a room with, which I find very Harry Potter and awesome. Now I just have to find myself a giraffe friend there and it will be heaven.

After work I went shopping and got myself a book for the trip. I also caved and bought 50 Shades of Grey. Then I went home and started reading 50 Shades of Grey. And then I read a bit more. You can tell I am still a bit embarrassed by this and I was even more embarrassed when reading certain things. No, not these things. These things were flipping hot. There you have it in writing and I will probably not send today’s blog post to my Dad. It was the writing itself which is so embarrassing that at times it made me blush and get douche chills. The phrase oh my is used so frequently that even Dorothy couldn’t resist to take the author over the knee and give her a hiding and not in the good way she describes so nicely throughout the book. Anyhow, I don’t want to trash it too much, because it was still addicting enough for me to not go to yoga. Ups.

I dragged myself off to teaching though and it was the most fun filled, giggly, wonderful class followed by chicken curry, the best way to end a day ever. More of such beautiful grey days please!

*In case anyone puts this word into Google Translate and comes out with a slightly…dubious…translation – it is just a handheld blender.

Barbie on the go.

When I was a little girl all my clothes were pink. Of course, what else? Barbie was my best friend and Barbie liked it pink. One time I fell in love with a pair of red Nike sneakers with glittery Velcro strips. My Mum refused to buy them and stood the tantrum following this announcement bravely, because she knew I would never wear anything else than pink, glittery Velcro or not.
Much has changed in my wardrobe since. My friend Katrin once remarked that my wardrobe is pretty grey. Grey as in black, white, navy, and yes, grey. The last attempt I made of wearing something pink was a light rosé knit jersey wrap thingy from Nicolas Ghesquiere’s first collection ever for Balenciaga. I got it because I thought it would make me feel and look like a ballerina. It didn’t. I wore it twice. I still have it though, because I like to think that maybe one day it will turn me into the Swan Princess after all. And of course it is Balenciaga. Almost vintage Balenciaga by now. I couldn’t bear the argument with any future daughter of mine why I gave the Balenciaga to the maid and don’t I love her and how could I do that to her (that’s how I imagine my mother-daughter arguments…).
So that was it, no more pink for me. Till now. I went to Cape Union, my new favourite shop, and got my essentials for Zambia. My very pink essentials as it turns out:

Come now! Which girl can resist a pink headlamp and of course the water bottle has to match. So it seems you can take the Barbie out of the girl’s room, but you can never take her out of the girl’s heart…

I dare me!

Yesterday I decided I would take after Flourish in Progress and dare myself a bit. Dare myself to be a nice person for a week. Be one of those persons who usually annoy me. Why? Well, I thought in order to make my life better, I might have to make myself a better person first. I am not convinced it will work, but for some reason it popped into my head yesterday that I should at least try. Just for one week. I shall give a progress report.
Today did not start well. I was woken up by blaring sounds, which cannot be called music, from the downstairs parking lot, actually set up straight and yelled out loud: What the f*** do you think you are doing? Obviously I yelled the entire f-word.
Then I remembered my dare, but it was too late. Luckily a part of it is to also being nicer to myself, so I didn’t beat myself up over it.
The rest of the morning went by just fine. I don’t think my super was ever greeted this friendly in his life.
Facebook and Twitter are becoming a challenge though. A lot of stupid interesting people are saying a lot stupid interesting things and my urge to reciprocate is almost too great to bear it. Like this tweet:

Gotta love the #USVisa application: 'Do you seek to engage in espionage, sabotage or any other illegal activity while in the US?' Duh!

I know a lot of people think the Americans stupid. I happen to be not one of them. I don't have any problems with them, at least not any more than I have with citizens of the UK, Germany or the rest of the world. Someone may not agree with my sentiment and that is fine, but then please don’t travel there. So that is my first problem with this tweet. Secondly I believe that actually most countries these days, which require you to get a visa, ask these questions, silly or not.
This is what I wanted to say to this person, but in accordance with the dare I decided not to and just bitch about it here. Please don’t judge - for me that is a big step in the nicer direction.

To my delight I can tell that it is already working a bit too. I just got confirmed that I can teach a yoga class right by the Vic Falls, which seems like the über-location to do yoga and I am silly excited. In case you don’t know yet, yes, I am going to Zambia to plant trees with Greenpop in addition to Morocco vacation in August. Just putting this on (digital) paper makes me realize it is really working well already…

Trees in motion.

Yesterday I went on a date. Not horrible. I got red wine. And pizza. Yet nothing made me happier than this:

Silly smile every time I watch it (more times than I will admit). Now I am working on finding a way to go planting again in Zambia in July. Yes, I acknowledge the collective moan coming from all of you, scared of more tree stories...well, you may just have to learn to live with it.