i arrived in thailand to be reminded of how much fun i had here last summer and how wonderful the city of bangkok is, even if its airport is fortified with military and police to prevent another shut down as they had a few years ago during similar city-wide protests.
i checked into my little hotel after travelling for 21 hours and promptly requested a foot massage because it just seemed like the right thing to do. and it turned out that it was as i fell right back to sleep after having slept soundly (and not drooling or leaning on the japanese man sitting next to me) on my flight from tokyo to bangkok.
i met the group that i will be training with at another hotel and we were ferried here, to pattaya, where we banded together to start a contest that whoever can identify the most sex tourists by the end of the week gets a prize. no one knows what the prize will be just yet, however, but i am taking suggestions.
and who says people who work in human rights have no fun?!
it seems that my recent experience in the private sector is of great interest to many of the people here who have never left the ngo/un/government world. and it cracks me up to think what they think industry should and should not do and the types of stereotypes they have about life in the business world. i have got to admit that i was likely touting the same opinions a few years ago, but i hope that i have a more level head now and am realistic about how the world really works.
for the most part, the other people i have met are not arrogant, not pompous, and not all woe-is-me while at the same time bragging about how hard they have roughed it. is this really a un sanctioned event?!
it seems that the week will be jammed with a lot of thinking, working, and group work (yippee!), but i will be very well fed and meet a lot of great people who will surely be great contacts to have.
all of this is not without the typical social anxiety that comes from meeting a whole group of people who are sizing every one up and down, but it just so happened that on the way here i sat with two lovely, young women who seem to have knowledge and experience of human trafficking and great attitudes and senses of humour to boot.
here's hoping my first day is a testament to the rest.
Showing posts with label sarcasm. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sarcasm. Show all posts
Sunday, May 02, 2010
Saturday, August 15, 2009
muffin top prevention
the indicator pants are back!
and they are not indicating as i wish they would. it is not really a problem because i had to purchase all new pants last year when i lost (too much) weight. and not on purpose.
but now (now!) i am not feeling too comfortable with the tautness of my denim and i am really adverse to the idea of buying new pants as soon as the autumn returns in full force (or when it dips down under 10 degrees in august!! which is totally normal.... seriously, canada).
i have picked up my running again and can safely and (relatively) comfortably head out for a 8km without concern, but this past week i felt a twinge in my knee. and anyone who runs knows that a twinge in the knee is the last thing you want to feel. and it has continued to get worse and after an examination by a certified medical professional, it seems that i need to strengthen the muscles around my joints and do a lot more stretching. having to stay away from the running has meant that i have taken my bike out and will need to diversify my fitness activities.
as i have always believed that september long weekend is the true new year, i am planning on starting (or revisiting, as it were) some other activities that will do well to keep me healthy and with any luck, prevent me from having to go out and buy new jeans...
i am prepared to find and start attending a yoga class in my new neighbourhood and have the number of a trainer that i will call with my inquiries about how it all works, including how much motivation costs. gyms have never really been my thing, but maybe i can still get those killer arms that i have always wanted with a little support from the professionals.
and they are not indicating as i wish they would. it is not really a problem because i had to purchase all new pants last year when i lost (too much) weight. and not on purpose.
but now (now!) i am not feeling too comfortable with the tautness of my denim and i am really adverse to the idea of buying new pants as soon as the autumn returns in full force (or when it dips down under 10 degrees in august!! which is totally normal.... seriously, canada).
i have picked up my running again and can safely and (relatively) comfortably head out for a 8km without concern, but this past week i felt a twinge in my knee. and anyone who runs knows that a twinge in the knee is the last thing you want to feel. and it has continued to get worse and after an examination by a certified medical professional, it seems that i need to strengthen the muscles around my joints and do a lot more stretching. having to stay away from the running has meant that i have taken my bike out and will need to diversify my fitness activities.
as i have always believed that september long weekend is the true new year, i am planning on starting (or revisiting, as it were) some other activities that will do well to keep me healthy and with any luck, prevent me from having to go out and buy new jeans...
i am prepared to find and start attending a yoga class in my new neighbourhood and have the number of a trainer that i will call with my inquiries about how it all works, including how much motivation costs. gyms have never really been my thing, but maybe i can still get those killer arms that i have always wanted with a little support from the professionals.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
how to write about africa
although i am quite possible guilty of a few of the methods of writing about africa Wainaina refers to, this made me smile. i love satire.
How to Write about Africa
by Binyavanga Wainaina
Always use the word ' Africa ' or 'Darkness' or 'Safari' in your title. Subtitles may include the words 'Zanzibar', 'Masai', 'Zulu', 'Zambezi', 'Congo', 'Nile', 'Big', 'Sky', 'Shadow', 'Drum', 'Sun' or 'Bygone'. Also useful are words such as 'Guerrillas', 'Timeless', 'Primordial' and 'Tribal'. Note that 'People' means Africans who are not black, while 'The People' means black Africans.
Never have a picture of a well-adjusted African on the cover of your book, or in it, unless that African has won the Nobel Prize. An AK-47, prominent ribs, naked breasts: use these. If you must include an African, make sure you get one in Masai or Zulu or Dogon dress.
In your text, treat Africa as if it were one country. It is hot and dusty with rolling grasslands and huge herds of animals and tall, thin people who are starving. Or it is hot and steamy with very short people who eat primates. Don't get bogged down with precise descriptions. Africa is big: fifty-four countries, 900 million people who are too busy starving and dying and warring and emigrating to read your book. The continent is full of deserts, jungles, highlands, savannahs and many other things, but your reader doesn't care about all that, so keep your descriptions romantic and evocative and unparticular.
Make sure you show how Africans have music and rhythm deep in their souls, and eat things no other humans eat. Do not mention rice and beef and wheat; monkey-brain is an African's cuisine of choice, along with goat, snake, worms and grubs and all manner of game meat. Make sure you show that you are able to eat such food without flinching, and describe how you learn to enjoy it—because you care.
Taboo subjects: ordinary domestic scenes, love between Africans (unless a death is involved), references to African writers or intellectuals, mention of school-going children who are not suffering from yaws or Ebola fever or female genital mutilation.
Throughout the book, adopt a sotto voice, in conspiracy with the reader, and a sad I-expected-so-much tone. Establish early on that your liberalism is impeccable, and mention near the beginning how much you love Africa , how you fell in love with the place and can't live without her. Africa is the only continent you can love—take advantage of this. If you are a man, thrust yourself into her warm virgin forests. If you are a woman, treat Africa as a man who wears a bush jacket and disappears off into the sunset. Africa is to be pitied, worshipped or dominated. Whichever angle you take, be sure to leave the strong impression that without your intervention and your important book, Africa is doomed.
Your African characters may include naked warriors, loyal servants, diviners and seers, ancient wise men living in hermitic splendour. Or corrupt politicians, inept polygamous travel-guides, and prostitutes you have slept with. The Loyal Servant always behaves like a seven-year-old and needs a firm hand; he is scared of snakes, good with children, and always involving you in his complex domestic dramas. The Ancient Wise Man always comes from a noble tribe (not the money-grubbing tribes like the Gikuyu, the Igbo or the Shona). He has rheumy eyes and is close to the Earth. The Modern African is a fat man who steals and works in the visa office, refusing to give work permits to qualified Westerners who really care about Africa. He is an enemy of development, always using his government job to make it difficult for pragmatic and good-hearted expats to set up NGOs or Legal Conservation Areas. Or he is an Oxford-educated intellectual turned serial-killing politician in a Savile Row suit. He is a cannibal who likes Cristal champagne, and his mother is a rich witch-doctor who really runs the country.
Among your characters you must always include The Starving African, who wanders the refugee camp nearly naked, and waits for the benevolence of the West. Her children have flies on their eyelids and pot bellies, and her breasts are flat and empty. She must look utterly helpless. She can have no past, no history; such diversions ruin the dramatic moment. Moans are good. She must never say anything about herself in the dialogue except to speak of her (unspeakable) suffering. Also be sure to include a warm and motherly woman who has a rolling laugh and who is concerned for your well-being. Just call her Mama. Her children are all delinquent. These characters should buzz around your main hero, making him look good. Your hero can teach them, bathe them, feed them; he carries lots of babies and has seen Death. Your hero is you (if reportage), or a beautiful, tragic international celebrity/aristocrat who now cares for animals (if fiction).
Bad Western characters may include children of Tory cabinet ministers, Afrikaners, employees of the World Bank. When talking about exploitation by foreigners mention the Chinese and Indian traders. Blame the West for Africa 's situation. But do not be too specific.
Broad brushstrokes throughout are good. Avoid having the African characters laugh, or struggle to educate their kids, or just make do in mundane circumstances. Have them illuminate something about Europe or America in Africa. African characters should be colourful, exotic, larger than life—but empty inside, with no dialogue, no conflicts or resolutions in their stories, no depth or quirks to confuse the cause.
Describe, in detail, naked breasts (young, old, conservative, recently raped, big, small) or mutilated genitals, or enhanced genitals. Or any kind of genitals. And dead bodies. Or, better, naked dead bodies. And especially rotting naked dead bodies. Remember, any work you submit in which people look filthy and miserable will be referred to as the 'real Africa ', and you want that on your dust jacket. Do not feel queasy about this: you are trying to help them to get aid from the West. The biggest taboo in writing about Africa is to describe or show dead or suffering white people.
Animals, on the other hand, must be treated as well rounded, complex characters. They speak (or grunt while tossing their manes proudly) and have names, ambitions and desires. They also have family values: see how lions teach their children? Elephants are caring, and are good feminists or dignified patriarchs. So are gorillas. Never, ever say anything negative about an elephant or a gorilla. Elephants may attack people's property, destroy their crops, and even kill them. Always take the side of the elephant. Big cats have public-school accents. Hyenas are fair game and have vaguely Middle Eastern accents. Any short Africans who live in the jungle or desert may be portrayed with good humour (unless they are in conflict with an elephant or chimpanzee or gorilla, in which case they are pure evil).
After celebrity activists and aid workers, conservationists are Africa 's most important people. Do not offend them. You need them to invite you to their 30,000-acre game ranch or 'conservation area', and this is the only way you will get to interview the celebrity activist. Often a book cover with a heroic-looking conservationist on it works magic for sales. Anybody white, tanned and wearing khaki who once had a pet antelope or a farm is a conservationist, one who is preserving Africa 's rich heritage. When interviewing him or her, do not ask how much funding they have; do not ask how much money they make off their game. Never ask how much they pay their employees.
Readers will be put off if you don't mention the light in Africa. And sunsets, the African sunset is a must. It is always big and red. There is always a big sky. Wide empty spaces and game are critical—Africa is the Land of Wide Empty Spaces. When writing about the plight of flora and fauna, make sure you mention that Africa is overpopulated. When your main character is in a desert or jungle living with indigenous peoples (anybody short) it is okay to mention that Africa has been severely depopulated by Aids and War (use caps).
You'll also need a nightclub called Tropicana, where mercenaries, evil nouveau riche Africans and prostitutes and guerrillas and expats hang out.
Always end your book with Nelson Mandela saying something about rainbows or renaissances. Because you care.
How to Write about Africa
by Binyavanga Wainaina
Always use the word ' Africa ' or 'Darkness' or 'Safari' in your title. Subtitles may include the words 'Zanzibar', 'Masai', 'Zulu', 'Zambezi', 'Congo', 'Nile', 'Big', 'Sky', 'Shadow', 'Drum', 'Sun' or 'Bygone'. Also useful are words such as 'Guerrillas', 'Timeless', 'Primordial' and 'Tribal'. Note that 'People' means Africans who are not black, while 'The People' means black Africans.
Never have a picture of a well-adjusted African on the cover of your book, or in it, unless that African has won the Nobel Prize. An AK-47, prominent ribs, naked breasts: use these. If you must include an African, make sure you get one in Masai or Zulu or Dogon dress.
In your text, treat Africa as if it were one country. It is hot and dusty with rolling grasslands and huge herds of animals and tall, thin people who are starving. Or it is hot and steamy with very short people who eat primates. Don't get bogged down with precise descriptions. Africa is big: fifty-four countries, 900 million people who are too busy starving and dying and warring and emigrating to read your book. The continent is full of deserts, jungles, highlands, savannahs and many other things, but your reader doesn't care about all that, so keep your descriptions romantic and evocative and unparticular.
Make sure you show how Africans have music and rhythm deep in their souls, and eat things no other humans eat. Do not mention rice and beef and wheat; monkey-brain is an African's cuisine of choice, along with goat, snake, worms and grubs and all manner of game meat. Make sure you show that you are able to eat such food without flinching, and describe how you learn to enjoy it—because you care.
Taboo subjects: ordinary domestic scenes, love between Africans (unless a death is involved), references to African writers or intellectuals, mention of school-going children who are not suffering from yaws or Ebola fever or female genital mutilation.
Throughout the book, adopt a sotto voice, in conspiracy with the reader, and a sad I-expected-so-much tone. Establish early on that your liberalism is impeccable, and mention near the beginning how much you love Africa , how you fell in love with the place and can't live without her. Africa is the only continent you can love—take advantage of this. If you are a man, thrust yourself into her warm virgin forests. If you are a woman, treat Africa as a man who wears a bush jacket and disappears off into the sunset. Africa is to be pitied, worshipped or dominated. Whichever angle you take, be sure to leave the strong impression that without your intervention and your important book, Africa is doomed.
Your African characters may include naked warriors, loyal servants, diviners and seers, ancient wise men living in hermitic splendour. Or corrupt politicians, inept polygamous travel-guides, and prostitutes you have slept with. The Loyal Servant always behaves like a seven-year-old and needs a firm hand; he is scared of snakes, good with children, and always involving you in his complex domestic dramas. The Ancient Wise Man always comes from a noble tribe (not the money-grubbing tribes like the Gikuyu, the Igbo or the Shona). He has rheumy eyes and is close to the Earth. The Modern African is a fat man who steals and works in the visa office, refusing to give work permits to qualified Westerners who really care about Africa. He is an enemy of development, always using his government job to make it difficult for pragmatic and good-hearted expats to set up NGOs or Legal Conservation Areas. Or he is an Oxford-educated intellectual turned serial-killing politician in a Savile Row suit. He is a cannibal who likes Cristal champagne, and his mother is a rich witch-doctor who really runs the country.
Among your characters you must always include The Starving African, who wanders the refugee camp nearly naked, and waits for the benevolence of the West. Her children have flies on their eyelids and pot bellies, and her breasts are flat and empty. She must look utterly helpless. She can have no past, no history; such diversions ruin the dramatic moment. Moans are good. She must never say anything about herself in the dialogue except to speak of her (unspeakable) suffering. Also be sure to include a warm and motherly woman who has a rolling laugh and who is concerned for your well-being. Just call her Mama. Her children are all delinquent. These characters should buzz around your main hero, making him look good. Your hero can teach them, bathe them, feed them; he carries lots of babies and has seen Death. Your hero is you (if reportage), or a beautiful, tragic international celebrity/aristocrat who now cares for animals (if fiction).
Bad Western characters may include children of Tory cabinet ministers, Afrikaners, employees of the World Bank. When talking about exploitation by foreigners mention the Chinese and Indian traders. Blame the West for Africa 's situation. But do not be too specific.
Broad brushstrokes throughout are good. Avoid having the African characters laugh, or struggle to educate their kids, or just make do in mundane circumstances. Have them illuminate something about Europe or America in Africa. African characters should be colourful, exotic, larger than life—but empty inside, with no dialogue, no conflicts or resolutions in their stories, no depth or quirks to confuse the cause.
Describe, in detail, naked breasts (young, old, conservative, recently raped, big, small) or mutilated genitals, or enhanced genitals. Or any kind of genitals. And dead bodies. Or, better, naked dead bodies. And especially rotting naked dead bodies. Remember, any work you submit in which people look filthy and miserable will be referred to as the 'real Africa ', and you want that on your dust jacket. Do not feel queasy about this: you are trying to help them to get aid from the West. The biggest taboo in writing about Africa is to describe or show dead or suffering white people.
Animals, on the other hand, must be treated as well rounded, complex characters. They speak (or grunt while tossing their manes proudly) and have names, ambitions and desires. They also have family values: see how lions teach their children? Elephants are caring, and are good feminists or dignified patriarchs. So are gorillas. Never, ever say anything negative about an elephant or a gorilla. Elephants may attack people's property, destroy their crops, and even kill them. Always take the side of the elephant. Big cats have public-school accents. Hyenas are fair game and have vaguely Middle Eastern accents. Any short Africans who live in the jungle or desert may be portrayed with good humour (unless they are in conflict with an elephant or chimpanzee or gorilla, in which case they are pure evil).
After celebrity activists and aid workers, conservationists are Africa 's most important people. Do not offend them. You need them to invite you to their 30,000-acre game ranch or 'conservation area', and this is the only way you will get to interview the celebrity activist. Often a book cover with a heroic-looking conservationist on it works magic for sales. Anybody white, tanned and wearing khaki who once had a pet antelope or a farm is a conservationist, one who is preserving Africa 's rich heritage. When interviewing him or her, do not ask how much funding they have; do not ask how much money they make off their game. Never ask how much they pay their employees.
Readers will be put off if you don't mention the light in Africa. And sunsets, the African sunset is a must. It is always big and red. There is always a big sky. Wide empty spaces and game are critical—Africa is the Land of Wide Empty Spaces. When writing about the plight of flora and fauna, make sure you mention that Africa is overpopulated. When your main character is in a desert or jungle living with indigenous peoples (anybody short) it is okay to mention that Africa has been severely depopulated by Aids and War (use caps).
You'll also need a nightclub called Tropicana, where mercenaries, evil nouveau riche Africans and prostitutes and guerrillas and expats hang out.
Always end your book with Nelson Mandela saying something about rainbows or renaissances. Because you care.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
now this is serious panic
enough of that serious stuff about foreign aid, cida critics, and preventing hiv transmission in africa.
and on to some much more dire news... the gap is reducing its price adjustment period from 14 to 7 days effective april 1st! this economic downturn is now starting to impede my shopping habit and that is no good, no good at all.
other bad news, i seem to have lost a pair of boots. i am sure they are somewhere in the disastrous mess that i am living in right now, but i really wanted to wear them today and they were no where to be found.
i am also a bit concerned about my swollen pointer finger on my right hand. it always feels like it has to crack and it usually does, but the stiffness and swollenness is alarming. has anyone heard of this before? does it mean i have arthritis and must have my finger amputated? or maybe just a little ice will help it? do i make an appointment with my doctor? with a chiropractor?
and on to some much more dire news... the gap is reducing its price adjustment period from 14 to 7 days effective april 1st! this economic downturn is now starting to impede my shopping habit and that is no good, no good at all.
other bad news, i seem to have lost a pair of boots. i am sure they are somewhere in the disastrous mess that i am living in right now, but i really wanted to wear them today and they were no where to be found.
i am also a bit concerned about my swollen pointer finger on my right hand. it always feels like it has to crack and it usually does, but the stiffness and swollenness is alarming. has anyone heard of this before? does it mean i have arthritis and must have my finger amputated? or maybe just a little ice will help it? do i make an appointment with my doctor? with a chiropractor?
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
a whole lot of nothing
that is what this election was, a whole lot of nothing. pretty much the same result (including rob anders and jason kenney, way to go calgary!) and it cost multiple millions of canadians' dollars. yippee.
though, working the election was quite interesting; i met a nice lady that i like to call mimi who was my poll clerk and we chatted about politics (even though i am sure you are not really supposed to) and religion and although we disagreed or saw things differently, i hope i opened her eyes a little so she can stop feeling sorry for muslim women.
it hurt my heart a little each time i had to read aloud 'harper' while we were counting the votes, but at least it is not a majority. and hello, ndp riding in alberta! go edmonton.
i must admit that the riding of calgary southwest is a lot more diverse than i ever gave it credit for and that made me happier. i was also proud when new canadians whipped out their crisp canadian citizenship cards (which the government should really make look prettier, like the maple cards) or when i had to explain the riding and party system to new voters. although the lowest voter turn out in canada's history is pretty much the most embarassing thing ever.
and, the whole system of going through people's identification reminded me handling the ugliest, dirtiest identity documents and financial statements when i worked at the salvation army one year. but it also reminded me of how fascinating i find it when you get a glimpse into people's lives through those same documents. call me nosy, i suppose.
now, back to focusing on the us presidential election, which promises to be a hell of a lot more interesting than ours.
though, working the election was quite interesting; i met a nice lady that i like to call mimi who was my poll clerk and we chatted about politics (even though i am sure you are not really supposed to) and religion and although we disagreed or saw things differently, i hope i opened her eyes a little so she can stop feeling sorry for muslim women.
it hurt my heart a little each time i had to read aloud 'harper' while we were counting the votes, but at least it is not a majority. and hello, ndp riding in alberta! go edmonton.
i must admit that the riding of calgary southwest is a lot more diverse than i ever gave it credit for and that made me happier. i was also proud when new canadians whipped out their crisp canadian citizenship cards (which the government should really make look prettier, like the maple cards) or when i had to explain the riding and party system to new voters. although the lowest voter turn out in canada's history is pretty much the most embarassing thing ever.
and, the whole system of going through people's identification reminded me handling the ugliest, dirtiest identity documents and financial statements when i worked at the salvation army one year. but it also reminded me of how fascinating i find it when you get a glimpse into people's lives through those same documents. call me nosy, i suppose.
now, back to focusing on the us presidential election, which promises to be a hell of a lot more interesting than ours.
Monday, May 05, 2008
memorable mpumalanga moments
(may 4, 2008)
did you know that some people in south africa go grocery shopping without shoes on? i did not. and i was so amazed i started checking out everyone’s feet that passed me in the produce section. (and the electronics store, as it so happened)
the south africans take their biltong seriously. and their sausage. and all of their meat products. now i remember why the last time i returned from the rainbow nation i had to take a meat vacation. this time, i need to take a chip vacation. although i have become a chip connoisseur that could handle any british chip shop, i need to take a step back from deep fried starches.
the part of south africa where i lived a few years ago is very different than a mpumalanga mining town. i am so happy that i got to tour around more of rsa. there are some phenomenal rock formations around those parts, which works for me because rock formations are sort of like my new hobby.
when you order red wine at a restaurant, pub, or hotel, they give you the biggest glass of tasty wine for a few dollars. it is great. and the would-be beginnings of a drinking condition.
however, the food situation is not so great. there are the ever-delicious chips, but little else besides meat and squished sandwiches that are not to my taste. i did fit in a few pieces of milk tart though.
alarms are everywhere and so is paranoia. but i sort of get it after almost being mugged in broad daylight in a shopping mall. sort of.
i remember the highway driving in the western cape to be nerve wracking, but i thought it was just that particular driver. no, south african highways are frightening places. and the government has wasted a lot of money on stop signs that are largely ignored.
afrikaans is still as beautiful as ever. and my sarcasm is still intact. but it still fascinates me even if i don’t care for the sound of it. i mean, who makes up their own language?!
i watched a lot of the discovery channel and saw the very first episode of Miami Ink, a lot of myths busted, and how things are made. i also drank a lot of tea. sweet, sweet tea. i think that time should always be made for the preparation and enjoyment of good tea. and not the milky kenyan stuff.
my favourite hotel in the world is in a town called graskop. an establishment where contemporary artists design each room differently and there are pieces of art in the restaurant, the stairwell, the bar, the bathrooms, and the lobby is my kind of hotel. i also loved the bartender named rodger whom we named my wooden chicken after. (the carved chicken was a sign of love purchased from the side of the road and is probably not nearly as freaking hilarious to anyone else but me.)
i now own 2 pairs of converse. i can’t bring myself to throw out my old ones though, even with their holes. i am pretty much ok with that.
i love vacation.
did you know that some people in south africa go grocery shopping without shoes on? i did not. and i was so amazed i started checking out everyone’s feet that passed me in the produce section. (and the electronics store, as it so happened)
the south africans take their biltong seriously. and their sausage. and all of their meat products. now i remember why the last time i returned from the rainbow nation i had to take a meat vacation. this time, i need to take a chip vacation. although i have become a chip connoisseur that could handle any british chip shop, i need to take a step back from deep fried starches.
the part of south africa where i lived a few years ago is very different than a mpumalanga mining town. i am so happy that i got to tour around more of rsa. there are some phenomenal rock formations around those parts, which works for me because rock formations are sort of like my new hobby.
when you order red wine at a restaurant, pub, or hotel, they give you the biggest glass of tasty wine for a few dollars. it is great. and the would-be beginnings of a drinking condition.
however, the food situation is not so great. there are the ever-delicious chips, but little else besides meat and squished sandwiches that are not to my taste. i did fit in a few pieces of milk tart though.
alarms are everywhere and so is paranoia. but i sort of get it after almost being mugged in broad daylight in a shopping mall. sort of.
i remember the highway driving in the western cape to be nerve wracking, but i thought it was just that particular driver. no, south african highways are frightening places. and the government has wasted a lot of money on stop signs that are largely ignored.
afrikaans is still as beautiful as ever. and my sarcasm is still intact. but it still fascinates me even if i don’t care for the sound of it. i mean, who makes up their own language?!
i watched a lot of the discovery channel and saw the very first episode of Miami Ink, a lot of myths busted, and how things are made. i also drank a lot of tea. sweet, sweet tea. i think that time should always be made for the preparation and enjoyment of good tea. and not the milky kenyan stuff.
my favourite hotel in the world is in a town called graskop. an establishment where contemporary artists design each room differently and there are pieces of art in the restaurant, the stairwell, the bar, the bathrooms, and the lobby is my kind of hotel. i also loved the bartender named rodger whom we named my wooden chicken after. (the carved chicken was a sign of love purchased from the side of the road and is probably not nearly as freaking hilarious to anyone else but me.)
i now own 2 pairs of converse. i can’t bring myself to throw out my old ones though, even with their holes. i am pretty much ok with that.
i love vacation.
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