Happiness [and why you should laugh at those more miserabler]

I always smile a little bit more when I see miserable people – they always remind me how ridiculous it is to not be happy.

I took a walk to the shops the other day and, seeing as there was still daylight, I took the short cut through the park (at night it converts into makeshift homeless housing and I don’t like to disturb meal times because I know they don’t get much protein in their diets). I stopped to watch the tiniest human running through clusters of pigeons. The birds would fluster a couple of feet up in the air making her vanish in a cloud of feathers and then settle down in circles around her again so that she  could do it again. And again. And again. Her laughter filled even the furtherest corners of the park.

The little walk got me thinking about my happiest moments [enter cloudy fade back walk down memory lane]…

At age 2, my first ever memory, was sitting in the nurse’s office at the Joburg Gen hospital waiting for my dad to finish surgery. The nurses all knew me well because I apparently used to cry if dad didn’t take me in to work with him. It’s a very bizarre memory because all I remember is kicking my legs back and forth and humming quietly and a smiley nurse handing me a lemon cream. I was the happiest kid south of the equator that day.

A few years later, at 8ish I think, after months of picking up rusty coins on sidewalks and saving tuck shop money and money that was probably meant to have been put in the offering basket at church, I remember calculating that I finally had enough money saved to go to Gold Reef City – South Africa’s best theme park (actually at that time I was pretty sure that I thought it to be the world’s best theme park).  My mother walked into my bedroom and told me she’d found the puppy she had promised me for my last birthday and that on the weekend we could go to the theme park with my two besties and collect my collie (who was to later to be known as Frisbee). I spent the better part of an hour jumping up and down in excitement. I didn’t have a care in the world.

So in all truth, I think this might have been a picture of Lassie, my brother's dog... but picture a much cuter version of this guy!

…And then there was finally breaking free of high school… getting my driver’s license and first car… the first [and only] time I got 100% for a major varsity exam [without studying or caring that I hadn’t]… there was the first full year I made it through without needing crutches…the first kiss…

The joy of almost beating a monk at am wrestling

The joys of time spent with good friends

The joys of hitch hiking

There were all the joys that came with the gypsy life... And there was the inexplicable joy that came when, back in 2010, I accidently found myself sitting on a plane home after years of being away. And even more joy came as I touched down in Joburg and found my unsuspecting mother proudly waving around a sign that read “Marijuana” expecting my Romanian friend instead of myself.  We both cried and laughed at the same time while airport security kept a vigilant watch from nearby.

You wouldn't thin a mall airport sign could bring you to tears...

Reunioning with mum...

Last year in Vietnam I found myself alone, in the middle of nowhere in the pouring rain. Visibility was so bad that I couldn’t see anything and I’d almost had head on collisions with cars 3 times as I rode my trusty scooter down what would have been a picturesque mountain pass had the weather obliged. I stopped to have a quick break from uber concentration the road demanded and then my bike wouldn’t start. I shed a couple of tears – but the misery didn’t last very long because it suddenly dawned on me that I was in one of the most beautiful places in the world in a culture I knew nothing about with only a giant wet teddy bear for company and I burst out laughing because that is exactly where I wanted to be – that sort of adventure was more than most people even dream of.

The road out of Delat, Vietnam

Similarly, after abandoning our self-constructed raft in Malaysia, after watching our hard work and many earthly belongings finding new homes in the depth of the ocean, as we swam for hours to try and reach the nearest shore – singing and laughing to distract ourselves from the harsh reality that our lives were actually in very real danger – Happiness hit me like a heard of frigid elephants: how many people get shipwrecked? How many people ever get to swim for their lives? And I was in good company too – if I was going to die (and I really really really didn’t want to), I couldn’t imagine a better way to go about it.

While I cycled the 20+ km uphill to work on Saturday I first got pinged by a horse carriage and then hit by a boat and again I burst out laughing. The ridiculousness of having to work weekends for the foreseeable future – of cycling ridiculous distances to a ridiculous job – and being clipped by ridiculous vehicles that shouldn’t be on the road in the first place made me look at life afresh again. There really is no point in being unhappy – ever! – There is ALWAYS something to smile about!   

There’s no formula for happiness – it’s simply making the most of where you are while you’re there. And changing your perspective. You might be having a really bad day but if you look at it from a different angle you might find you are exactly where you want to be. 

Old and Lonely

It’s really amazing how one minute you’re doing your weekend grocery and vital Easter egg shopping and the next you’re surrounded by ambulances and blood…

Three missed calls and a rude message later I finally picked up the phone. The brother had been rushing me because he was bored of waiting – but you can’t hurry shopping queues. And from last week’s hurrying of the cashier I have learned never to rush them either. They stop what they are doing look you in the eye and lecture you on how your whole life needs to slow down and while it’s embarrassing to have a horde of people listening to it – my cashier definitely had a point: I probably did need to slow down a little, and I think Jeandre’ (the brother) does too.

When I eventually made it into post-queue-freedom I tried to push one more thing with the brother: “Should we grab some beers on the way out?” – Jeandre’ was tempted but replied that he just wanted to leave the shops forever and that it was probably better for us to be healthier anyway so we didn’t.

But after climbing the escalator and descending the stairs (a random exit methodology I know, but yes, that is how the Garden centre works), we walked straight into two screaming woman and an old man in a pool of blood.

We calmed the younger woman down and asked her what had happened. “He fell on his face” she cried. “Do you know him?” “No. He was alone.” A security guard and I asked the man if he was okay to get up, and lifted him to his feet to try and get him into a more comfortable sit down/ stroke recovery position while we sent the older woman to find centre management and Jeandre’ ran to find ice.

Blood flowed in rivers from his nose and mouth as I sat him down and tried to find out how bad the fall was and how aware he was of his surroundings. “What’s your name sir?” I thought he replied Chad and called him that for most of our conversings… but it was in fact Ted. Ted was hard at hearing and softly spoken – the following was yelled and repeated many times over:

“How are you feeling?”

“Am I alright? I fell.”

“You’re bleeding a lot but you look alright. Did you trip over something?” I asked, wondering still if he had had a stroke.

“I just fell over.”

“Is there anyone I can call?”

 “No.”

“Do you have any family?”

“No”

“Do you have any friends?”

“No. I live alone.”

“Surely there is someone who we can call?”

Blood was now forming little meandering streams on the sidewalk.  Jeandre’ returned with a bag of frozen peas he had just shoplifted from Woolworths (He figured throwing a R50 note at the security guard as he fled the scene would make up for it). Now it was my turn to run to get toilet paper.

A crowd had gathered by the time I got back and Ted seemed to be slipping out of consciousness. So I carried on talking to him as we mopped the blood off his face and suit.

“And how old are you?” - “95” - “Do you know where you are?”… The conversation then shifted to actual medical support seeing as nobody with any official medical experience had shown up yet. We didn’t want to call an ambulance because we knew he had no medical aid or much money so we found a good Samaritan with a car and were almost set to go when the centre’s first aider finally pitched followed by one ambulance after the next. The whole street shone with bright flashy lights and uniformed people.

Apart from a big cut to his mouth and a potentially broken nose, Ted also had a broken wrist. He needed a hospital. The paramedics assured us that he would be well taken care of and that he wouldn’t pay a cent for it. Jeandre’ left them with his phone number just in case.

My heart was broken as I watched the whole scene unfold. Imagine having no family and no friends. Imagine living to be 95 without having anyone to celebrate it with. Imagine being taken to hospital with nobody to visit you. Imagine finally reaching the end of your life with nobody to say goodbye to. I tried to imagine what it felt like to be Ted.

Ted spent the entire time clutching his small bag of blood covered groceries. I had sent one of the screaming woman on a mission to find a new bag for him – but even then he wouldn’t let go and finally only gave way enough for us to slip his torn bag into a new one. He’d taught himself to trust nobody. It was as if those groceries were his prized possessions.

“Am I alright?” Ted asked the first paramedic on the scene after various tests and questions had taken place. The paramedic looked him I the eye and said a very respectable “Sir, if I were your age and I still had a heart rate like that and still walked to the shops, I would be very happy indeed.” A smile cracked across his face for the first time.  

In retrospect we probably should have stopped to buy beer (we would have made it home a couple of hours earlier) – but meeting Ted changed my life in a weird way. If I am lucky enough to make it to 95 in good health; I want a life filled with people, with trust, with meaning and a life filled with constant smiles. Without that it doesn’t matter how old you are - you’re pretty much dead already. I hope Ted finds that before it really is the end. 

The grandmother and the other Ted - she seems to get younger by the day - Teddy on the other hand  is starting to look a bit worse for wear.

Grey haired and old or uber young - we ALL need people!

The oldest pizza I've ever met - there's a reason it is now lonely in a garbage can somewhere.

It's too Late When you're Dead

For 12 years we sat in captivity discussing life on the other side. We talked about knights on noble steeds, of frolicking in fields of flowers and envisioned ourselves saving the world. We all plotted how we’d make our millions and suffered endless nights dreaming about what we’d do with our freedom.

We really all ought to be frolicers....

When it (freedom) finally came we suddenly forgot our plans. We fled across the world – to Kuwait and England and the states and Naboomspruit and Pretoria. Some of us never found that noble knight. Some never frolicked in fields.  Most of us never made our millions. And most of us still dream about what we will do with our freedom… even though it’s already here.

Ten years ago, as I sat in school (yes, that was a whole 10 years ago), I had no idea what exactly I wanted to do with my life. I had no idea where I was headed or even who I was. If you’d ask me about travel or jobs or friends, there’s no way I would have foreseen myself gypsying about four continents, or meeting so many many exceptionally awesome people, or eating strange delicacies, or accomplishing so many things that seemed impossible at the time, or sailing across an ocean, or finishing degrees, or running companies or being who I am today.

I never dreamed it possible to cycle across countries...

Strange delicacies  the first

Somewhere in Australia...

One night in a trolley... I never thought I'd choose to hang out with kiwis

I never thought that donating blood could actually be fun (actually, I need to donate again, anyone want to join??)

I even survived dangerous encounters with wild creatures

I've seen more beautiful places than school me ever dreamed of seeing 

I fail to be surprised by the people I meet...

Strange delicacy the second

I've even had the privaledge of getting to know all the sesame street characters personally

But the past 10 years have by far been the best years of my life.  And each year blows my mind more than the previous one (I do hope this carries on forever – although I may have had too much goodness too early in life). And 10 years later, I still don’t know what I want to do with my life or where I am headed, or even who I am.  But I’m actually okay with that.

I took the train to work on Monday and was bombarded with offers for penis enlargements and cheap abortions and marriage spells. A preacher on the train shouted that the answer was God and a sangoma (witch doctor) assured us it was in fact inyanga – both supposedly cure everything – but the latter is only available at select back-alley pharmacies and costs money. God can be found anywhere and is available 24/7.

So many of us focus on the negative. We forget that we have freedom. We forget how far we have come. We sit and worry about our problems (just one train ride assured me that they are very easy to resolve, no matter how big or small) and limit ourselves because we forget that all things are possible. We forget that we can only change the present. We accept life the way it is either because it’s comfortable or because we worry that if we change something we will make it worse.

Life is short and it is meant to be awesome. It doesn’t matter who you are, where you’ve been or what your problems are – the only person who can start to turn your life about is you. Remember that dreamer you were in younger years and then go and make those dreams a reality.   

It's too late when you're dead.

A Grave Revalation

Whilst I’ve changed my opinion on pirates, tomatoes and the meaning of life; I’ve always been a firm believer in the fact that all things are possible [except roller skating backwards through a revolving door while juggling knives and killer clawed kittens].

Everyone said it was impossible to drive from London to Mongolia in a tin-canish car.... But...

I never dreamed it possible to lug a ginormous teddy about for more than a year and I thought my  ability to cycle across countries even less likely... but...

As a kid I believed that humans could fly. I started a flying academy and whilst all the teachers thought it was cute that a bunch of people would chase me around the field flapping their arms; the hardest part of the academy was finding things high enough to jump off, devising flying contraptions (plastic bag parachutes, umbrellas, cardboard wings, etc), and [the hardest part:] coming up with feasible cover stories for parents and teachers when height + failed contraption = unfortunate incident/sprainage/breakature. I still believe humans can fly…  

and no, sky diving doesn't count...

Similarly I still believe that sailing a self-built raft across oceans is still possible (even if the first attempt was very unsuccessful). I still believe that I will lick a president some day (I’ve lost track of my failure tallies on this one). I still believe that someday I will have an empire… I still believe that I can successfully complete even the most unlikely challenges on my bucket list….

….But I had a grave revelation this week…. it only took 28 years to discover it….

I moved to Cape Town last Saturday to start a new job 8-30am on Sunday.  Lack of transport options led me to rekindle my hatred of the bicycle; cycling 20km in each direction between a house on a hill and a job on a far massiver hill. Fortunately my job involves swinging in the trees and making and keeping people happy (and a bunch of more boring admin/ managerial jumbo) – but it’s a taxing vocation that, combined with the lack of cycling fitness [or any fitness for that matter] in my life, and the need for a social life, and ever-present insomniacishness; has made this the most taxing week of my life!

The typical first day of work bruise

It's a lot less purple now, but it now bends in two very different directions

As I cycled home on Saturday night after 6 days straight of 9 hour shifts with a broken toe, the wind blew me off my bicycle and  onto the pavement shortly before a bird decided to expel its lunch on me on me and I burst into tears when it suddenly hit me…

…and I really don’t like this realization at all, or the ramifications of it…

….and I don’t know how this will affect the ’all things are possible’ philosophy…

….and I hope I’m not the only one that this applies to…

 …but…

 I’m only human. I have limitations.

The End of the Chapter

It's amazing how life rolls on... One random Chapter after the next....

CHAPTER 1- Growing Up 

Back in 1984

1984 -1980somrtthing

Also in the 80s

 CHAPTER 2 - Growing a brain 

This is not actually me... it's just a random kid I found on the interweb

2002 - The last day of school

 CHAPTER 3 - Becoming a Grown Up

I've lost my actual university certificates.... but this one's just about as important

CHAPTER 4 - Moving Out

2005 - The housemates.... some of them at least

CHAPTER 5 - Becoming a Gypsy

2007 - The East Coast of Africarish Trip

CHAPTER 6 - Pretending to be European

2008 - Moving to London Land

CHAPTER 7 - Going Places

2009 - A little drive from London to Mongolia

CHAPTER 8 - Thinking of Growing Up

2010 - Getting a job again and contemplating resouthafricanising

I even acquired some grownupy clothes

CHAPTER 9 - Going Down Under

2010 -  2011... In the land of Aus

CHAPTER 10 - The Ultimate Gypsy

 And this last chapter's been a rediculous one... 

 Jan 2012 - Building the beloved raft, the Illegal Immigrant

Feb 2012 - Joining a biker Gang

March 2012 - Cycling across South East Asia

May 2012 - Hitching across China

June 2012 - Sailing across the Indian Ocean 

 And just like that the chapter end... And tomorrow I start a whole new one. I fly to my new home, Cape Town and come Sunday I become a real person, with a job...

It's funny how life goes really - in every chapter you meet amazing people that shape your life and live out crazy experiences that change your life.

I've never been more terrified at the start of a new chapter... this one will be called "CHAPTER 11 - Real Life" - and that might just be the scariest thing I've ever done.... But it will be awesome. Every chapter is.