Descisions

They say that 10 years of doing something makes you an expert... 

But after 31 years of practice I'm so bad at making descisions that I can't even spell the word. 

I descided that my thirties would be a progressive decade where I leaped forward and lived a lot; grabbing life by the testicles and valiantly tackling all of life's problems as they were thrown at me. 

I successfully cycled over 5000 kilometers across Australia for the amazing charity that is Bikes 4 Life.

The last leg of the trip (and the first leg in lycra) down the Great Ocean Road (Feb, 2016)

I conquered both the Southern tip of Australia and Mount Kosciuszko with an over-sized teddy bear and a torn achilles.

Mount Kosci (Feb 2016)

Wilson's Prom (Southern tip - Feb, 2016)

I survived the first family reunion in 6 years (and Sydney).

NSW, Feb 2016

I braved the flight to New Zealand and valiantly hopped around by the power of onesy (and thumb).

South Island New Zealand, March 2016

I out-paddled a storm as we kayaked the Abel Tasman.

Day 1 of 5 paddling the Abel Tasman, March 2016

I tackled my first grade 4 white water rapids (only because I was too slow to hop out and carry my pack raft).

Hiking out to the Pelorus river (March 2016)

I licked the tip of the South and the top of the North.

Absolute South (Mar 2016)

Top of North, May 2016

And then I descided it was time to complete my circumnavigation by other-peoples sailing boats.

Whangerei, May 2016

I've spent the last few weeks hunched over with terrible back ache and chronic knots in the shoulder and what feels like cows roaming and grazing on the inner lining of my stomach. My heads been on a spin cycle for 25 days and I still struggle to get a clean thought out of it. I've been unable to function on any normal level; and as you might imagine, that's not quite fitting for my gypsy regime. Why you ask? I've had a terrible case of indecisiveness!

There were too many boats owned by far too many nice people heading in far too many exotic tropical directions and I just didn't know how to chose. Fiji or Tonga or Vanuatu or New Caledonia?? Sail with a family or a couple or a single hander? Do a delivery or go cruising? A mono-hull or a cat? Step aboard as crew or take plunge and go captain?... The descisions were endless!!! And every time I was about to comit (another word I can't spell) a new option would appear.

Yesterday I finally descided to cut the crap and I did it - I took the plunge and made a big life descision! I've just hopped aboard my new home and in the morning we set the sails and wish new Zealand goodbye and well... [watch this space] ... 

Apparently descisions are going to haunt us for the rest of our lives. And you know what? It's probably a good thing!  For most descisions it doesn't matter so much what you choose: The chicken or the beef... going commando or granny panties... it doesn't matter where you go and what you do ... but you only have one life so make sure you make epic ones!

Rotted Milk

There are two types of choices: good ones; and bad ones.  Life’s a whole lot better when you make the good ones…

I should have realized this last week already. But I didn't  No, instead I didn't smell the milk before I used it on my cereal and coffee… At first I thought it just tasted bad because I had brushed my teeth first… Half way through I thought it might just be a new brand…

I thought I’d be a nice sister and cook dinner. But apparently chilli sauces aren't all the same.  Side-of-the-road-Mozambiquan-chilli-sauce is a force to be reckoned with. Dinner was severely diluted with milk. I forgot the milk was off…

3 hours into the document search....

SUCCESS!

And then came moving to Cape Town.  In an attempt to find one very
very very horrendously very important document, I took a trip to Benoni (Think mullets and wife beaters and children who are older than their parents). While it was lovely seeing family and having my first braai since 2010, I knew my mission. It took the better part of five hours, and courage I never thought I could cough up (I also coughed out a lot of dust and cobweb) – but I fought through four households of stored ‘stuff’ (our family being the first to have invaded the cousin’s garage) and came out with not only the document, but a lot more of my earthly belongings than I ever thought I owned. I’m pretty sure they bred and had offspring in my years of absence.

All my worldly possessions...

and the bicycle...

This made relocating home a lot harder than it should have been. Flying was out of the question. I had a full car load of ‘stuff’ so driving was out – not only do I not possess a car – but there was no way I’d drive the 1400 km alone. There are too many luggage limitations on the bus and well, I’d never taken the train…

Sunday morning I rocked up at the train station hoping there would still be tickets. “Sorry” said the friendly Malawian behind the counter “sold out till mid-Feb”. But I pleaded – “there’s no tickets at all??” and that’s how I bought my R340 third class hard seat on board the Shoshaloza Meyl to Cape Town. Like I said, it was a week of bad decisions.

The Zimbabwean next to me was under the impression that it was a 5 hour trip. I probably shouldn't have said anything about the ETA – I’ve never seen a black person turn that white.

Look at all the happy faces!

For every grown up on board there were 37.5 infants and for every seat between Klerksdorp and Kimberly, there were 3 grownups…

The toddlers joined their vocal chords to create a sound track to stay awake to and the plastic non-reclining seats made sure we did. But it could always be worse…  By 3am our carriage was full of police to break up the fights bought on by excessive quantities of alcohol and seat/ floor space reclaimage.

I made friends with 6 year old Kabelo who taught me all about fairies and princesses and marveled at the giftings her 3 year old sister possessed in finding and eating second hand chewing gum. I discussed business plans with people from 4 different African countries and finished reading a book I’ve carried for the last 3 months. But ask any person on that train and none of them will ever take it again. Not economy at least….

A very hot and smelly toilet overflowingly 29.5 hours later – past some breathtaking scenery and some sheep and 3 ostriches and a plethora of other stuff - we pulled into Cape Town. I felt like I’d just single-handedly fought the Vietnam war or run the comrades marathon… and won… and to make it even better, all of my belongings survived too.  

I suppose bad decisions are all part of life and they help you learn and become a better person… but they also get you upset stomachs and sleepless nights and possible diseases… From now on I aim to make only good ones. Life’s too short for 29.5 hour train rides….