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…. 

Some Epic Title... [The End of My World]

TEN…. NINE…. EIGHT… Thoughts are racing around my head like a giant disorganized herd of pregnant water buffalo playing ice hockey with sharpened samurai swords: Are we actually ready? What have we forgotten? Will we have enough food and water and basic supplies? Will the back ally stitching on our three reefs of broken sail hold the 5800 miles home?

It's amazing the work that goes into taking down a main sail

It's even more amazing how you can finally fold it small enough to fit in a dingy...

SEVEN…. SIX… Asia is incredible…. I miss land… and there’s so many many epic people about, so much good food to eat and too many good surfs to be had… so many places I haven’t yet been…. So much more to see… SO much more to lick… and I’m back where I started 11 month ago (And it’s been a flipping exceptionally incredible 11 months)… Australia’s so close I could almost swim there… it’s not too late to abandon ship and turn in the wrong direction again…

My beautiful home.... S/V Fiddler

FIVE… FOUR…I haven’t been home for two years, what happens if people have changed too much? Or worse; what if they haven’t changed at all? Will people even recognize me? Apart from my Nigerian skin tan, am I even still an African? 

THREE… TWO… There are so many people I meant to talk to, so much I had to say [I talk a lot]. How many more birthdays will I miss? How many more people will get married? And engaged? And born? And intoxicated? And knighted? What major events will be happening around the world in the next month? Maybe the world ends and we get left behind....

This picture has absolutely no relevance to this blog

ONE: It’s the very end. Six months of direction change, hitching, boat work and island hopping has finally bought us to the ocean crossing. In the next 24 hours, we‘ll have done our final supply shopping, stamped out of Indonesia and we’ll be raising anchor and launching into the unknowns of the Indian Ocean. Our world is about to shrink to the confounds of the ship and the marine life that surfaces. And the stars. That’s all we’ll have until Reunion. There’ll be no popping in to grab some fresh bread and chilli. No skyping mum a quick “I love you”. No facebook (oh! The horrors!). No doctors (hopefully we won’t need them). No sneaking in a non-vegetarian meal on the sly. No human interaction apart from the crew (luckily they’re a really nice bunch).

And while I’m so terrified that I couldn’t bring myself to sleep last night, I’m pretty sure this is exactly what I’m meant to be doing with my life right now. I know we’ll be okay. Coming back to the boat last night after 3 whole days (“tiga hari” because my Indonesian’s almost practically fluentish) of land, I felt like I was coming home. And I know that for the rest of the world life will go on as normal as we blip up and down on the vortexy abyss of ocean. But know that you’ll be severely missed dear human, and if you get a chance, spare us a thought, a wish and a prayer. I’ll post out the infrequent message in a bottle…. And then see you on the other side. See you in Africa.   

ZERO…

Travel the World, Lick Things, Be Super-human

Licking a friend

Licking a camper van

Licking the ruflasia, Malaysia

What have you licked lately?

I ask this because statistically (probably... I think, maybe) us humans don't lick enough. We see things and hear things and smell things and touch things all the time, even in our sleep - but licking we tend to save for meal times and the occasional hottie/ life partner or face-plant.

People are always going on about the acquisition of sixth senses, but do you even use all five??

Now I suppose you're nodding to yourself, saying yes yes (or "jaaaa" if you're Dutch, German or Afrikaans), getting bored and about to close this and give up reading blogs forever, but think about this carefully - you've seen the Eiffel tower have you? Your bosses new suit? The great wall of China? Chairman Mao? The neighbour's cat? Sydney Opera House? Nelson Mandela? A beached killer whale? The Northern Lights? A lion? I'm sure you can remember what they looked like, but what did they taste like??

Wouldn't life be great if we enjoyed it with ALL our senses?

Licking a strawberry

Licking a hollow tree - Fraser Island

Licking a stolen lifeguard speedo, Moomoolama

Licking a Maccers sign, Aus

Licking a Wallabee, Brisbane

Licking sulpher, Ijen, Indonesia

Licking a memorial tree, somewhere

Licking a giant beer bottle, Ethiopia

Licking a white thing, Bangkok, thailand

Licking Teddy into existance, Hawks Nest, Australia

Licking my rice snow man

Licking my Kiwi

Licking a war memorial, Australia

Licking a statue, Auttaya, Thailand

Licking an unsuspecting Korean

Licking my old camper van, Karla goodbye

Licking  a Kiwi

Licking a random pole on the top of a mountain

Licking a diseased goat

licking a chicken

Licking a dog

Licking a Japanese person

Licking a horse

Licking the sacred survivor statuet on Tiga island

Licking a cat

Licking a hand statuet, Wanaka - NZ

Licking a tractor

Licking the Sydney Opera house

Licking an Ice cream, Chengdu, China

Licking the Petronas Towers, KL, Malaysia

Licking the rain, Sydney, Austrlia

 And don't just take my word for it, other people lick too:

Licking an African statuet

Licking a beer boep

Licking my brother's calf muscle - it's slightly hairier than mine

Licking a police car

Licking the Jollybee, Philipines

Licking a durex narwal

I give you here a mere 'taste' of the lickable world that is out there... and one simple challenge: Lick more!

Ever wondered what the person sitting next to you tastes like? Right now's the time to find out!

There's a whole world out there for the licking! - It's up to you to taste it!