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. 

Life. (Because you're not dead yet)

Once upon a new years eve... in a car bar... because you don't actually have to go out to have fun...

Bungee jumping, licking a president, reproducing, writing a novel, taxidermising a pet, starting an empire, winning a noble prize…  There were so many things I still wanted to do and now it was too late. The engines had roared to life and I soared towards the light.

I always figured “surviving a plane crash” should be the last thing I tick off my bucket list, just in case I didn’t. But life never really works that way - you can’t tell God/ fate/ Murphy what to do; and even karma doesn’t always behave. 

I gripped my seat and exchanged life accomplishment regrets with the random stranger next to me. She’d gone whiter than I had, and apparently she was actually Indian… 

We were going down fast. This was the end.  We hit the ground. Bounced. Bounced. Bounced again. And then, after two hours of absolute terror, it all came to an end. Random stranger and I flung arms around each other – we’d survived our overly dramatic imaginations.  

What ensued was an awesome reunion with good friends old and new; the most incredible weekend in the Drakensburg, and then a reunion with my ‘long’ lost boat crew - All things that would have been terrible to have missed out on had the plane actually gone down.

The Drakensburg

I also reunited myself with buckie, my seasick companion... we'll be as close as ever  soon enough (I hope)

Sometimes you need near death experiences (or perceived ones at least) to remind you to live more – It’s like when you lose your tooth brush for a month and then, after finding it again, suddenly havefriends again. And even though I’ve now been in Richard’s Bay [where it appears to be fashionable to have 8-12 teeth missing] a week, waiting for one small sail part to be repaired, it’s not so bad – there’s the beach, there’s beer, I’ve learned how to carpet a floor, met some of the strangest people imaginable, and had a rather therapeutic killing rampage…  -although I do still hope to leave soon!

Our lives are short enough as it is, so we really ought to be seizing every second: Doing instead of just talking about it; Running away from regret; Attempting the impossible; Frequently facing fears; making sure you have good stories for the grandkids some day; Making sure you have grandkids some day; Always going to bed happy [when we have time for sleep].

Lick a jellyfish...

Climb a cliff...

Go clubbing barefoot (actually wait - this is not recommended)

Jump off an oil rig

Drink artificially coloured drinks that look like they may poison you... unless of course they are poison , then don't, it's probably best to check first.

My cousin and his wife gave birth to their second kid yesterday…  And I was a little jealous that tiny Cuan had the whole of the rest of his life to live. But then I realized: so does everyone else

If you’re not living, you’re actually dead.

A Day in the Life of a Couch

I’ve made really good friends with the couch of late. There’s something about being the only unemployed individual in a house that leads you to find this kind of companionship. But I tell you now that it’s not a healthy relationship.

While I’ve given the couch a thorough vacuum and a lot of quality time, I’ve also given it popcorn kernels, sand, red wine, cereal and a nice bum-shaped indentation.

And whilst it has comforted me through the pretence of novel writing, the plottings of my million dollar empire, far too many Tarintino movies, and the aspirations of job hunting, it has also lulled me into a deep slumber on far too many occasions. It’s an evil couch.

The couch and I have become so close that yesterday, when the gigantanormous plumber walked in to fix our shower, I actually felt it squirm. And, when the plumber sat down to catch his breath after climbing two flights of stairs, I shared it’s agony in seeing its cushions pancaked to the floor. It pained me mostly because I’d never felt such a close connection to a couch.

And so, when plumber man finally left, so did I – it was exactly the motivation needed to inspire a jog.

And with my life potentially ending tomorrow with me boarding a flight (that’s right, I said the ‘F’ word), I need to put some distance between us (it makes tomorrow’s farewell easier too) and get out and make some real friends. Besides, couches offer no guidance in the ways of airplane survival and that’s what I need most in life right now (apart from coffee).

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…. 

How to make a Million... Maybe.

It was a bright and sunshiny Sunday evening. The pizza was ordered, the black label drafts were flowing… across from us sat a man with far too much butt crack showing, but the alternative views were Cape Town traffic or the smoking mob of under-agers out the back. It was the perfect setting for an epiphany. They always come when you least expect them.

I’m no exactly sure how you take five and a half years of random gypsyism and turn it into an exciting income generating backdrop. I can’t really remember all that much from varsity days and I’ve been out of touch with the real world for so long that I’m not sure I can return to a former type of employment. My major skills are falling, licking things, not dying, and generating random meaningless conversation with strangers. My CV has gaps. But this year I will make a million bucks. Or at least that’s the New Year’s resolution.

I’m nearing 500 days of absolutely no income (and proud of it) – it’s the perfect foundation for my quest.

Minimum wage comes to about R26 000 a year – which is only R974 000 short. If I sell everything I own and my second kidney I can probably push that up to R27 400 so it looks like I’m going to have to be getting crazy creative on this endeavor!

I’ve looked at the figures and will probably rule out cake sales and begging at the robots (traffic lights) but to succeed, it’s going to take every other sort of everything. I’ve decided to make Cape Town my base and also decided that I’d prefer not to be arrested, lose my soul, or die – but everything else goes.

I have no idea who ever takes the time to read these blog posts (if anyone) – but if you (whoever you may be) have any suggestions, please send them my way – I will give them a shot!

I tried really hard to make New Year’s resolutions this year. But I’m a goal orientated person… I need them.  And that’s why this is the year I become a millionaire…

Could this be how I make my millions...??