The answer is blowing in the wind

The answer is blowing in the wind

Looking for answers, adventure, beauty, people, fun, entertainment, amazement, all of the above, none of the above.

Here we go, we are crossing the line and in for a lifetime journey I hope. We are leaving now from Jo’burg to Serowe in Botswana, a quick stop overnight and then heading for the Okavango delta up north. We are staying three nights at Maun and hope to do a two day safari on the delta in a pirogue. On the 25th of December we will travel far east in Namibia to its capital: Windoek. The following day, we will travel a little on the ocean to see dauphins and whales, then back to the gates of the Namibian desert. We will do a balloon trip over the red dunes and watch the sun rise hopefully. On the 29th we will travel south, down to fish river canyon at the frontier of South Africa and Namibia, and will be heading to Cape Town for New Years Eve.

It is an ambitious journey but the three of us feel at least confident and very much exited by the entire thing.

On hold

Yesterday, before our road trip, as the car’s tank was empty I decided to get if filled up. Right outside the office building I stop at a gas station. I checked if I had any money to pay while waiting for the pump attendant. I stayed a minute and as no one came to my help, I left.

I went to the next one, it was busy too but a pump attendant showed me where to park, Hi there how are you, and he started cleaning my windshield. I asked him to fill up the tank but he said I have to wait for one of the blue-vest pump attendants to come. It’ll just take a couple of minutes.

I was sitting in my car, looking at them, 6 or 7 blue-vest pump attendants sitting on the sidewalk chatting, looking at me. At the other pumps, other motorists waiting to be served too. Five good minutes after the non-blue-vest attendant had finished cleaning all of my windows, half the blue-vest attendant left and disappeared inside the shop, and the rest attended to a third of the cars still waiting. My non-blue-vest attendant asked, Are you in a hurry because you could go to the next one, and so I did.

At the next gas station more or less the same thing was happening, expect luckily I was served right away. For the anecdote, at roughly half tank, the automatic flow-stopper of the pump triggered. So he had to fill the rest of the tank spurt by spurt, the flow-stopper triggering every 100ml.

The Devil Cooks Stir-Fry Beef

Half past twelve. Yes, the pain in my chest is bitter hunger. I grab my wallet and my housemate and off we go to the cafeteria. Walking between the tables I see the friend of a friend – the one with an odd haircut – drinking a coffee, Hi there how are you, and we head to the food counters. Two thirds of the staff is on leave, so for once there is no queue at the cook’s stand. We decide to treat ourselves. Smells good.

On the dirty metal pan are some mixed vegetables already frying. I’ll have a stir fry. With beef, yes please. So does my housemate. We chat and argue, waiting in front of the cook who is adding meet and other colourful things to the dish. The secretary joins us in the line, Hi there, and she orders the chef’s special. The cook asks what sauce we want. I see five bottles, all of them nameless. I enquire in return what sauce he has. The secretary interrupts us. She wants to know how long it is going to take, they get into a short discussion, and before they finish the cook says, So you’re not telling me what sauce you want, I’m putting all of them. And before you can say ‘Hey you, what’s that sauce’, she grabs them two by two. Squish, squash. Red, brown, yellow. My beef is drowning in barbecue-spicy-sweet-sour-and-what-not sauce.

And then she looks at me and says, You can tell me how it tastes afterwards.

It was good. Too much sauce though.

Slithering times

How long have you been here, they ask with their French accent when I meet them for the first time. I reply without counting, but as I spurt the number, I realise so much time has gone already. So many days! So many weeks! What have I done yet that I will not forget?

It feels like I have not visited or discovered anything new since Soweto. I have been experiencing the entertainment opportunities that exist in Jo’burg: golf, mini-golf, pool, cinema, bars, clubs, restaurants, house parties, swimming pool parties… Busy spending my time on trivial things after sunset, I have also been working a significant amount of hours since my arrival.

Last Friday, we decided to visit an African market downtown called Burma, where craftsmen sell ‘typical’ goods. I had brought my camera, expecting to take one or two pictures of that new place… Disappointment. There was not much to see: very few interesting shops, lots of cheap trinkets and too many fake goods.

Next Friday is the start of South Africa’s Summer Holidays season and we are off to explore the world. Botswana and Namibia. Yes sir. The three of us will be road tripping around sub-Saharan Africa to end up hopefully at New Years Eve in the infamous yet breathtaking Cape Town.

This is where the real journey will begin…

Golden Chain

Bling bling. Golden chain tints, and Champaign glasses ring; tonight we are celebrating Chentu’s leaving.

Saturday evening, people are drinking the night away. The music, loud and dirty, rips on the white walls, and cigarettes stain the carpet where strangers meet and dance.

Bling Bling – More pictures of the party on Flickr.com, originally uploaded by Damien.ldp.

Second tacky jewellery item I own, hate or love it, no need to frown.

My House in the Middle of my Street

Pictures of my house in Johannesburg available on Flickr.com.

(Click on the Flickr link in the right hand side toolbar)

Four O’clock in the Garden of Eden

Saturday, day off for the majority, but not for us. Tic, toc: the hands of time are spinning fast this morning. In the office, only a few came. I had to, I was asked to. The others, to my understanding prefer hanging around in the office on weekends rather than stay at home facing there spouses – or even worse: themselves. I’m itching; pieces of dead skin are falling off my right hand: aftermath of last week’s sunburn. I’m rushing as I want to do as much as I can, a fast as I can before tonight’s year end function.

At 12:00 the hands stop. Power outage again. It’s going to last two hours at least. I realise at that moment we are only 5 still working. I’ve done enough; I pack my things and go.
Back to the Bed & Breakfast, I empty my drawers and fill my suitcases. Hip, hop, put the luggage in the trunk and wait. Lying on my bed, the fan discreetly swirls the warm air in my face as I fall asleep.

My roommate wakes me up an hour later; I eat a mango ‘till he’s ready to go. With the cars, across the city, like snails, we carry our life in the back. We arrive to our new home just minutes later. Hip, hop, take the luggage out the trunk and move in.

As we step inside I think, ‘So this is my new own private haven’.

3 Bedrooms, two bathroom, kitchen, dinning room, sitting room, another sitting room at the first floor with a mezzanine and an outside terrace. We have a private garden, two parking spaces and the swimming pool next door. Just for the two of us.

At four o’clock, when the sky is blue and the grass has been heated enough by the thick air, we sit outside, in the Garden, and chill. Hands have disappeared in the bright lights.