Change of scenery

While I'm sitting here at my (the original since I'm still not quite feeling the new one but which is slowly being coaxed out of its boxy hibernation by the Viking who I seem to have promised the current [although antsy] one to should he be inclined to buy me a new one... dammit) MacBook Pro, smelling what can only be the death stench of burnt ants emanating from the innards of this here silver (it has to be silver, the black just looks so scary. Apple designers take note!) keyboard, I'm looking at apartments.

In Mexico City.

Yes, my dear people, it's again that time of the decade. The ants in my pants (and not just the 'puter) part of the living that I do daily. The looming end of the Viking's contract. The should we stay or go or take a long vacation hitchhiking through some obscure countryside somewheres in the world point in time. The let's ditch the turquoise couch once and for all but still find it in the container upon arrival to the new country (the same goes for the forever-temporary television-stand. Sapient pearwood?). The let's find some new adventures and leave friends (sadness abounds) and routines (fokken A) behind. The let's call it a day and then some and MOVE.

Houses. Towns. Countries. Continents.

Let's shake it up a bit. Let's learn a new language, discover some new foods, wines, and find some new neighbors (Could be you. Scared?) to impose our by now extremely quirky 'Scandinavian' on (that's a nice way of saying I will always belt out the chorus to Yö's Ihmisen Poika [best song ever and perhaps the best band too] loudly in the shower when you least expect it [I take showers at odd hours apparently], and the Viking will look at you funny when you ask him to ask his wife to stop singing in the apartment before inviting you in to taste the world's best mustard [which is of Finnish origin, naturally!]).

So Mexico City would sort of be cheating, since we already left it behind after a wonderful and memorable two years there, only two and a half years ago. But I miss Mexico. And Mexico seems to miss the Viking and wants him back very badly (good thing he's so lovable. No one would ever want me back, I know it). It seems however, that South Africa wouldn't mind us staying another year, but lately, all talk of ants in my pants and various crevices (those bastards get everywhere, they do) aside, we've began to think that perhaps a change of scenery would be an appropriate move.

Don't get me wrong, I've had an awesome time here in South Africa. It has been cool to get behind all of the nasty reporting on the 'dangerous Johannesburg' and see the real city, the land, and its people, experience the beat of Soweto, get in touch with the reality of life in Diepsloot, hear a lion roar in Pilanesberg (and then see it try to avoid a puddle at all costs like the true kitten a lion still is underneath all that mane), hurtle down a barely-there dirt road at a breakneck speed in a rattling 4x4 in a red cloud of dust (this is, in fact, my new off-road route home from boot camp), be head-butted by a 'tiny' rhino, discover that I've actually contributed to a couple of kids learning how to read and then cry a little bit in the car because, seriously, how fokken great is that?, but maybe it's time.

There have been moments, you know. Those times that tell you, loud and clear, that a change of scenery/ mate/ hobby/ spending habits/ internet provider/ vehicle/ deodorant/ job/ trainers is in order. I've found myself automatically locking my car doors without anyone having to ask me "Um, are we locked in?". I seem to have internalized the lay-out of my neighborhood Woolworths and can thus do my grocery shopping with my eyes closed (not that I do. mostly). I realize that I lock the door behind me while I open the gardener's lunch can of beans for him. I bought Jack Parow on iTunes and was excited about it. I've stopped hyperventilating every time someone is surprised I'm not Afrikaans. I say things like 'Ag ja', 'shame', and 'eish' without even registering what's exiting my mouth.

I've told people that I'm fine instead of good, for fuck's sake!

In other words, I've started to feel at home.

And we all know what that spells, don't we?

Goodbye South Africa it must be. It's not you sweet SA, it's me. I just need some time alone, you know, to figure out where I'm going in life and whatnot. You deserve someone better, you do! I would just make you unhappy in the end. We could never grow old together. You'll be so much happier without me and you'll find happiness with that special someone. I'm only leaving you open for that person.

I'm not breaking up with you, I'm doing you a favor. Trust me. And besides, it's been a nice ride, neh?

So now all that's left is a great break-up fuck. Unless that fuck involves us staying the year longer, in which case I'm not sure I feel horny at all. Nuh huh.

Until then.

I'll always cherish our time together though. I will! Oh the scenery...