Adventures galore

As y'all know by now (because you have all read everything that I have ever written on this here blog, eh?) I lead an extremely busy and action filled life, and have so many interesting adventures to write about. Yup.

The interesting things that happened to me yesterday (and this was a particularly happening Thursday):

1. I was propositioned by an old and short Deputy General Manager (you voted that I wasn't insane, just a hot Amazon Warrior Goddess of East German athlete like build. Myself, I think I lack the shoulders for this, but my crazy eye possibly makes up for them). Me and the hubby have been invited to a wine tasting and lecture of some sorts tonight here at the hotel, and expect to see the Deputy GM there. I'm having an awesome good-size-ego day and expect a showdown of epic proportions.   

2. I had three spit-free lattes, one rather more suspect cappucino, and so much bonus cake that I didn't feel like having the chocolate on the pillow. This might also have been, because I fear I now associate Jacob Zuma, South Africa's (possibly not spit-free and kind of suspect) new president with chocolate, thanks to Molly. Great. This could get kind of ugly. Must think of vomit and Zuma, rhino droppings and Zuma, nosepickings and Zuma... Chocolate and nose droppings...  Dammit!

3. I was given much needed cyber love, the platonic kind (I do the other stuff even more anonymously and not on here), by an awesome American Dane of a Russian persuasion, who is fast becoming a Capetonian by way of replacing her blood with South African Chenin Blanc (that kind of makes us blood [wine?] sisters, huh?). If you are the one in a million who did not find me because she told you to, most definitely check julochka out. She is crazy funny, and super thoughtful. She is also making my retirement (what am I going to retire from I wonder?) plans just a little more palatable for me, as I'm pretty sure that the hubby, who is a proud, and very bearded and otherwise hairy, descendent of vikings will want to return to his beloved homelands at some point. When he gets really old and forgets how to speak anything but his garbled Copenhagen Danish, that is. 

4. I got stuck in an elevator. On the ground floor, and for a whole whopping 3 minutes. Lucky for the hotel I had already had my fair share of celebratory wine. Had I not reeeaaaallllly needed to pee I don't think I would have even yelled and pounded on the door quite with the fortitude that I did. There was a mirror in the elevator after all. Incidentally, the button that you always feel like hitting in an elevator (or at least I do), the yellow one with the bell on it - no effect, no sound, no nothing, kind of a bummer. 

5. I had heart palpitations from too much bonus cake (I could never blame my trusted friend, caffeine), and much too much wine. A trip to a Zambian emergency room would have wrapped the day up nicely, but, alas, 'twas not to be - I fell asleep instead.

Welcome to my weird brand of Africa all you new readers. The fact that I now have 60 followers (Oh no, someone quit. Down to 59. Sad day.) might just get that heart going again, and you wont have to wait for the post about stethoscope-toting Africans for that much longer.   

Did someone spit in my sandwich?

I'm still in Zambia. 

The whine, whine & moan section:

I am in a hotel (or possibly in a country) with a very fickle internet connection. Sometimes, like right now at 8AM, the connection is perfect, and other times getting beyond the Facebook sign in page seems to be too big of a task. Combine this with a hotel room television set the size of my fist and you'll have an inkling of the pain this brings. Argh! Am I supposed to, like, not have any, like, distractions, or what? Like. 

My South African cell phone sim-card doesn't work here. I recently found out that this is because I don't have 'international roaming' in my contract. Hmph - this is just another way for the South African government/MTN to not see me as an adult, not have trust in me, and to supposedly make sure that I am unable to rack up a bill too big to pay. There is a limitation of R600 or something of sort in my contract already, so I fail to see the problem, but whatever. 

I seem to have caught the flu the hubby had. I'm pretty sure I would have kicked it already if I wasn't drinking the house red wine all the time. Sporting a sore throat and a runny nose that miraculously go away at night leaving me free to enjoy the wine, but return with a vengeance in the morning. Well, I guess this one I'll have to pin on my own stupid, borderline alcoholic self. Also, I am aware of the bad decision that having four cups of coffee in the morning instead of herbal tea is, if one is out to beat the flu. Again, all me.

The room service has gotten our order wrong four nights in a row, and we have complained thus possibly angering some of the poor staff (it's not all their fault, the hubby can't pronounce 'vegetable'). Every night then we wait for something while the rest of the food gets cold on the table. And it is not that great to begin with, even when it's hot. 

Yesterday, as I was hanging out at the hotel bar, where the internet seems a little better, and really felt the urgent need for some rooibos-tea, I did not get service for a whole whopping 35 minutes. I ill-advisedly complained, prompting the entire staff to now harangue me with constant good service. However, I'm also plagued by suspicions of them either spitting or possibly wanking off in my sandwich, or my latte. But that stuff only happens in the States, hey?

Everyone keeps calling me ma'am, which is depressing, since I'm only thirty.

I'm too sick and it might be just a tiny bit too cold to hang out by the pool.

There is a through and through Texan at the hotel who considers me one of his compatriots. Ya'll.

 

End of whine, whine & moan. Beginning of the section titled: 

This is a Flippin Awesome Country

Zambia is safe and sunny (I'm told SA has gotten cold since I've been gone). 

The internet at the hotel is included in the room price, and so is breakfast. 

I love, and I mean LOVE, bacon and banana on whole wheat, which they serve at this cool cafe in one of the malls. 

Lattes in this country rock.

I have been able to go everywhere without my cell phone, which for me, coming from the land of Nokia and not really being able to remember a time before cell phones (when I was a kid my dad had a phone the battery of which took up the whole trunk of the car), is a very liberating experience.  

Being sick here with the hubby now taking care of me beats being sick by myself at home. One might argue that had I not come I would not have gotten sick in the first place, but I refuse to go there.

People here call me ma'am instead of sir, which often happens in South Africa. I know I have a haircut, that even my hairdresser calls a 'boy cut' (boycott, ha ha. Too sick to make a proper joke), but I'm still fairly feminine, especially since I got my eyebrows and eyelashes dyed. 

There is a through and through Texan at the hotel who considers me one of his compatriots. His jeans are far too tight and his shirt far too Dallas. Love it! He also has very interesting facial hair.

Sometime last month I found a blog called Zambia Express, written by two Brits living in Lusaka. I wrote to them asking what they thought I should see and do in Lusaka, since Lonely Planet wasn't too big of a help, and the cool expats that they are Jo and Kieron actually went above and beyond and came up with a whole itinerary for a week in Lusaka. How cool! As soon as I feel up to it, I'll be off sightseeing, eating, drinking and partying per instructions. I can be such a charter tourist sometimes. Snicker!

Also, I have actually been writing something besides e-mails (which I don't really do unless we are talking a letter of complaint) and this blog. It's a bit off the wall, and I'm missing an ending, but it's also pretty good. I think. Hurrah!