You could have just said "I'm not pregnant."

Souvenir from Africa

"But I'm NOT pregnant," says Extranjera to the Hubby after reading some of the comments left in response to her previous post.

"Nope. No sirree. Not at all," she continues, while the Hubby glances at her and pretends to listen, while he is actually playing some inane game on Facebook, and is probably thinking more about whether to recruit his new-to-social-media-and-thus-all-excited-and-baffled-by-it mother to his virtual vampire army, than anything even remotely close to producing offspring. Unless that offspring were undead. And on Facebook.  

"Uh huh... Hmm, vampire spawn?" he responds, and clicks with his mouse.

Extranjera is bewildered: "Not even a little bit pregnant, or in that movie-star way that Jennifer Lopez wasn't when she ended up having twins with that skinny guy, and that we all think Jessica Simpson might [not?] be, but then we remember that she isn't actually getting any bigger," she iterates, "And so, yes, I'm not pregnant like Jessica Simpson, which is to say that I like my burgers. With lots of mayo too. The ones made of beef of course, not of babies. Other than that, no link whatsoever."

"Eating babies. Uh huh. The Chinese? No, sorry, dogs," the Hubby compassionately pitches in.

"Yah. The Chinese. Google's fighting them too," Extranjera assures the inattentive Hubby, "But so no babies. No. Not in the uterus, or the stomach, or really even on the mind. And the bottom line is that the only way I'll even acquire a baby is if someone, somewhere in the world (crazier things have happened, and it turns out that regardless of my genes, I can hug after all and it doesn't even make me gag [I know, I'm just as surprised as everyone else]), gives me a baby to take care of," she goes on.

"Personally, I won't be popping them out. Ever," she adds with conviction.

"I know, hun. The Chinese should just give you a baby and stop eating them. That would be the humane thing to do," the Hubby says, "Do you think my mom will understand the word decapitate?" 

The loudspeaker above this dialogue crackles and the nasal voice of an oldish woman comes on.

"We break this interesting exchange to bring you a very important notice regarding the main character in this blog: She is most certainly not pregnant, just really busy, and currently on her way to the airport to pick up yet more guests, the second bunch, and won't be back online until the 25th, and then with fears of similar exchanges since the last, and third, installment of guests consists of her in-laws. Although she is too busy working and entertaining at the moment to be online, she should be back by then and be most certainly driven to drink. Again."

"We here at the crossroads of the Super Id, Guilt and Perfection thank you for your attention, wish you a lovely week, and hope to see you back on the 25th. Or thereabouts."

Can you have feelings for a whole nation?

I'm a jump in head first kind of a gal. 

When I met the hubby, who wasn't a hubby of course at the time, but a dapper, worldly foreigner, I moved into his hotel suite within 24 hours of meeting him. And after only knowing him for 3 months, most of it only by phone and email, I negotiated a loan of 10 000 FIM, left Finland for good on a one way ticket and really moved in with him. A hippy university had accepted my hurried application to be a guest student for a year. I figured a year would be enough time to make him fall head over heels and never want to let me go. My gamble paid off, and I've never been happier than with him. He is my best friend, my support network in its entirety, and simply the coolest, sweetest person I have ever met. And he loves me unconditionally when I am sometimes very difficult to even like. 

Why this information that has nothing to do with South Africa, and only explains why we keep moving from country to country (true story: on a rainy night in Copenhagen the living room window starts to leak and yours truly makes the hubby call his boss and tell him we are moving to Mexico)?

Well, something that happened in a friend's life lately (added to the fact that I've been hanging out in my bathrobe surfing the net for days now, steadily working up to a decent size spell of cabin fever) got me to pondering what makes other people change their lives completely, to jump in head first, to do something without which I cannot exist. Shuffling the deck is something that I must, and I mean MUST, do every once in a while, but what if that wasn't in my genetic make up? What if having to run my life in a different culture, in a different language, surrounded by very different people wasn't my fix? What if familiarity and routine didn't give me hives but were my safe haven instead?

A friend who previously felt that even coming here on vacation on her own was an accomplishment is now so smitten, mostly with the country, but also with a brown-eyed boy, that she has applied for a job away from Finland, to be where she feels she wants to be - in South Africa. Now, there are no guarantees with the boy, but I know he is not the main reason. There is just something about South Africa, hidden underneath the crime statistics and behind the electric fences, that she was able to tap into and fall in love with. I cannot tell you what it was for her, but I understand her feelings.

I wish her luck on this new journey she has embarked on and I'm sure whatever happens it'll make her life richer. And completely from a selfish point of view (you knew this was coming) I'd like someone to speak Finnish with....

My friend, I'm crossing my fingers for you.  

Heaven on Earth and other pleasant things

I'm so sad the weekend's over. I haven't laughed like I've laughed this past week in a long time. Hanging out with our guest brought back huge chunks of my childhood (that I've apparently drunk away, or possibly my brain has finally yielded intellectual control to my sizable posterior that is just not up to the responsibilities), and reminded me of why I once considered our guest my best friend ever. I'm truly glad she is back in my life. Standing ovation to that guy who invented Facebook.  

As I write this, our guest is on her way back to Finland, and the hubby is away, possibly until the end of April. I'm by myself, and feeling like I'd give almost anything to be back in Ivory Tree Game Lodge in Pilanesberg Nature Reserve, from now on referred to as Heaven on Earth, or simply heaven, as that is where I intend to go when I die, and hopefully many times before that. 

Being the snob that ya'll know and tolerate, I've visited quite a few five star establishments, usually liked them, or even loved them, but none of my previous five star experiences (not referring to anything dirty so go ahead and stop giggling) have ever come close to the bliss that was our long weekend away. 

I'd heard good things about Pilanesberg before, but no one we know had ever stayed in the lodge that we chose. i.e. Heaven on Earth. The cost of two nights being a little bit on the expensive side my expectations were high indeed, which usually does not bode well, as I'm an expert at complaining and generally just finding fault with things. Yup, positive is not an adjective many people would use to describe me, apart from the hubby, but we've already explored the depth of his delusions on other occasions. Anyhow, I'm forced to admit that Heaven on Earth actually exceeded my expectations. And that is no easy feat. 

We arrived on Friday just in time for the lovely lunch set in the nice and airy thatched roof dining room. Having most likely started a widespread movement against buffets in my previous life, from the moment I laid eyes on the set up I was expecting to experience some flashbacks, but ended up having to admit that the chicken was tasty and juicy, the couscous delicious, and even the coffee lovely (and delightfully plentiful). As difficult as this is for me to put into writing, the buffet won me over. And the hotel being merrily void of children (bonus!) I couldn't even resort to my sneezing/coughing/sticky-hands-on-the-food argument. Buffet 1, Snobby Finn 0.

After lunch, as we had retired to our respective cottages, and had had plenty of time to utter small shrieks of delight over the huge bathtub, the outdoor shower, the private patio overlooking the park, the luxurious bath products, and the quiet (only interrupted by said shrieks) surroundings, the phone rang. Our ranger Mike introduced himself and wanted to know what we would like to drink on the afternoon game drive. Trying to play normal as well as wondering whether the lions had the same penchant for the liquid as me, and whether they would try to eat me if they smelled the wine habitually coursing through my veins, I did not order wine, that night. I probably entertained some sort of idea about needing to 'stay alert' lest I'd be eaten by a giraffe or something. On the break between the afternoon drive and the night drive, while in a hide in the wild listening to the sounds of the bush, and staring at the clearly visible milky way, I wished I had that glass of wine to toast the perfect moment though. Toasting with water is just not the same.

I, the hubby, and our guest were the only ones on the drive that first night, and as our ranger Mike turned out to be a true fountain of interesting information as well as being the head ranger in the lodge we were blessed with plenty of cool new facts about South African wildlife while it felt like we were the only humans in the bush. We saw kudus, rhinos, hippos, zebras, giraffes, wildebeest, impala, and some tsessebi, alongside plenty of other antelope-type animals, other critters and birds the names of which apparently did not stick in my, albeit at that point not even foggy, brain. As I've said before, observing the animals in their natural surroundings, doing what they do best - being wild (sleeping, and funny enough, farting like mad) - is an experience very different to visiting any zoo. As opposed to the feeling of pity that normally accompanies such a visit, seeing these animals made me feel a surge of healthy respect for, if not slight fear of them instead. And the first day's catch was only one out of the big five.  

For our visitor, who had according to her own words already fallen in love with South Africa, meeting our brown-eyed ranger offered yet more to love about this wonderful country. I don't think this visit will be her last. As my 'crush' days are long gone (luckily, as I seem to have let even basic grooming slip), I'm loving the possibility of vicariously experiencing this long distance crush. I had forgotten how much fun it is to talk about boys, and it used to be my favorite pastime.

After indulging in a bottle of Hamilton Russell Pinot Noir (one of my all time faves) at dinner, the next morning's wake up call at 5:30 in preparation for the 6AM game drive was almost too much. However, after having mine and our guest's cups of coffee's worth of caffeine in my brain, and a warm blanket around me I was ready to see the sun rise over the mountains, while watching the animals either wake up, turn in, or rip a tree from the ground. The drive was amazing. Our surroundings were rife with bird and animal calls, and even as the cold air whipped my face (note to self: It can be cold in Africa, wear a hat), I could definitely see why the Dutch stayed. 

Regardless of the frosty morning, and as so often happens here, as the sun climbed higher and higher the temperature rose exponentially. When we got back from the drive to have breakfast, freshening up in the cottage involved changing into a swimsuit. I had brought Jasper Fforde's 'The Eyre Affair' to read by the pool, but my newly found friendship with our visitor and the pleasure I took in speaking Finnish after such a long time, not to mention the nice bottle of white we consumed, meant that the time sped past and I only read about four pages. Before we knew it it was time for lunch, followed by another game drive. We did manage a dip in the pool, and I am again multiple sunburns richer. Awesome, if potentially skin-cancerous, fun in the sun.   

The evening's drive offered us excitement indeed. After almost crashing into a 6-ton elephant by the name of Half Tusk who did not feel the need to yield to the right, we managed to spot some lions who were after some tasty wildebeest, only to be approached on the other side by a hippo out of water who probably did not understand how close it had gotten to us and quickly fled when our ranger shined the light towards him. Since our guest had a hard time looking away from the ranger's pretty brown eyes, and the hubby was desperately supporting the camera apparatus possibly permanently attached to his face, yours truly was left to shine the light into the bush in search of the hunting lions. Cool as my task was, it should not have been done by the half-blind me, and after the first glimpse of a female running through the grass, and a male (or really only its mane) moving away from us, the lions eluded us. Still, officially I have seen a real live lion. I can tell you that even just the glimpse of the mane, or something moving through the grass at a wild speed really truly demands your respect, as does seeing an elephant 'flex his muscles' in front of a tiny Toyota Yaris whose driver is not backing up quickly enough for him. Points to wild SA.  

The next morning, after the last game drive, and after our guest had contemplated several extreme ideas - from chaining herself to the vanity in her room to quitting her job in Finland on the spot and asking for work at the lodge - we finally left Pilanesberg. I guarantee you, not only our visitor, but all of us are already busy scheming ways of returning, especially to the lodge, and both I and the hubby are all excited about learning what comes out of this crush.

I feel like a sixteen year old again. 

Sun in Soweto and Giraffes in Groenkloof

I'm finally coming out of my sun and wine induced stupor. I am no longer suffering from headache, but still sporting a pair of practically burnt-raw shoulders. And that's after applying the spf 100 sun block both Saturday and Sunday mornings. Hmm, perhaps my skin color is not genetically suited for this part of the world. Hmm, perhaps there is another skin color that is more suited for this environment. Hmm, I must ponder this question further at some point... 

Yesterday, we shipped our visitor to the wonderful Cape Town, where she is happily convening with the cape penguins after our jam packed weekend. And what a weekend it was!

Since she only arrived on Friday, late morning, we decided to take it easy that day. She had, after all, spent the previous 30 hours traveling a distance that should not take more than 20 hours, all in exchange for some seriously cheap flights. For a moment there, especially since she did not emerge from the plane á la moi with puffy eyes, perma-slobber on the chin, a spotted menu on the front of the shirt, and severely swollen extremities, I truly envied her flight-travel stamina, as well as her more airplane-suitable size (both in my case to be found in the 'remembrances of things past' file) but then I remembered my philosophy is not about wanting to be more patient or smaller but wanting to travel in first class instead. Take that you envy monster! 

Anyhow, on Friday we lunched in one of my favorite restaurants, Cape Town Fish Market, before touring the local sights per her request - Woolworths food market and Pick n Pay. I always thought I was alone in my wish to soak up the local 'atmosphere' in the form of visiting grocery stores, post offices, train stations, doctor's practices, or the dentist's for that matter. I have an aversion to visiting any kind of doctor's if the visit entails more than just your general ogling and pointing (by me), but one of my coolest experiences from Mexico is my trip to a Mexican dentist who told me to ignore the burning smell as it was only the generator for the drill. That's hardcore, and the tooth still holds! I also now have breast-ultrasound experiences from three different continents and have to admit, also based on my talks with other women here and abroad, that in such issues Mexico (and paid for health insurance) rocks. Still, I much prefer visiting grocery stores. 

After getting completely sidetracked there, a couple of words on the night's entertainment: Braai and wine. Good, solid, thoroughly South African choices and fun had by all (we hope) combined with a new taste experience for our visitor - pork rashers on the braai. Didn't go down as well as the wine, but I still feel that scorched fat is an under-appreciated pleasure. However, that could just be me.

Early Saturday morning (far too early was the guest's opinion) we headed out towards Soweto and one very cool backpacker lodge and one even cooler shebeen (this link explains so much better than I ever could). Lebo's Soweto backpacker lodge is always our starting point in Soweto and if I was a tourist in Jozi Lebo's is definitely where I would stay. As on our previous visit we got to meet some cool Sowetans, discuss the upcoming election and the quite frightening possibility of the Zuma presidency, drink the local brew, sorghum beer (turns out we Finns have something similar explaining my not minding this stuff perhaps) from a shared mug, eat burn-your-finger hot vetkoeks, and walk the busy streets of a couple of Soweto neighborhoods while listening to kwaito blaring from all directions, and just enjoy and soak up the atmosphere. Cool stuff and severely burnt shoulders! 

As a fitting contrast to Soweto's wonders we headed out to lunch to Montecasino. After cringing at the fake sunset meets sunrise that is the ceiling of Montecasino, the fake pigeons and cats on the as fake windowsills, the suspicious looking 'laundry' hanging over the wannabe alleys, the painted cracks and ware on the walls, the plastic ducks in the moat/stream, and taking our visitor's or our photo with said details, we decided to lunch outside, in the actual real sunshine, in a place called Metropolis. The food wasn't anything special and some of our guest's health chicken (whatever that is) was actually undercooked, to which the waiter responded with a shrug and weird gestures that could have either meant 'we can cook it more for you' or 'up yours stupid tourist'. We'll never know for sure. However, we tried a wine I'd never had before - chosen purely on being not too cheap and not too expensive - Rijk's Sauvignon Blanc. A lovely new acquaintance. Almost sweet with a pleasant acidic aftertaste (how snooty do I sound). I'll definitely be having more of it in the near future. 

After a much needed nap for our guest, four cups of coffee for the hostess (how old are we), and no rest for the chauffeur a.k.a. the hubby, we headed out to dinner at tried and tested excellent Karoo Cattle and Land. Food was excellent, regardless of some of it being pap, which should not be classified as food but rather as edible wall paper glue. Excellent red was also had from the excellence that is the excellent Karoo wine list. The name of this particular excellence escapes me though, but I can tell you it was excellent. Excellent. And in case you were wondering the experience was excellent. However, before I had a chance to devour half of our guest's excellent malva pudding (thus hopping on the sugar train headed for crazy), the hubby steered us into the direction of Fashion Cafe, as we had promised this type of distraction to our single friend. Not so excellent. This bar is somehow in cahoots with Fashion tv channel, but since the music on their website annoys me too much to look further into this connection, I'll just give you my personal impression of the place. I don't think I'll ever be going back to this particular bar, seeing as I'm at least 10 years too old, don't like my drinks all fruity and pink, my shoes are far too flat and last year, my hair is too short, my hubby too bearded, and my ears too sensitive. Either I'm old and boring, or Fashion Cafe sucks. No need to comment on this specific point, especially if you know me. Excellent, thanks. 

On Sunday morning it was time for some wildlife. We headed out to Groenkloof Nature Reserve, a favorite destination, and this time around I was not left behind, but got within 15 meters of a real live giraffe. A giraffe is a beautiful being, and I only wish my eyelashes came anywhere close to the ones on these creatures. For almost half an hour we hung out with our new friend and his/her spouse or partner, who refused to face us but kept glancing at us over his/her shoulder very nonchalantly. To top off the experience, right before taking our leave we were introduced to a baby giraffe hiding behind a bush. Cool as ever. We also saw quite a few wildebeest and some zebras. The wildebeest were kind of aloof, but the zebras actually posed for us, making all the sweat and sunburns worthwhile. And I'm talking serious burns here. Permanent sun damage. Damn. Still points to SA.

After our hike and hangout with the local inhabitants we were ready for a braai. Many of our friends were there and as usual, whenever wine is drunk, the discussion turned to politics, race, and other such harmless small talk topics. I appreciate people's willingness to discuss, even if I cannot for the life of me understand where they are coming from or ever give any credit to some things they have said. I must admit some of it is taking quite a toll on me and on my love affair with this country. Perhaps I should just stick to easier topics for a while, and give my moral compass a break. Still, I could not have asked for a better immersion for our guest into the institution of the braai, or into the South African tradition of hospitality. Opinions aside, people are just really welcoming, friendly, and nice!     

Our visitor is due back on Thursday night and on Friday we are off to see some more wildlife, have awesome, non-draining discussions over good food and wine, lie by the pool but in the shade and hopefully not burn any more. This time around we are hoping to spot elephants, lions, rhinos, and cheetahs. And as I now sit around recharging my mental as well as physical batteries the snap-happy hubby is acquiring a lens the size of my thigh for his camera. Should make for better photo content on this blog. We'll see.

Playing the hostess

Hurrah! Something different is on the horizon.

A guest is arriving tomorrow, all the way from the, apparently still freezing north. You may remember me mentioning a potential visit before, but as of couple of weeks ago the 'potential' part was discarded, and she is taking off as we speak, to spend a whopping 12 hour lay-over at a bigger European hub, but on her way nonetheless. 

I am seriously excited to show off this wonderful country. Be it my late lack of excitement (or the 'excitement' having been limited to a trim at the hairdressers and a breast ultrasound at the gynecologist's. Fun.), I am brimming with hostess-like grace (or as close to grace as I ever get), anxiously awaiting the maid who was supposed to be here between two hours ago and now (new service, more on it later) and is supposed to iron the guest sheets and wash the still lingering results of a pork rasher cooking extravaganza off of the surfaces. 

This just in: The company called with profuse apologies. The lady hadn't had her ID with her so the guards had not let her in... She must look threatening, since they didn't call me to come and pick her up. Hmph.

I am officially on my tippytoes out of sheer excitement.

What do we have planned then? Lots and lots of stuff, more than enough, all crammed in the two weekends she will be spending with us. From Monday to Thursday she will be living it up in the amazing Cape Town Waterfront per my instructions titled 'If I was a thirsty-for-South-African-wines single girl'. Through this part, I will live (and drink) vicariously.

Naturally we will be taking her on one of my preferred routes: From a Soweto shebeen to the fake skies of Montecasino. This route is a true personal favorite. It lets the guest see the two extremes of South African living, and also sample local beer and lots of other drink, which is always a bonus in my books. Drink will also be sampled on Hatfield square and in it's varying bars and clubs (new for us, but feeling the pressures of entertaining a single person with something besides our lovely faces), as well as in the wilderness of Groenkloof nature reserve. First we'll hike and hopefully spot some creatures, and then we'll open bottles over a nice traditional braai. Yum. Some of my favorite restaurants will also be on the visit list, and their wine lists will certainly be ogled.

For our visitor's second weekend here with us we have a special treat in store, for ourselves as well as for her. We'll be spending two nights in a five star lodge in a nearby big nature reserve, complete with a bath tub overlooking a watering hole, lions and elephants, 2 daily game drives in an open vehicle, delicious meals, and plenty of South African wine (in case this was not obvious already). As odd as it may seem coming from a woman who manages to do nothing all day long, I really need to get away, to have a little vacation and see something else besides the 'Mexican Sand'-colored walls of our house! Isn't it ironic? The flippin' color is actually officially called just that. 

   

I hope our visitor likes it all. 

I hope I like her... Oh man. I haven't seen her in six years and the last time I really talked to her was probably 15 years ago. I do remember liking her a lot when I was 10. Man, oh man. 

Facebook is a wondrous thing.